#''You know where these belong? On my self-ship blog!'' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-raven-lady · 3 months ago

Text

(Not) The Savior You Long For [Part 2]

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Night Lord (OC: Elias Rushorik) x serf!Reader [fem]

Song Inspiration: Jaws - Sleep Token [YouTube] [Spotify] “And I’m not here to be / the savior you long for / Only the one you don’t. / Are you watching me / with eyes of a predator / As you move towards the door?”

Warnings: Violence, cannibalism, explicit and detailed blood and gore, Night Lord things, ownership over reader, accidental voyuerism (sound only), trypanophobia (medical syringe)

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: 1.6k words of this are just an introduction that I wrote before I even got into the meat of it, completely by accident, because I do not know how to write without adding 30 layers of context and background (4D chess ass writing). Special thank you to @cannibalise for giving me delectable ideas and reading over some of the more graphic parts to help me set the tone!!!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender @historitor-bookshelf

Even weeks later, you struggle to shake the psychological mark the terminator’s gaze left on you. You make yourself busy sweeping one of the main halls, pushing your broom robotically up and down the grand passageway. The other legion serfs around you serve a similar purpose: readying the ship for the return of your Primarch and his elite troops. The Nightfall had been in orbit of this planet for naught but a week, dealing with a cultish tech-society and its oppressive government, yet the Night Lords managed to convince them to join the Imperium in record time.

Convince is a strong word. You’re intimately aware that the discussion was had in the language of acts of violence and burned cities. Having once been on the receiving end of the Eighth’s hedonistic wrath, the thought sends an unpleasant chill through you, memories of mutilation and dismemberment still so clear in your mind. It had taken months for you to stop having panic attacks at the metallic tang of fresh blood. The whirr of a heavy flamer still got to you.

On one of your passes, you sweep by the alley leading to the armory and stop, staring down the dark hall. The serf no longer hangs from the torch bracket, and the astartes that attacked you no longer sits limply against the wall. His armor had been picked at and ‘recycled’ back into the legion. You have no idea what became of either body.

Another memory involuntarily takes you back to the night you had been so narrowly saved by the terminator.

—No, you could not call him your savior. He had just wanted his armor shined, and there was something in his way so he removed it. Night Lords are selfish, self-interested and sadistic, and he was no different.

You rested the massive helmet in your lap as you worked, scraping at filth that had built up for who knows how long. It amazed you that the astartes it belonged to could even see through the lenses given how much dried blood was crusted on them. It came off in flakes before dissolving into the moisture of the wash rag. You could have called the stained fabric spotless when you started compared to how soiled with grime it was now; at a glance, no one would be able to tell that it was white before.

The terminator’s eyes watched you like final judgement. The weight of his gaze instilled an unease in your heart, stabbing at every opportunity it could: each time you looked up at him, each time you lost focus, each time you caught a glimpse of the mangled Night Lord on the floor. It all hammered at a primal spike of dread that threatened to overwhelm you, consume you entirely, reminding you that you were only alive because you were useful. The tension was just as strong as when you had been pinned to the wall or huddled on the floor.

Your washcloth eventually reached a point where it was only smearing the grime rather than removing it, and you looked up to your silent master. The power of his presence alone made you hesitant to speak, and you found your throat suddenly parched. When you eventually recovered your voice, it left you as a croak, “I-I need to grab my water pail from the other room.”

He simply continued to stare at you, unmoving. As still as the gargoyles adorning the hall. You thought for a second that maybe he hadn’t heard you, and you opened your mouth to try again.

”I need to—“

”Then do it.”

You flinched. A rolling storm, his simple response left no room for questioning. Carefully placing his helmet onto the bench, you scuttled off to retrieve the bucket from the other room. His gaze burnt holes into your back.

The water in your bucket was a rusty brown slop when you returned to it. All of the heavier contaminants had settled to the bottom in a coagulated mass while you were away, gelatinous flesh and tangled hair weaving throughout. You lifted the heavy pail, careful not to spill any of the vile concoction onto yourself. Passing by, you noted that the other serf’s water was substantially less dingy than your own, and you didn’t think twice to grab it instead. It’s not as if it was of any use to her now.

The squelch of meat being torn and defiled echoed suddenly through the otherwise silent armory, instinctually gluing you to your spot on the floor. Cracks and crunches of something solid breaking bounced around you. The abrasive sounds left your heart fluttering and nerves electric, and a panicked tension flowed through your limbs as fight or flight tried its damndest to take over.

‘It would be safer to hide, hide, retreat to safety,’ it erroneously cried, weighing you down like lead. A comforting lie.

One you refused to give in to.

‘There is no safety here,’ you retorted, ‘Only certain death.’ A wolf’s den, and you were the doting lamb. The fear of facing punishment for taking too long far outweighed the hesitation to continue, and you willed yourself to step forward through the icy shackles binding you.

The sight of the terminator tearing flesh from the body of his former brother froze you as you rounded the corner with your pail. His eyes were glazed in manic pleasure as he ripped off another juicy chunk, sharp teeth effortlessly dissecting muscle fibers from the cooling corpse. Bestial snarling and slurping accompanied every chomp, and growls at a pitch nearly too deep to hear rattled through your bones like a saw. With each gnash of his powerful jaws, blood and spit shot out of the torn hole in his mouth, drooling down his armor in crimson dribbles.

Time itself seemed to stop when his predatory gaze found you. His dilated pupils completely swallowed the outer corners of white— could you even consider them dilated when they took up so much of his eyes already?— and pinned you in place. The ravenous beast swallowed his kill in a silent threat.

You were about to make a run for it when he lowered the defiled corpse and snarled at you, foreign viscera spewing from his scar.

”Finish.”

You had done exactly as you were told while the terminator continued to make a mess of himself. Once you’d finished his helmet, he made you clean off the rest of his armor as a token of a job well done.

A strong dissonance contrasted the perfectly shined ceramite and rags of human hide adorning his war gear. You didn’t understand at first why the Night Lords would go through such lengths to clean their armor, only to decorate it with the disgusting tokens of their kills and bathe it in blood again, but over time you began to recognize the mentality. The layers of blood were a byproduct of their work— terrifying in their own right, yes, however ultimately just ‘part of the job’—, but each placement of flesh and bone was deliberate; they chose to wear them. It added terror to their already gruesome countenance.

You figure you must have done well polishing his armor, because the terminator had left you alive in the end. As expected, he gave you no feedback. No thanks or gratitude shown before he simply walked off. For the second time that day, you were left in the armory with a huge mess to clean entirely on your own.

Shaking your head, you return to the present and continue sweeping, pushing the pile of dust around to keep yourself busy.

Sharp clanks of heavy boots cut through the relative peace. You look down the hall to see other serfs parting ways and scurrying off to make way for a coming company of giants. Their armor dwarfed that of the regular Night Lords, tanks of metal and firepower that razed battlefields in their wake.

The Contekar Elite.

You knew of them from hushed whispers passed between serfs in the chow hall. Units of butchers that sowed despair in the hearts of their foes. Ruthless in how they constantly checked one another, the Contekar took advantage of any perceived weakness to prove their dominance over the rest of the legion. They were notorious for simply killing any commanders they disagreed with, and only the likes of First Captain Sevatarion or the Lord Night Haunter himself could tame them.

Each colossus carried weapons as long and large as your entire body as they approached: chainblades, flamers, and cavitators, all ready to be used at a moment's notice. You hurried to get out of their way, tucking yourself behind a hallway corner. The monoliths of steel shook the ground with each step, a deafening thunder echoing down the main hall that signaled their arrival. There was no chorus or fanfare amongst them to be found; each marine was as silent as death itself.

They ignored you as they passed by. The Contekar couldn’t care less for the meddlings of a common legion serf, too busy with themselves to notice you, and it brought you shallow comfort.

At least, it would have.

Preoccupied with watching the marines at your front passing by, you didn’t realize that one of them was headed straight towards you until his footfalls physically rattled the ground beneath you. You whip your head towards him and nearly jump out of your skin, clutching to the corner of the wall as he stares down at you.

