#. headcanon { a pathway to understanding }

[olivia--flaversham]

HAPPIESTPLACEHQ Task 5 - Family

Describe your character’s family

Do they know their family? Were they raised by them?

Olivia knows her most direct family members, that being her parents and grandparents. She has no cousins, uncles or aunts, at least none that she knows of. Hazel Flaversham, her mother, disappeared mysteriously and without a trace when Olivia was an infant: nobody knows if it had been voluntarily or not. This event threw Olivia's father, Hiram Flaversham, into a paranoid phase (which one might say he never fully overcame) during which he began fixating nearly obsessively on Olivia's safety and whereabouts, to make sure she wouldn't disappear like her mother did. And then, a few years later, it was Hiram's turn to disappear...

Olivia's contact with her paternal grandparents, Richard and Patricia Flaversham, was quite brief and distant, what with Hiram's tense relationship with them. Richard and Patricia had been the ones to insist on meeting semi-regularly with their granddaughter, even if they still rejected Hiram as their son. After Hiram decided not to join the family business and came out to them as bisexual, back when he was just starting as a college student at a business school, his already crumbling relationship with his parents was finally destroyed. Hiram and his father had a big fight and falling out, and despite Patricia's constant attempts at convincing her son to apologize, go back to business school and follow in his father's steps as head of his company, he had made up his mind. Even if it didn't bring in much money, he would follow his dreams to become an artist, a sculptor and inventor. His bohemian lifestyle shifted slightly when his girlfriend Hazel, a similarly free-spirited writer and theater critic, turned up pregnant, and they decided to keep the child and make sure she was raised in a more stable environment. Hazel herself, a New Zealander living in Edinburgh, tried to pursue a career as a professional writer while raising little Olivia, though she went missing before she could become a published author. After more than a decade, Hiram still secretly wonders if she had walked out on them, and often goes over his last memories of her, to try and find out any possible reason for why she might have left.

When Olivia moved to Invercargill with her father, after his disappearance and eventual rescue, she often stayed with her maternal grandparents, Anne and Phineas Browne. They both cared for their granddaughter while Hiram was away from home, trying for jobs and finishing college to get a degree in engineering. Olivia became very close to them and considers them a second set of parents. Even Hiram ended up seeing them as surrogate parental figures, warm, caring and loving as they were, and supportive of their son-in-law and granddaughter's dreams and projects, wherever they may take them.

What was your character’s relationship like with their parents?

Olivia and her father are very close, though sometimes Olivia wishes she could be a little more independent. For the last few years Hiram has slowly been accepting that he needs to let his daughter become her own person and forge her own path, mostly for her happiness though also partly to make sure he doesn't become just like his parents, controlling and authoritative. However, now that she's an adult, Olivia has been wondering if she should move out of Redwood Hollow, where her father has already happily settled down and found a good job, and follow a career in criminology in a bigger city that could pose more of a challenge. This would mean leaving her father behind, which, while originally a goal she had in order to become self-sufficient, now has her doubting whether she can truly manage, knowing herself to still be perhaps a bit too trusting and naïve to face life in a city on her own.

If they weren’t raised by their parents, who raised them? Do they consider the people that raised them to be their family?

Partly raised by her maternal grandparents, Olivia definitely considers them her family. She loves them dearly and are one of the aspects of her life in Invercargill she misses the most.

Overall, how did the idea of family affect your character?

Family is very important to Olivia, but over time it has slowly lost its status as her priority and main source of relationships. Even with how much she misses her maternal grandparents, she finds she misses her friends just as much, and as part of her efforts to make a name for herself apart from her father, she's been trying to focus more on herself and on her own wants and needs.

Thinking about the future, do they want to make a family of their own? What would that look like to them?

Olivia isn't very much interested in having a family of her own. From a couple jobs as a babysitter, she learned she isn't the best at dealing with kids and would much rather she didn't have to interact with them too often. Apart from that, she has never been one to fantasize with romance and marriage and would much rather have a bunch of friends to call her family than searching for a supposed other half.

[tadpolesonalgae]

‘Having a softhearted partner’— headcanons/drabbles

a/n: @azrielhours yes I’m ashamed, appalled, and guilt-stricken at how humiliatingly long this took to write, but I also know you’re a kind soul so I’m banking on you not being perturbed or utterly furious with how late this is. (I’m hoping I can win some sentimental points here) 

I tried my best but I’m still not sure I really understand the concept of being softhearted, or a lover girl, but these are my fumbling attempts. I hope you enjoy them <3

warnings: Young adult batboys; surprise Elain appearance

Rhysand: Love Story

His fingers stutter, fumbling for a second as they catch on the lace at your back, but he swiftly liberates himself, easing in a steadying breath before sweeping you into the gentle waltz. You follow him effortlessly, familiar with the slow, patterned movements as feet step in time with one another, the skirts of your dress brushing against his finely tailored trousers. 

“Nervous?” You ask softly, gaze glancing shyly about the great hall, anxious of the other bodies swishing and swaying, their pathways interleaving with your own as you begin the slow rotation of the dance floor. 

“What is there to be nervous about?” Rhys replies, voice a touch fainter than a few moments ago when he’d invited you to dance with a hint of colour to his cheeks, subtly clearing the hoarseness from his throat. “I’ve grown up in this environment—I have nothing to be nervous about.” He swallows, glancing down at your slighter frame, keeping the tremble from his fingertips as they curve around your waist. “Are you nervous?” 

You flush, averting your gaze for a moment before returning your attention to him, head dipped a little. “Rather,” you answer quietly, “you aren’t thinking about what might happen if you misstep? Or bump into another set of partners?” He blinks, features pausing in consideration before surmising his thoughts. “You’ve nothing to be nervous about. I’ll guide you correctly,” he assures, then, swallowing, adds a little softer, with that previous colour returning to his cheeks, “you look lovely, by the way.” 

A smile curves your lips, unsure where to look as warmth rises to your skin, almost certain he’ll be able to feel it from your proximity. “Thank you,” you reply, head still dipped, “I’m fairly certain my mother orchestrated the making of this dress so its details would blend more seamlessly with your own. So I suppose if you think I look pleasing, it’s thanks to your own fine tastes.” 

Carefully, he spins you beneath his arm, allowing you to twirl on your feet before gently pulling back to his chest, perhaps a little more firmly than would have been polite, but neither of you complain when it results in your proximity—his arms settling more securely around your waist, while you keep your hands splayed across the broad width of his shoulders.

“I forget how you excel at flattery,” he says in a hushed voice, unable to entirely help the way he lightly squeezes your waist as you turn. “Though do not mistake that for criticism—I quite enjoy receiving your compliments,” he adds, at last managing to pull that smile to his mouth that he knows has a charming effect on most women. He would very much like you to be included in that grouping. 

Warmth dances in your eyes and his breath hitches, having not anticipated the effect your own smile might have on him under the circumstances, acutely aware of the lightness of your step, trusting him to guide you right; the easy curve of your lips, content to openly enjoy his company. 

He swallows again, clearing his throat, but you speak before he has the chance to. 

“I was thinking,” you begin quietly, steadying your breaths as you glance up at him, “you’ve never visited our gardens during the summer, have you?” Rhys allows himself the space of a blink to recover, before nodding in confirmation, heart beating a little faster in his chest as he wonders at the direction of your speech. 

“Well, I was thinking, if your father is also okay with it, it might be nice for you to…visit. For a few weeks, or so. Not only could you see the gardens in bloom, but, as you know by now, the settlements surrounding our estate are occupied almost entirely by faeries. If your father might require persuasion, it would be a chance for you to also become more acquainted with the people who you will rule over, some day.” 

Rhys regards you quietly, his pulse increasing as he hears the invitation—spending a summer in your company would be nothing short of heaven. If he would be able to convince his father of his absence for that long. Maybe with the help of his mother, he might be able to escape to your estate for the weeks you suggested, temporarily freed from monotonous lectures with his sister and tiring training with his brothers. Lay with you in summery gardens, beneath blue skies and dappled shade, hidden beneath the lemon tree’s shadow you’ve told him so much about, it being a precious spot during your childhood that you’d kept to. 

He manages a nod, eyes softening further as he gazes upon you, soaking in the warm embrace you’re both wrapped in through the waltz. “I couldn’t imagine a more pleasant summer,” he replies, honestly, and your returning smile has his pulse fluttering unevenly. 

Yes, he will find a way to visit over the summer, even if it’s only for a fortnight. He’s already finding himself looking forward to it. 

Cassian: Fresh out the Slammer 

Your heart hitches as his deep laugh rumbles from the other side of the inn, one of the few set up in the relatively small war camp of Windhaven. Due to it being on the outskirts of Illyria, inns and trading stations are less frequently spotted, meaning they’re often more full too, with less choice for inhabitants of the camp to pick from. 

