#and you will see the wise old sage

[roomhole]

[harmonysanreads]

Ignoratio Elenchi

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Anaxa x Female!Reader

Synopsis : It's your wedding day. So, an old ‘acquaintance’ has come to wish you well on the trials ahead.

Content Warnings : Yandere Themes, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Some Not-SFW Implications, Anaxa Plays 5D Chess With You, Attempt At Banter, Anaxa Still Needs To See A Therapist.

Note : Special thank you to @naraven for brainstorming with me until we hit the juncture that inspired this fic. The way Anaxa interacts with Aglaea just gave huge Ex vibes to me and I couldn't get the vision out of my head — hence, this small tribute. Get cozy!

「 Words : 3.3k 」

The devil has come for your soul.

You're woken up from your dew-soaked dreams with this exclamation blaring through your ears, demanding a course of action — well in response to an exchange where you will not be one of the benefactors.

He leers over your conscious mind ; drumming idle, purposeful trills of your demise. And you close your eyes, shut tight the blinds to your mind and let him play his tunes. If nothing else, then to at least, create a chance to strike.

“Why are you here?” you envision an arrow slicing through the air, past the light of the chandelier and halting the intruder mid-step into what was supposed to be your safe space.

He dodges the strike, “Not curious about how I got in, huh?” a scintilla of Kephale's light bounces off of the vanity mirror, before being pushed away by the closing door.

But even the thud of the brutal push pales in comparison to the click of his shoes, you force an inhale upon registering his approach.

“What else? You're frail enough to squeeze through the gaps between the guards, that's probably what happened.” you find interest in your nails.

A brief pause almost gives you hope that you successfully, finally got the Blasphemer speechless, “Interesting how the first thing you think of is my figure.”

As if by some cue, the icy composure you so endeavored to maintain gets replaced by a flood of exasperation. You catch yourself just at the brink of sinking, the roundabout response isn't far from your expectations, unfortunately. What does prick a muscle enough to twitch is the near atomic smile reeking of a puerility that should otherwise be unsuited on such a corpse of a man.

You cut the insufferable eye-contact with his reflection, suddenly regretting your purchase of the sheer veil. “You’re avoiding my first question. I merely… feel an alarming increase in my blood pressure when it comes to random and unsought guests. Not a good condition for a bride, I'm sure you're aware, sir.”

By now, he’s crossed half the distance to your seated figure with his leisurely gait, arms surely shielded behind his back in that poise you know signals he’s full on guard. 

“First of all, nothing in this universe is random, mathematically speaking — as I'm sure the Wise Lady is aware.” his foot crosses the line of your bed, you feel the faint sting of your nails digging into the skin of your forearms. 

“Second, the unsought guest you speak of has not once heard the phrase ‘get out’ in the last three minutes. Making the use of that adjective redundant.” you find moisture in your palms once you loosen them, the scholar’s figure almost engulfs your reflection in the mirror. 

“And last of all, if you're spirited enough to gift me such a sweet glare, I'm certain you can tolerate me for a while longer.” even though his left hand rests on the back of your chair, you can feel its weight awfully near.

This time, you don't bother applying icing over your rightfully held displeasure. The scholar steals a glance at the way your painted lips purse to hold back what he's sure aren't flattering palavers.

“Well then, answer me this, what exact conditions demanded the Great Sage’s mathematically determined presence to intrude on such an auspicious day?” your veil dances a step upon the tilt of your head, the visage of the intruder appears colored in amusement — though you don't dare to bet, on the validity of a performer’s emotions, that is.

“Oh, nothing too grand.” his free hand raises, index finger tracing the sparkling gold details of the garment draped over your head, “Merely curious about why the woman who always complained about extravagant parties taking place in this economy is going against her words.” 

You reject his unasked for inspection with a flick of your fingers, you see his frozen surprise in the mirror once you turn in pretense of fixing the drapery. “Because we can afford it. What about it?” your side-eye thaws the Sage’s shock away.

“We, huh…” it's your turn to be taken aback by the genuine venom in his words. To your dismay, the scholar is quick to notice, exhaling to gloss over the blunder.

Because you are so kind, you hold your tongue and give him the chance to shoot back with his typical biting responses. The man in question simply copies your previous stance and holds his arms as a shield against whatever threat he’s weaving curses against.

His visible eye fixates on a point you can't pinpoint on your person, as if to burn through the images reflecting from his head to that canvas. You answer his obvious dilemma with a shrug, focusing instead on lifting the golden veil to inspect any smudges on your makeup.

