#[they can fit so much child figure energy into them]

[nrth-wind]

[every day the urge to give lonnie a leverage au grows...]

[nyoomerr]

Fic prompt: SY is the chosen cleric of LBH, the world's most possessive divine emperor, accent on the divine. He did not sign up for this. (Meanwhile, LBH is trying to figure out how he can fit a divine empress into this pantheon)

i actually got very into this AU once i thought about it for 0.5 seconds, so here's a lil drabble that i hope to expand on and put on ao3 in the future ;>

---

Shen Yuan wouldn’t consider himself to be particularly religious. He believed in the gods, of course - the proof of their existence is written on every street corner and under every roof. The lights of the city that have no discernible power source outside of the goddess of invention herself, the unemptiable food basket that had been gifted to Shen Yuan’s father by the god of plenty, the buzz of raw energy in the air each weekend when the city gathers to say its prayers. 

Undoubtedly, Shen Yuan had grown up in a city blessed by the gods, so naturally he believes in them. He just doesn’t much care for them.

A city blessed by the gods is also a city kept by them, after all. No inventions that could possibly be construed as a weapon would ever be approved by the ministry of creation. No civil courts existed when the gods could directly send down divine punishment to sinners.

No life in the city would ever survive if the gods found it unworthy.

Shen Yuan knew, objectively, why the rules of the gods were so strict. Divine Emperor Luo wrote them himself, and each one had been crafted specifically to prevent the sort of strife and abuse that he had witnessed when he was a mere mortal. Every schoolchild learns the story of the pitiful Luo Binghe who struggled to reach the heavens, faced every day with proof of humanity’s dishonor and ugliness.

When that pathetic Luo Binghe had awakened his blood as the Divine Emperor, he’d immediately sought to rewrite the rules of the heavens to fix the issues he’d seen as a mortal. It made sense. It even worked, to some objective degree of measurement: starvation and war between human lands was barely heard of, these days.

Shen Yuan casts his eyes up to the ceiling of the chapel. A mural of Divine Emperor Luo is painted in bright splashes of color, his eyes piercing down at the viewer as he holds a drink in one hand and a woman in the other. An image of wealth and wellness; a warning to stay in line if you wish for a similar happy ending. 

Shen Yuan thinks that the Divine Emperor must truly have had a hard life, to rule as such an immature god. A child that never got the chance to grow up freely, now imposing their black-and-white outlook of life on an entire land of people who are mature enough to understand that life isn’t so simple.

Shen Yuan looks back down, peering through barely open eyes at his feet. He isn’t supposed to have his eyes open at all, during prayer. It’s just - despite the issues he has with the gods’ reign, and despite the apathy he feels in place of admiration or piety, he really can’t help but think - 

How pitiful, to have ascended without first understanding the joy of being human. How sad, to have your ‘happy ending’ worshiped by the masses without understanding it yourself, believing it to be good only because it follows your own strict rules. 

Shen Yuan sighs, a quiet release of air in the quiet of the chapel.

His next breath in feels electric. 

The vaulted ceilings of the chapel suddenly feel claustrophobic. The quiet hum of hands rubbing against hands in silent prayer rises to a crescendo of skin and movement and life. What low light the candles lining the pews had provided now burns as brightly as the light of a hundred divine lanterns, but there isn’t anywhere Shen Yuan can cast his eyes towards that is less shocking to look at. 

And there, at the front of the chapel, is a god. 

Shen Yuan’s breath catches. He can’t look away. The god is beautiful; more divine than any blessing that Shen Yuan has ever witnessed. 

He is also looking directly at Shen Yuan, meeting his gaze through half lidded eyes and with the laziness of an apex predator. 

Around Shen Yuan, the other church-goers have begun to break from their prayers, startled and choking on the divine presence around them. Many of them dare to sneak peeks at the descended god, but none of them seem able to look directly at him, their eyes sliding off of him before they quickly duck their heads and take up the pose of prayer once more.

Shen Yuan still can’t look away.

Slowly, the god steps down from the pulpit and begins to approach. He doesn’t bother to look at Shen Yuan as he moves forward, casually glancing around the chapel as if assessing it. His eyes catch on the mural on the ceiling - his own face looking down at him, though paling in comparison to the beauty and power of the real thing. 

And then he pulls his eyes back to Shen Yuan, and Shen Yuan realizes with a start that he’s stopped walking, standing directly in front of the pew Shen Yuan is sitting in.

Shen Yuan wets his lips. His pulse beats jack-rabbit fast in his throat.

“Divine Emperor Luo,” he greets. “How - how can I serve you?”

The weight of the Divine Emperor’s attention is no lighter than if Shen Yuan had held the entire ocean on his shoulders. He looks at Shen Yuan as if he might eat him, and expects Shen Yuan to thank him for the honor of filling a divine stomach.

“Do you think you can?” He asks, and Shen Yuan shudders at the sound of his voice. An infinitely powerful being, and he’s speaking to Shen Yuan as if Shen Yuan were a peculiarity, something fit to either be played with or disposed of once the god has finished assessing him. 

“Can I - um, my apologies, Divine Emperor, can I…?”

“Serve me,” The gods says. “Or did you offer such a thing unthinkingly?”

Shen Yuan stares at him. Divine Emperor Luo stares back, his gaze sharp as he takes Shen Yuan in. 

“Can you,” Divine Emperor Luo says, voice low and dangerous, “serve a god that you see as pitiful?”

Shen Yuan jerks back as if slapped. How useless would it be to say that he hadn’t meant it? If a god can hear any thought about them, not only directed prayers - for certainly, Shen Yuan’s private ruminations about the tragedy of Luo Binghe’s story had been nothing like a prayer, and yet they had clearly been heard - then there is no point in lying. If Shen Yuan were to claim one thing with his mouth and another with his mind, he’d only be branded one of the many sinners to be smited by the Divine Emperor’s just hand. Deceit was hardly looked favorably upon; to lie to a god that could hear the truth from your own mind would be suicide. 

Shen Yuan hesitates. At his back, he knows his family must be terrified, and yet he also knows that they dare not look at the Divine Emperor, and that their heads must be bowed in prayer like everyone else in the chapel. 

A room with a hundred people, and it may as well just be Shen Yuan and his god.

The Divine Emperor’s lips quirk up. It isn’t a friendly expression. 

“Your god, little Shen Yuan?” He asks cruelly. “You can pity me, and you can know in your heart that you are incapable of serving me, and yet you claim to be devout to me in the same breath?”

“Aren’t I yours, Divine Emperor?” Shen Yuan asks. His voice does not waver, but it is a near thing. “If I didn’t belong to you, could I dare to live in this city? Every living thing here must live by your rule; naturally, we must all belong to you.”

“What pretty words,” Divine Emperor Luo says. His eyes glint red from beneath his lashes, and Shen Yuan thinks -

Ah, so red is truly the color of the divine. 

Divine Emperor Luo’s eyes are very suddenly the same deep brown that his murals all portray him with. Shen Yuan lowers his gaze deferentially, and wonders idly if all the other too-sharp pieces of the Divine Emperor would smooth out if Shen Yuan’s thoughts lingered on them. 

“If Divine Emperor Luo finds my words pretty, then I will dare to keep speaking,” Shen Yuan says, keeping his eyes turned down. 

“Go on, then. Speak.”

Shen Yuan takes a shuddering breath in. His family is still cowering behind him. The old lady who lives down the street is shaking in her pew across the aisle. 

And Shen Yuan has never considered himself especially religious, because believing in the gods is very different from placing your faith in them. 

“To spy is the manifestation of distrust,” Shen Yuan recites, the words long since memorized after a lifetime of growing up under the gods’ many rules about morality and punishment. “A lack of trust in others implies something impure within yourself. Spying should be punished with ten lashes.”

Shen Yuan’s mother lets out a quiet sound of alarm, stifled so quickly it sounds like a whimper. Shen Yuan does not bother to send her any sort of mental apology; it would not reach her, and would instead be intercepted by an outsider. 

Besides, Shen Yuan had known well what he was doing, quoting the rules that the Divine Emperor had written right back at him, implying that a god should be punished. It would be foolish to apologize for something he had done so purposefully. 

“Spying,” Divine Emperor Luo says, after the silence in the chapel has stretched long. “What a funny way to describe listening to the prayers of my followers. Is it spying for you to hear a call made to you from within your own house?”

“If all of the prayers that the Divine Emperor receives sound like what he heard from me,” Shen Yuan says, glancing back up to meet the god’s eyes defiantly. “Then I wonder why he hasn’t bothered to descend before today to scold us all.”

“Does little Shen Yuan think I will scold him?” Divine Emperor Luo asks, voice soft. 

“I think,” Shen Yuan says, “that a god normally so busy with punishing us would not bother to descend unless it was to fulfill those duties.”

“The world is good, from the work that I do,” Divine Emperor Luo says sharply. 

“Is it?” Shen Yuan asks, and he finds that his fear has been pushed down, his chest tight with a lifetime of reading about the gods and wondering why, if Luo Binghe’s life was so miserable, would he be unable to recognize misery in his own subjects, living every day in fear of him? 

Luo Binghe had been pitiful, and he’d never been allowed to grow up peacefully, and Shen Yuan truly thinks it sad that a divine being could live in such a tragic way. 

But that doesn’t make him blind to the way that Luo Binghe’s immaturity has scorched the mortal plane, nor does his pity completely dissolve his anger over such a thing. 

Shen Yuan’s fate had been sealed from the moment they the Divine Emperor had descended. If he’s going to be punished regardless, then it will be for having said his piece. 

Dying from bitching this pathetic god out is a far better story than dying from having only thought it. 

And yet, before Shen Yuan can open his mouth again -

The Divine Emperor turns suddenly, facing the cleric at the front of the chapel. The old man is clutching at his prayer book with shaking hands, and he ducks his head instantly when the god looks his way. 

“Take him in as a disciple,” Divine Emperor Luo commands, gesturing lazily in Shen Yuan’s direction. “I want him trained and moved to the main church by the end of the year.”

Shen Yuan looks at the cleric, and then back at the god in front of him. He - what?

The Divine Emperor glances back at Shen Yuan, his lips quirked up and his eyes once more a blazing red. 

“There’s another reason for a god to descend than to administer punishment,” he says. “We must also appoint clerics.”

And then Divine Emperor Luo is gone, the space where he once stood crackling with divine energy. 

In disbelief, Shen Yuan - the first cleric to be personally appointed by the Divine Emperor in nearly a century - falls to his knees. Fuck, he thinks, and he hopes that the god is still listening to hear it. 

[yizmiu]

i’m not sure if you do requests but i was wondering if i could request enhypen boyfriend sunghoon fic where sunghoon goes from not caring at all for cats to becoming the proudest cat dad you could ever imagine when his girlfriend brings home a cat out of no where.

ི꒰͡ ໋. kitty-incident!

𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ ‎inwhich. sunghoon doesn’t understand his girlfriends love for cats but after she suddenly brought one home he’s kind of forced too…

𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ ‎࣪genre. fluff, sunghoon x f!reader, dog person sunghoon, cat person reader

𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ ‎word count. 1k+

ᯇ ೀ jayjay’s note; hiii so sorry for the long wait, i was having trouble finding out on how i should write this! it’s a mix of smau and a drabble!

Sunghoon sighed, staring at the little kitten on the floor next to his feet. Y/n, his girlfriend had impulsively bought the kitten home from a shelter without even telling him she was doing so. It’s not like Sunghoon hated cats, he was just more of a dog person.

Now, he was just told he had to watch the kitten for a couple hours. “You’re cute, but I’m still mad at you for scratching our couches. I can’t believe your mom just showed up with you and didn’t tell me.” Sunghoon glared at the cat as he spoke.

The kitten, named Yureum (chosen by the both of them) could sense Sunghoon’s passive aggressive energy from the day he entered the house. Since then he’s been acting like a little asshole to him, tearing up the furniture, knocking down Sunghoon’s things, and walking over the keyboard while he was trying to work.