His entire body is marred with blood. Even from where you cower, you can see that he must be at least three meters tall in his armor, if not more. The digits of his power claw have pieces of mangled flesh still caught between their hydraulic pistons, forming webs between them. A mummified head dangles at eye level from a meat hook, and it crosses your mind that it could have been yours.

You recognize his tusked helmet immediately.

The Contekar studies you. He is a perfect statue: unmoving and silent aside from the faint whirring emanating from the power pack on his back. Behind the scarlet lenses, his eyes scrutinize you down to your very last atom. A lion picking apart its prey.

“Come,” he orders, his gruff voice offering no further explanation. He takes a step away from you with the intent to continue further down the passage, and you suddenly find your limbs leaden and weak, unable to follow. Sensing your trepidation, his head turns back towards you, eyes locking on yours. The faded skull decal isn’t as cute when you’re at the receiving end of its ire.

Pain shoots up your left arm as you’re yanked off of the wall and lifted without another word. The cold metal of the Escaton power claw digs into your bones uncomfortably, sharpened claws at each fingertip poking into your flesh. The terminator grasps you by your forearm and drags you beside him until you can find your footing and walk on your own, stumbling into a jog to keep up. When you retrieve your arm, partially dried pieces of viscera stick to it from where you were grabbed. You brush them off hastily with a grimace; at least the power claw didn’t break skin.

You hug closely to the terminator’s leg as you walk with the group, not wanting to get trampled. The other serfs mostly keep their heads down as you pass them by, but a few give you a sympathetic look. The rest of the Contekar continue to ignore you.

The suites housing the Elite are grander than any part of the ship you have been in thus far. Compared to the regular Night Lord’s dorms, the metal halls leading to their private quarters are pristine. The usual decor of skulls and tanned skins is present, but there is no buildup of filth and grime along the floors and walls. The scent of fresh air is jarring. Most surprising to you is that each of the marines has their own private rooms, which you learn when you are unceremoniously shoved into one.

The tusked terminator’s room is shockingly comfortable, for a Night Lord. A thin light strip, the same brightness of a full moon on your former world, serves as the only illumination of the dark room. Along the walls are various trophies that you assume are from his time in the field, both of his kills and plunders. A large work table and chair take up the whole of the wall to your right. Instead of a regular astartes-sized cot, there is an actual bed with pillows and a wide plush mattress. In the back corner of the room is a closed door, which you assume leads to a washroom.

Whoever your new charge was, he lives well.

A click catches your attention, and you turn to your left to see him removing the heavy pauldrons of his armor. He places each of them on the sturdy table, then turns his attention to his power claw, his gauntlets, his vambraces— steadily pulling them off one plate at a time. After removing his helmet, shakes out his greasy black hair and turns to look at you with a furrow in his brow.

You remember your place and jump into action, aiding the marine in removing his sabatons. The plates of ceramite are much too heavy for you to lift on your own, but it’s easier for your smaller hands to get into the creases to release locks and latches. The two of you enter a wordless synergy, pulling off the heavy terminator armor piece by piece and placing each on a designated mantle. You’re extra careful not to get caught on the hooks of his armor. The desiccated head serves as a good reminder.

Even reduced to just his body glove, the astartes is colossal. His height easily dwarfs the majority of his brothers. You have to crane your neck upwards to look at his face, barely coming up to chest level on him. This close, you can see the sprinkling of grey hair within his sideburns and the lines of his face that indicate some arbitrary older age. You never did know how to tell the ages of astartes.

He uses his newfound freedom to stretch his limbs. Each is as broad as a tree trunk, and you figure they’re likely just as immovable. When he catches you staring and waiting, he simply returns the look, quietly raising an eyebrow.

“Would you like your armor shined, my lord?” you try, gesturing vaguely to the table and mantle. His eyes track the movement, looking over his war gear in silence before he gives you a curt nod. He points to a drawer beside his bed, then without further clarification turns his attention to removing his body glove.

Within the drawer you discover a stack of folded shop towels. Why they’re there is a mystery to you. Judging by the size of the terminator armor, you decide three is enough for now, grabbing them and sliding the drawer shut. You look up to ask if the Contekar has any armor oil around, only to see him half-naked walking through the door in the corner. It swings shut behind him, leaving you once again to solve your problems on your own.

You wonder what force in this universe blessed you with such a communicative master.

It took him three entire days to tell you, “you live here,” instead of simply denying you the ability to leave and making you sleep on the floor. You swore he was going to turn your rib cage into a new trophy when you eventually did get out, trying to navigate your way back to the serfs’ dormitory for much needed food. He had hunted down like a rabbit, snatched you up from behind, and thrown you back into his quarters with a growl to, “stay put.” What the terminator lacked in words, he greatly made up for with his intimidating presence.

He did get you food, though, and an abundance of it. You hadn't seen so much variety since you were still living on your home planet. Delicacies like meat were rare to you, and you eagerly scarfed everything down. In your hunger, you did not ask where the meat came from.

It’s not as if he would have told you anyway, given how scantily he spoke. You haven’t even gotten his name out of him yet.

The only times you were permitted to leave the suite were when you could accompany him. Trips to the armory gave you vital chances to hoard cleaning supplies, having gotten accustomed to the lesser atmosphere of decay around the Elites’ quarters. On top of the standard armor oils, you managed to snag an expensive looking jar of polish, which you hoped would gain you some favor. Your master doesn’t particularly show you signs of care, but he also hasn’t killed you yet, and that has to be worth something.

On your way back to his quarters, a discordant howling rings out from one of the rooms adjacent to his. You flinch at the sound, assuming the worst: that somebody nearby was in the midst of being tortured and flayed alive, and that you would have to hear their slow untimely demise throughout the night. It wouldn’t be the first time you had to fall asleep to the sounds of screams and cries. The Contekar, however, scoffs. His nose scrunches up in annoyance, teeth bared in a disgusted snarl.

“Don’t understand the appeal,” he grunts, shaking his head and continuing forward.

Glancing over in confusion, you start to pay more attention to the sound. The rhythmic pattern of each holler and whine. The sound of skin on skin. The quiet pleas of, “more, please, more!”

Your eyes widen when you put two and two together, ducking your head down to hide the blush steadily rising on your cheeks. That was not the type of torture you were expecting to hear. You pick up the pace and hope the terminator doesn’t recognize your sudden newfound urgency.

He allows you to store your armory stash in his bedside drawer alongside the rags. It nearly knocks you over when he throws an arm out to keep you from closing it, sending you staggering back with a huff. He removes one of the towels, then abruptly drops it over the top of your head. You don’t even get the chance to remove it before you’re being pushed in a direction, blindly stumbling along. A transition strip between some passageway causes you to trip and fall to the floor. Pulling the towel off of your head, your vision clears to the sight of the bathroom.

You shoot the terminator a bewildered look before he lifts you by the back of your shirt and throws you underneath a showerhead, giving you no warning before turning it on. The cold jet hits you like a hose spray, causing you to yipe at the sudden temperature shock. Freezing water saturates your clothes.

He breathily laughs at your agonized shiver.

Despite the rude beginning, you return from the washroom refreshed, feeling for the first time like your skin isn’t permanently encrusted with the gunk lining nearly every surface of the ship. It had been weeks since you could last bathe in any capacity. The water did warm up eventually– not warm, but not frigid– and allow you to scrub the filth off.

When you exited the shower, your master was nowhere to be seen, and there was a new uniform on the oversized counter. It wasn’t difficult to tell that it was intended for you, given the vast size difference between you and the Elite. The navy blue outfit bears an embroidery of the Eighth’s winged skull over each shoulder and lines of Nostraman text that you are unable to translate. You’re just happy the new garbs aren’t tattered and fraying like the last, which you gleefully toss. They land in the bucket with a wet squish.

As you approach the door to the main room of the quarters, you’re alerted to the sound of quiet conversation, not expecting there to be anyone but the terminator about. The tonal register is too low and quiet for you to make out any spoken words.

You enter the space in time to watch your master sit at the table and place his arm out flat upon it. An apothecary stands beside him unpackaging a syringe. He stabilizes the terminator’s arm in the crux of his shoulder, turning his palm upwards and pressing the bevel of the needle into a prominent vein running distally from the elbow. Crimson liquid slowly fills the barrel as he pulls the plunger back.