Turning to glance over to him, your heart drops when you see who he’s laughing with—he knows you and the other female don’t get along well. None of it has ever been so foolishly spoken directly, but she’s had more than a couple of unkind things to say about you, more than a few less-than-friendly looks sent your way and malicious whispers being passed between her and her companion’s mouths. 

He knows this—so why? 

“Something bothering you, sweetheart?” 

You blink away the habitual discomfort at hearing that name from a voice that doesn’t belong to Cassian. Attention returning to the male before you, you try to offer a believable smile, but their proximity is replaying in your mind—are you overreacting? You must be. He knows about that female, there’s no reason for him to be speaking with her. 

Glancing back helplessly, a spike of hurt pincers in your chest as you watch her slide her palm over the muscle of his forearm, and he leans closer. 

Liquid spills over as you set the glass down too roughly, almost dropping it as you forget about the male you’d been speaking with, standing from the seat and steadily making your way across the inn’s floor. You have no idea what you’ll say, just that you want him to stop, that he’s being unfair. Maybe the two of you aren’t officially together, but when he’d walked you back to your house one late night, when he’d shown you a couple of tips to keep yourself safe, when he’d gotten food in when you’d fallen sick over your cycle—that had been for a reason, hadn’t it? He’d been courting you, hadn’t he? 

Was it one-sided? Was he just a kind male? 

Is it unrequited again? 

It’s too late for you to second-guess yourself as you arrive at their table. 

Cassian casually glances over at you, and it’s only then the female’s sharp eyes narrow on you, hateful and disgusted at having her conversation interrupted. 

“Something wrong?” Cassian asks, and your brows dip a little, hurt undoubtedly blatant in your eyes. But you swallow, straightening your spine, trying to stand a little taller before both of them. “I was getting tired,” you manage to come up with. “I think I’ll be turning in now.” You swallow, waiting for him to get the hint, but he gives no reaction. You swallow again, raising your chin higher, to make up for the low. “I was hoping you…might walk me home, Cassian.” 

He looks over you, something shifting in his gaze that appears a lot like guilt, but it’s hidden too swiftly for you to be sure. “Sure,” Cassian answers slowly, nodding his head almost absently, standing upright from the raised table. “Sure, I’ll walk you home,” he repeats, more decidedly this time, keeping his attention on you as he settles his hand at the base of your spine, fingers hesitantly brushing the fabric, unsure of your mood, how to behave in such a civil environment. 

He had expected… Cassian blinks. 

He had expected you to act how everyone else had. 

The crisp Windhaven air nips at your throat, and you bring the shawl tighter over your shoulders, aware that while he’s close, he’s hesitating to step beside you to aid with warmth. Hot breath puffs out with each exhale, watching as it clouds against the cool temperature. You can’t feel your fingers. 

Cassian clears his throat, and you fight not to dip your head away as the conversation looms. You’re the one who has initiated this, it’ll do you no good to push it away, leaving it unresolved. You need clarity and confirmation. At least, if you want the chance for things to go further with him. Which you most definitely do. 

“Why were you speaking with her like that?” You ask, managing to glance at him, meeting his eyes as you ask the question for a fraction of a second. You don’t have time to worry at how jealous you sound—you are jealous. Jealous and upset he might choose to do something like that, knowing how it would make you feel. “I…you know how I feel about her.” 

“What about you?” He diverts, and you glance at him again with a furrowed brow, looking confusedly. “What about me?” 

Cassian scoffs, rolling his eyes before meeting your gaze again. “You asked what I was doing with her. I was doing the exact same thing you were with that male,” he replies, not minding the accusatory tone in his voice. He’s accustomed to wielding it in defence against these sort of malicious attacks; he’s been subjected to them enough times to know how this works. But your brows only furrow further. “He wasn’t,” —you flush— “He wasn’t caressing my arms or trying to seduce me.” 

“Sure he wasn’t,” Cassian replies, taking on a sardonic tone, looking away again. You flush with hurt at his assumption you would consciously and willingly continue speaking with a male who was trying to flatter you in that way while so obviously—… Obviously? Does he think otherwise? 

“Cassian…it isn’t fair to expect to find in me the same faults you’ve encountered in others,” you say softly. “And, it isn’t fair to compare your conscious reciprocation of her…intentions, to my situation. If he was being…inappropriate, I hadn’t noticed it. I wouldn’t have continued if I had known.” 

“And what does fairness have to do with any of this?” He asks cynically, not looking at you, powerful arms folded over his broad chest as he keeps a steady pace that has you hurrying a little to keep up. 

“Don’t you—” You fumble, glancing down before solidifying your resolve, gripping the sleeve of his upper arm to pull him to a stop. Cassian stiffens beneath your touch, glancing with surprise down to where you’re holding onto him, before meeting your eyes with some colour to his cheeks—probably the bite of cold.

You swallow, averting your gaze briefly but keeping hold of him. “I want things to be fair for you. To you,” you say softly. “Do you…do you not want the same for me?” 

He blinks, caught of guard by the sincerity of your expression, how earnest you sound in your question. And you’re right, he can’t just assume the worst of everyone, failing them before they even take a test. Maybe he did act brashly, a little unfairly toward you. 

He doesn’t like the hurt in your expression. 

“Cassian, I…I enjoy your company. But if you aren’t sincere…if my feelings aren’t reciprocated, please don’t string me along.” Your grip lessens on him, worried you’re being too pushy with your feelings where they aren’t welcome. “I’m sorry I upset you by speaking with that male, I had no idea it might look different on the outside to what I thought was going on. I promise I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Cassian holds still, hot breath puffing between each of you, and he becomes aware of how cold your fingers are through the fabric of his shirt. How nervous you look as your eyes skip about, before anxiously rising to look upward at him. He swallows thickly, guilt tingling in his gut, regretting not acting like a damned adult and just speaking with you about his worries. He nods. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice heavy. “That was stupid. I wasn’t—…I didn’t think properly.” 

Your breath catches a little, pulse spiking with nerves. “So you,”—you clear your throat—“we’re okay? I mean, we’ve sorted things out? You…” You trail off, unable to finish the sentence. 

Cassian’s cheeks warm, and he quietly takes your frozen hand in his much larger, much warmer one. “I enjoy your company, too.” 

Azriel: Young and Beautiful 

Full tears spill from gleaming eyes, reflecting the silver under the moonlight as you remain stood over the closed grave, shoulders shuddering under grief’s heavy cloak. The sight of you dressed in black, a thin veil over your face, brings back the lamenting groan of the organ, the somber melody that had been played before the coffin had been carried up onto the hillside, and buried upward at its crest, able to still watch the sun rise and fall each day. 

The downward tug of your lips is something he never wants to see again, the loss, the life that’s been stolen from all of them—never again. 

He walks forward silently, coming to a pause at your side, and his heart breaks further at the clarity of your sobs. Unashamed to shed tears over the departed, mourning her loss deeply, with feeling. He swallows thickly, attention resting on the burial, the life that was taken so cruelly. The life her brother had taken revenge for, having returned from Spring not even a full day ago. 

“You should come inside,” Azriel whispers, saying only what he should. You both know neither of you are yet ready to move on from this wound, and to rush it would be to dishonour the dead. But the wind does not grieve, makes no attempts to lessen its cruel bite, hot breath puffing from your lips with each stuttering exhale, and the familiar sting of sorrow cracks through his heart. “It’s cold,” he tries half-heartedly, “at least warm up a bit.”

His resolve disintegrates as you cast him a mournful look, your lids puffing from tears, eyes shining like glass beneath the cold night’s sky, swirling starlight reflecting in your irises. As if she’s already reached the heavens, and is waving goodbye. 

You don’t need to say anything to convey your sorrow; it’s one they’re all feeling. 

His throat rolls, and you turn back to the gravestone, quietening out of respect for his own grief, to offer him his own silence in which he’ll be able to mourn. 

Glancing up at the sky to cool the heat behind his eyes, Azriel inhales a slow, deep breath, allowing the cold, crisp night air to bring some clarity to his mind, sinking into his lungs as the clear night air disperses throughout his body, released in one exhale, as if breathing out his very soul. Azriel glances sidelong at you again, the obvious prickling of your skin against the cold. 

Closing his eyes briefly, he opens his wing, wrapping it delicately over your shoulder, cradling you in the only comfort he can offer. 

You lean into him without worry for appearances, hands clasping one another, your fingers like ice against his flame-scarred skin, pressing against his side as your head falls to his upper arm. 

It’s this small gesture that has his own walls cracking, lips tugging down as his brows pull together, hot tears sliding down his cheeks, making an effort to keep his breathing even so you don’t have to concern yourself with his own sorrow. 

You deserve the chance to grieve freely, without having to worry about the welfare of others. 

The least he can do is offer you that courtesy.