Sunghoon rarely pet his ‘child’ because Yureum always made sure to nip and scratch at him out of spite. So when he suddenly started purring and rubbing against Sunghoon’s leg he was surprised.

Sunghoon figured he needed more attention, and he started to feel bad so he shut his laptop, taking a break from his work to sit on the couch with Yureum following behind.

“C’mon” Sunghoon said as he picked the kitten up with both hands, placing him on his lap. “You’re so cute, if only you weren’t a little jerk to me.” Sunghoon sighed as he gently caressed him.

Sunghoon yawned as he placed Yureum next to his head as he laid down, getting sleepy. “I’m gonna take a little nap, your mom should be home in 15 minutes.” He said as his voice started to slur.

Yureum stared at the sleeping figure in front of him for a little, a little tired himself so he snuggled up against his owner. Fitting perfectly in the gap between his chest and arms.

Sunghoon heard flashes and clicks as he began to wake up from his sleep, opening his eyes to see his girlfriend taking photos of him. “What are you doing?” He said groggily. “Look! You and Yureum.” Y/n shoved the phone in her boyfriend's face.

“Y/n—Achoo!” Sunghoon cut himself off with a sneeze. “Are you okay, baby? You’ve been sneezing a lot.” Y/n asks in concern as she hands her boyfriend a tissue.

“What if I've developed an allergy to cats? Yureum has been clingy to me recently, what if the little shit got me sick.” Sunghoon suggested. “I know you don’t like him much but what kind of excuse is that? I mean it could be possible though…” Y/n lost the train of thought thinking about the possibility. “He just loves you a lot, he cuddles with you a night more than me.” She pouted as she crossed her arms against her chest.

“I kind of wish he didn’t…I just have been getting itchy around him a lot.”

“I can make an appointment for you later today, just take some of my allergy pills and you’ll be okay.” Y/n said as she walked over to the kitchen to fetch her allergy pills. She herself was allergic to cats but she didn’t mind.

Turns out, Sunghoon really was allergic to cats. He tried to keep his distance after learning so. He doesn’t know how Y/n deals with it.

But It was hard when the damn cat was always by Sunghoon’s side. When he was sleeping, when he was working, hell even when he was in the bathroom. He followed him everywhere.

“Yureum! Seriously, I’m just getting up to get water.” Sunghoon groaned as the cat purposefully stuck himself to his owner by digging his claws into Sunghoon’s knitted sweater. “Don’t follow me.” He said firmly, placing the cat down after detaching it from him.

Yureum sat and stared at his owner as he walked away, deciding to ignore his wishes and follow him anyway.

“Oh my god! Yureum, I almost stepped on you.” Hoon complained as he looked at the cat that was now by his feet. “You have food and water, I was just petting you, what more could you want?” Hoon asked the cat. He looked crazy right now, he’s talking to a cat.

Yureum’s head slightly turned to the right. Taking little steps to get to his ankles, purring against them softly.

Sunghoon sighed as he picked his cat up. “God, I’m surprised I’m not dead already.” He carried the cat to the shared bedroom between him and his girlfriend.

“Are we out of allergy pills?” Y/n asked, looking up from her laptop. She was currently working on a project for work and wanted some alone time.

“Almost. I’m tired and I can tell Yureum is too.” He set the cat down before he laid himself on the bed next to Y/n. “He keeps following me everywhere, I don’t know why. He’s your cat. I’m more like his babysitter.” He sighed.

Y/n gasps. “He is our son…and it’s because he likes you, Hoon. More than me actually…it’s kind of surprising.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders, “See.” She pointed out as the cat was currently cuddling up to Sunghoon and not her.

“Hoon! I know you’ve been tired a lot recently and you’ve been wanting a break from Yureum so I got someone else to watch him! You can go and hang with the guys tonight.” Y/n said as soon as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Sunghoon spit out the toothpaste in his mouth into the sink. “Who is it?” He asked as he put his toothbrush away. Y/n unwrapped her arms, grabbing the hairbrush on the bathroom counter. “It’s one of my coworkers, he said he loves cats and he has a day off today so he agreed to watch him.” She gently brushed her hair as she looked at the man in the mirror.

“Yes, but who?” Sunghoon’s eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Doyoon.” Y/n said hesitantly.

Sunghoon’s eyes slightly lit up, he knew he was the said coworker. “Actually, the guys aren’t going out today. I can watch Yureum.” He said nonchalantly.

Even though Sunghoon could use his day off to hang with his friends he still decided to look after their cat every single saturday. Purely because he doesn’t want Kim Doyoon, who has a massive crush on his girl, to look after their cat. In bold their cat.

enhypen m.list — enhypen taglist (open) : @yenqa

[fallingdownhell]

Love your workkk!! ❤️❤️can i get an hc on fem reader taking off their coat revealing toned muscles and abs right before sparring and how childe alhaitham kazuha diluc kaveh will react? Mostly sfw but slight nsfw is okay

Thank you<3 And sure, hope this turned out like you imagined it. Characters Included: Childe; Alhaitham; Kazuha Content: female reader; pre relationship; they are basically simping over you(r form) Word count: 1,1k words

Hope you guys have fun with this one<3

Childe

as our resident fighting maniac, it's no wonder that Childe wants to test and experience the capabilities of any and all agents that get assigned under his command

working under a Harbinger is a great honor, and it helps that Tartaglia seems far more approachable and reasonable than all the others

though you have been warned about his preference for fighting, you still didn't expect him to just straight up demand a sparring fight with you on your first day of duty

you tried giving every excuse in the book, but he kept insisting and in the end, you neither had the energy nor the nerves to deny him any longer

Childe was beaming with excitement on the way to the training grounds, immediately ridding himself of his weapons and getting in the ring, waiting for you to join him

"Come on, it's just a little spar. Nothing too serious~" he continues to coax you with a smirk

you sigh, as you go to take of your coat and other clothing that would just hinder you during the fight, placing your choice of weapon right next to them

when you look up again, you notice Childe staring at you

more specifically, at the muscles that protrude from your upper arms

they weren't really noticable under your clothes before, but it was clear evidence that you did not slack on your training. And now it seemed like Childe was hypnotized by them

in fact, his eyes lit up as he took in your well trained form, no longer hidden under your choice of clothes

the smirk returns to his face and he looks you in the eyes, excited for the, without a doubt, very enjoyable spar that's about to take place

Alhaitham

Alhaitham and you have been well acquainted for a few years now

it's like a sort of friendship that has formed between you two due to circumstances aligning, and after all those years, the friendship has still survived

it's not like you guys were together every single day, it's more like the occaisonal hangout once every (other) week, catching up with each other again, before going back to your own lives again. Then rinse and repeat

you are both aware of each others occupation and hobbies. Like, you knew that Alhaitham was currently under a lot of stress due to temporarily being promoted to Acting Grande Sage, and he likes to read during his free time

as for him, he was aware of your hobby with self defense fighting styles, and that you were teaching some classes from time to time

however, it seems that it never occured to him that thanks to your hobby, you would logically also acquire a figure that would prove that visually

so, when for one of your meet ups, you asked him to meet you at your current training spot, he thought nothing too much of it, making his way there after he was done with all his other responsibilities

when he arrived, you were still invested in your training, and since he didn't want to interrupt you, he planned on sitting down and reading his book while waiting for you

that was his plan... until he snatched a glance at you

seeing you in your work out clothes, toned abs clearly visible now in the daylight, something in him froze up, not letting him take his eyes away from you anymore

he was mesmerized by your form, how your body looked and how well trained and fit you seemed to be. In this moment, he felt like a fool for never realizing what such intense training would do to ones body

and he had to admit... he definitely liked what he saw

after your training was done, he would act respectful and not comment about it, stating that he didn't mind waiting for you. But that doesn't mean that he's not still thinking about what he's seen today..

Kazuha

you haven't really known Kazuha for too long, but you've grown to really like the wandering samurai a lot

his calm, collected way of speaking, along with his kind personality was a breath of fresh air to you, one that you really desperately needed

you enjoyed the time you spend with him, sitting around or walking through Liyue Harbor, listening to the storys he tells you about his travels. You always listen very closely to everything, soaking his storys up

on the other hand, Kazuha really enjoys sharing his experiences with you. He adores the excited glint in your eyes and how you focus on each word that leaves his lips

the more you two got to know each other, the more time you spent together. You began wandering around Liyue, outside the city, exploring the nature and wildlife together

often times, Kazuha would pick you up early in the morning, spending the day hiking up mountains with you, finding a beautiful spot where you can rest and just look up to the sky together

and although this is all nice and everything, that doesn't mean it can't get dangerous along the way

this time, on your way back down from a mountain, you guys got attacked by a swarm of Hilichurls. They got you cornered and surrounded, but Kazuha and you were quick to pull your weapons and fight yourself a way out

though Kazuha's fighting style was much more elegant than yours in your personal opinion, that doesn't neglect the fact that you were very well adapted with your own weapon of choice

however, in the midst of the battle, one of the monsters got a grip of you. You had to sacrifice your favourite coat to it, in order to not get hit by it, but you took it down swiftly afterwards. However, the coat was ruinied

when everything was over and Kazuha went to check up on you, he noticed that your coat was gone, and admittedly, he couldn't help the way his eyes were wandering over your body

he had never seen you without a coat on, seeing as you were always meeting up outside and it was late fall already. And since you were mostly wearing clothes that were on the baggier side, he never would have thought that you had such a well trained body shape

his eyes kept wandering, completely oblivious to the fact that he was staring at you

when you cleared your throat, he snapped out of his trance, focusing back on you, though a blush from the embarrassement of getting caught was evident on his face

"I'm sorry for staring. I just wasn't expecting you to look this stunning under the layers you usually wear."

yeah.. he really has his way with words.

[winterrrnight]

“and so we meet” — new beginnings chapter I

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: this is just the first chapter, so please please bare with me as it’s certainly not the best, and it’s also very short. the plot will pick up speed as we move along, and there’s so much planned for the three of them!! if you enjoyed reading it, please reblog, and share your thoughts with me 🍂

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↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“Sage! Don’t run off like that!” You yell out, watching the little figure giggling as she rushes in one of the aisles of the grocery stores you're in. No matter how hard you try, you can never try to control your daughter, she’s like a little energy packet.

But you also trust her, knowing she won’t pick something unknown off the shelves and open it up, or bother someone in the store. Letting her have her fun, you direct your attention to the vegetables you initially came to shop for.

As you’re filling up your basket with everything you may need, you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“Excuse me?”

You hear a masculine voice along with the throat clearing, and you turn around to see a strange man with your daughter next to him, her holding onto his hand.

“Sage what did you do?” You say sternly, picking her up in your arms. “I’m so sorry about that, she’s one little restless child,” you chuckle.

“That’s okay,” the stranger says, and you look up to see the most alluring pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen. “She was just running around and crashed into me without realizing,”

“Oh- oh Sage you’ve got to control yourself!” You tell her, but your daughter only giggles at your words. “Again, I’m so sorry about her,”

The stranger chuckles. “It really is okay, she’s really cute,”

A moment of silence drapes around you both, as you’re looking at your shoes and the stranger is looking around. There is something so odd about this person, something so oddly attractive that isn’t letting you go of this situation you’re in quicker.

“Well, it was really nice meeting you…” you trail off, not knowing what name to put on this face.

“Oh- Rafe,” he smiles at you.

“Rafe. It was nice meeting you Rafe, I hope we’ll see you again someday,” you smile, as you start to push your cart with one hand, and your daughter on your hip.

“Byeeee!” She says excitedly with a fit of giggles, waving at the man vigorously. You hear him chuckle at her actions, and you can’t help but let a smile grace your face.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

As you’re strapping Sage into her car seat, you feel someone tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see Rafe.

“Rafe?” You ask quizzically, not sure why your next meeting should be this soon.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but you left these,” he puts out his hand and you see your keys on his palm, “keys while you were packing everything up,”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, realizing those are your house keys. “Thank you so much Rafe, we’ve been bothering you so much today,” you laugh nervously.

“Nonsense, I’ve loved meeting you two,” he smiles at you and looks at Sage through the window, but she’s already asleep.