The apothecary’s cart bears instruments uncharacteristic of typical medicae. Replacing scalpels and suturing utensils are various packaged needles and pigment bottles. A large battery pack wires into a small rectangular box, the screen and dials illegible to you from your current distance, with a strange metal stylus connected to it. Sitting atop a stack of disposable napkins is a tall wash bottle containing a clear substance. The apothecary flicks the syringe until the bubbles have all risen to the top, slowly venting the air until only blood remains, and he carefully ejects a drop into each of the waiting ink cups.

Your gaze falls back on the Contekar in time to see him rising from his chair and walking towards you. You cower back on instinct, anxiety creeping up from your chest.

He wipes a stray drop of blood from his arm with a thumb, and when you move to question what’s going on, he jams the digit into your mouth. The coppery taste spreads over your tongue as you gag from the intrusion, unable to pull away due to the unyielding grip he has on your jaw. He jerks your head upwards, forcing you to look at him, and the abyss of his black eyes swallows you whole.

“Strip.”

Not everyone saw the art the first time around, so here's your Mans

[Part 3]

#i fucking hate medical needles so that one scene was hard to write for me #the things I do for night lord tattoos #night lord #night lords #night lord x reader #warhammer fanfic #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #horus heresy #warhammer 40k x reader #wh 40k #oc: elias rushorik #raven lady writings

100 notes · View notes

lady-raidia · 2 months ago

Note

Hi my dear) if you accept requests for RoP, could you do an Elendil x young!reader where Elendil is in love with reader, but he has two problems: 1) he is terribly insecure due to their age difference 2) he feels guilty before his first wife for allowing himself to love again

And perhaps reader helps him get through these bad thoughts and just romance and love! Thank you for your creativity! 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

I am back from the dead and I feel extremely ashamed. Many things have happened in my life and my mind was so overwhelmed that I neglegted my baby/tumblr blog and your requests. 😞 I apologize from the bottom of my heart that I just vanished, but I hope to make up for it by dropping some requests that are sitting on my laptop for quite some time. Please feel free to share your thoughts with me! Otherwise, I hope that everyone of you is doing well and that you are enjoying the new season of RoP! Also to the person who send me this request: Again, I am so sorry for the delay or for giving you the impression that I have abandoned everything! 😭 I still hope that you like what my brain spilled out because I really loved that idea! In fact I loved it so much that I have to split it into two parts so that it isn't too lengthy. I hope you enjoy! ✨💕

Pairing: Elendil x Reader

Summary: Your heart always belonged to the captain of the Sea Guard, and while you were so sure of your feelings towards him, he tried his best to deny any thoughts and feelings he had towards you. But will he be successful?

Warnings: A little bit angsty but with a turn to something sweet! Otherwise, just some cheesy lines (again) and weirdly written sentences. What is grammar lmao?

HEALING OF A HEART - PART I ✨

Life has always been kind to you as if the Valar themselves had blessed you with pure luck. That’s why you have decided early on in your life what your purpose will be. As a newly trained healer, you have fulfilled your desire to help people and to ease their pain in body and soul. Even though the injuries seem to be the same each day, the people who come for treatment are not. Except for three young men who just love to get in trouble, and end up injured enough that they need to be treated in the Healing Houses. Isildur, Ontamo and Valandil – as soon as you hear their names, you frown, knowing full well that they got into trouble again. Lucky for you, they rarely end up in the Healing Houses together, unlucky for Isildur he is the one who gets injured the most. And if you are not treating him, you are treating sailors from the sea guard who were not quick enough to escape the pirates, that are roaming the seas. Even though your patients tend to be different each day one person visits the Healing Houses regularly, visiting either his son or his comrades. Elendil, captain of the sea guard caught your attention the moment you laid eyes upon him. But he did not pay much attention to you. You were just another healer, who tended to those who needed care.

But the more often he visited, the more he felt intrigued by you. You and your soft voice, the sweet smile and the caring words you speak every time you see him. “Seeing your children getting hurt can tire your soul, captain. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.” The day you said these words to him, something stirred up inside of him. He told himself that you were giving him advice as a healer but his inner self wanted to believe that you actually cared for him. His heart started to beat in a rhythm that was made for you but his mind tortured him with denial. He was too old for you, too scarred from life that just had begun for you. This is what he told himself over and over again, not wanting to believe that the warmth in your eyes was only meant for him and only him.

The next time he was in the Healing Houses was not because of his son or one of his cadets; he was the one who needed caring. His ship and crew got attacked by pirates and even though they managed to escape rather swiftly, the pirates didn’t want to let them go without damage. Two arrows were shot and both of them hit Elendil in the chest while he tried to save his crew from the attack. Luckily, no one else got hurt but his wounds were serious and needed immediate care. When they arrived back in Armenelos, his comrades brought him to the Healing Houses immediately and you were the first and only Healer available. You tended to his wounds very quickly but the worry in your eyes was clear. The arrows hit a nasty spot but the wound itself was not deadly. Yet, it was hard for you to contain your feelings, but you had to stay calm, had to hide the feelings you had for the captain of the sea guard.

Days passed and Elendil slowly regained his strength. With your permission he was allowed to walk around the grounds of the Healing Houses, but only during the day for short periods. He listened to your words, except for this night. He was haunted by nightmares of the past, unable to fall asleep again. Quietly he got up from his bed, a cold chill running over his skin. His chest was exposed only covered in white bandages to make his wounds heal faster. But he didn’t pay much mind to the coldness he felt on his skin since another coldness was creeping up his thoughts.

Slowly he walked towards the window and sat down on the sill, staring out to the sea that is bathed in moonlight. The night was quiet and he couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder why his heart craves to be close to you, wondering why the gods were so cruel to him. He had a wife once but she was taken away from him too quickly and before their life together even started. Yet after all these years his heart still belonged to his perished wife, never did he think or crave other women. But for reasons unknown he can’t help it, his thoughts are always wandering back to you and it drives him insane. You are only a couple years older than his daughter, he shouldn’t want you. It’s not right, his wife would … he shakes his head, trying to get rid of these haunting thoughts and feelings. No, he promised to be loyal to his wife until the day he dies and he will keep this promise.

He let out a heavy sigh, not realizing that he had got company. “Is something the matter, captain? You look rather gloomy today.” He turns around in surprise, but with a soft smile on his lips while you look at him with worry in your eyes. “No, I’m just … reminiscing on the past.”, he replied. “Usually when people tend to think about the past too often they seem to get lost in it. Even stuck.” You said gently, moving to sit beside him on the windowsill. Elendil stays quiet thinking about your words, the smile on his lips slowly vanishing. “I am not the type of person to get stuck.” He tried to sound confident as he always does, but there is a hint of vulnerability hidden behind his words. You look at him unsure if you should speak your mind or just leave it be. There is so much you want to say, so much you want to confess but he is your patient after all. Yet, it is also your duty to heal the mind not only the body.

“With what your son has told me, I would politely disagree with that.” Elendil looks at you, surprise in his eyes and a hint of I-will-kill-my-son-later. “Isildur? What did he say this time?” “He shared his worries with me. He is worried about you because you can’t let go.” Your voice is quiet but your words … there is something eerie inside of them. Slowly and with care you take one of Elendils hands, holding it as a mother would hold her child's hand after it was haunted by nightmares. Elendils body starts to tingle but he pays it no mind, still too focused on your words.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to pry.” You say feeling as if you have crossed a line, taking your hand back and making a move to leave. But Elendil quickly grabs your hand again, wanting you to stay. “No, you did not pry. In fact … I think you might be right.” He holds your hand even tighter now, desperate to have you with him a minute longer. His touch makes your heart skip a beat but this is not the time to admit that. He is your patient and what he needs now is someone to talk to, someone who will calm the storm in his mind.