Eris: Golden Hour

Eris had encouraged you to rest when he’d pieced together your hunched frame and weakened legs, guiding you back to bed and setting you down in the mattress, taking infinite care not to jostle your body when he laid you down. ‘I’ll bring my work next door,’ he’d murmured, lips brushing your forehead, ‘Call if you need anything.’ 

Then he’d given a sharp whistle and all six of his hounds had leapt up onto the bed, a broad smile stretching your mouth as one nosed its way beneath your palm, squeezing itself under your arm, laying an elegant snout across your chest. Two more settled at your waist, heads lolling across your stomach, curling into your sides; another pair settling themselves around your legs, one between and another against your thigh; the last hound nestling into the pillows beside your head, taking Eris’ spot, likely picking up on the scent and taking it for comfort. 

The small beats of their tails excitedly thwacking the bedsheets as they nestled and nuzzled had your cheeks aching from smiles, fingers scratching behind ears and at the itchy parts of their napes, hind legs kicking with contentment before you all settled down. 

‘Are you sure? They’ll miss your company.’ You’d murmured, peering up at him from the shared bed, though you wouldn’t have been able to move even if you wanted to. Six large hounds piled atop and around one person is a surprisingly efficient way to keep someone still, you discovered.

But Eris had shook his head once, narrow lips softening at their edges, amber eyes twinkling as he took in the affectionate sight. ‘I’ll just be next door,’ he’d repeated. ‘I’ll come in to check on you in a while.’ 

‘Please don’t worry,’ you’d murmured, fingers brushing over his knuckles, lightly taking a hold of his hand. ‘I’ll be fine. You need your time to concentrate—I’ll manage.’ 

But Eris had just given you a look to tell you he knew better, before pressing another kiss to your forehead then departing. Leaving you feeling warm and fluffy despite the tension in your lower abdomen. 

Now it’s night and your husband returns, hounds eagerly padding at his feet, paws cleaned and dried after the muddy walk through the surrounding forest they take before bed. You slide your book shut and set it on the side table, directing your attention to him as he begins disrobing, clothes re-shelved if clean, and set in the wicker basket if not. 

After he’s finally washed and changed your smile widens, pulling back the covers for him to seat himself behind you, unable to even pull the duvet back over himself before you’re diving into his side, crawling beneath his arm and tucking yourself flush to his chest, arms tugging at his waist as you eagerly press your face to the crook of his neck, inhaling slowly, deeply. Treasuring every aspect of his feel: the clean, soapy scent intermingled with smoke and pine; smooth, hot skin beneath your touch, baby hairs curling at the nape of his neck; the silky soft brush of his nightwear against your cheek. The undeniable secure form of him that you’re able to wrap yourself around. 

“I missed you,” you mumble, pulling back to gaze up at him, forgetting the previously uncomfortable pressure between your hips, happy he’s back and by your side again. Warm and hot and strong and solid. Smelling divine, good enough to knock you out with a dozy smile on your lips. 

“You say that every time I don’t see you for a day,” Eris mumbles back, shifting beneath your grasp, hauling the duvet up as he settles down into the mattress. You squeeze yourself closer, leg inching across his hips as he whistles, allowing the hounds to leap up and scatter themselves in a close huddle around the two of you. “It’s because I miss you every time you leave me,” you whisper, kissing the underside of his jaw. “Even if it’s only for a day.” 

Eris rolls his eyes, faelights flickering out as he pulls you impossibly closer, tilting so he can nose at the crown of your head, lips grazing your skin. 

“I missed you too,” he whispers, softly, “now sleep. You were supposed to be resting today, not reading my hounds stories.” 

Lucien: amour plastique

Lucien’s lips are flushed red against the frost-filled cold, and for a moment you wish it was because of your teeth that they look so raw and bitten. 

The tip of his nose is rosey, cheeks pink while the rest of his skin is unusually pale, snow flakes catching on his lashes, eyes searing against the cool-toned blues of the snowy forest. 

He’s still only courting you, and yet this might be The Moment. 

Your heart flutters in your chest, mind and heart agreeing on one thing, for once. And that’s the male on top of you might be the last person you ever love. 

A slow, teasing smile spreads across Lucien’s fiery mouth, cupid’s bow stretching taut with the vulpine grin as his eyes twinkle with mischief. “Something on your mind, love?” He shifts on top of you, keeping you pinned in the ankle-deep carpet of snow, searing red hair sliding from over a broad shoulder, caressing your cheek and he has the audacity to flash his teeth in a feral smile as if he’d planned for you to feel as such. 

Maybe he had. 

“I’m thinking you’re acting quite the scoundrel, Lucien,” you reply, raising a brow while your heart pounds wildly in your chest. “Where did the charming gentlemale go who took my first dance last night?” 

“‘Gentlemale’?” Lucien drawls, the white of the snow making his teeth brighter—sharper—as they flash in a smile. He lowers himself closer, hair dragging lightly over the fluttering pulse at your throat. “You should have known my nature when you gave me that first dance, and I stole all your rest.” 

“‘Stole’?” You force a laugh, almost flinching when his eyes momentarily dip to your mouth. “You wouldn’t have received my first if I thought you were playing at some kind of deception.” 

“Then don’t pretend surprise when I keep you in the snow without offering a hand up,” Lucien whispers, close enough the mist of his breath caresses your mouth. 

You swallow, heart and mind aligning as the embers finally catch, a searing fire catching light in your stomach, burning as certain and blinding as the Day Court sun. “Without raising yourself up, either,” you reply, breathless. Amber eyes lock with your own; deep, and hungering for more than just flesh. “If anyone sees us…” You broach, gazes burning into one another as you trail off, seeing what he’ll do. 

Neither make an effort to move. 

“They’ll probably be correct in their assumptions,” Lucien murmurs, the intensity of his attention alone enough to keep the bite of ice at bay. Liquefying heat until it’s hot enough to fuel fire. 

Your brow narrows, head tilting as snow crunches beneath you. “That you’re taking me for a one-night roll?” Hands lift from your sides, settling on his shoulders, grip tight enough to suggest you’ll push him firmly away should he answer untruthfully. You weren’t made for a brief, singular apogee. You were made for everlasting; a ubiquitous kind of love.

Lucien’s heavy exhale might as well have been a hiss when he sees whatever’s in your eyes, strain contorting his muscles as his palms turn to fists in the snow. “If that’s all you’re seeking,” he growls, “tell me now, so I can salvage the little that’s left of me.”

Your breath hitches, staring up at the male on top of you, close enough to be sharing breath. 

Finally, your heart and mind sigh in unison. Finally a match who understands.  

Elain: We Fell In Love In October

The crystallised sugar of the plum is rough against your lips but her fingers are soft; pale and powdery; creamy-tipped nails curved and cared for, their pads skimming your mouth with a featherlight touch as she feeds you the sweet, your tongue catching her just before she pulls away. 

Your cheeks warm, thinking yourself too obvious. 

Elain’s cocoa brown eyes dilate, softening in the balmy heat, deep afternoon light glazing her in honey-gold that blazes on the pretty loops of her ringlets. Her fingers linger for a moment too long, then she’s retreating with the breeze. 

“It looks like it’s going to be a clear night,” you mumble with a palm over your mouth, neither quite looking at the other. The woollen blanket you’re sharing rustles as she shifts, dried grass rasping against its underside while another slow breath of air curls between you. 

Elain tilts her head, lovely hair spilling over one bare shoulder as she gazes up towards the pale blue skies. Already tinges of heat are beginning to warm the horizon while the sun prepares to dip into evening, then eventually leaving your side of the world until daybreak tomorrow morning. Plenty of time to admire the absence of such blinding light, the peace and relative quiet of the shadow-filled night, the whole world agreeing to share a single colour palette of darkest jade, midnight seas, and night-filled purple. 

You’ve both been waiting for a clear night for a while now, aching to lie beneath the pearly pattern of star shine, twinkling like slowly twirling diamonds, or moonstones. 

It’s only now, that you’re out here together, preparing to share a night and a blanket, that you realise you probably won’t get much of a chance to look at the stars. Not while Elain will be at your side, their light reflecting in her eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” Elain murmurs, and you flush when you realise she’s peering at you, leaning her body across the blanket to face you. You fumble for an answer, eyes dipping away. “I was thinking how beautiful tonight is going to be,” you reply, glancing down to the small ceramic plate set between you, carrying sugared plums and powdered pastries, sweetened fruit slices resting atop glazed, fluffy bread. All offerings from Elain. 

Rosey lips soften at their edges as you peek back up at her. “The stars?” She murmurs, smiling quietly. You swallow, forcing yourself to nod, “the stars. And everything else.” 

Her eyes are twinkling now. “‘Everything else’…” 

Heat overtakes your cheeks beneath the intensity in her eyes, gaze darting elsewhere. But fingers dip beneath your chin, bringing your attention wholly back to her. “Tell me,” Elain whispers, close enough you can imagine how the words would feel across your mouth. 