“Well, thank you again,” You smile as you start to make your way to the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t catch your name!” He says out loud, just as you’re about to close your car door.

“It’s y/n, don’t forget us,” you tease, and you drive away. Rafe watches your car drive away with a smile on his face and a beat in his heart.

“Oh I definitely won’t.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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[miseries-mistress]

SOLICITUDE | LEGOLAS GREENLEAF

Synopsis: solicitude /səˈlisəˌto͞od/: care or concern for someone or something.

The fellowship had set camp for the night in a clearing in the forest. They had set a fire and took refuge around it to stray off the coldness the night always seemed to bring. However, when you elicit to sit by a tree, a decision made out of insecurity, you find yourself not alone for too long as a certain elf notices your disappearance, 

Warnings: female reader, insecurity, some self-depreciation, fluff. W/C: 3153

lotr masterlist

"Do you not wish to join the others?" a soft-spoken voice breaks you out of your stupor. You jump, startled by Legolas's sudden appearance, and he cocks his head to the side at your fright. He must have thought I heard him, you muse silently. 

You flash the elf a smile before returning to inspecting your blade slung casually over your thigh. The others, the fellowship, had gathered around the fire, telling stories of better times and victorious battles alike, their eyes gleaming with a joy that would soon diminish on your coming journey to Mordor. 

It was rather embarrassing to admit why you had secluded yourself to a tree away from your newfound companions. There had been a lack of room around the glowing embers, everyone else already fitting comfortably in their spot, laughing as the halflings cracked jokes, and well…you didn't want to intrude. It was evident that your presence was not warranted or needed, so instead of bothering them, you had taken refuge under the shade of the tree, and while the bark dug uncomfortably into your spine, it helped you ignore your strange longing to be apart of the group of men who had obviously grown accustomed to each other in your short time together. However, Legolas seemed to be the only one to notice your absence, hence his imposing figure standing above you with innocent curiosity adorning his profile. 

You admired Legolas far more than was permitted for a human such as yourself. His serene nature was a long-forgotten melody, gracing your ears with the enriched words that flowed effortlessly from his dainty lips. His personality, sharp wit, and impeccable features were a delight to be savored and worshiped, as his majesticness was truly a sight to behold.

It was painful to get around him when your feelings grew with every passing day, but the journey you had voluntarily embarked on was one without an end in sight. The ground you covered in a day trek was not nearly enough to get you to that wretched place in any small amount of time. 

But that endeavor of putting distance between Legolas and you was for not as he waited patiently for an answer to his question that took root in the back of your mind, the sweetness of his voice a delicacy to be enjoyed for centuries.

You try with all your might to maintain truth in your smile, but he sees through your thinly veiled lies, and his lips curve into a frown at your saddened gaze.  

"I fair fine here, Legolas. You should return to the others," you offer, dropping your gaze from the intensity of his. From the moment those words parted from your lips, Legolas seems to read your expressions, your feelings like a child's book in Elvish. Your inability to lie to him was humiliating, and you were mortified that you could not lace your words with enough sincerity to prove convincing to not trouble others with your burden because the last thing you wish for is for Legolas to pity you. That would twist your guilt further into something much darker, you surmise as your finger glides across the metal of your sword. 

You can feel his gaze bearing down on you as if he is considering an idea before his feet shift and some hopeful part of you wishes he would not abandon you; he would see through your struggle and wordlessly share his company with you. It takes a moment before you realize that he has, in fact, taken a seat next to you, and the air seems charged with energy and anticipation of what is to come. 

"Why do you detest me so?" The words leave him quickly as if he did not intend to speak them. In your surprise, you raise your head, only for your breath to stutter at his closeness. There's no more than a couple of inches separating you two. It's exhilarating but yet so daunting. "Please tell me what I have done to not earn your eye."

You blink at him, astonished. Even though words cannot convey the severity of your feelings, any other speech fails your tongue. 

Your irises which once held a far told sadness, fall away from his, and Legolas concludes that your lack of acknowledgment simply won't do. Gentle fingers lift your chain so you can gaze upon him once more. The connection is not rough or demanding but hopeful- pleading. Your heart scatters at the contact, beating erratically at the softness of his skin, being like the drip of silk, too impossible to feel so beautiful at the touch. 

You turn his question over and over through the gorges of your thoughts, the answer as clear as day, but a vulnerable emotion holds you back. 

Fear. 

It's easily recognizable and brings a dim chill over the cloudless sky of your admiration for the elvish male. 

"I do not detest you." Your words are simple, keeping your feelings at bay behind the motor and stone of your mind. 

"Then why do you avoid me?"

"I do not."

"I didn't take you for a liar."

Shame befalls your features, and Legolas's hand retracts from your face. 

"If you will not share with me that, then tell me why you retreat from the others."

Your eyes search the ground in determination for a good lie. However, Legolas reads your face with ease, practically predicting your formation of a lie, and his gaze falters at your unwillingness to share the truth with him.

More so, worry sets in his stomach. What had he done for you to despise him? He didn't think that your past conversations served with colorful banter were filled with ill intent on his behalf but had you taken something he had joked about to heart? Was that the reason he could not earn your gaze? Legolas was conflicted, toeing the lines of a worry that bordered something more than friendliness or natural curiosity with his willingness to right any wrongs he may have imposed upon you. 

"I would most certainly like the truth if you would grant it to me," he tries. 

Once more, you rip your gaze away, and embarrassment overturns your expression. You resign to following the thick roots that snake across the forest floor while you try to gather your thoughts, quite an impossible task with an elf of his caliber next to you. 

"It's rather foolish, I'm afraid. You would think me to be silly." Your defeated sigh does not go unheard, for Legolas's ears pick up every hint of dejection and the undercurrent of embarrassment lingering in the phrase cast into the open air. 

"I could never think of you in such a way," he affirms hesitantly, almost as if he had deliberated the action for quite some time. Then, finally, he places a tense hand on yours. 

Your breath stutters at the contact, and his muscles seem to pull even tauter at the breathless hitch. You silently chastise yourself for such an unbecoming reaction. He was only trying to comfort you as a friend would, yet you twisted his intentions into something entirely impure. It's shameful that you would even entertain the idea that he would want something more than mere friendship. He's never shown any inkling of that line of thought, and yet you let your fantasies run wild like some little girl. 

You turn your mind back to his statement, tossing it around, weighing the pros and cons while Legolas watches with interest, his careful eyes never straying from your hunched skeleton. 

"My presence was not needed, so I decided to resign myself to my solitude," you spoke plainly, your woes weighing down your spirits. Legolas stills. 

"It's silly, I know-"

"Why would you believe such a thing?" he asks suddenly, and your body betrays you as your eyes snap up to meet his worried ones. It takes a moment for his question to register, and before you know it, the words hastily tumble from your lips. 

"I was obviously not needed, and I did not want to be a bother and intrude..."

"So you thought you were unwanted?"

You frown, shame burning your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears. With your blade now forgotten on the forest floor, you curl within yourself, desperate to hide from your own insecurity and Legolas's gaze. What would he think of you now, knowing how easily you succumb to your insecurity? How weak and pitiful must you look, curling within yourself like a frightened animal? 

You hear faint shuffling before his body is pressed against yours so intently that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. 

"Look at me," his voice is a gentle command, yet firm in its intention, but you don't have the heart to meet his eye and face his disappointment. "Your insecurity is misplaced."

At this, you cannot help but search for his features for falsities or ways of deceit wormed into the etches of his skin only to find none, just kind eyes glittering with empathy. Legolas's expression seemed to brighten at your acknowledgment, and he continued. "You have no reason to believe that we lament your person accompanying us. You are part of this company, the same as Aragorn or me, and you have proven your worth and reliability many times over. You could never be a burden or an annoyance."

"How do you know that?" your question strays on the path of bitterness, and you are tempted to turn your head away but not before gentle fingers grip your chin, forcing you to remain in contact. 

"I have come to know you and the company. They would have expressed their dissatisfaction by now," he replies simply, the warm brown of his eyes blazing with the truth he believes so heartily.

"How do you know for certain they do not talk behind my back when you or I cannot hear?"

"I would hear them."

"Legolas," you gently scold. The twitch of his lips indicates his amusement before his face morphs to one of gentle compassion.

"Heed my words, you are by no means a burden, meleth nin." 

Legolas holds for a moment, his eyes aglow in surprise at his own words. 

The crease between your eyebrows furthers as you study his uneasy expression. You can't hold back your curiosity as the question slips between your parted lips. "What does that mean?"

"It matters not, only that you are not plagued by what appears to trouble you." 

Way to turn the conversation around, you think bitterly, your head falling ahead to the fire by which the others ignore the two of you.

"Confide in me if that would ease your burden. Seeing you so troubled over matters I do not know of worries me greatly," Legolas fairly pleads, his voice not rising above the faint chatter of noise and voices of the forest. 

"It is nothing in which you can aid me, Legolas," you reassure him, but by his dissatisfied expression, he does not fall prey to the illusion you have spoken of. His hand falls to your thigh, and in an instant, it feels as though all oxygen is violently sucked from the air, leaving you unable to swallow the growing lump in your throat. Every nerve comes alive at his touch as if your soul is burning with the same adrenaline you are feeding off of. 

"Please." 

Oh, valor almighty, you didn't know how you possessed the strength to stray from this elf as long as you have; to resist his presence that intoxicated you because now, at the slightest taste of it, you were addicted, like a practiced addict. 

Still, he begged so sweetly. An elvish prince asking for you to share your woes unknowing that he was the cause of them. Every second thought, every hesitation was a result of the influence he held so fiercely over your heart. 

It's as if the Maker was pulling every winding tension tighter, making the oxygen that has now returned to your lungs come in short pants and allowing your mind to spiral as each moment passed in minutes instead of seconds. Eternity felt closer than the second this instant would end. 

A shadow casts over his pale features, making his already unreadable countenance impossible to decipher. His dark pupils seemed to have swallowed the riches of his irises, drawing them into a sea of darkness. The source of this darkness, the specification of what kind of darkness that seemed to linger in his hardened sight, was unidentifiable in the light given to you. His hair, braided in the ways of his kin, framed the strong muscles of his face as his jaw clenched, and you could find the peaks of his ears behind the waterfalls of blonde spilling over his shoulder. 

Irresistible. 

You met in the middle. 

There was no tender or ounce of patience to be found in the dance of his lips but the hungry desire of a starved being engulfing you. From what you could decipher over your pounding heart, his lips were slightly chapped and thin as your mouths tangled and tangoed, learning that language of lovers as they explored every unknown crevice of one another. It was all so much, yet not enough. 

You craved to feel more of him, of his body's sinful softness or his hand's possessiveness, which had begun to move up and down your thigh tentatively as if he was unsure what was allowed. 

Among the silver of devotion coming from tentativeness, there was passion, built up and overflowing, and you couldn't tell what was up and down from the way his mouth claimed yours. 

Your mind moved too fast to comprehend the full scale of his actions. The elf you had secretly pined for was kissing you as if Middle Earth was going to end with you under a tree with your friends mere yards from you. But for the moment, you let yourself succumb to your passion and indulge in a moment of weakness before this moment inevitably ends. 

And it did as all things do. 

You both pull back, gasping for breath while short pants leave those kiss-bitten lips of his. 

"Forgive me if I have overstepped–" Legolas unceremoniously trips over his words as they rapidly slip out of his mouth fervently. You shake your head and press your forehead against his, sharing a breath. 

"No, there is no reason to forgive you." Legolas's hands meet your face in a touch so light you were unsure if it was there. He waits for a moment for you to raise your objection or pull away, but when you remain firm, his deft fingers become more confident as they trail the contour of your face. You sink into the feeling, pushing out all else for a second of forever; of all that could be. 

"I didn't know you felt the same," he chuckles elatedly, and you press your lips together to contain what might be a wide grin of pure elation. 

"I did not know either," you both share a peal of laughter before a moment of quiet passes over you, the tone shifting into something more doleful. 

"I still know not of that which troubles you." He brushes the hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear, his hand blazingly ghosting over the shell of it. 