“Isildur spoke of his mother. I am sorry for the loss you had to bear.” Elendil nods, the memories of his late wife are with him every day. The memories that were once so sweet, became something agonizing. The guilt of not being able to save her is nearly costing him his sanity, only the sea, the sound of the waves crashing against the ship kept his mind at bay. But he did not realize that his own children were worried about him. He thought he was hiding his feelings rather well. “No loss is easy to bear. The feeling of guilt that comes after … it’s driving me insane.” For a moment you are witness to another side of the captain. His bright smile, confidence and authoritative demeanour are gone and all you can see in front of you is a man that suffered a lot and doesn’t know how to help himself. It breaks your heart to see him like this, the man you have longed for so long.

“I don’t know anything about your wife, but do you think she would have wanted you to suffer?” Your voice is barely a whisper but the words are clear as day. Slowly Elendil shakes his head, still holding on to your hand. “No …” “Then it is time that you start to forgive yourself. I know that the loss of someone you love makes you feel as if the world stops spinning. But the world did not stop and I can promise you that there is so much waiting for you.” You for example. You always wanted to be closer to the captain of the sea guard, to hear his low voice speaking to you, his rough hands touching you. But you always held back your thoughts and never acted them out. Even now you are holding back. His peace of mind is now your priority. Your feelings come second. Elendil lifts his head, looking into your eyes as if he is trying to find something. And you look back, getting lost in his eyes that made your heart beat faster since the first time you laid your eyes on him. For a moment you two stayed like this, looking into each other's eyes, devouring each other's souls. You could feel how Elendil was pulling your hand, wanting you to come closer. And you do follow his lead, stepping closer, only inches between the both of you. When Elendil rises from the windowsill his eyes are fixed on you. You could feel the warmth that is beaming from his body, you could smell the saltiness of the sea that is lingering in his hair. Your heart and soul long for him, yearning that this moment will never end. Slowly, you lift your free hand up, wanting to caress his cheek, to finally feel his skin under your fingertips.

“Y/n, we need your help. There is an urgent matter.”

Just before you could taste the sweetness of this moment, you had to let it go. Unwillingly you drop your hand and it is hard for you to hide your disappointment. Just as you are about to turn around, tending to the next emergency, Elendil holds on tight to your hand, not wanting to let you go. For now.

“Meet me, tomorrow night at the beach where the moon shines the brightest.” You nod, whispering I will before you rush to your next patient, leaving Elendil and a sense of newfound hope behind.

To be continued ...

#ROP ELENDIL #ELENDILF #ELENDIL X READER #ELENDIL HEADCANONS #ELENDIL IMAGINE #ELENDIL FANFICTION #ELENDIL FLUFF #RINGS OF POWER #RINGS OF POWER IMAGINE #RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST #RINGS OF POWER ELENDIL #LOTR RINGS OF POWER #ELENDIL/READER #elendil

66 notes · View notes

headspace-hotel · 2 years ago

Note

a friend of mine said that the environment would be better if everyone lived in cities and basically left the rest of the natural world alone... i felt like there was something wrong with that argument but i really dont know enough about it to have a real point against it. i might be biased though cause i love being around nature and want to be able to live rural without killing the environment? idk im just wondering if she's right and how to live in a way that isnt negatively impacting the world

love your blog btw, it's been the thing that's helped me understand ecology for once

the idea that humans Are Bad for the ecosystem—not that particular activities or practices have particular negative effects, that just humans existing harms the environment—is in fact the worst idea ever

I mean, first of all, where does your friend think food comes from?

"Food" is one of the problems. It's one of a lot of problems. Some other problems include "all other natural resources besides food" and "human rights."

It's not just your friend, this kind of thing has been suggested in varying ways by self identified "leftists" a bunch of times, and I genuinely hope they're mostly random laypeople who can't really be expected to know more than they can learn from being terminally addicted to Twitter, because otherwise I will call them "dumber than a sack of hammers" in those exact words.

No offense to your friend. Your friend is a laypeople. And sadly, non-experts end up with ass-backwards ideas about how conserving the environment works, because of all this commonplace nonsense about humans being a cancer upon the planet. I'm not angry about those people, just sad.

But my serious answer is—The world's most intact and best managed ecosystems are found on land owned and managed by Indigenous people, who do what with the land?

LIVE ON IT.

And these groups of people learned to manage and care for the land how?

BY LIVING ON IT.

Conventional (white, Western) intuition holds that human management of an ecosystem should reduce biodiversity, but what science shows—I mean what study and observation and data and more study and more observation and more data shows—is that indigenous land management practices can do better than Nature can on her own.

I mean, for one thing, if you don't live in a place, you don't observe it every day. You don't see how the ecosystem and its inhabitants change over time. You can't learn about it, and therefore you don't know about it.

Disconnection from nature is ignorance about nature and ultimately apathy towards nature, and that's the worst and most disrespectful thing we can do.

And like I hope it's clear that even in the imaginary scenario where everyone lives in a city, even if this was possible (it's not), the city dwellers who are separate from nature are living a silly little lie. You're part of the ecosystem. Don't like it? Go become a rock in space.

The electrical signals moving through your brain right now are rays of sunlight that were soaked up by a plant that grew in dirt. Do you know fruit? Do you enjoy fruit? I enjoy fruit, I'm drinking a smoothie right now! That fruit y'all love so much was pollinated by a bug.

A bug did that for you! Because you're family! Because you're part of this world, because you belong to this intricate and ancient community of living things that need each other, that were shaped by evolution to need each other, and nature cannot abandon you.

But more on the cynical side of things, even if you don't know where the hell a berry grows or how, someone has to grow and harvest and ship that berry to you, someone who has to live somewhere, and you should care who is doing it and how they're being treated and paid, and ultimately you should want for them the same things you want for you.

Urban life is just rural life with extra steps my friend.

Like, @ all the "put everybody in cities" crowd, what is the plan here? Fancy ass indoor aquaponics systems notwithstanding, we're not technologically at a point where we can just, like, build giant multi-story factory buildings where we grow food under special lamps, and even being at that point wouldn't make it a good idea. With all the hype about solar power, you'd think people would look at plants (have been using solar power just fine for like a billion years) and think, "Neat how those things can just make food when you stick 'em in the sunshine."

I'm sorry, I'm never going to be psyched about technological innovations that are like "We took a plant and put it inside."

There is so much I could say here. The brainrot in the wake of "cottagecore" discourse where a bunch of well meaning white people got convinced that farming was racist. The idea that rural people are somehow more complicit in colonialism than urban people, and that rural land is, I don't know, landier than urban land, and the correct and moral thing to do if you live on stolen land is to....what? Live on land that has a protective layer of concrete in between it and your racist feet?

Land ownership is a whole fucked up beast, but you're not cultivating a non-exploitative relationship with land by living in a city. There's just extra steps in between you and the land.

"Homesteading" as seen on cottagecore boards on Pinterest has a lot of white supremacist wet dream mixed in, but listen: It is not only okay, but GOOD, to want to live in close relationship with the land, with the food you eat, with the trees and plants that fill your lungs when you inhale. It's IMPORTANT. It's VITAL.

What has to change is that this relationship can't be based on ownership and dominance. Ecosystem is community and that ain't it.

My ancestors were colonizers, the land I live on right now was violently stolen, the ecosystem that once was very carefully managed so that it flourished with life was ravaged, and I don't even know the names of most of the life-forms that ought to be here. What now?

You belong to the ecosystem that takes care of you. You can't wash your hands of this and run away.

I feel like I'm getting off topic, but it's very much on topic actually. What I hope for the future is that we would stop entertaining the silly little lies that imagine we can just...opt out of participation in something that is underneath our every footstep and in our every breath. It would make us feel pure, but it wouldn't be real.

I do think that forcing people off the land that is their home is bad, in general. I don't think those people have to be indigenous for this to be bad—and successfully claiming otherwise is a bit of conundrum, since as far as I know, the political and social phenomenon of indigenous identity has a lot to do with the being forced off your land thing.

Obviously people like me don't have the same deeply central cultural relationship to the land, but the "we should all just go live in cities and leave nature to itself" proposal implies that such relationships are unnecessary or even bad.