“You.” The word is goaded from your throat by a golden thread, gently pulled and plied until it spilled across your tongue, reeled in to whisper in her ears. She smiles, and a weight lifts from your shoulders, “That makes me happy to hear.” 

Your heart pounds, pulse fluttering in your throat. She isn’t pushing you away. She doesn’t look disgusted. It makes her happy. 

Elain’s eyes seem to twinkle as she watches your frozen expression of shock, enjoying the confused flutter of your eyelashes as you blink, half curious, half awed. It makes her want to see the look on your face if she…“I want something sweet,” Elain whispers, leaning in close. “May I?” 

You blink back to life, lips fumbling as your eyes skate about the place. “They’re yours,” you murmur, breathless, “You don’t need to ask.” Why would she need to when she’s the one who brought them? Baked them and sweetened them? What delicacy will she choose, from the small plate?

A huff of laughter fans your mouth, her lips curving before she’s leaning closer, and- 

Your eyes widen, paralysed beneath her touch. The soft heat of her mouth. How can anything possibly feel so delicate?

For longer than you can think she holds her mouth to yours, lips tilting experimentally as they slope over your own set. Your fingers are trembling on the blanket, arms shaking while her touch remains calm and steady, as if she’s kissed you a million times before, and enjoys it just as much as she did the first. Elain deepens the intimate press, her head tilting as she angles your jaw, tongue slipping out to swipe across the sugared pillow of your lower lip, licking the powder away with slow, careful strokes. 

Calm, and completely in control of herself. 

You feel like your arms will disintegrate into a floury puff, body crumbling like shortbread then evaporating into a hot, sweet vapour for her to inhale. To bring into her lungs so you can be brought into her body and run your course. 

She leans closer and your arms melt like butter beneath her pressure, silky wisps of hair pooling over your collar bones as she lays you down, kissing deeper and you can’t help yourself, shaking hands rising from the blanket, sliding over her hips to settle around the pleasing curve of her waist. Elain’s spine slopes as your fingers trail along her arch, her own hands exploring through your hair and you wonder if she can hear the erratic pulse in your throat. Can feel it as she kisses you. 

You hope she can, if only so she’ll know your affection without the confusion of language getting in your way. An inevitable mistranslation between the beat of your heart and the useless words you possess. 

It would be impossible to express, so you kiss her back; kiss her longingly and tenderly, keeping your touch familiar and chaste in the hopes she’ll understand you desire her heart above all else. 

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[ahoyimlosingmymind]

Vacker sibling headcanons go 👀

Alvar was the first person Fitz ever reached out to telepathically after he manifested, and that created a pathway in Fitz's brain that made connecting to Alvar a muscle memory thing.

When Alvar was in the elite levels, Fitz would transmit thoughts to him all day long to make him laugh or to ask about his day because he really loved his big brother

Alvar would entertain this, but found it all deeply annoying, and like Fitz was trying to rub it in his face that he had the 'cooler' ability

Biana taught Fitz and Alvar how to braid hair. Fitz complained, but learned

Alvar LOVED it. He doted on Biana. He took her shopping, and he did his best (along with Della) to make sure Biana felt seen, because both of them were shoved out of the picture as soon as Fitz manifested it seemed.

Fitz always noticed Alvar's apparent favoritism, but didn't like bringing it up because Alvar's rebuttal was always "And your dad's favorite. It's okay to just let other people have things, you know."

A lot of Alvar and Fitz's interactions growing up were rather negative, and sometimes Fitz would get really upset, but most of the time he just liked that Alvar was paying attention to him

For mothers and fathers day, the three of them would get together and bake treats for their parents and write cards. However, this usually brought up a lot of feelings regarding the unspoken sibling rivalry.

Biana and Fitz got closer as they got older, especially once the two of them were shoved into the limelight. they became rather emotionally reliant on one another, Fitz on Biana more so than the other way around

she was good at shutting down rumors surrounding him, and always left a seat empty at the foxfire lunch table for him

Alvar was pretty absent by the time Sophie got to the lost cities

but Fitz's mind still connected to his brothers as easily as breathing. he never realized what evil lurked in his big brother's mind, and he feels a knot in his stomach every time he thinks about it

Biana no longer finds her similarities to Alvar comforting. She doesn't like that Alvar saw himself in her. That he said she was most likely to understand why he was doing what he did

she looks in the mirror and is comforted by the fact that her eyes are teal, like Fitz's.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hii can you write tristan, lancelot and Percival headcanons with a darling that is half bunny?

I will be grateful! 🩷

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

— He was rather curious as to why you had such an appearance at first sight, but he doubled down on his curiosities the further he has come to know you. Tristan knew you just had simply been born that way, with your mother been born human and your father being an anthropomorphic bunny beast man with the ability to take appearance of a human. It was rather quite the surprise when he found that out about your parents though, but it made quite a lot of sense for him. The prince was also a hybrid, so he was very happy to see a fellow hybrid, even if not coming from the same place. Tristan from then on wanted to know even more about you then just beyond first impressions, beyond your appearance.

— Tristan had once asked if he could pet your ears, very clearly suppressing his vibrating excitement to do so. If you say no, he completely understands and moves on. If you do say yes, he gets extremely giddy, carefully petting your ears with a gentle hand. He’s always wanted to know how the fur of a beast man felt like, and you gave him a pathway to the door! It felt like heaven, truly it felt very nice. He wondered if there would be other chances he could get to do that. Oh, there would be.

— There are bound to be questioning eyes anywhere you go in Britannia together. Even if there was a major acceptance between all the races, there was still bound to be those who still think old-school and deem it unnecessary for members from different races to be together (one way or the other haha). So you do get moments where Tristan becomes protective of you, defending you on the behalves of both of you together.

𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐭

— He’s initially very casual about approaching conversations with you, and not being entirely upfront in his more casual persona, deciding to maintain his current front. But the longer his conversations went on with you, the more he had loosened up around you, finding you someone incredibly kind; which in a way reminded him of his mother. He was almost put off by it, but he only knew that it was something genuine. But he was more so focused on your ears.

— They looked so damn fluffy.

— He had offhandedly asked if he could pet them, once Lancelot was too quiet so he asked again. If you said no, he understands and respects your space, and then turns the subject to something else. However if you do say yes, he holds no objections to that, and pats you - gently as opposed to his display of a rough and fast persona. It was certainly a surprise to you, as you expected him to pet you a little rougher, but it was a welcoming gesture. Lancelot was almost tempted to ask again not far a five minutes afterwards, but he repressed the urge, and reminded himself that he would have other chances if he was permitted to do so.

— Though as your relationship developed into something more than friends, you had been bound to questioning glares. Or some who had given you accusations on your behavior and ability in combat based on appearance alone, Lancelot just watched right there and then as you proved them wrong. He knew he probably should intervene but it was funnier watching you strike fear of the beast-man race into them.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

— Your half bunny appearance is the last thing that comes to mind much, much later. As he is more likely to befriend you first, and want to get to know you, what you like, what kind of person you are and so on. So if there were to be insults here and there, he’s very quick to come to your defense.

— Compared to Lancelot or Tristan, he literally never asks about petting your ears. Out of sight and out of mind, so you’ll never hear anything about it from himself. Though you may be the one to bring it up, as it feels very calm and soothing to have your ears petted, like how your own mother used to do for you when you were far younger.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I wanted to get your opinion on this, who do you think is smarter: Kara or Lena? A lot of people forget how in to science Kara was on Krypton, which was way more advanced in that area than even modern earth (when Kara first suits up). And I know Lena’s a genius, but could that really beat Kara kryptonian intellect. Because I have a headcanon that Kara is smarter than most, but just never shares it with people so she doesn’t offend them etc (after seeing how much it would tick Alex off back when they were kids). But I’m still not sure how her IQ would match against Lena’s in science if she really tried. Also, side note, could you imagine Lena’s reaction to Kara knowing all kinds of advanced scientific knowledge? Part of her loving it, but the other half being slightly upset that Kara always put the pressure on her (during the world ending threats) to solve all of the science related problems.

Finally have the bandwidth to start going through my inbox, and we're starting out with an absolute banger. This is excellent.

You're right, Kara has a ton of knowledge and a Kryptonian brain, but after years of dumbing herself down, are her neural pathways still the same as what got her into the science guild?

Personally, I think she might not be hardwired for it anymore like she might have been on Krypton, but she's still wicked smart. Like, she has the knowledge, can probably recite formulas and such, but actually applying them might be more of a challenge these days.

Whereas Lena still lives and breathes it, it's her passion. It's still ingrained in her, flourishing through practice and stimulation. Where Kara has self-imposed limits, Lena is continually looking to push past any limitations placed on her by others. She continually strives, and I think that might be why she's a better science resource than Kara.

Also, Lena probably understands Earth's resources better than Kara at the moment. Like, Kara can have all the knowledge in the universe and maybe even devise a solution in an instant, but even then, if that solution requires resources Earth doesn't have access to, what good is it?