"I was afraid. Afraid that you would never harbor the feelings I do for you." The audible slip of breath makes your chest clench in anticipation. "I distanced myself from you to protect my heart from heartache."

"Did it work?"

"It did nothing but make me long for you even more than I already had." His hands smoothed down your dirt-ridden skin. There was no need to address what would happen now after you revealed feelings towards one another and you found no reason to. For spoiling this moment you have dreamed of would be a great sorrow, but Legolas seems to feel otherwise. 

"What will happen to us now?" he asks, fingers passing over your lips before cradling your face.

"I do not know," you murmur, tracing the lines of his skin with the gift of light bestowed upon you and him. His hands slip from your face, and your head moves back, startled by the sudden loss of touch. However, he did not stand or even attempt to put space between you two, but his fingers began to undo his braid behind his right ear, his dominant side, with the ease and precision only an elf could possess until all that remained were strands of crimped hair and a delicate silk tie that mirrored the color of his hair in his hands. He gazed down upon the band as stillness filled with buzzing energy grew as the seconds he spent focused on the tie. 

You knew little of the elvish culture, but from what you did know, braids were quite crucial to them, and who did them appeared to change the meaning behind said braids. So why had Legolas taken his? Did he intend for you to braid his...?

Oh. 

Oh.

Legolas outstretches his hand, his palm facing upwards in an offering to you. Inside his palm sat a hairband of string. In what you could only describe as astonishment, you looked up to find him proposing to you a smile as sincere as the admiration brimming in the palace of his eyes.

You pulled away from his face, back to his hand where the hair tie stood waiting for you. No doubt stood in your mind, nothing besides your undying and unyielding feelings that filled your body with giddiness of the likes of which you've never known. You trusted Legolas, not with just your life but now with the very essence of your soul and the light in it. 

You took the hair tie. 

Your fingers began weaving through his silky hair, as soft as you imagined, sewing a new braid into his locks of gold with diligence and patience. You threaded a new promise through his soft strands, one that could not be conveyed by tongue but by emotion. 

It was as if the light herself guided your fingertips, showing you the path in which your hearts were now embedded to, destined to be intertwined for all of eternity.

[pigdemonart]

Battle Subway Depot Agents (by pig-demon)

When I made designs for these guys last year I didn’t really think they needed colored references/master post, but since then I’ve drawn them a lot! Also people have added them to their fanfics and drawn fanart! So I figured it was time I made a post for easy ref. :]

These designs are obviously free to use, just give credit (and link me your work if you're comfortable, because it makes me happy to see!) All I request is to stay respectful to their pronouns and skin colors, ya knooow… 👍 note: The pokemon on their cards are all companions, not the ones they use on the Battle Subway. Except Jackie...the litwicks are just there to fill space/give them company.

More info under cut:

Edit: Important disclaimer:

These are again my designs/interpretations for the agents. Please don’t treat them as canon or as the only, quintessential designs for these literal background npcs. Many people have done takes on them before and after me, even back in 2010. It feels silly to ask, but due to past experience, I ask that you please DONT hunt down anyone that does a different take on the depot agents!! 👍

Tags:

I'm gonna start tagging them individually, but for now all Depot Agent comics and art on this blog are tagged under Depot Agents.

Height chart:

I’m not too strict about heights, so I don’t really care about actual measurements. Here’s an approximation of what I tend to visualize though:

Sexualities/Gender Identities: I don't have official labels for each and every agent because I like keeping things fluid for characters to develop these traits on their own. However, as a queer person, I enjoy designing characters who are also queer, therefore I can safely say none of these characters are straight. The ones who are set in stone are Ramses (gay man), Cloud (lesbian woman,) Jackie (non-binary.) Furze uses he/they pronouns but their gender is undetermined. I also welcome anyone giving the agents a different gender identity to suit them (as long as it's done respectfully.)

Notes about each agent...

Cameron:

- Cameron dyes parts of his hair blonde and keeps other parts in black. This is because he is a big fan of Elesa and her fashion choices.  - Though there have been a few occasions to meet his idol, he is always way too nervous to approach her, feeling deep down that he'll mess up somehow. - He practices modeling poses in secret. He loves flourishes and flare, but is simply too insecure to put it on display. - Of his coworkers, he gets along the best with Furze. He's the easiest to talk to because Furze will do most of the talking. - Cameron is easily intimidated — even mean Pokémon can make him nervous. Though, his two worst fears are being left in a room alone with Jackie, and being left alone in a room with Isadore. - He takes advantage of his height to sometimes hide behind some of his coworkers. - Cameron is much better at Pokémon battles than he gives himself credit for. Emmet and Ingo were pleasantly surprised by this, since Cameron was promoted to fit a temporary role on the Battle Subway. They happily made him a permanent member when he proved himself capable. - His Dwebble (Pebby) is secretly very strong, and rushes to protect Cameron when it can. Cam sometimes thinks Pebby helps him feel more confident in himself too.  - If he stumbled into any of his coworkers outside of work, he would simply explode of embarrassment. - He is the youngest child and only son of his family. He lives in his own apartment in Nimbasa.

Cloud:

- Cloud (like Ramses) knew the twins when they were very young. - She used to be an ace trainer in her youth, even going so far to compete in the Pokémon league. Winning and becoming the champ was the most important part of her journey, but something happened along the way that changed that outlook. - It seems with age, her competitiveness has mellowed out. However, she maintains an intense energy when battling.  - Her favorite types are Psychic and Flying types. Swoobat (Sweetie) is her ace.  - Her favorite hobby is baking, and she often bakes sweets for the crew. She knows all their favorite flavors by now! - She prioritizes keeping a friendly relationship with all her coworkers and thinks of them fondly. She considers Ramses family after all the years of working together!  - She is a big fan of Brycen's movies and can recite the lines. - She lives with her wife in Anville. - Cloud loves doing maintenance work both at home and in Gear Station. She enjoys bringing her own tools and industrial flashlight.

Furze:

- Furze only has one volume setting (mid loud,) but he finds himself feeling right at home when talking to either one of the twins. - Furze has ADHD, and this is reflected in some of his habits, most visibly is his fidgeting when sitting still for too long. - He rides a bike to work every day. When he is late, Cloud clocks in for him so he doesn't get in trouble. - This is a kind of a guy that sits crouched gargoyle style on chairs. Only outside of work, of course. Bad posture could get him in trouble. - While working on the Battle Subway, there will be times Furze feels sorry for his opponents and offers to quietly let them pass anyways. This...has also gotten him in trouble. :[ - He went to the same elementary school as Isadore in Castelia. Though Isadore seems to have forgotten their short-lived acquaintance, Furze has not. This is part of the reason Furze claims they are in fact good friends!!! - Furze is the middle child of a big family. He lives with his mom and takes care of her, along with his many Darumakas and Darmanitan. All of his Pokemon have famous trains names. - He collects model trains. Naturally.

Isadore

- Isadore had plans to become the station master the moment he was hired as a depot agent, but alas... (sad trumpet sound.) - As a youth, he was more interested in science and engineering over Pokemon battles. He enjoys the strategizing aspect, at most. Not so much the competitiveness. - In addition, his Pokemon are all rescues and not used for battling. He's had his Watchog (Winston) since he was in his late teens. - His Electrode (Gregor) and Voltorb (Leonard) were rescued from the likes of Team Plasma. - Isadore admits he understands Pokemon better than humans. This has been apparent his whole life. - In spite of acting like a sitcom villain, Isadore cares about the management of Gear Station and the safety of the passengers to an incredible degree. He sees it as a personal life goal to assist in the management of Gear Station, as well as the success of the Battle Subway. - Though it pained him to become a subordinate to the twins, he begrudgingly accepts it for the greater good. - His almost militant efficiency certainly made up for his years of antagonizing the twins before they became the bosses. Ingo and Emmet understand this better than anyone. - Isadore keeps tabs on all of the staff members. So he very well knows all their birthdays and makes it a point to celebrate it. This is by no means a -happy- or -festive- event. It's just customary. - Like Furze, he was originally from Castelia, but now resides in Nimbasa. Isadore's only family is his mom and she lives in his childhood home with their Stoutland. - Isadore would have probably been voiced by every glasses guy ever J. Michael Tatum had he not already been cast as dear Emmet lmao

Jackie

- Jackie is a mystery and they like keeping it that way. When they talk, it's practically impossible to determine what is a lie or truth, especially if the subject is themselves or their background. - They love scaring Cameron the most and will ask to be paired with him whenever possible. They claim Cameron is their "favorite coworker," while Isadore is the least favorite. - It's plain to see why -- Jackie is the only one that doesn't passively tolerate Isadore's tirades. - Though my comics sometimes may allude to Jackie being a ghost/supernatural, this is not confirmed nor canon. I just personally enjoy toying with the concept. : ) That being said...

- Item #: SCP 7453

- Object Class: Euclid

- Special Containment Procedures: The ████ ██████ is ██████ within ████-██████. - Ingo and Emmet choose to not question anything about Jackie, since it's clear they're one of the more efficient workers. However it can be a safety concern... - Cloud and Ramses have worked with Jackie for a long time, though they've forgotten somehow. They believe Jackie is a new hire since they appear to be young. - Anyone trying to make sense of Jackie's employee records simply can't bring themselves to any conclusions. It's better to ignore the inconsistencies. - Jackie has never been seen to leave Gear Station. Jackie has never been seen in anything but their uniform. Jackie has never been confirmed to eat, drink or blink. Jackie knows your secrets. Jackie thinks it's... amusing.

Ramses

- Ramses sometimes misses having a full head of hair, but he thinks his signs of age make him look distinguished. (he is correct.) - Ramses is sort of the "mom friend," making sure everyone's concerns are heard, as well as trying to keep the peace whenever a conflict might arise. - If another coworker is feeling low, Ramses will try to cheer them up with a lighthearted joke or offer advice if they'd like it. - When the twins were promoted to bosses of the Battle Subway, Ramses cried because he felt so proud. - In most circumstances, he is a very simple and logical man. He is quick to find solutions and tries not to fret over the little stuff. It's not good for his heart after all. - His ace is his Pikachu (Musa,) though the mouse is more of a lap pet now. At home, he also has an Audino (Sara) and a Manectric (Nubi) who keep Ramses' husband company. His Klinklang (Moli) is the only one of his personal pokemon that accompany him to work nowadays. - Ramses considers Cloud family. They are best friends and love having family gatherings outside of work. They also gossip a lot, and don't mind when Jackie decides to join. - Ramses jokes about looking forward to retirement, but really doesn't want to leave until he is physically incapable of working anymore. Gear Station is like a second home to him.

In-Game Quotes

The most important reference of all are their in-game quotes, of course, so I'm adding it to the post. A lot of their personality traits can be extracted and interpreted from these few lines. And I personally love that about Pokemon NPCs -- there's a lot of room to explore and play with. Some appear very obvious. Cameron practically announces that he isn't ready for the battle that's about to ensue and seems genuinely surprised to win. Furze comes out the gate talking about the subject they actually care about, which is their job and their love for trains. The two of them are very easy to understand. Now, Ramses lines allude to a gentle and simple personality. He views himself with humility, and maybe even with a bit of humor comparing himself to a train and to his opponent to a station. If he loses he shows no signs of disappointment, he just accepts defeat with one last honest quip. It s also amusing to see the Depot Agents all use train metaphors to describe themselves since it falls in line with how Ingo and Emmet talk.

In comparison, Cloud does the same thing calling herself the terminal instead. Immediately, she is way more daring, though still keeping a sense of professionalism. To me, it's obvious she is competitive as she even admits she was expecting to win ("Ah...I didn't see it coming.") Jackie's lines are fun since it's up to interpretation if they are being literal or lying. It's almost like they are more interested in confusing/creeping out their opponent than actually beating them. To me, it gives off a mischievous vibe. Isadore's opener "There are only two roads in life." is a curious one because it almost feels like he is trying to be philosophical. Definitely a guy who views himself as an intellectual, regardless if that’s true or not. I like to think it's a saying he really believes in, and it applies to his life. The road he likes (long route) vs the road he hates (shortcut) -- fighting tooth and nail to become boss vs biting his tongue and accepting Ingo and Emmet as the Subway Masters.