I've said this before but I find it weird when environmentalists accommodate indigenous ways of life in their visions of the ideal future as like...a special exception granted because it's like, the nice thing to do for a historically marginalized and violently oppressed group. Not because there is value or merit in those ways of life. Like "Oh I guess indigenous people should be allowed to hunt because it's part of their culture" ????? And it's part of their culture because...why?

Maybe because it's a sustainable way of doing things and has been for millennia???

Like don't listen to me, look at the research, indigenous folks participating in ecosystems and managing them worldwide know what they're doing and the rest of the world should be looking to them as examples. Key word here is participating, because you can't competently manage an ecosystem with your head all the way up your ass with the idea that you're somehow not part of it.

Humans aren't a cancer upon the planet. It's capitalism and colonialism. It's the practice of seeing the world as a disposable resource to be exploited.

Humans lived in the place I called home for 15,000 years. Within the past 200 years, almost every forest was razed to the ground, and almost every large animal extirpated or damn near to it.

"Humans" did that! These humans are so terrible!

But I have to remember.

There are descriptions of this place from before that, and they describe a lush, teeming heaven-like paradise that the adjectives provided by English trembled to capture, so perfect and bountiful that the observers assumed this land was never tainted by Adam's sin.

Humans did that, too.

#ecology

512 notes · View notes

an-interview-with-j1janedoe · 2 months ago

Text

" AN INTERVIEW WITH URANIUM CITY'S PRIZED 'WRAITH.' "

(Ignore how the image text & the title text thing are slightly different I'm tired)

Yello, I'm back with another askblog! I didn't want to clog up my other Jane Doe/Penny Askblog.. so you get this! — @watermel0ns-dumb-cringe

[ALL ART USED BELONGS TO ME ; DO NOT REPOST. NSFW/PR0SHIP DNI.]

Format looks like this ⬇️

[⚙️]— "J-1 / Jane Doe."

" .. Must I be required for this? "

☆ RULES —

- No NSFW. Suggestive jokes are fine every now and then, but be wary for the person running this blog is a MINOR.

- Have basic human decency, please. This is an AU blog, being (partially) separate from canon. Ships most likely won't be included- aside from subtle hinting & already canon things. <3

- I'm completely fine with spamming asks just don't spam the same thing over & over.

J-1 doesn't have a larger role in the Target Aquired story yet— but you can read it here if ya want.

☆ IMPORTANT NOTE —

[May contain triggering/sensitive topics & imagery. Examples may include violence, blood/gore, & character death. Posts will have a TW/CW when necessary.]

FAQ under the cut

☆ FAQ —

Q: "What is the Target Aquired AU?"

A: Basic storyline for now is that that Penny Lamb was the only one to die in the Cyclone Roller Coaster Disaster, with the rest of the choir recovering in the hospital. She remains unidentified.

Before her funeral can be held, the unidentified body vanishes from its grave, the remaining alive members of the Saint Cassian Chamber Choir being found dead just after being released from the hospital.

Now having a robotic head, J-1 (Jane) essentially becomes something similar to The Terminator. Minus the time travel shenanigans. Not much is known about her other than the fact of Uranium City's residents slowly being picked off once they unknowingly are selected as a 'target' assigned to kill.

But maybe... Jane wasn't supposed to end up this way. Maybe she wasn't meant to be brought back as a killing machine. After all, a lot can happen when an incomplete 'machine' ends up in the wrong hands.

Nobody knows who she is, seemingly. Neither does she— her memories are gone. Programming blocking her feelings as to not get attached to 'targets,' and to not defy said programming pick those she's assigned to off.

However, J-1 seems.. a tad reluctant on the hunt for her most recent target. Is it rememberance? Is it pity? Or is it something else? Who knows. Her 'target?'

A painly familiar teenager. Perhaps someone she once knew before her death.

I'll leave the rest undiscovered for now. :) (fun fact, this doubles as a fic as well! .. even if it's from the pov of someone else.)

Q: "What are 'Targets?'"

A: Self explanatory. People that J-1 are supposed to hunt down & murder. She tends to leave odd symbols & writing at the scenes of the crimes.

Q: "Where can I read this?/Is there some kind of larger story?"

A: you can find it here! As mentioned earlier. :)

Q: "Who runs this blog?"

A: Yours truly! (@watermel0ns-dumb-cringe)

Q: "Who is he?"

A: ERROR. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

[⚙️]—

" That's classified information. "

35 notes · View notes

lukoleoleole · 1 month ago

Text

Sunday Morning Lukola Thoughts ☕️

I'll say this to start. The people who are upset that people even care this deeply about Nicola Coughlan's personal life should exit anything fandom or pop culture adjacent. There is a whole phenomenon where people do this, all over the world and for all kinds of people. It is a *thing*. And with that said, Nicola (and Luke for that matter during the WT) have commented on it several times not only that they know people will ship them and/or their characters, but also that they're ok with it. Nic herself has mentioned similar behavior (not sure how deep she was in it all but it was probably before social was as much as it is not so probably not as) herself. She gets it. Actually, she gets it to the point where she plays along for the most part and drops easter eggs herself. Luke has whipped crumbs off her face during an interview and said "they're going to love this" and smirked. So if your problem is the actually shipping, it's pretty moot to me.

With that, there are of course people that take it too far. But when I say that is the minority of people. Folks, it is a teeny tiny percent. It's still unfortunate because yes sometimes they dabble into unsafe/unhealthy actions and it reflects poorly on the fandom. It is our duty to act with integrity and try to neutralize these people as much as possible. There is always line in the sand that you need to be conscious of not only for that person's health and safety, but honestly for your own mental health.

So my next note, mental health. Fandoms/shipping has been shown to have a positive impact on mental health (to me, in a time where we as a society need it the most). It brings a sense of belonging and community, gives creative outlets for self-expression (edits, live blogging, non-live blogging, fanfic, art, the list goes on and on), improved self-esteem and even escapism, it can help people explore relationships and identity, and SO much more. To me, there was more pros than cons to the it all.

For me personally life has been rough I'd say the last year or so but if I'm being honest more like the last 5. I've needed an escape. Fandom life (Lukola right now, but previous fandoms although rarely before now RPF) have helped me escape. It's a place for me to almost work on affirmations. I'm about to try to manifest positivity and energy between Luke and Nicola in a way that I struggle to do for myself. I tend to notice that when I do this, it becomes EASIER to do it for myself. I start to think if I can be this positive about fictional characters or in this case two people that I don't even know, why can't I do it for myself? Why don't I deserve the same happiness?

But that's just me.

And as a quick note, I haven't even began to cover how Nicola Coughlan herself has been an inspiration to me and thousands and thousands of other women out there but I will circle back to it.

Anyway, these were some initial thoughts on some Lukola hot topics floating around right now. I know I've barely scratched the surface at all but wanted to start here.

#lukola #nicola coughlan #Luke Newton #fandom #shipping #rpf #lukola meta

22 notes · View notes

stormfirebeauty · 9 months ago

Text

Still thinking about how Leo is the only one of the seven who doesn’t really have ties outside of the quest.

Hear me out. Percy and Piper both still have a solid human life to go back too. Annabeth too although I’d say she’s more tied to camp half blood.

Frank and and Hazel both really care about camp Jupiter despite not having been there long. Jason actually feels very closely tied to both camps which causes him conflict. He seems to think he doesn’t know where he belongs but he DOES feel connected to both places.

Leo though… he’s a BIT attached to camp half blood. Not as much as the others tho. I don’t have my copy of MoA rn so I can’t find text support but I’m pretty sure there’s a part in his POV where he talks about it too. He was at Bunker 9 significantly more than the camp. It’s actually so so impressive he manages to pull his irresponsible goofball act off as much as he does. Cause like this dude WORKED. He built an impossible magic ship in like six months. I’m pretty sure there’s a part where it’s mentioned even HE doesn’t totally understand the magic power my the ship. Bonkers.

So anyway he isn’t that connected to his human life (because it burned in a dumpster fire) and he’s not that connected to camp half blood. But WAY more than the rest of the 7 he is connected to this quest. He’s literally been dreaming about this ship since he was a kid that he would one day build for there people. I think the bonds between the seven could’ve been more built up in general but I gotta say Leo has some STRONG connections compared to the rest. Jason and piper are obvious that’s literally what I made this blog about years ago.