So, overall I hesitate to declare one smarter than the other. I think their brains just work differently, and they have different skillsets and knowledge bases. I think the more they work together, the more they each will learn and share their own knowledge with each other.

As always, they'd make each other better.

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

Adariel headcanons

Under the au of Adar surviving, it's a semi tragic relationship:

They bond over their Sauron-induced trauma and desire to kill him.

Because they can talk to each other about things they can't talk to with most other people, they develop genuine love and affection for each other.

For a while, they are the perfect dark couple, bonded together by a single purpose: kill Sauron as painfully as possible.

But then Sauron is actually defeated, and it's like, "Now what?"

They are both so similar, and that helps them understand each other, but in a way they are too similar and differ just enough to be incompatible except for short periods of time.

They are both driven, even pig-headed. And this works great when they have the same goal in mind, but when they have differing goals and each is sure the other is wrong, it can get very tempestuous.

Both have a hunger for power. Galadriel came to Middle Earth to rule a kingdom. Adar was primarily motivated by his love for his children, but he does like having people swear fealty to him.

But Galadriel is an elf, and she wants to rule over a realm full of light and nature. She would attempt to make places for uruks, like building more shelters even pathways sheltered under a canopy. But it would still be an elven world with areas for uruks, as opposed to a world for uruks.

Adar is sort of between an elf and a uruk. He would love the sun and the nature. But not at the expense of his children. He created the right environment for them in Mordor and would never ask them to leave. He would try to plant plants that thrive in Mordor's conditions, but it wouldn't be like the world Galadriel would want.

So ultimately, they realize they just don't work together. A case where love isn't always enough. And whenever they meet, they hook up, but it never lasts long.

[luna-rainbow]

Amygdala and the super soldier serum

I read this interesting meta about Steve's brain changes post-serum, specifically this bit:

Steve’s brain is smarter and faster, the neurons have a longer life span, the hippocampus — that’s your memory storage — is nice and healthy; whatever. But then they said that the part of Steve’s brain that increased the most in mass and synaptogenesis was the amygdala.

So I had to be a nerd and crack open a Neuroanatomy textbook. Accordingly, the amygdala forms part of the limbic system (which I've briefly talked about in another meta), one of the key parts of the brain that governs memory, emotions, and by extension, behaviour. It serves a role not only in creating and regulating emotions, but also in recognising facial and verbal cues for emotions.

Onward for super soldier angst!(?)

Neuroanatomy is still an evolving field so our understanding of amygdala function is still immature. There are multiple areas to the amygdala, but the main ones are:

Basolateral: this is the largest part of the amygdala and receives information from higher-order sensory cortical areas and the association cortex. In plain English, this area links sensory input (e.g. music, objects, etc) with particular emotions. I think this is what the original meta was describing -- a simple stimulus could be so much more intense for Steve (and presumably for other super soldiers too) because it would bring on an emotional response. The pure joy of a tasting vanilla, the melancholy of the smell of rain, the nostalgia of old music, the grief of seeing the Howlies' pictures. And because this area draws from the association cortex as well, I would presume the more he has a particular emotional response to a stimulus, the more it becomes reinforced -- so going to the museum to see Bucky and the Howlies again and again reinforces the sense of grief he associates with them...and that's what stopped him in his tracks when he saw Bucky with his mask off.

Central: this area is key in mediating an emotional response, and both receives and sends information to the autonomic system, which controls things like heart rate/blood pressure/breathing rate/"gut feelings". It plays a key role in fear conditioning. It forms a central part of the rewards pathway, meaning it often serves a role in addiction and (on the flip side) depression. It also forms part of the pain regulation pathways. This may mean Steve has a strong physiological response to stimuli he associates with threats, regardless of whether or not he can control his own emotional response, i.e. even though he is used to explosions and gunshots and he knows, rationally, he can deal with them, this area might still kicks his heart rate and blood pressure up and make him feel dread. This makes me wonder whether the same amygdala development applies to the other super soldiers. For example, the Siberian Winter Soldiers had a very heightened fight-or-flight response, and similarly with Walker. It also begs the question of whether the heightened fear and reward pathways were used for Bucky's conditioning. E.g. Bucky's look of terror when he was trapped under the beam on the Helicarrier, but after Steve freed him, he was still intent on finishing the mission, because he was conditioned to think not finishing the mission was worse than dying. A lot of headcanons also involve Bucky being given drugs of addiction by Hydra -- and while I think the neuroanatomy of addiction is still not well understood, this could mean that quitting those drugs are more difficult for super soldiers once they became dependent on them. (Also, my headcanon is that the other super soldiers get a kick out of hurting people and post-serum, that reward pathway goes into overdrive and it becomes an addictive action for them.) And also, another area that is still developing, the pain regulation pathway being affected could also mean either more or less chronic pain issues, and likely a different emotional response to pain.

Basomedial nucleus: I thought I'd throw this in here because even though it wasn't mentioned in the neuroanatomy book, it is mentioned in this article. This area is thought to have a role in motivational behaviours under the influence of sex hormones, and in combination with the olfactory (sense of smell) processing being part of the amygdala structure and this apparently being a big factor in animal sexual behaviours...make of that what you will, A/B/O fic writers!

I think most places where I've read about the amygdala points to it being a primal center for emotions, i.e. the emotions that are key to our survival, and fear being a major part of it, triggering the fight-or-flight response. I think this means -- and I think it's fairly well-backed by canon -- that super soldiers innately have a heightened response to threatening stimuli, and because most of them are skilled, enhanced and trained, they respond to threat with aggression.

What's key here is that emotional regulation is done by higher centers outside the amygdala (frontal cortex). What that means is that the person has to make a conscious, cognitive effort to override their instincts for aggression. I think it says a lot about Steve and Bucky that they do keep a handle on their emotions, despite the over-development of their amygdala -- I think it also is in keeping with headcanons about Steve secretly having a huge anxiety problem under his stoic demeanour. We never see Steve lashing out, and the only time we see Bucky lashing out was when he got flashbacks to his arm being amputated. In a way...it's even more amazing that Bucky is as placid as he is, because despite having his memories wiped and therefore being only able to depend on primal emotions to guide him, he still has enough cognitive control to control his fears.

I also wanted to briefly address the "bleeding heart" part of the original meta (which was kinda what prompted this dive down the rabbit hole). As mentioned above, amygdala deals with primal emotions like joy and fear and anger, while some of the other "emotions" listed in the meta - sympathy and guilt and sense of duty and altruism - they are high level cognitions. I am inclined to think that Steve's empathy didn't change after the serum -- he just remained the same empathetic person he always was (although he might feel the emotions more keenly), which helped him be a better super soldier than the Winter Soldiers and Walker, and probably helped him keep a handle on the instinctive aggression.

Lastly, I just wanted to touch on grief. The neuroanatomy of grief is complex, and involves many different networks of emotions, autonomic responses, memory, and sensory processing. This study is interesting in that it identifies that increased functional connections in the amygdala is associated with a more protracted grief response and development of depressive symptoms. So yes...it is quite possible that Steve's more developed amygdala (and Bucky's too, but we shan't talk about The Movie that Does Not Exist) means he feels sadness more intensely, for longer, and the abnormal reward pathways might send him down a depressive or self-destructive spiral where his perceived reward is by doing something self-sacrificing.

One last thing (I promise this is final) the amygdala is also involved in REM sleep, aka dreaming. Theories are varied, but there is thought that being the fear/stress centre, the amygdala likely has a major role in generating nightmares.

Now put that together with two super soldiers living with PTSD and one canonically waking up from a nightmare...

[youatemylollipop]

Hello! I’m the one who had requested about Rindo with his dream girl today☺️ Whichever you prefer, as long as it’s about what the Tenjiku members thought of her when they first met. Also, I just wanted to say that I completely understand if you're currently very busy and can't fulfill the request right away. There's no pressure and you can take as much time as you need. If possible, could you also write a scenario or a short one shot about Mikey x the "dreamer" type and how they met? Thank you so much for considering my request!

A/N: Hi there! Just wanted to let you know that I have written a short one-shot for Mikey x the "dreamer" type, but I apologize as I wasn't able to come up with anything for Rindō just yet. I'm working on it though! Hope you enjoy this in the meantime!💘

Based on these headcanons: Dream Girl

Synopsis: Mikey encounters a peculiar girl whom he can't help but feel intrigued by.

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Characters: Sano Manjirō X Female Reader

⚠️ WARNING: Reader gets harassed on her way home.

Word Count: 1.7K

It was quite late in the evening as you were going back home after finishing your shift at a local café. Usually, you would have enough time to take the subway, but today your shift turned out to be a bit longer, due to a coworker suddenly falling ill. You didn’t mind though, as it meant extra cash for you.

As you walked down the unfamiliar streets, you could hear some distant noises. You didn't give them much thought, though, as they seemed far away from your current location—at least, that was your interpretation.