Those are just my thoughts on how I write these characters. Please have fun playing with these lines too!

[sepublic]

You've gotta wonder what kind of person Manny Noceda was; He's one of two people who informed so much of Luz's character, her grief and posthumous relationship with her father is reflective of the creator's own experiences, it's foundational to the story itself in how Luz chooses to honor her parent and keep his memory alive as she learns to keep living for herself, too.

I already wrote a fic briefly exploring on that, but let's talk about it more: Obviously it's not always so clear-cut between parents and children in real life, but I guess you could see Luz as the culmination of Camila and Manny. So one could use this as a means to work backwards with Manny, to see what parts of Luz she didn't get from Camila, but from her father.

I imagine Manny as someone very confident, brash; He doesn't back down from a challenge. Maybe Manny immigrated to the U.S. to boldly pursue the American Dream, and didn’t give up when it hadn’t immediately paid off, just as his daughter embraced the Boiling Isles. But I also think a part of him doesn't want to be seen as weak, less capable, conceding to others. Manny isn't going to let other people bully him around and he doesn't want Luz or Camila to be hurt that way either. If Camila passed down her fear to Luz, Manny passed down his thoughtlessness; So he might have that same headstrong tendency to sweep others along in his need to prove himself, and in his well-meaning need to help them prove themselves.

Did it ever frustrate Camila, who would sometimes be more worried about just surviving by fitting in? Maybe they both balanced each other out, just as Luz balances out these different, seemingly paradoxical parts of herself. Did he not want to appear weak like Luz, particularly with the context of his illness? Did Manny try and hide that, prioritize his loved ones, just as Luz later did, maybe even internalized from him?

I can't imagine how scared he was, slowly dying; Particularly when it comes to his wife and daughter. He's going to leave them behind. He wants them to be safe so badly. He wants to see Luz grow up and become the person she wants to be. He wants his family to know that it's okay to be themselves, that they're everything. But Manny isn't sure if he's getting it across in the right words, if he's saying it properly. He needs to make the most of his time.

I can see Manny as someone loud, energetic. Eccentric. Luz gets her odder mannerisms from him, he's brimming with this earnest, delightful energy that's so hard not to like. Did he immigrate to the U.S., or was he the child of immigrants? Grandchild, even? Did he and Camila resonate together over their ancestry as another reason for feeling alienated from the majority, where they were? How did they feel about their own families, did they also worry about having to choose between two worlds? Did Manny desperately fight tooth and nail to survive, because us weirdoes have to stick together?

Did Manny have anyone else to tell him to stick up for himself, or did he have to figure it out himself? Was Camila one of those people who helped, and vice-versa, did they both reassure one another? And when Manny was gone, Camila just didn't have the heart and confidence to keep saying that to herself. Was Manny still scared for his wife and daughter when he died, or did he dare hope in his final moments, just as he always dared to live as himself in life? I wish Manny could’ve gotten to see how his loved ones would thrive, and all of the people they’d meet and befriend.

[fatherfigurefusion]

Randomly generating Ultimate Talents for the DRDT cast and ranking them on how fitting they are (Tetro Danganronpa: Pink Edition):

Teruko Tawaki, Ultimate Bounty Hunter

9/10: It's the Maki Harukawa-energy for me.

Xander Matthews, Ultimate Zoologist

8/10: He would be only the most fanatic of conservationists!

Eden Tobisa, Ultimate Figure Skater

7/10: Call that "Yuri on Ice"!

Hu Jing, Ultimate Superhero

9/10: Two words: savior complex. Also, the concept of buff Hu is heavenly!

J Moreno, Ultimate Impersonator

6/10: I can imagine that their background in acting would lead to them being excellent at impersonation, but doesn't feel nearly as fitting, compared to the previous talentswaps.

Veronika Grebenschikova, Ultimate Demonologist

10/10: ...Too easy.

David Chiem, Ultimate Internet Idol

10/10: Ai Hoshino/KAngel-core!

Arturo Giles, Ultimate Quiz Show Champion

6/10: If the topic is celebrities, Arturo would be a king at quiz shows!

Levi Fontana, Ultimate Gymnast

3/10: I kind of headcanon that Levi is not flexible in the slightest. Too much of a brickhouse.

Ace Markey, Ultimate Fire Dancer

9/10: You barely have to change anything about Ace's design for him to pass as a fire dancer. Also, imagine him having both stage fright and pyrophobia!

Min Jeung, Ultimate Mask Artisan

8/10: Don't know why, but this talent feels oddly fitting for her.

Whit Young, Ultimate Student Council President

7/10: Sure, Whit is a goofball, but I feel like he'd do his best to make school a fun and easy experience! (Also, Whit always seems to get academic talents in these talentswaps!)

Charles Cuevas, Ultimate Illustrator

8/10: I actually headcanon that Charles is great at drawing, so this talent is fitting for him, in my eyes!

Arei Nageishi, Ultimate Fashion Designer

10/10: Possibly one of the most fitting, non-athletic, talents for someone like Arei!

Nico Hakobyan, Ultimate Crime Scene Cleaner

7/10: It's just a feeling, but I could easily imagine them cleaning up a crime-scene with a straight face, a far cry from the timid soul first impressions would suggest.

Rose Lacroix, Ultimate Child Actress

8/10: I'm just imagine the Spurlings running the film industry, and hiring a young and destitute Rose as a child actress, with her photographic memory helping her memorize her lines.

[hwnglx]

this one was a little! harsh. again, please remember i'm entering other idols' energy and looking into their pov of hyunjin. this is a very subjective and superficial perspective.

hyunjin's reputation among idols

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

female idols

song: lost cause by billie eilish

their energy was crazy. i just casually started tearing up and getting weirdly sentimental while writing this, so.. definitely some strong emotion present here? also immediately thought of the song mentioned above. especially the “i used to think you were shy, but maybe you just had nothing on your mind. maybe you were thinking about yourself all the time.” line.

so, hyunjin's reputation among female idols doesn't look great persé. he's viewed as a guy who's likely to have flirted with anyone fitting his idea of attractive. a bit of a ladies' man, who for sure enjoys the ego-stroking that comes with female validation. he's great at these short but emotional flings, meaning in the moment he's great at deceiving and deluding people into him being serious about it. there is this huge perception of him just being kinda.. delusional and unrealistic, living in a dream world of his own and willingly wearing these rose-colored glasses. if hyunjin connects to you romantically, he's amazing at dragging you with him into that world. like dating (? or hooking up? energy is mostly physical with this perception of a shortlived emotional bond) with him can be a bit of a rollercoaster.. with an irresistible high, and the following disappointing low. definitely a certain addictiveness to it. he knows his powers and what he can do to people, how he can use them to his own advantage.

he's very good at appearing a certain way but being another. meaning he puts on this prince charming on a white horse act, but once you look beyond that, or you just get close enough to knowing his actual self, he's much more selfish and greedy for his own good, than you'd expect. many female idols have this view of him as someone who only enters connections in order to gain something for himself, mostly validation. he puts a lot of importance into superficial things, such as fame, popularity, reputation, image, money, power.. they think he struggles finding true emotional fulfilllment, doesn't really know what he sincerely needs and is disconnected to his inner voice. he therefore just goes on hopping from one person to another. pretty bad at committing to relationships. he's great at entertaining the idea of them, but doesn't live up to the idea in reality. he's very in or out, not always available. prone to ghosting people out of nowhere and not recognizing or not wanting to acknowledge the toxicity behind his actions.

he's not very self-aware in their eyes. he hates confronting or acknowledging certain realities and therefore runs away from them. like he just runs away from his problems essentially. doesn't take accountability for his actions. hyunjin is a bit like an immature and irresponsible child to them. he gets afraid to admit to his mistakes because he's scared to get hurt, or make himself appear weak or flawed. some of them think it's pathetic. (they're very harsh in their judgement for sure lol)

there are some female idols though, who view him as mysterious and intriguing, and very desirable too. they think he has a strong presence, and he has this aura to him that awakens your interest, makes you wonder who he truly is. i can sense he's probably someone who does most of the approaching (surprisingly straightforward and direct) but doesn't have many people actually approach him, since he doesn't have very accessible energy. there's a good portion of female idols just staring at him like 🫢😯 and whispering and gossiping. they look at him as this unapproachable guy full of mystery, someone they can't figure out.

male idols

so, male idols look at hyunjin in a lighter manner. opinions do seem to vary though.

he's someone who's also just kinda in and out in their eyes. like at one point, you'll be with him, enjoying his company and seeming like you became pretty close, in the next he'll just be gone and unreachable. he's someone unpredictable and moody to them, like you never really know what phase in life he'll be in. someone very sensitive and easily affected by external influences, who therefore naturally goes through many ups and downs in life. however, they think he doesn't really let people in when it comes to his internal world. he's good at the superficial connections, i can see him being a lot of fun at parties, but many male idols feel like they don't actually know him as well as they think.

however additionally, there is this perception of him being.. overly sensitive. like do not touch hyunjin when he's going through something. some male idols think he's way too easily stressed out about things, makes a big deal out of everything, constantly self-sabotages and creates himself problems when there's none. in their eyes, he's a bit of a pain in the ass in this way. like just unbearable. you won't get him to open up easily, but once he does, he'll probably puke all his concerns out in hours and overwhelm the hell out of the person he's with.

but i have to say, he has an immense amount of respect from his peers in a professional manner. many male idols think he's the stand-out member in stray kids. they think it's impressive how he's been able to pave himself a way and reputation of his own. a lot of approval and acknowledgement of his not only his abilities, but also his efforts career-wise. it's giving this role model among quite a few idols, especially rookies. i can tell there's this tendency for them to be in awe of group members who just stand out and have these main-character vibes among the rest. many of them would like to imitate hyunjin's career trajectory and are eager to reach a similar reputation professionally. he has this image of having fulfilled his dreams with his own efforts, probably because of them turning him into the main dancer of the group, rather than him being “born talented”. the professional applause for hyunjin is something that's for sure spread among the majority of male idols. his career is very commendable and praiseworthy in their eyes.

[its-all-papaya]

oh. OH. the hollow hereafter completely DESTROYED me 😭😭 beautifully written; reading that one hurt!! i'm amazed by the way you capture the energies they both give off so perfectly, i was so hooked on the story i couldn't stop reading. thank you for the amazing work!! 🫶🏻 for the kiss prompt game: can we maybe get landoscar + 29 or 33? 🌟

AAAAAHHHH the hollow hereafter was pain indeed. glad you enjoyed, though ! thank you for the compliment !

shameless plug plug plug: read my fic 👉👈

as an apology, I present to you: even more post-hungary landoscar ! but much fluffier this time. hope you enjoy 🫶

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

33. as an apology | landoscar | 1.5k (absolute lmao)

In the dark of his Monaco apartment, Oscar can finally admit it to himself: he’s scared. The creep of fear had been there from the jump as he’d finished the final lap in Hungary, but he’d figured he owed it to himself to put it off in favor of other things. Elation, for example. He’d won a grand prix. It was a moment he’d been dreaming of since he was a child and he’d only ever get the one maiden win, so he’d shoved everything prickly to the background and focused on the glow of victory in his chest instead.

See, Oscar is good at compartmentalizing. His friends in primary school had joked that he’d been born with emotions missing. For a while, he’d figured he’d grow into it – that his feelings would stretch as he did, and he was just a bit behind – but it had taken him until after his first single-seater to realize there was nothing lacking in the first place. He feels things. Probably just as strongly as everyone else. It’s just that the world isn’t entitled to experience every emotion along with him. If he can share the good things when he sees fit and save the less-than-good to deal with on his own time, Oscar figures he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth about it.