But the rest too. He doesn’t talk with Annabeth much but they do have this interesting relationship of ship builder/commander and quest leader also both being absolute geniuses. Like the only ones who can even Kind of keep up with each other there’s a lot of mutual respect (and fear he is a bit scared of her but that’s just smart). Percy and Leo are interesting bc in theory they have so much in common but one of the only deeepish conversations the have is about Calypso?? BUT his extreme guilt when Percy and Annabeth are in Tarturus bc he thinks he traded them for Frank and Hazel??

Yeah let’s talk about Frank and Hazel. I’m ignoring the love triangle bc I don’t care for it and it’s irrelevant to what I’m talking about. Hazel and Leo have the obvious connection of Leo grandfather being Sammy but ALSO the thing we don’t talk about enough is how both of the childhoods were defined by this quest more than anyone else. Gae interfered with both of them HEAVILY and they both suffered for it, AND carry huge amounts of guilt for what she manipulated them into doing.

And then one of the most underrated friendships that is Leo and Frank. Because Frank’s one weakness is fire and Leo IS FIRE. Like they are each others worst god damn fear. Leo REALLY fears the consequences of his destructive powers which is something he has to learn to work past and Frank really fears his mortality BECAUSE HE HAS TO CARRY IT AROUKD WITH HIM SO VALID. Trusting each other is like confronting those fears… (ok so maybe it wasn’t done that well in canon but that’s not the point).

ANYWAY what’s crazy is I don’t think anyone else really realizes this. Like Leo’s whole woo is me I’m the seventh wheel thing seems really self pitying but… you could argue that everyone on the ship was more invested in someone else on board and on their lives outside of the quest. Like, this is Leo’s life. And he’s their side character (i don’t think this is actually true at all for Jason and Piper but he doesn’t know that ugh). His character is so crazy to me.

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #leo valdez #I haven’t read most of ToA so any of that is irrelevant to this analysis #my post #analysis #pjo analysis #hoo analysis #character analysis

39 notes · View notes

cruel-hiraeth · 2 months ago

Note

I could definitely Google this (but where is the fun in that and also I wouldn't get YOUR answer on what it means to YOU):

What does that stanza from "hiraeth" mean?

andy! ahhhh this is a wonderful question; thank you for asking <3 it’s unhinged blog lore time!

so (as you may already know) “hiraeth” is a welsh word that doesn’t have a direct translation in english. according to the oxford english dictionary, hiraeth means—originally and chiefly in the context of welsh culture:

deep longing for a person or thing which is absent or lost; yearning; nostalgia; spec. homesickness.

usually, hiraeth is simply translated as “longing” in english, although there are deep welsh cultural roots that surround the term and connect it to a specific time/place.

hiraeth appears in hen benillion, a collection of short form, welsh folk poetry, some of which dates back hundreds of years. one of the poems within the anthology is often referred to as “hiraeth” since there is neither a title, nor an attributed author. it’s four stanzas long, but the third stanza is the one that struck me the most, and is featured as part of my blog’s theme:

hiraeth mawr a hiraeth creulon, hiraeth sydd yn torri ’nghalon; pan fwyf dryma’r nos yn cysgu, fe ddaw hiraeth ac a’m deffry.

of course there are as many translations of verse as there are translators, but i primarily refer a translation by richard b. gillion, which goes:

great longing and cruel longing longing which is breaking my heart; when I most heavily by night do sleep then comes longing and awakens me.

as you can see, my url—cruel-hiraeth—is derived from this verse. of course, i’m stretching the concept of “hiraeth” in its usage here on my blog. but when it comes to fiction and self shipping (and imagined worlds in general), we often long for circumstances and people and places that don’t exist here on earth. and sometimes, it even feels like we belong elsewhere, in other universes—homelands we’ve never seen or experienced before. and that feeling can ache. it can hurt. cruel hiraeth.

#i hope this makes sense :’-) i rambled a lot!#— visiting card #— the patroness #— directory

10 notes · View notes

paintedcomputer · 5 months ago

Text

welcome to my main blog. I'm way more active here compared to my sideblogs + any other social media I have

Artfight - Toyhouse - Carrd - Strawpage

-----------------------------

-> don’t repost my art, ever unless you got permission from me. I prefer my friends doing this

-> my art can be used as a pfp / banner unless it’s my own personal art such as artwork of my own characters. you can however use my fandom artwork or any art I make of your oc. please credit me if you do use my art though

-----------------------------

-> call me Kaizen but Sebastian is also fine -> I use He/Him pronouns and I'm arospec -> Neurodivergent. diagnosed with ADHD -> 17yrs old -> taken by @eeveekitti and @coyotescove 💖

-> I'm Canadian! specifically I am French Canadian. English is not my first language so I can sometimes struggle speaking or forget words

-> Digital and Traditional artist who started drawing in 2016 or so as I can date my art back to then. I look up to my oldest sister, she's my main inspiration as to why I continue to draw and learn. I'm also self taught

-----------------------------

some of my interests are:

Pressure, Phighting, Demon Slayer, FNAF, Undertale/Deltarune, Half Life [also including HLVRAI and Entropy Zero], ULTRAKILL, Rain World, and Hades

-----------------------------

-> I do OC x Canon and interact with posts about it. a lot of my fandom ocs may end up shipped with a canon character [which would be found on their th page] so I please ask that if you don't like OC x Canon, you should completely avoid me

-> I am a multifandom blog. don't follow me for one single fandom because I like to reblog and sometimes post about the other stuff I like

-> I never look at my Followings tab, if you want me to see something, send me it. I sometimes come across posts by people I know but I don't usually look for it since I follow a lot of people

-> Mutuals can have my discord! just ask for it and I'll give it to you

here's my sona!

he's a panther, I sometimes replace sona's or redo his ref quite often

tags

#kaizen’s art -> artwork tag

———————

here's my sideblogs!

-> @gabrielsadventures - spam blog. I reblog a lot here if I don't wanna reblog to my main blog

-> @council--board + @ultrastim - stimblogs! I take requests here and I'm always open for them

-> @funtimescircus - story blog! at the current moment anyway. this is one of the stories I'm creating

-> @ultrakill-in-places + @artificer-doesnt-belong-here + @pebble-plush-in-places - blogs where I put characters in places that they don't belong in

-> @heavens--kin - kin blog

-> @askstreetcleaner + @fallen-stickersanon - ask blogs that are currently inactive

-> @the-eyefestation + @ask-solace - ask blogs I share with someone else

#introduction #pinned post

11 notes · View notes

spacedoutman · 5 months ago

Text

(Out of character note) Hey everyone! I’ve been roleplaying as Ace from kiss immortals for awhile now but I’m going to spin some lore and stuff for this account and roleplay to hell on it.

Life’s getting batshit insane, I mean getting kicked out of my house, insane, so I want a distraction haha and just to have fun! If you want to join in, feel free to! I love group projects and we can get together and write stuff up.

But these posts will be coming! Please also note I still have yet to watch the full game playthrough so I’m probably gonna turn the universe into some eldritch horror or whatever.

So here’s to the start of a hopefully long lived writing project!

(Will be based on Kiss immortals and I’ll be going off their in game personalities)

Ace’s blog entry pt.1

Tumblr? Tumble her, Tumbled? What could that mean? Before we left—and crashed the ship, they were like:

“Hey, Ace, you into tech?”

Of course, being me, I was like “You bet!” Or something along those lines (can’t remember anything at all) and I took the stupid square device and am greeted with a giant T.

Apparently, they told me it belonged to some Skinwalker before and I could keep it if I found and eradicated it. I have no idea what they’re talking about.

Of course being me, I messed around. You all post thoughts here? Crazy. I’ve always wanted a little something like that secretly. Saying I was excited was a crazy fucking understatement.

I’m learning the ropes of this thing but I think I’m addicted! I’m also lucky to have enough food. Gene keeps reprimanding me for drinking out of the milk jug at 3 in the morning—why? It’s only been three days!!