You were humming quietly to yourself, swaying your school bag back and forth in tandem with your slightly dancing footsteps. Against the night sky, dozens of bright stars illuminated the pathway back home, and the dazed part of your mind believed that some unnatural force was guiding you towards your soulmate.

Suddenly, you heard some whistles and realized that the sounds, which had seemed distant before, were now much closer. As you blinked in surprise, your gaze fell upon a group of boys who appeared to be a few years older than you. It was only then, as you broke eye contact with one of them, that you noticed he wasn't the only one whose gaze had been fixated on your lonely figure.

"What are you doing outside this late, sweetness?" One of the males slurred, making you visibly cringe at the action. A wave of nausea was beginning to rise within your body as the boys began to advance toward you.

They reminded you of a pack of hyenas, which was a parallel that you did not wish to draw since the species had always interested you. These boys, however, brought no other emotion than utter disgust, as you felt physically close to throwing up with each step that they took.

Instinctively, you took a step back and pursed your lips. A part of you wanted to scream, but you were afraid of the consequences that may follow. By appearing calm, you hoped to create an opportunity to escape. Perhaps, if they believed there was no danger, they would let their guard down at some point.

As they encircled you, you couldn’t help but continuously curse yourself out for using your phone so much during the day. Perhaps if you still had some battery, you could’ve easily made a run for it while trying to call for help.

Realizing that you had nothing to lose, you began to scream to the point that your lungs began hurting. However, this did not last long as one of the males lunged forward, pushing you painfully against the cold stone wall behind you.

While the group of boys carried you to a nearby alleyway, you continued to thrash around. The tallest one spoke in a low, menacing tone, his much larger hand still kept over your mouth. “Shut it, or else,” he warned. However, before he could pull his hand away, a loud scream pierced the empty streets as he felt a sharp pain from your harsh bite.

A second later, sudden pain resonated through your body as you landed harshly on the concrete. You groaned in response, attempting to sit up. Your left hand went up to rub your now sore cheek as a blooming pink hue slowly appeared on the surface.

You don't remember much of what happened during your momentary blackout. It's obvious that you didn't faint, but everything around you was too fuzzy to comprehend. Although you heard some noises, they seemed to be far away, and your vision was too blurry to make out what was going on.

You felt a much gentler tap on your shoulder, causing you to blink a few times as you tried to make out the silhouette of the person in front of you. "Am I dreaming?" You mumbled with a dazed expression, as the person's features became more prominent.

"Hmm, I don't know, are you?" The voice sounded smoky and seemed to belong to a young male. There was a slightly teasing lilt to it, but you found it soothing nonetheless.

You didn't answer straight away, finding yourself entranced by the pools of onyx that seemed to be staring right into your soul. They were black but bottomless, a stark contrast to the star-filled sky hanging above the two of you. And, the longer you held eye contact with the stranger, the more it felt as if they were sucking you into the void.

“This must be destiny,” you spoke, [e/c] hues watching him in amazement. He was just so beautiful.

The male tilted his head and interjected, "Oh?" An amused smile soon followed. You were still too dazed to realize how strange your words must have sounded, and the amusement in his gaze didn't deter you from asking, "Can I touch you?"

This elicited a chuckle from the boy, as he found your question utterly ridiculous. “Why?” He questioned, wondering what else your strange little mind would come up with this time.

"Because I need to make sure that you’re not just a fragment of my imagination," the blond looked at you with intrigue as he took in your words. An unidentifiable glint appeared in his eyes.

He took a step forward, inspecting you further in silence before voicing his thoughts. “Do you not trust your eyesight?”

“Not at all," came the breathless reply, causing the male’s onyx eyes to blink in confusion at your statement. Although everything you had said so far sounded strange, he couldn't help but wonder if you had just dropped your glasses while being harassed by those bastards.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, however, he quickly shook it off. He felt sure that if you really hadn't seen him, you would have acted slightly differently. “You must have a vivid imagination,” he mused, a small smile appearing on his face.

The boy leaned closer to you before stretching out his hand. He didn’t even need to say anything as your hand went up to connect with his, acknowledging the unspoken command that had been told through his eyes.

Hoisting you up, the boy asked curiously, “What’s your name?”

Crossing your arms in a form of fake haughtiness, you spoke in a condescending manner. "As my knight in shining armor, you ought to introduce yourself before asking for any personal information."

"The Invincible Mikey is what I go by," stated the boy with amusement as he bowed courteously to you. This caused a blush to spread across your cheeks, and you began to feel slightly flustered by his antics.

It wasn't the first time a boy had tried to play along with your shenanigans, but usually, they had a hard time keeping up with you. Quite often, you would quickly find them boring, perhaps because you realized that they didn't truly enjoy the play and were only trying to appease you.

You have always dreamed of meeting 'the one' - someone who would be happy to fulfill your desires and do anything to satisfy your needs. But you didn't want him to do so just because he found you pretty. Instead, you longed for a boy who would happily comply with your requests simply because he enjoys doing so and wants to see you happy.

However, not wanting to make things too easy for him, you continued to play around. "I believe that doesn't count as a formal introduction," you huffed, now facing the other side in mock annoyance.

“How am I ever to find you if you decide not to tell?” Now it was Mikey's turn to play pretend, puckering his lips into a childish pout as he tried to get your attention back. "Or do you believe that your parents are going to give a delinquent such as I, permission to taint their sweet little princess?"

After sparing the blond boy a small glance, you finally spoke, “Free me from the shackles that they have forced me to carry and we shall see who’ll be the one searching for me in the end.”

"Is the princess asking her knight to take her far away from this land to experience a life filled with adventures?" For the first time during this whole conversation, you felt utterly speechless. The young male, Mikey, took a step forward, his gaze completely fixated on your bewildered figure.

You've never been one to trust words alone. However, this boy spoke with such conviction that it was hard to deny the truthfulness behind them. Still, a part of you felt uncertain as to why he was so insistent on a stranger like yourself.

As you shot him a glare, he couldn't help but find your expression utterly adorable, a fact that you were completely oblivious to. Your tone became slightly harsher than before as you spoke, “If the knight is willing to sacrifice everything he has for their love, she’ll be happy to follow.”

Not feeling deterred in the slightest by the sudden change in your voice, Mikey took yet another step towards your figure as he spoke. “Unfortunately, fair lady, your knight does not possess a horse, but instead a black motor-driven machine, which he hopes will suffice for their journey together.” A grin stretched across his gorgeous—and cute—face.

You felt your blush deepen as you couldn't help but think his smile was very pretty. There was something about him that made you feel exposed, but in a good way. Never had you ever met someone who had managed to elicit such strong emotional responses from you, and the butterflies in your stomach were swarming chaotically, making you completely overwhelmed.

You loved the feeling, however, as it had made you feel much more alive than you had felt in your entire life. The smug grin that he was presenting did nothing to make the former annoyance return. Oh, who were you lying to? That annoyance had never been much more than self-fabrication.

“So this really is destiny,” you spoke up dazedly, taking a hold of his, once again, outstretched hand before following his figure out of the alleyway.

The boy led you quietly towards his bike, before turning around with a knowing glint in his coal-black eyes. "I'd like to believe it's fate," he said with a flirtatious wink, before turning back to face the road as the both of you disappeared into the darkness of the night.

[ninjamelissajulien]

An Analysis on Cole vs Vangelis

I have previously stated that the Cole vs Vangelis fight between The Upply Strike Back and the Son of Lilly is one of, if not, the best fight in the entire history of Ninjago and I am willing to stake my reputation on it due to the many layers of the fight. 

1: Cole stands for freedom and self expression, always willing to show his face and to fight for what is right. Previous notations have mentioned how in episode 9- the Royal Blacksmiths- Cole’s monologue to his father is a rather strong parallel to coming out to one’s parent as queer. “I want you to be proud of me too.” “I have something to tell you. All these years I haven’t been [what you were expecting of me]. I’ve found something that I’m really good at [found something that I love]. Dad, I’m a Ninja [I’m Queer].” [Author is using Queer as a generalization of numerous headcanons of Cole’s identity and avoiding cementing of one idea]. Cole has used his self expression to stand up against bullies, using his past as a dancer within his fights (Triple Tiger Sashay in S2e25, Return of the Overlord, and s12e9- Two Steps Forward One Step Back. Midair splits in s13e10, Dungeon Crawl. Dancing in Balance) as a way to connect to his father while maintaining his promise to his mother to always stand up for what is right, to stand against those who are cruel and unjust. 

2. Cole’s Unbelievable Ambidextrous Skillset: Connecting to the previous analysis to the Blades of Deliverance and their connections not only to Cole and Lilly’s color schemes (Black and White) but also the parallels to grief and death. Cole wields both blades simultaneously with extreme accuracy, endurance, and skill. Watching the fight in e15 frame by frame, you can see how Cole moves from one blade immediately into the second fluidly. 