And honestly, there’s probably nothing to worry about. Lando was moody, but he’d been moody after every race for weeks. Just because this week’s letdown had starred Oscar specifically, just because Lando had spent the whole flight with his hood up, forehead tilted against Carlos’ shoulder as they laughed together at whoever’s phone was funniest, that doesn’t mean there’s anything seriously wrong. They’re good at giving each other space, he and Lando. Oscar likes to think he can read his partner pretty well. And Lando had congratulated him – on the track and more than once after. Besides, Alex has known Lando forever, and he’d taken one look at the lay of things in the airport – Lando with Carlos, Oscar half a dozen seats away – and cracked a smirk about it: “At least if somebody’s sleeping on the couch tonight, it’s gotta be him, right?” Alex wouldn’t have been joking about it to Oscar if he thought Lando was really upset about anything other than the way the chips had fallen.

But the thing is… neither of them is on the couch. Because Lando is home, and Oscar is here, in his nearly empty apartment in his nearly empty bed. Past 5 a.m., awake, restless. Oscar’s lived in Monaco over two months, but he’s only spent a handful of nights in his own place. It had felt silly, at the time, piling boxes in the living room knowing full-well that half his closet and all of his heart already had a home in the city. This lease might have Oscar’s name on it, but his home in Monaco is about five blocks north, probably sleeping with his mouth open and his phone dying next to him, nobody to remind him to put it on the charger.

They’ve been fine. They’ll be fine. But (and this is the part he’s been avoiding) fine as teammates is different than fine as partners. Patting Oscar on the helmet and smiling for a group photo is not the same as curling up next to him in bed and saying I love you as one of them switches off the lamp. Being fine and being good are different, and the minute Lando had pulled up to Oscar’s building and told him to have a good night, that he’d see him soon, Oscar had stopped being either. Lando is sulky after bad losses and he gets upset with Oscar about things dumber than team orders, but they don’t sleep apart outside of race weekends. Oscar doesn’t sleep here. And he’s the littlest bit scared that he’s going to have to learn how.

Time passes. Oscar worries. He can see the sun rising through the cracks in his blackout curtains by the time he hears the front door open and close. He’s managed something close to sleep by then, though, drifting and fuzzy and outside rational thought, so he doesn’t immediately clock the noise as anything to react to. It’s not until his bedroom door clicks open as well that his brain comes back online for real. He lifts his head from the pillow with a sharp breath in, but there’s really only one person it’s going to be. There are two keys to his place and one of them is on the nightstand with his wallet and his phone and the other went home in the pocket of a man he’s never turned away.

Lando’s soft around the edges in the early morning light. His hand is a little chilly when it lands on Oscar’s cheek, gentling him back into the pillow. Oscar goes down without a fight, always easy for anything Lando’s asking of him. He does lift the covers a little, though, hoping his eyes are pathetic enough in the dawn to get him what he’s after. Lando smiles, soft, and thumbs over Oscar’s cheekbone, chases it with his lips. Now that his partner’s back in his proximity, Oscar’s exhaustion sinks in for real, like it had been waiting for permission. His eyelids are so heavy, thoughts slow and only on the edge of sensical by the time Lando gets out of his sweatshirt and his shoes and finally – finally – slides into bed beside him.

Under the circumstances, Oscar has to remind his sleep-stupid brain that he’d literally won a grand prix just over 12 hours back, because he wants to label the relief of having Lando back in his arms better than anything he’s ever felt. Better than any trophy he’s ever held against his chest. He wraps both arms around Lando and draws him closer, closer still until Lando’s head is tucked safely under his chin and Lando’s thigh is nestled comfortably between both of Oscar’s own.

They give it a minute, just breathing together, before Lando smooths his palm up Oscar’s chest and over his shoulder. He draws back just enough to look Oscar in the eyes, then leans back in to kiss him gently. He’s indulgent with it, lips and tongue sleepy-soft against Oscar’s, palm cupping Oscar’s jaw and thumb swiping back and forth, back and forth, towards the place where their mouths meet.

“I’m sorry,” Lando says when they finally part for a second. He presses another long kiss to Oscar’s lips. “For, like… lots of things. But mainly this, right now. Can’t sleep without you.”

Oscar chases his lips once, twice, then breathes in for a four-count, out for a four-count. Lando wrinkles his nose against the puff of Oscar’s breath against his face.

“Can’t either,” Oscar settles on, scritching his nails through the back of Lando’s hair just to watch his eyes go half-lidded with the feel of it. He knows Lando. He’s known Lando. “Thank you for coming. I’m happy you’re here.”

They’re both bleary-eyed, on the cusp of 24 straight hours of holding their eyes open and deciding how they’re allowed to look at one another, but Lando’s gaze starts edging towards the sharp, mischievous place that makes Oscar’s heart beat slightly out of rhythm.

“You know what else you are?” Lando asks, and he’s back to placing wet kisses down Oscar’s neck, hints of tongue every other, like he can sense when Oscar’s thoughts are starting to get coherent again.

Oscar tips his chin up, helpless, “What’s that?”

Lando takes his time dragging his lips back up, up to meet Oscar’s own.

“A race winner,” he whispers low against Oscar’s mouth, and his next kiss is deeper, dirty. His fingers dip low on Oscar’s hip and Oscar wants to, he does, but he can’t help the yawn that hits him as Lando’s lips trace back down his jaw.

Lando laughs into his throat about that. He presses a trio of closed-mouth kisses across Oscar’s shoulder, down to his clavicle, then noses back up and kisses him on the chin.

“Sleepy one?” Lando’s eyes are sparkling in the almost-darkness.

“Mm,” Oscar agrees, only a little mournful. “In the morning?”

“It is the morning,” Lando says, smirk on his face.

Oscar shoves at Lando’s chest, rolls his eyes, because who’s fault is that?

“In the afternoon, then, unless you’re going to be annoying about that too.”

Lando’s gaze goes soft again and he shakes his head a little. He kisses Oscar once more before settling back against his chest, like he can’t help it. Oscar knows the feeling.

They’re both quiet long enough that Oscar’s convinced Lando’s fallen asleep, but just as he’s about to follow, Lando’s knuckles drag up his belly and knock against his chest: “Oscar?”

His accent’s thicker when he’s drowsy. Oscar loves the way it sounds around his name. He brushes his lips across Lando’s forehead and squeezes his hip, “Hm?”

“Love you,” Lando says.

“You too,” Oscar says back.

The Monaco sun keeps rising, but they both sleep deeply, content.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Grey Zone 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: It's a Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You’ve always been the kid at the table of adults. Even now, legally of age, you feel like the same child forgotten on the sideline. The most acknowledgement you get is from your father when you thoughtlessly lean an elbow on the table or slouch. Sometimes, you think the fact that you’re still breathing is a disappointment to him.

“Thinking of converting the garage…” your dad says, “or we’ll wait till the kid is out and do something with her room.”

You don’t react. It comes up a lot. When you show him your pay cheque, he tells you exactly what to do with your money.

How much you should save so you can get out of his house. You’re not left with much else as he takes interest for your tuition; which he’s kindly allowed you to hold off on paying back until you complete your degree. It’s better than most people deal with, better than some debt collector chipping away at your credit.

“You’re a fucking busy body,” Mr. Hansen chortles as he stirs around with his spoon. You’re not a fan of the dish either. “You ever put any of that energy into, I don’t know, fucking your wife.”

Your spoon hits off your bowl but you try not to show your shock. Your father chokes and your mother guffaws drunkenly. Mr. Hansen is crass but usually when he doesn’t know you’re listening.

“At the table?” Your father huffs.

“He has a point…” your mother mutters.

“What? We’re all adults? I’m teasin’ you, Ray,” he insists, undeterred by your dad’s hot glare, “I’m just thinking out loud and there’s a tension here. Someone’s not getting fucked.”

“Lloyd, my daughter–”

“Oh, so you do know she’s here?” Hansen scoffs, “she’s grown. She can hear the fuck word a few times.”

Your father sputters, speechless. For once, he has no reprimand at the ready. He is a man who always has his way faced with another who can steamroll any refusal.

“Whatever, I was gonna ask you something important,” Hansen diffuses the conversation with the shift in tone, “I bought a lake house up north. I’m not handy, you know that. Not in that way,” he chuckles and your mother giggles into her wine.

Your father sighs and sits back as he lifts his chin, crossing his arms as he squints at his guest. That look doesn’t work on a man like Hansen. You look between them, waiting for either to explode.

Hansen smirks and sits back, mimicking your father’s posture but keeping his arms open. He braces his thighs as he puffs out his chest. You never noticed before the way his shirt perfectly fit him, clinging to his well-toned muscles.

“I’ll pay you. Same as any contractor. And you can bring the family to enjoy the lake,” Hansen counters, “enough for you to continue tearing this place apart.”

“Hmmm,” your father rolls his tongue under his lips.

“It’s a good idea,” your mother slurs, “it’s been forever since we went on vacation.”

“You just got back from Malibu two weeks ago,” your father chides.

“I mean, as a family,” she leans heavily on the table, her finger hooked on the stem of her wine glass, “I love the lake,” she looks as Hansen, pouting flirtily, “I just bought a bunch of new swimsuits.”

“Well, it gets pretty cold up there. Even this time of year. It’s why I bought the place. I hate the heat.”

“Oh, you seem to handle it well,” your mother winks.

Your father brings his hand down on the table, causing every dish to tremble. “I’ll think about it, Hansen. But you gotta think this out, materials and all that.”

“Zoning’s taken care of. All that paperwork bullshit,” Hansen says surely, “seems like it would be a good opportunity for you to get away and let go.”

You peer around the table. Your mom leans back in her chair, chin in her hand as she watches your father. Hansen takes his spoon again and smoothly stirs the bright broth. Your father shakes his head.

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

🖤

Despite how often you attract unwanted leers and looks, you have a knack for disappearing. As the adults leave the table, you clean up, fading into the background but not quite fitting into the pristine aesthetic of the house. Most of the bowls still hold a decent amount of the fishy bouillabaisse. It tasted fine enough but who likes that much fish.

You dump each and start washing out the dishes, putting away those pots and pans you dealt with before dinner was served. If you don’t do it, your mother won’t, and your father will chuck a fit about a single dirt dish left in the sink. So you go about the task, earbuds in, nodding your head along with the music.

Your dark nail polish flakes off in the warm water as your scrub with a sponge. It’s fine, it’s cheap. You want to try the new mystic blue you got anyway. You set a bowl in the rack and nearly scream as you feel a squeeze around your hip.

You splash water through the air as you spin to face your accoster. Mr. Hansen stands close as he holds an empty wine glass. Your mother’s lipstick stains the brim. You reach with a dripping, shaky hand to pause your music with a tap.

“I didn’t hear you,” you gasp.

“Oh? I thought you were just playing hard to get,” he twirls the glass, “your mom’s off to bed. Face down.”

“Um, okay,” you reach for the glass but he moves it out of your reach. You furrow your nose and retract your hand.

“So…” he wiggles the glass thoughtfully, his eyes clinging to you, “what do you think?”

“About?”

“The lake house.”

“Er, I don’t know. If dad wants to…”

“I don’t care what daddy wants, what do you want?” His blue eyes gleam, the dark outlines feeding the lustre of his oceanic irises, “seems like no one’s ever asked you, sweetheart.”

You shrug.

“Could be nice,” you say. You don’t get your hopes up. If your dad accepts, you think he’ll somehow manage to leave you and your mother behind.

“And… if dear old daddy did say no, and I asked you to come anyway…”

You blink, confused. Why would he do that? He laughs at you.

“Think about it,” he hands over the glass, “this place is a drag. Young girls like you need that distance. To find yourself.”

You don’t know what to say or think. You really don’t understand what he’s offering. You don’t get where his sudden interest in you came from. Mr. Hansen was only ever peripheral. He was there to give colour commentary and needle away at your father’s patience.

“I don’t know,” he backs up, “maybe they don’t make swimsuits in your style…” You hold the glass close to your chest, caught like a deer in headlights. “But it’s a private lake.” He pokes his tongue and winks before spinning on his heel. “No rules…” he calls over his shoulder as he passes through the door.

You shudder and turn back to the sink. You plunge the glass into the water and swirl it to rinse the residue of wine. Hansen is just like that. He’s always looking for a reaction. You suppose you’re old enough now that you’re a new victim for his jokes. That makes more sense. You’ve always made a good target.