Well. That must be off putting. Let me tell you how my day went. Still trying to get in the hang of this. 🤦🏻

Ship’s been crashed for.. what, two days now? Everyone is tired. We kinda don’t know what to do or we know what to do and don’t know what to do to do what to know what to do…?

We just fuck around. Like tease each other, eat stuff, Gene is being his grouchy self.

Apparently you guys are a whole different… generation? So you use text acronyms. I want to use text acronyms so when I showed Peter, of course, he was like, “hey, let’s do it!”

lol- Loving our life?

Omg- Out my garage

Iykyk- I yodel (to) keep yall kalm

Idgaf- I don’t give ace food (for days) (Gene)

Jk- Jeremy Klein

/j- SLASH Jeremy

wtf- where the fucking-

Tf- The food

Hru- i am chronically tired

Rofl- Pisses me off

Lmao- What a schmuck (Paul did this one)

Anyway I’m pissed. Peter and I just started yelling these at Gene and Paul was like: “oh no stop it” and I was like no and then we had a food fight and now we all might go hungry I’m distraught

So how was your day?

P.S Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to flirt excessively with Paul it’s kinda going wrong

#please don’t spoil the game for me #kiss band #roleplay #spaceman #Ace Frehley #kiss immortals

9 notes · View notes

dinersaturn · 1 month ago

Note

I was too young for tumblr during the Zexal era, wdym we got into a ship war with the free! fandom for ship name rights?

Gather around, young one. I will tell you the tale of how a bunch of nerds of the internet lost their minds over a ship name.

Okay, so in the Yugioh fandom there’s Yuma x Shark which is called sharkbaitshipping.

However, there’s another ship with that name belonging to the characters of Haru x Rin from Free!

When you search something with Tumblr now, anything shows up because Tumblr has now become a cesspool of spam. However, it actually used to be decent where if you searched up one thing you- got it and only that result. Seeing another fandom in your space was actually pretty uncommon if it wasn’t intentional.

Imagine looking for a specific kind of post only to be met with characters, opinions and a show you don’t care for. You would have to scroll over 50 posts just to get to one you wanted.

Blocking tags wasn’t really an option back then and the x kit program that allowed you to customize everything had been around but most of us didn’t know how to do things like that.

Both sides were getting mad at the other and trying to get them to change the name. It was to the point where people began falsely reporting the other for spamming to try and get the other fandom’s posts deleted.

There were constant fights in the DMs, people publicly @ others in DNI lists. It didn’t matter if the blogs were involved in the fandom war- if you shipped the other’s NOTP, you were not safe.

It didn’t matter your age either, people in their early teens to their 20s on both sides resorted to cheap and disrespectful tactics to try and flag other people’s work. Which isn’t that crazy by today’s terms but 2013 was a different time.

I think i even made one post making the argument that Zexal was first but that was a stupid thing to do. I admittedly had never been in a fandom war and didn’t think it was that serious. I got one negative message and immediately deleted it because my 15 year old self couldn’t read the room and not everything is a joke.

I don’t remember how it ended or even if it did. I just remember seeing less of it over time. I think everyone just realized it was silly or at the very least decided to stay in their own bubbles.

Hope my vague memories from high school provided you insight into the great sharkbait shipping war.

#jayden answers the call #asks #yugioh #free!

5 notes · View notes

scr-ppup · 4 months ago

Text

@ Scr-ppup | 🪦👁️

—"Even the divine of the mercy and prayers will not help you..

"For I will still smite your ass to the oblivion's growing hunger."—

- liomogai: neogenders, general & alterhumans flags and terms.

- request status: open

Ask box: — (24 requests) | queue: 35 | drafts: 500+

Creds; PFP mask.

Coinfight info link; team Villains.

Anons; 🌊🐈‍⬛,

— "sir, If the hounds don't kill you, I will make sure I have your head at my feet by sundown."

"You hear me, old bastard?"—

> my main is @ Reveseke and that's where I'll be interacting from. Don't get spooked lol.

> here's my pronouns cc & pronouns.page

> I am neurodivergent & disabled, 06/18 & genderqueer, Finnish entity, transspecies, alterhuman & holothere.

> Call me mainly Koiri or Ashlin on this blog, or Kalma.

> I don't have a DNI for my terms and flags, but I do block folks that are specified in my BYF if following. :)

> please use tone tags with me, it makes it easier for me to interpret y'all when it comes to answering questions and interactions in general. I have a tendency to interpret the tone wrong in text. Also please don't use fonts or colored text in the asks, thanks.

Masterlist nav. — req list - tag nav.

— "The world didn't go too easy on you, did it, Kalma?"

BYF

- I belong into quite a few blankqueer/-punk stances in some way; reclaimed feralqueer, hallowpunk, redemptionqueer, darlingqueer, yandequeer, (ally) rabiespride, eepyqueer, para-health, Beastpunk, mangledqueer, Sataniqueer & freakqueer.

None of these labels will override *my* stances that I've laid in my BYF. Beware of this. (Also I'm going to get all the links in a bit lol.)

I am anti harassment, pro-para - anti-contact (+ a para myself) & pro- safe recovery, anti-censorship & I'm peacefic. I'm pro good-faith / contradicting terminology, I believe everyone has a unique sense of self and should be able to use the terms and call themselves what they want to reflect themselves. I stand with the 4B, land-back, black lives matter movements, and pro decolonization.

My political view is anarcho-leftist, however I do not go into that side much since this is a hobby blog.

I am not interested in ship- or syscourse and I find radical pros and antis extremely harmful from both discourses. Do not include me in them. (Besides I'm singlet thus I don't think someone calling themselves endo or supporting or not supporting them is something I should be "included in" on or concerned by. Pro & anti endos alike can interact if they want, just know where I stand and don't break your own DNI for the sake of it.)

Also, those who cannot separate fiction from reality or glorify and romanticize real-life murderers, S/A, mafias, criminals, and so on, you're not even on the thin ice if you follow me you will be blocked.

I do not fuck with (read: i am a heavy anti of) wrongfully used harmful transid folks, rad./queers, xeno.satanists. white supremacists, nationalists, facists, or racists & ableist at all. (Neo) Na.zis and supporters/apologists, pro-colonialists and -capitalists, pro-cop / blue lives matter / all lives matter believers. Neither do I fuck with those who glorify, romantize, or demonize (or speak over folks with) mental illnesses, personality disorders or disabilities.

Also label lumpers and exclusionists (""bi-spec"", aros to aces, aphobics, transphobic, multitransphobic, intersexists, etc), queer-phobic/anti-LGBTQIA+ folk. SW-/TERFs, Radfems, misogynist & misandrist alike; sexists in general. + folks who suibait, witch-hunt, and harass others or condone/support it.

—"you look like an animal, a cornered hound baring its teeth in front of certain death..."

Themed after a CoD oc named Kalma.

—

Questions are always welcome, but please bear in mind that if the question is asked in noticeably bad Faith it will not be answered unless I feel the need to answer it because it's important.

#pinned #> about whump #> about xeno vs. neogenders #> about tags and mentions #> about reposting to offsites #> about deity flags #> about desirdae

8 notes · View notes

fandomimaginewasteland · 7 days ago

Text

Blog Rules and Disclaimer

All of the characters that I make picture imagines and write x reader content for (all of which are listed on another post that is linked below!) in my stories DO NOT belong to me in any way, shape or form as the stories that I am writing for them are called FANFICTION STORIES!

If you're wondering if I write or make picture imagines for a certain fandom or character and want to send in a request or see if I can come up with something, feel free to look on the list linked below and see if the fandom or character is there, if not, feel free to ask in my inbox and I will definitely let you know if I am willing to write something or make picture imagines for that specific character!