Cole uses all of his strength with every single blow. Sparks literally fly on numerous occurrences between the Blades of Deliverance and Vangelis’ staff (Pudao?). Cole also manages to forcefully drive Vangelis backwards at least 50+ feet in a single motion, using the brunt of the blades as connection points, until Vangelis throws him to the side. 

Cole also uses his shield as a third weapon alongside extra protection against the Skull of Hazza’Dur. This, unfortunately, is the only season that features the Ninja using shields (which they really should use more often as they worked very well in creating bulk wall defenses). Cole not only has to keep his attention on the main threat of Vangelis, but also the satellite Skull attacking him from all sides, including from behind. He angles himself so the shield gets the brunt of the damage and hit. When he is knocked off of his feet, Cole throws the shield onto his back to take the landing blow and gaining traction to get back to his feet. 

Cole manages to hold off Vangelis and Hazza’Dur until the Blades shatter under a direct hit from the skull. Even then, without his shield and the Blades, Cole manages to connect to his inner power and unlocks the Spinjitzu Burst. Noted as a parallel to his true potential, Cole connects to a struggle within his heart that kept him from discovering who he really is. In the Royal Blacksmiths, Cole has to reconnect to his father and find a pathway to his future as a Ninja rather than hiding away in a lie. In the Son of Lilly, Cole understands the legacy that his mother left behind and finally steps outside of the shadows she left in Shintaro to create his own light. Cole embraces his promise to his mother, his path as a Ninja, and unlocks the Burst and defeats Vangelis. 

Master of the Mountain has a lot of depth and symbolism in connection to legacies, grief, and finding yourself- common motifs that surround Cole’s character. Not only has his color scheme been connected to Death (Black, with Lilly’s color being white, alternate connective color to Death in other regions), but he was also connected to Death through his time as a ghost. Cole had to deal with the disassociation of not only being disembodied, being separated from the team physically, mentally, and even emotionally, but also through depression. “I don’t feel anything anymore.” Not only as a ghost being unable to physically touch, but also through emotional disconnection and lethargy. Cole’s (previous) main weapon was a scythe, a symbolic iconography to the Grim Reaper. 

Master of the Mountain is one of the best seasons throughout the entirety of the Ninjago Canon for developing Cole, his past with his mother, his bond to Master Wu, allowing Kai and Nya to have a teasing yet strong sibling relationship, and to have a beautiful emotional climactic battle for the Ninja who has been shoved to the side for too long. 

-as a side note, author learned that both Netflix and the YouTube episodes for the Tooth of Wojira skip the In Loving Memory of Kirby Morrow during this research-

[day-at-rhodes-island]

Why I'm not a fan of the seaborn: complaint 2. This is definitely the less important issue, but I'm not going to let that stop me.

Before I get into it: I am currently doing real studies with evolutionary modeling, like publishable academic stuff, so I know what I'm talking about.

Evolution cannot happen to an individual creature. Ever. Pokemon lied to you. Evolution is the gradual change of gene frequencies in a population over time due to natural selection. Anything else is not evolution (in the context of biology). Whatever the endspeaker is doing is not evolving... unless it is.

One of the very few ways what we see might actually be evolution is if the seaborn are actually a symbiotic microorganism with a very short life cycle which can rearrange the cells of it's host (sort of like the Thing from The Thing). This would explain how so many things with radically different structures can be considered the seaborn, and it also quite handily explains how people can become seaborn. This headcanon alone allows me some relief from these fucking things.

For this next bit I'm going to put aside the fact that they can somehow just create meat when they need more, because if I account for that the "evolutionary" pathway they take makes even less sense.

So let's actually apply the concept of natural selection to the sea terrors shall we? To start off I would like to address the fact that the AEgirians didn't use their advanced technology to fight these things, because the seaborn would then evolve to that level and become unstoppable. That is not how this works.

Do you know what happens if you shoot a fish with a laser cannon? I'll give you a hint: it doesn't grow a laser cannon. Natural selection doesn't produce "better" gene frequencies, major negative traits disappear first and optimization or the emergence of new beneficial traits happens slowly afterwards.

The scenario is they are invading another creature's niche, and that creature is very effectively fighting back. So, which strategy is more likely to get you removed from the gene pool: continuing to push into enemy territory but with slightly better armor, or just staying the fuck away from the people with laser cannons? Evolution always takes the easy way out, not the best way, the easy way. Want to know why every terrestrial vertebrate has 4 limbs? Something crawled out of the ocean with four limbs, and it was simpler to move those ones around than make new ones.

Would the fish growing a laser cannon help them take over new environments, thus out-competing the ones who just stayed away? Sure, but there's no easy path to get there, so they would never get the chance to reach that point. (When talking about genetic algorithms, this is called a local maxima, look it up!)

In even a mildly realistic scenario of creatures like this actually being driven by natural selection, the situation would become a case of dealing with an exceptionally dangerous invasive species, rather than an existential threat to all other forms of life. As per my opinion in part 1, this would have been better.

The seaborn are presented as this purely natural selection driven menace, when in reality they're just the evil army of an ocean god-monster. The driving will to consume all other forms of life isn't natural selection talking, it's at best an excuse Ishar'mla uses so that He can get what He wants, and at worst a case of the writers genuinely trying to write a natural selection driven antagonist, assuming they understand the concept, and not bothering to check if they are right. And it really looks to me like the second one is more likely.

All they had to do was not make them the focus, not make them an existential threat. You can still do the themes of individuality vs conformity with a smaller-scale hive mind. You don't need another planetary-scale environmental threat, you have originium! I could forgive the poorly applied scientific principles, if they weren't such a mess narratively as well. If they had taken this approach the seaborn might have even been one of my favorite parts of this game (they have actually hinted at the possibility of the seaborn deciding that coexistence is actually the best survival strategy, and that would be super cool!). Unfortunately, as it is, the seaborn are bad.

Part 1

[alovelyburn]

why exactly do you think griffith isn't a problematic character? i'm very interested.

The phrasing of this ask leads me to believe it's not being sent in good faith, but I'm ignoring that and answering anyway.

So, I mean, the easy answer is "because he's a fictional character whose actions or behavior have zero real world impact."

The longer answer is, if you're referring to the colloquial definition of problematic which involves actions or attitudes that are in some way indicative of harmful beliefs, prejudices etc, then there's literally no evidence that he has any of those things. You might be able to make a case for slight sexism based on him telling Casca that sleeping next to Guts is a woman's duty, but other than that he's infamously egalitarian in every area - he accepts anyone regardless of ethnicity, gender, background, etc.

This even carries through to NeoGriffith, who is literally inventing public education, creating pathways to citizenship for refugees, requiring Apostles to behave civilly and stop attacking/killing people, and actively chipping at class distinctions, which he always did, which is why conservative nobles hated him so much.

What people mean when they say Griffith is problematic is generally that they're mad at him about the Eclipse and specifically because Femto raped Casca, and often that they've made up all kinds of negative headcanon about the way he was as a human because of Femto's actions during the Eclipse. But I don't care about anyone's Griffith Was A Sociopath headcanon or whatever, I care about what's in the actual series.

You could argue that FEMTO is problematic (he doesn't quite fit my understanding of what problematic means, but I'm not going to act like he isn't a whole entire asshole) but FEMTO isn't GRIFFITH, he's Griffith's soul shot through with the energies of hell, and with his emotions blunted, his humanity removed, and his moral limitations lifted.

People who call him problematic also usually mean that they're judging his actions from a modern western perspective when he's a medieval-to-renaissance era fantasy character created by a Japanese man in the 80s, so I find the application of a 2023 American moral paradigm sort of pointless. Particularly because people generally only apply the paradigm to Griffith specifically, because they're mad at him and not at, say, Guts despite Guts being a mass murderer by any modern standard.

The most honest answer is, all of the above but also I just don't find any utility in passing moral judgement on manga characters to begin with.

That doesn't mean I can't discuss his actions, their implications, their justification or lack thereof - is it okay to kill people who are trying to kill you, do the ends justify the means, how much death is acceptable in the creation of a nice place to live, etc etc. I like discussing these things. But I'm not going to discuss them from a place of judging whether those actions are problematic or even whether they're good or bad; I find that boring and reductive. One of the reasons I love Berserk to begin with is that it rejects these paradigms, so I'm not trying to impose them after the fact.

[olivia--flaversham]

𝚝 𝚊 𝚐 𝚍 𝚞 𝚖 𝚙 .