You tap your earbud and drown out your racing thoughts with the music. Just finish this up and you can go hide in your room.

🖤

You shut off the kitchen light and quietly pad through the house. You climb the stairs as an eerie silence permeates the space. Mr. Hansen must be gone since your mother turned in. She often didn’t end the night without some grand finale.

As you near your bedroom door, you notice that it’s slightly ajar. That damn mechanism. Your father can fix every part of this house except for that. You sigh and push it open as you enter, stopping short as you find a shadow standing by your bookshelf. The coffin shaped furniture holds more than just books but some crow statuettes and deathly trinkets.

The glow of your lamp casts a purplish light over Mr. Hansen’s back. He hasn’t heard you. He closes the book in his hand and slides it between the others. He pauses and takes the deck of tarot before he can knock it over with his hand. He shuffles through and you flip on the overhead light.

He turns, unshaken by your entrance. He keeps the cards fanned out in his hands. He smiles at you.

“I never really looked close at these sorts of things,” he says as he runs his thumb over the emperor card, “they’re pretty.”

“What are you doing in here?” You ask.

“I got lost,” he says coolly, “can you read these?”

He smoothly pushes through your chagrin, sidestepping your question. That’s annoying but he’s older and he’s a guest. You didn’t need him ratting to your father about your attitude.

“Yeah, they’re really just for fun though,” you near him and reach for the cards. He claps them into a neat deck and keeps them away from you.

“I like fun,” he says, “can you read mine?”

“I don’t know. It’s late–”

“How much?” He asks curtly.

“What?”

“I’ve seen those ladies down at the market. What do they charge for a reading? I’ll pay you double.”

“No, it’s–”

“I’ll buy you some new boots or something,” he barters.

“Why?”

“I’m bored. This place is boring.” He says. You won’t ask why he doesn’t just leave. You inhale and clamp your lips tight. “You must hate it. So… I wanna know my future.”

“I… fine,” you shrug, “shuffle the cards.”

You look around. There’s really no good place to do the reading. He shuffles the cards and strides by you, brushing against your arm. He sits on the side of your bed. Alright, well, you guess that’s fine.

You move your laptop and books and climb up, smoothing the blanket before you. You sit on one legs and keep your fingers on the duvet.

“You need to ask a question?” You say.

“A question?”

“Yeah, like something about what you should focus on at work or in your relationships,” you explain, “something to guide the cards.”

“Hmm, oh, well, the second one.”

“Okay… any specific relationships?” You prompt, “like family–”

“With you.” 

“What?”

“Me and you.”

“Uhhhh,” you drone, “that’s… alright. Focus on that then.”

You put your hand out. He hands you the cards and you fan them out. He watches, tilting his head as he brings his knee up onto the bed and faces you straight on. The strangeness of the situation does not escape you. It sears down your neck.

“Pick three cards.”

He does so easily. One, two, three. Most people would take their time but he is always straight to the point. You point to where he should place each card. The first there, the second next to it, and the third above.

“Alright, so,” you set the deck aside, “this is basic. The first card represents you, the second would be the other person.”

“You,” he smirks.

“Sure,” you say, “and the third, would be both together.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he rests his hand on his thigh, tapping his fingers.

“Alright then, flip the first one.”

He does as you say. You consider the card.

“Temperance, reversed,” you announce, “it means you like excess, you often go to extremes, so much so that your life often lacks balance and harmony.”

He nods and clucks, “I can’t disagree.”

“Second,” you direct him.

He flips it.

“Nine of swords, upright,” you utter. You let the air linger.

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“Anxiety, or sadness, dread,” you don’t look up at him, “so this other person… me, I guess, has a lot on their mind to worry about.”

“Wow, the cards really are magic.”

You wince and look at him. Is it that obvious?

“Final card.”

“Oh, I’m excited,” he turns it over, “what does fate have in store for us?”

“Page of wands, upright; represents exploration, excitement, and…” you pause as you search your mind, “freedom?”

“Sounds like a good time to me,” he snickers.

“They’re just cards,” you quickly gather up the trio. It means nothing.

“Do you read palms?” He asks as you put the cards with the rest of the deck and shimmy to the edge of the bed.

“No, I… no.” You eke out as you let yourself down to the floor, “look, thanks for humouring me but I’m tired–”

“Hard to tell with all the eyeliner,” he remarks.

You give him a sharp look. He smirks as he turns both legs over the edge of the bed and leans back on his hands. It’s almost a boyish expression.

“I’m pretty beat myself,” he says, “cozy.”

He lets himself fall onto his back. You put the deck back on the shelf and chew on the situation. What the hell is going on? He’s invading your space, mocking you, and you’re just letting him.

“Maybe you should go home–”

“Pretty big bed–”

“I kick in my sleep,” you go to the end of the bed and he turns his head towards you. You see that devilish gleam in his eyes.

“You bring a lot of boys in here?”

“What?” Your voice wilts out, barely rising.

“Easy enough to sneak em through the window. Got that tree right out there, they could just–” He motions with his hand, “zip right in.”

You let your anger burn through. You get that from your father. You fight not to let it win over but it rises so hotly that sometimes you can’t.

“I don’t appreciate this.”

“What do you mean?” He rubs his chest.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

“You are. This is my room and I…” you swallow and ball your fists, “I want you to get out.”

“Sweetheart, really, I’m not–”

“You are. You can’t say or do anything that hasn’t been said or done before. I get it, okay? So please, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”

He blows out and turns his head straight. He deflates and reluctantly pushes himself up. He tidies his hair as he stands.

“You’ll see, baby doll,” he struts lazily to the door, “the last thing I’m doing is making fun of you.” he looks back at you, his lips slanting, “I’m out for a different sort of fun…”

You storm towards him and shoo him out the door. He cackles and you slam the door behind him. Out. Get out! You feel like you need to cleanse your room now. You hear his rocky laughter on the other side as he lingers, his hand hitting the door before dragging down it.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls through the door.

He pushes off, the door jolting in the frame, and his footsteps peter away. You huff and face the room. He never told you why he was in there. You cross to the bed and drag your laptop and books off. As you do, you smell a trace of his cologne disturbed by the movement. You turn away and stack them on your desk.

You are ready for the day to end, even if tomorrow holds little promise.

[tcfactory]

This is going to be a long Taash rant, I'm sorry.

I genuinely think trying to find their gender identity - along with their cultural one - is a fitting and personal story for Taash, being 20 and this being their first real chance to get out from their community and find themself. Is it on the nose and very hamfisted? Yeah, kinda. The writing can be really bad in this game overall. But that "nobody likes being a woman" line was pretty spot on, as far as these kinds of experiences go and sitting next to someone trying to figure themselves out is never pretty or smooth.

There are parts of their personal story that sink the whole thing for me, however. We could have done without using 'nonbinary' as a word - that's a very modern word that sticks out in the language of the game and doesn't get an explanation about how it even got there. I don't like the mother's character much, but when she goes "what does that even mean??" I thought that was a very legit reaction to being introduced to a new word (in a language that isn't her native one even) that, as far as I could gather, isn't even really used in Rivain. Taash got this fancy new word from Neve and because the concept fits, they are now resistant to calling it anything else.

Which is what ultimately sinks a scene that could have been about reconciliation, about parent and child finding a middle ground. Shathann tries to make sense of what her child is telling her, tries to find common ground - here's the word that the Qun uses for this concept, is this what you mean? - and Taash immediately rejects it, because she doesn't use their chosen word, isn't immediately on board with it in the exact way they want her to be. I'm sorry, did you want your mother to find common ground with you or not?? Shathann tries, but she's not doing it right so we are not doing this at all I guess???

I'm closeted irl (due to the state of politics and trans-related healthcare as well as rampant, violent queerphobia in my country) and I haven't dared to broach the topic with my mother because she's open minded about some things and very bigoted about others (very "I don't mind faggots, I want everyone to be happy with whoever they are that happiest, but only if I don't have to see them" energy) but if I did tell her, I'd be overjoyed if she tried to meet me where I stand. Even if she doesn't get it right or understand what I'm telling her exactly.

So to see a character that previously was bending into pretzels trying to get their mother's approval and understanding get angry at the olive branch and reject it was baffling.

Another thing that was really frustrating to see was the scene with Isabella doing the pushups and it being presented as a good, welcome thing.

Isabella accidentally misgenders Taash in the middle of telling a story about them - something that would have been a popular story that she has no doubt told many times in the past - and instead of a quick apology or even just correcting herself and moving on, she goes off to the corner to do pushups for a bit, explaining some cutesy story about how this is so much better than apologies, because what if you don't mean it and what if you turn that around and make it all about yourself?

Well, you made it about yourself anyway, with this performative act of self-flagellation. Adjusting to someone's new pronouns can take a bit, because you are working against your own habits and ingrained muscle memory. Slip ups happen, especially in contexts like this. She was already accepting and making an effort to use Taash's new pronouns, the theatrics were off-putting and unnecessary. Everyone has a different experience with gender, but most trans and nonbinary people understand this and don't want you to treat their new pronouns as something to be made a fuss about. The best you can do is treat it like normal so it becomes a new normal. Go forward and keep making an effort using their new pronouns - build up that new muscle memory! - and it will be fine. If someone feels like you are not making enough of an effort because you keep slipping up (maybe because you still think of them as a woman, deep down), there are ways to address that between the two of you.

Now, aside from how uncomfortable that scene made me feel because the narrative pushes so hard for it that this is the correct way to handle this situation...

Can we address the elephant in the room and look at what message this sends to cis people? Not the crowd crying about wokeness, they can rot where they are, but players who have not been exposed to trans/nonbinary narratives before and are uninformed or ambivalent about the topic. Taash is angry and aggressive when the world doesn't immediately reorder itself in a way that accommodates their new identity the exact way they want it to. They don't even get any meaningful pushback!! Nobody questions or disregards their new identity, even their mother is more confused than anything. A cis character making one mistake of misgendering them is punished for it and it is explained at length why she should be punished and why that is a good thing.

I will give them the benefit of the doubt and say that it's probably unintentional, but this is feeding into some of the most prevalent anti-trans stereotypes that paint trans and nonbinary people as vindictive and unreasonable and all I can say to that is 😬. Should have put more thought into this, people.

[sky-kiss]

A/N: Blatant Asmodeus propaganda. After betraying Raphael in the HoH to save Baldur's Gate, they steal his corpse back from Meph and entreat Asmodeus. Also. A Dracula gif. To push my agenda.

Raph x GN!Tav: A Pact Struck, A Contract Sealed

Ages have passed, and empires have risen and fallen since a mortal last attempted to bind his Aspect. Asmodeus feels a tickling in the back of his psyche, barely a drag at his near-infinite energy. His awareness fragments and then shifts, searching for the source of the petition. The words come second, the feelings first. 

Desperation. Pain. A soul-deep grief. Physical hurt, too, but it's a stinging afterthought. The Lord of the Nine Hells cocks his head to the side, eyes closed. They are petitioning his avatar. They whisper in the darkness. A chill winter breeze howls around them, bowing the branches of dead trees. How fitting, he thinks, that this little creature should surround itself with such things. They wear death like a shroud. 

He is not in the habit of entertaining such low-hanging fruit…but there is a touch of something in their desperation, a sweetness Asmodeus has not sampled in many years. It amuses him. And he is not above indulging his amusement—the Archdevil motions with his right hand, passing a fraction of his awareness to the Aspect. The darkness of his throne room fades in favor of a moonlit night—the sickly sweet tang of blood colors the air. 

Ah, and there is his petitioner. They sit with their back pressed to an ancient white birch, skin badly frostbitten. Cania's stink lingers across their skin, brimstone and hellfire marrying together. They curl around their prize, clutching a badly mangled figure to their chest. Asmodeus hums, kneeling. Its wings are broken. So many bones shattered. 

"Tell me, child." His voice is low and pleasant in the chill air, a warmth chasing along the baritone. "Do you know whose name you have called? The attention you would court?" 