As a writer I feel comfortable writing pretty much anything, however if you request something that I am not comfortable with, I will let you know! 😁

Here are a few things that I am comfortable to write: unprotected sex, breeding, light spanking, breast play, cunningulus, blowjob/handjob, light degration, age gap (the most I'll go for age gap is 5-7 years apart), forbidden romance, dom!reader, dom!character, spit, mommy/daddy kink, bdsm (hardcore bdsm is a no for me fr!), domestic violence (only if it is in past tense or if the character is trying to get reader out of that situation), tsundere, light yandere (for specific characters such as: Muzan, Zack (angels of death, overhaul & Dabi), past tense self-harm (will not do anything explicit), & attempted sexual harrassment

What I am not comfortable to write: Non-con, cheating/infidelity (unless it's a story where the character comforts the reader about it or confronts the person who did it to defend (Y/N)!), hate-fucking, dub-con, orgy, wound fucking, stepcest, threesome, male!readers, pegging, inc*st, adult baby, anything involving shit, piss or vomit (unless it's for morning sickness or when the reader is sick), suicide (unless it is about someone that reader knows and the character is comforting them about it), sexual abuse, & any kind of discrimination

I only write character x female or gender-neutral stories as I have never written x male reader (I do not feel comfortable with it as I can't place myself in that situation, meaning there's no fun in it for me and the story will most likely suck) or character x character stories.

However, I do know of blogs who’d happily write that, and I’d be more than happy to show you their blogs.

Feel free to ask me and I’ll lead you to those blogs!

I will not write character x character.

I obviously have my favorite ships in the fandoms that I write for, but I don't write fanfiction like that as is not my thing.

I will not write character x random OC, meaning the OC is an OC that I didn't personally create.

This blog as well as my main blog are NOT SPOILER FREE as I reblog a lot of fanfiction on my main blog @fandomwasteland13 and write my own fanfiction and make picture imagines on this one which some times does have or is based on things that happen in multiple anime, movies and/or shows that I enjoy!

Some of my works that I'll be posting on this blog will be rated Mature/NSFW, which means THOSE STORIES ARE 18+ CONTENT SO THEY ARE FOR ADULTS ONLY!!! — MINORS DNI WITH THOSE STORIES!!!

There are plenty of stories that are okay for you to read, so just stick to those! THANKS!

If you find any mistakes in my stories, please message me or send in an ask, so that I can correct them!

I also write when the inspiration hits me and when I have the time to work on stories/imagines, so please keep that in mind as it may take some time to answer back-or not.

When it comes to writing fanfiction and taking requests, I do try my best to write every request I can, but remember, I have a life outside of Tumblr where I do work a full-time job and other stuff in my life, so it might take me a while to get to your request. So, please do not rush me in getting your request(s) done, I will get them done when I get them done!

Another thing about when I am taking requests, as the writer, I do have the right to deny a request if I don't feel up to doing it.

I may be a fanfiction writer on this blog, but as I said already, I do work full time and most of the time, I devote my free time to spending time with my fiancé and family (especially with having to plan my wedding), so I don't write every day.

So, with that in mind, again please do not pester/beg me to write something, or get your request done.

I'm a human and I owe nothing to no one.

I will get stories/requests done when I can.

If you want to see what I'm up to, refer to my pinned post and announcement post for request schedule and status!

Reviews, Comments, Reblogs, mean the world to me ♡ but always spread positivity, PLEASE. every negative comment and ask sent to me will be screenshoted, reported before I block you as well as delete the asks/messages you had sent to me! ♡

Also, if you do end up sending hate asks, make sure that you do it off anon! I'd love to have a nice little chat with you!

As stated above, I will have NSFW 18+ ONLY CONTENT on this blog, whether it be a story that I write myself, a picture imagine or something that I reblog from someone else on my main blog, so if that's not anything your comfortable with reading, you don't need to stick around.

Other than that, enjoy your journey through the worlds I've created in my stories & Imagines! ♡

#important #important post #blog rules #rules #blog disclaimer

2 notes · View notes

slightly--above--average · 6 months ago

Text

Reaaaaad Meeeeeee Seymooooore ( BYI )

Visual roleplay and ask blog based on the Tupperbox community q and a and source material from "Lazytown" and the works of Missy Draws. Please continue below and read the information under the cut.

Aliases/Nicknames: Too many to count! Honorable mentions include "Blue Elf", "Overactive Jumping Bean", "Sportaspud", and "Spob"

Gender: Masculine leaning; he/him pronouns

Powers/Species: elf- known for their functional immortality, incredible stamina, and ability to blend in seamlessly with humans

Physical Age: 39

Height: 5'9"

Eye Color: light blue

Hair Color: dark blonde

Bio: Sportacus is LazyTown's resident action-health superhero. Alerted to trouble by a large crystal on his uniform, he's ready in a flash to save the day! Patient and kind and always understanding, he doesn't tell the kids of LazyTown what to do- choosing to lead by example to give them room to learn and grow on their own.

Processed sugar is his greatest weakness.

💕 Significant Other: Miss Sophia Mansnoozie, the town literacy tutor 💕

Sportacus is in a happy exclusive monogamous relationship and is not looking for a third, you may send romantic asks and he will be happy to entertain a platonic friendship but be aware that your advances WILL be rejected. Please do not ask to date him, privately or otherwise or send him starters designed to coerce him into a romantic scene. He is not interested. Asks, jokes, and memes about Sportacus and Robbie being "secretly in love", "divorced", or otherwise implied to be in any romantic relationship with each other are not welcome and will result in immediate revocation of access to this blog and its contents. We don't do that here. SportaSteph content is not welcome, this blog is firmly against Proshipping and any asks from underage characters insinuating a mutual relationship or about Sportacus dating underage characters under any circumstance including plots where he is magically aged down will be directly reported to the relevant investigatory agencies. Get help.

Asks about his relationship otherwise are welcome and will appear under the #SportaSophie tag but attempts to replace the established significant other listed above will be ignored and may result in further restriction from interacting with this blog- the answer is a hard no!!

Sportacus is an orphan who comes from a troubled background and the likelihood of him working the mines with relatives is slim to none. As such he won't be related to your character unless discussed beforehand ( Find me here! ) Likewise, he has not met your character unless we’ve agreed that they have, or if your character belongs to the lore that’s part of his source material. Don’t hesitate to ask though, I’m a sucker for found family and would love to add to his, he can always use more friends, siblings, and adoptive children! He does not, however, owe you his love or compassion and sympathy baiting will not be taken lightly. He is the town hero, not the town therapist. If you or someone you know are struggling to stay safe, please contact your local suicide hotline!

You do not have permission to kill, maim, traumatize, or otherwise seriously harm my characters physically or otherwise. Additionally, this blog is an all ages blog. To keep it that way, asks and starters intended for mature audiences will be omitted.

Original characters, characters from most other fandoms, and self inserts are, of course more all than welcome to interact. Sportacus is paired with one here after all! * Will not interact with content pertaining to Steven Universe or its fans including roleplayers of the characters. The Diamonds in particular makes me deeply uncomfortable and I do not wish to invite people who support them to this blog. * Will not interact with content pertaining to the SportaRobbie ship including roleplayers of the characters. I the mun will never support the pairing or feature any content for it on this blog. It makes me extremely uncomfortable and I do not want that content here. If your muse is one half of the ship or is romantically interested in the other, I ask that you not interact, thanks <3

I run this blog on spare time and spare energy. Because of this, more often than not I favor simple asks and light starters over longer and more serious posts.

Additionally, art reblogs are hand picked to match my interpretation of the characters to enhance immersion. Because of that, posts depicting other pairings, designs, and headcanons are excluded. And finally, as this is a roleplay blog, this blog WILL feature AI generated content.

All content posted has been edited, transformed, or directly created by me and will regularly feature replies enhanced by Character.ai and audio trained on character data through So-vits-SVC. If you disagree with this content you are free to leave or engage in the posts not collaboratively made with this technology such as my drawings but I will not debate with you, entertain bad faith questions, or tolerate aggression. Engaging with my blog with the intention of starting a fight will end badly for you, do not try it :) It is also worth noting that I do not support the use of ai for the purpose of defamation or career theft. These posts are created for personal and nonprofit artistic enjoyment only and if you redistribute any of it with the intent to sell, to impact the legacies and careers of the very real voice actors and singers involved, or to feed it into any extra algorithm I will find your kneecaps and delete them :)

Failure to respect the boundaries outlined in this post will result in revocation of access to this blog and its contents

#about #about the muse #rules

3 notes · View notes