[tadpolesonalgae]

So my girlie has cancer, nice. YOU KNOW I HAD THOUGHT OF THAT like why she's basically eating herself up (don't know any other way to describe this) but then i was like illnesses like cancer are probably not even possible for faes' due to their regenerative abilities? good to know that's what that is though. I am a littleeeeeeeeee pissed about the Bas convo because i've already started headcanoning about how the reader will feel a little guilty about how she handelled the situation after she's in a better mindspace. MY POOR BABY BAS LIKE HE WAS SSO IN LOVE WITH US WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I CAN'TTTTTTTTTTT UAHUAHUAHUAHUH so now how is she gonna cure herself :3 is she going to be her sciency-self and start mixing chemicals??? or does she get a new body? kinda like amren situation??? (i imagine her shedding skin like a snake? or lizard)

um, being totally honest with you I'm not really sure how to respond to you? I'm having quite a bit of difficulty figuring out your tone through text...?

Um, anyway though, it's not really cancer - I wouldn't call it that anyway. I won't deny that some of her symptoms do line up for those of cancer, but I would argue that blood appearing where it isn't supposed to, night sweats/fevers, lumps in your skin are some pretty straightforward signs to give a character to let people know there's something wrong with them?

I think it might be tricky because originally Reader's power was going to be radioactivity (varying on the type of radiation - alpha at her fingertips usually but sending out gamma radiation during large detonations), which can cause cancer (It isn't radiation anymore, don't worry that isn't a spoiler). However, I ultimately decided against that pathway when it started leading me to learn some stuff about nuclear energy, atomic bombs, and eventually lead back to World War II and just with how the world is at the moment I wasn't comfortable touching on it. I didn't feel like I had the words or the understanding to articulate a story like that and I also felt mainly that it wasn't a story I wanted to write? That giving reader the power of radioactivity/something similar to nuclear power would distract from the story that I actually wanted to write?

Anyway, that was a very long way of saying while I can completely see why it might look like it's cancer, I'd like to clarify that it isn't. As cbmthy continues we'll gradually learn more about what her magic does, and is :)

'MY POOR BABY BAS LIKE HE WAS SSO IN LOVE WITH US'

haha, I'm happy you feel so connected to him! Sorry for writing it so that he's going away though :') Though that was a very fun scene to write, as well as then heading into the parallels between Bas leaving Velaris and reader leaving life behind, and that being that driving force behind her determination to tell the people around her <3

'so now how is she gonna cure herself :3 is she going to be her sciency-self and start mixing chemicals??? or does she get a new body? kinda like amren situation??? (i imagine her shedding skin like a snake? or lizard)'

She's going to cure herself?

[restlesscrybaby]

Jack x reader with separation anxiety??

GAHH separation anxiety buds!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ JACK HORNER HEADCANONS. ~

~~ SEPARATION ANXIETY. ~~

× 'Please, don't think of leaving me,' ×

☆ CONTENT WARNING: None. ☆

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The sun shines it's harmful rays upon the concrete stones that stabbed the dirt in the town with its pathways.

Crowds.

Many of them.

Jack walked amongst the crowds, most people stumbling out of the large males way, his hands swaying by his side as he took large strides to get to where he was going.

But, you?

Oh god.

So many people,

He was so quick,

You couldn't keep up.

Your eyes panned around, it was like everyone was going to cave in and you wouldn't be able to find him, and--

Oh god.

It struck your chest with its mad fury, a hissing squeal escaped from your tightened lungs. Digits squeezing into fists, white-knuckled fists, as you gulped.

No, you couldn't-

You wouldn't-

You raised an arm, extending it as your fingers practically snapped to hold onto the sleeve of his large coat, his head turning back towards you.

You pulled yourself closer towards him, you didn't want to lose him in the crowd.

Of course, he didn't understand, why were you suddenly so determined to cling to him? He kept walking, butnyou didn't let go, like he thought you would.

Why wouldn't you let go?

Did you want to hold his hand?

But, you two got out the crowds soon, as his teal eyes snapped and locked their focus upon your figure, as a confused sputter escaped from between plump, peach, lips.

He asked you why you held on.

Yet, you explained.

You didn't want to lose him. Or be alone there. What if you two got separated?

And you two could never find eachother again.

He rolled his eyes, a small tongue click echoing out his mouth, yet he told you you could never lose him.

He was too handsome anyway.

He wasn't shy to compliment himself.

Yet, now,

When you two walked in a crowd...

His large hands seemed to scoop you up, with much ease as he placed you in his arms. He had you close to his chest, hands under you, one of your rump and the other on your upper back, holding you in place. Your hand extended, clasping the lapel of his coat, as he walked.

He thought about you.

Now, he did this everytime.

Scoop.

Hold.

Then soon back down.

It repeated, some kind of routine,

Oh, and your free of him leaving you for somebody new.

Psh!

He laughed it off.

He always told you, you were his. He was yours.

What didn't you understand.

Bah!

But, he repeated the routine and..

I mean, I suppose the way you cooed to him, thanking him, how he eased your nerves, complimenting him,

I suppose it boosted his ego more.

And, I mean,

It gave him a free chance to-

To keep you by his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

× 'I need your being.' ×

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I listened to Gingerbread Man while writing this and the urge to add some obsessive traits is insane haha!!

Enjoy!

[grapefood]

So I believe that - The bishops wounds are unique in nature, they do not heal because they have not come to terms with what happened to them. If they either forgive, or just accept what happened, the bleeding will stop. They won't get their parts back though. (I know the game is probably going that way but I hope not.) Within the cult, without the power of their crowns, their disabilities take full hold. The Lamb creates a cream with Camilla and honey, which he creates into a tea for hekets throat, it soothes their pain. On particularly bad days, they are allowed menticide to distract them. However, not for Shamura as its not good for their brain. The Lamb also has to replace their bandages every three days or else they get sick, but they are more likely to be comfortable if they are replaced every day.

Leshy gets a cane, made out of wood and gold, and after a while gets to know the layout of the cult better. He doesn't wear shoes as the pathways indicate where to go. His cabin has small steam by it, so he knows which one is his, and the temple has a ringing bell when they are wanted within it. Hot rocks wrapped in fabric are used occasionally to soothe the pain from his neck tics. Heket, as I said before, has a tea brewed to soothe her throat. She also received a chalkboard so she can communicate, though sometimes eats the chalk for some reason and needs more. Kallamar also has a chalkboard, and has to read the doctrines daily as he cannot easily take part in the sermons. He wanted to be the one to look after Shamura, due to feeling guilt over sending the lamb to kill them first through his panic. Since Kallamar was the god of pestilence, he is very well versed on ways of disease and germs. He makes sure to care for Shamura and helps them remember where they are and who their siblings are, and who the Lamb is. (not gonna go into detail on this because it goes against what you want on your blog) -- I am also developing a sign con-language that the lamb makes the bishops use, but the lamb is a little less caring within this project, and only gives them words that benefit their god. I'm having a commission based on them but here is basics: "Prescriptive not descriptive - The lamb corrects them if they don't use it properly. Most of the signs use both hands - use one hand to itch/touch face for any other reason apart from communication. Tired - Both middle fingers brought outwards across the brow. Thirsty - Both index fingers brought outwards from the mouth. Hungry - Thumb on the chin - rest of fingers brought towards the mouth. Pain - Touch with three fingers where they are hurt. Pray - Hands together in front of the chest Death - Thumbs inwards across the collarbone. Sick - Cross hands over mouth palm in, straight down. I love you - Both hands on the chest palm down, then gestures towards the object of affection. Solid no - Touch wrists in front of you, closed hands, fingers facing inwards." I'm working on words for specific foods, and areas in the game like the lands of old faith. 😄 -- Thats all I got so far!

Op this is so interesting! I am a sucker for soft ex bishop headcanons! Also thats so sweet that Kallamar decided to be the big man for once and care for his brother! Also while the Lamb is usually a good leader, the fact that the new way of communication only benefits the Lamb kinda makes sense. How is the Lamb supposed to know how you are if you dont communicate in a way the Lamb understands?

I also like the headcannon that once the bishops accept their defeat and move on, their wounds would heal symbolizing healing from the past and just 😭😭😭😭

Dude yours so creative, I want to inspect you under a microscope (PS , I love that Heket eats the chalk 😂)

[madnessinmethods]

Headcanon - Drow Culture - The 'Stars'

People often say, there is no 'sky' in the Underdark. There are no 'stars' in the Underdark.

Those people would be wrong.

The stars of the Underdark are known to those who have lived there many years. Those who had studied and survived and bothered to learn about the culture that has blossomed from the depths of their home.

The Stars of the Underdark very much do exist. Gemstones that glow buried and formed within the ceiling of their home create unique constellations and pathways that one can learn if they only look. It's far different from the 'stars' of the overworld but it exists nonetheless.

Barrae refers to these stars sometimes as "Lolth's Paintings" as she believes Lolth had created the constellations and stories as a way for her people to always remember valuable lessons. To guide her people back to the center of her web if they stray too far from her safety, and to create something beautiful for her people.

After all, beauty is valued highly among Drow and the paintings from their Goddess upon their 'sky' is one reminder to always look for beauty where one may least expect it. Where others may not understand, they alone can and marvel in it's masterpiece.