They nod, grip tightening on their prince. Tears cut through the mess of dirt on their skin. Crying, he thinks, and what a charming little oddity. Who shed tears for a devil? How curious. How delightful. "Lord Asmodeus, Prince of the Darkness. Lord of Lies." 

"Indeed, I am. Pretty titles, aren't they?" 

"I thought…" they catch themselves. Asmodeus notes the tremor in their right hand and the way they struggle to stay upright. His presence is overpowering at the best of times; the wounded little creature is fighting valiantly not to succumb to darkness, mind breaking under the weight of his Aspect's attention.

"My apologies, little one. It has been some since I treated with your kind. Allow me." He reaches out with one clawed hand, tapping his nail to the center of their forehead. The ward will protect them from the worst of it. They blink at him. "Continue, please." 

Their right hand tightens in the corpse's dark hair. "My Lord, I had hoped to make a deal with you. I know…I am beneath your attention…"

"Most are. The benefit of being a god, I suppose. But it has never stopped me in the past." 

Despite themself, they smile. Shuffling, the adventurer turns their burden outwards. Though badly burned, cheekbones shattered, he recognizes the features—so much of the father in the son, an agony to both parties. Mephistopheles' boy stares blankly forward—a hollow shell of himself, a waste of potential.  

It pains the Prince to see so promising a resource wasted. 

"I made a mistake. I…" they swallow. "There was something that had to be done. And it came at a cost. Raphael…” 

"The boy is known to me, child. If I may?" They hesitate. Asmodeus forces his temper down, the air around them heating. He is a god and not in the habit of being denied. But the Hero of Baldur's Gate relents, shifting their burden into his arms. The Lord of the Ninth cups his hand over the pretender-king's mouth, his forehead. Asmodeus shuts his eyes. "Such a waste." 

"Can you help him?"

"Do you doubt me, little one?" They shift back, dropping their eyes at the sharpness of his tone—a warning, barely veiled. "Mephistopheles has devoured that which he gave—the infernal. The mortal soul…is uncontested. Lost somewhere in Avernus. It could be located…for a price."

"Anything." 

Asmodeus chuckles. He is not ignorant of the sudden rush of color in the little creature's cheeks or how the sound makes them avert their eyes. This guise is pleasant, after all, tall and angular and dark. The wind catches in the blackness of his hair, the long strands falling well below his shoulders. "How dearly naive. I've half a mind to take advantage of such generosity." They shiver under the force of his stare, reality undoubtedly going dark around the edges. He hums. "But…the alternative could prove a more pleasurable distraction still." 

The Lord of the Ninth stands, holding out his hand. The hero, Tav, sets their palm in his. He helps them to their feet, settling his other hand on their shoulders. So close, he can feel the weight of their exhaustion and desperation rolling off them, an ambrosia. The depth of their affection for the boy-king. Interesting and useful. Asmodeus touches their cheek. 

"I will treat with you, little one, and more fairly than I ought. Your dear one's potential: a few more centuries, a stern hand, and Raphael might have made a powerful piece on the board. His sire is…" Asmodeus tapped his chin. "Increasingly irrelevant. Immutable and tiresome." 

Tav stares up at him, such a little thing. And there is potential there, too, the ability to warp and mold this boy-king into something suitable to his grand design. He touches their cheek with a claw. "I will give the means to locate Raphael's soul. In retrieving it, you will prove your worth and dedication. I have no use for the faint of heart. Is this clear?" 

"Yes, my Lord." 

"Clever pet, very clever." He smiles, chucking them under the chin. "You bring the boy to my court in Nessus, where he shall be given the means to decide his fate. Is that clear?" 

"Yes."

What an amusing twist of fate. He bends, collecting the Prince's mangled body in his arms. Tav looks ready to protest, to fight for their dear one (and again, how delightful; Asmodeus cannot help but feel charmed), only to remember what precisely stands before them: a god in truth, the Lord of all the Nine Hells. Asmodeus smiles at them, bowing his head. "I shall keep him for you, little one. You have my oath. Collect his soul, and we will meet again." 

He leaves them without another word, a touch of the dramatic, a hint of mystery to whet their palette. Asmodeus inspects the corpse in his arm. 

Sweet Prince, broken and bloodied. 

Asmodeus will make him whole again. 

[serpentface]

what are the personalities of the brabrides kids like? do they exhibit any character traits which have accusers pointing? does brakul see any of his relatives in them?

They're their own people, they don't have much strong or obvious resemblances in personality to their biological parents (they're also very young so learned/absorbed traits will probably emerge later in life).

Livya is 3 years old at this time so still a toddler. As of yet she seems to be a very serious child (had a habit of staring at people with a very stern expression as an infant that has continued through the present). She's reserved around new people and not very talkative, though she'll get very chatty to herself when she's alone or with a few select people (namely Erubi and their housekeeper Odelas' grandchildren). Her main focus in life at this point seems to be following her sister around and constructing elaborate private fantasies with toy animals. Plays alright with other children but gets mad when they're doing it 'wrong' in ways only discernible to her.

She does remind Brakul of his first child a little, though mostly in the sense that the kid came off as a serious baby and had gone on longer than average without starting to speak the last time he saw him.

Erubi is more outgoing and will readily get chatty with adults. She has a tendency to be bossy and competitive and will gleefully announce when she's better at things than someone else. Gets frustrated and pouty when she doesn't 'win' at things. She's not particularly malicious about this, but it still makes her a difficult playmate for most children. VERY high energy. Very impulsive. Accidentally(ish) killed a pet polecat by dropping it out of a window (she couldn't articulate exactly what she was trying to accomplish there) and then cried for days over it. She's regarded as a handful, stubborn and frustrating to manage by people around her on a daily basis, but she tends to be received as charming, precocious, and intelligent.

She actually reminds people of what Janeys and ESPECIALLY Faiza was like at her age, WRT the latter the notion of her being inducted as an Odonii when she gets older has already been floated. (This is largely nepotism and selection tends to be politically motivated, but she fits the profile of a preferable candidate- comes from a significant and connected noble family, healthily robust and intelligent, balancing a delicate line of 'equipped for masculine roles' while not seen as 'masculinized').

Both siblings have a fairly good relationship with fairly typical sibling strains at this point in their lives. Livya seems to want to emulate Erubi and spends a lot of time following her around (with some difficulty). Erubi is usually willing to play with her and assist in her care, but is recently starting to hit the 'annoyed with baby sibling tailing her and getting in the way of her very important, very mature deeds' phase. She was very mad that she couldn't come along on the pilgrimage and had to stay behind with the toddler.

Erubi has some definite behavioral tics she's picked up from parents (harder to tell with Livya at this point). She runs her fingers through her hair when it's unbraided and fidgets with braids like Hibrides. Janeys has, like, the Asuka Langley Soryu stance when he's trying to be commanding (arms crossed or on hips, legs stanced apart, chin up) and she's STRONGLY picked up on that and does it constantly. Does it back to Janeys. It's a sight to see.

She's also picked up a tiny shred of a 'northerner' accent with words she's learned specifically from Brakul, also has figured out she can get a Reaction out of her mother by saying her name with his accent (Hih-Bree-Dez with a long 'bree' and rolled R, rather than Hee-Breh-Dez with a long 'hee'/unrolled R) and at this point isn't too concerned about why this reaction seems to be 'mild horror'.

[meafortuna]

ASTRO NOTES #5

Mambo number 5. 😁 Take what resonates and enjoy it! 🫶

• I have never met a stronger person than one with Sun square Saturn/Pluto. There is nothing that this individual cannot overcome and trust me in their life it’s always something that they have to deal with. All of their life is full with challenges and obstacles that are really hard to handle, but these people… ❤️ They have to fight with something or someone all the time, there is no chance for rest. And the saddest thing is they don’t even realise how strong are they, instead of that they always criticise and underestimate themselves and never let themselves to doing what they want. Most of times this aspect has something to deal with problematic male figures in the life of the person. Sometimes can be a father, but i have noticed more often it’s about spouse/partner. They just attract abusive people who try to control them, because of their lack of self esteem. Incredible inner strength and I admire them. Hats off! 👏

• Venus in 5th house and their love for children. 🚸 I mean if i have to pick a teacher for my child it will be someone with this placement. The way they communicate with kids is so unpretended, they can make the child to feel like they are equal. They just have that joyful and childish personality, which perfectly match with the energy of the kids. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that they want kids (especially if it’s in the sign of ♒️ ♍️ ♑️ ♈️), let’s not forget that 5th house it’s also about what are the things that brings joy to us. Venus in this house can sometimes indulge too much in the pleasures of life and not want to take responsibilities like children. 🍬

• If you searching for a long lasting friendship, you should look for someone with Saturn in 11th house. These people have only a few friends, and most of them are from their early years. They look at a friendships as a responsibilities, so they will put much effort in you, but once they see you don’t do the same, they will cut you out of their life. Their group of friends often is small, because deep down they are insecure and don’t think they fit with anyone, or just because of their high expextations. Often times their friends are older then them. The bad news are the access to that circle of close friends it’s not that easy to get. So if you are already in there, stay there, these guys will be, no matter what, always there for you. 👫 * There is one quote that reminds me of Saturn in 11th house - “Friendship’s serious. Maybe more than love.” 🪐

• I found it funny how Moon in 1st house thinks they are good with hiding their emotions.🙈 Yes, they can control them or suppress them, they even won’t say if anything is wrong, because they don’t want to bother you with their problems, but their facial expressions will scream everything that’s inside of them. Except they wear their heart on their sleeve, their mood is entirely subject to how their environment reacts to them. People pleasers who need to stand for themselves more often. And also, stop using other people's problems to forget your own, that’s not good coping mechanism, ok? This applies to all Moon signs, doesn’t matter if is in ♑️ or ♏️, which are generally more secretive and private. *Sometimes if they suppress something that upsets them, their facial skin may get irritated. 🌗

• Mars in 8th house and their s*xual desire 24/7?! What’s that? 😅 Yes, they are pretty good when it comes to that part, but does anyone else have noticed how they can stand without having s*x for a really long time. ♾️ 8th house also represent taboos, and Mars in here can feel some sort of restrictions when it comes to s*x. Especially if Mars aspecting Moon or in Cancer, will seek emotional connection first, or their s*xuality strongly will depend on what’s going on in their inner world. They are not that type who just sit there and think “hm, i feel down today, i should have some s*x”, no quite the opposite. Just because this is Mars, doesn’t mean these people are only primal creatures. In this house Mars will crave for deep intimacy with their partner, there must be passion, something sacred, otherwise they don’t want it. ❤️‍🔥

• Mercury in Aries it’s the most blunt and energetic sign. Did they ever sit when they talk about something that it’s important for them? Sometimes it’s hard to listen to them, because they use all of their body in the conversation - hands, legs, head and I don’t know do i have to listen or watch them?! 🤸‍♂️But on the other hand if they are not interested in the topic of the talk, they won’t even look at you, while you explain something, they just don’t care to listen. And I guess because of their energetic nature, they also learning new things faster than the others. 🐏

• I think Mercury in 7th house is the planet that want relationship more than others. When it comes to seventh house people would say that Venus or Moon represent the most our desire for relationship, but i would say that will be Mercury. Mercury it’s about what are our thoughts, how we learn, what kind of themes we like to talk about, how we think, how communicate… do you get my point? 🗣️ Natives with Mercury in this house are the one who truly desires for relationships with another people, not only because they need to communicate with others, but because that will put their mind at ease. Think about it - if something it’s on your mind daily, than isn't this thing of primary importance to you? Yes, Mercury here also represents that the individual will seek someone who is intelligent or communication will be really important for them in one relationship. 🔭

• I hate saying things that have been said hundreds of times, but Cancers are so damn manipulative and use your weakest spot to hurt you, especially women. 👩🏻‍🦰 What’s wrong with them? They are not over emotional, they just pretend to be like that so can make you do whatever they want. I have seen many, many Cancers that have such a narcissistic behaviour. I still love them, but I can’t justify that sh*t. ♋️

~meafortuna 💙