“They applied too much rouge. It's distracting the viewer from the other components.” he chimes in suddenly, like a ghost on duty, making you almost jump out of your skin.

Before replying to his sudden wisdom in the cosmetic field, you double-check yourself, finding the accused rouge to be innocent. Your mind buffers for a second ; blasphemer he might be, but you know he wouldn't just pose a complaint without a good reason. You search through the shelves of your memories, searching searching searching along a trail you recognize vaguely.

Your lips morph into an ‘O’ once it clicks, “That’s not the rouge, dummy. That's called the highlighter. Its purpose is to look shiny.” fragments of idyll glitter through your words upon realizing that the scholar still confuses the two.

(Just as quickly, you stomp down whatever vestige of nostalgia that dared to crawl through those dead memories.)

The Chrysos Heir — a title you couldn't find more ironic on him — marinates in your words for a few seconds, huffing as if exasperated once they make sense to his brain.

He opens his mouth for a moment, but bites back whatever he was going to say. You marvel at this display of restraint, you would've said you were charmed by his decency had you been a less sane person.

If only he’d been like this in the past.

You turn away from him towards the vanity again, eyes glossing over the myriad trinkets scattered around it. Forcing irritation in your voice again, “If all you wanted to do was poke fun at my appearance, I'm delighted to announce that you’ve succeeded. Please see the —”

“Wow,” he cuts off your tangent quite rudely, you brows furrow against your wishes. “You can't even stand my presence longer than seven minutes now. And to think there used to be a time when you’d trail behind me like a Chimera without its owner.”

“Are you seriously counting minutes — ugh, you know what, don't answer that.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to soothe the flair in your temper.

The Chrysos Heir nods, all of a sudden obedient. You ignore the way life has started to bloom around the corners of his lips, “Let me make something clear, if you're here to reminisce, I have no patience nor interest in hearing it.”

The chain attached to his eye-patch bumps with the air as his head tilts, “You’ve changed.”

The genuine fascination in his tone almost stupefies you, almost makes you rethink yourself, almost distracts you from the way his eyes trail off further than what should be appropriate.

“What, disheartened that I'm not as easy to manipulate anymore?” you mimic his earlier stance, the image of the embers that have flickered within you can be seen on his visible eye.

The accused man laughs, laughs — confusing you like he has so many times before. An uncountable number of days you’ve perused, reviewed and practiced to steel yourself for a confrontation like this. You’ve envisioned how coolly you’d face him, how you’d throw him off his orbit with stringent words.

“On second thought, it seems that my observation was a bit hasty.”

And you’d dreaded facing once more that cursed twinkle that seemed to color his soul whenever you’d try to maintain a backbone. It doesn't help that there is truth to his claims, an appalling realization for yourself.

You force a sharp bite on the inside of your cheek, eyes flitting to-and-fro around the emptiness of the room. A chill races down your spine.

The scholar notices your sudden quietude and decides he’s having none of it.

His step is muted this time, his half gloved hand brushes back a wayward strand of your hair, “You’re still that clueless girl trying to brave this world alone, that gets shoved with more duties than she can handle and then, you go and take on even more. Because you can't stand the emptiness anymore.”

Touched by his sudden consideration and enthralled by his acknowledgement, you honor him with a deadpan. “And your point is?”

You can't nibble away the tiny smirk that emerges on your face at the way his fake nostalgia morphs in displeasure, the miniscule triumph overrides your senses and dulls them enough to not register just how much the blasphemer has shrunken the distance.

“My point is that you're making a foolish decision by choosing to marry that man. Do you have any idea what kind of conditions he’s going to impose upon you after you say ‘I do’? The ways in which he’ll make your life a living hell? Haven't you heard what the rumors are saying?”

Now he's being honest, you realize as every new question increases the force of their bites. You throw a glance at the way his left hand grips onto the wood of your chair, “Why should I listen to rumors? I didn't expect you of all people to take baseless whisperings to heart.”

You feel his burdened exhale caress the side of your neck, gooseflesh emerges against your control across the skin. “And I didn't expect you of all people to be privy to the Ostrich Effect.” the last syllable skids with enough disappointment to make a vein pop on your forehead.

You decide that you're done being coy and toss the explosive right to his arms, “You speak so big, but who are you again to have a say in what I decide to do with my life?”

A neuron has surely fried in his head, if the way his rosy pupil widens is anything to go by — or, that's what you’ll believe in at least.

You keep your gaze steady against the forming helter-skelter that you're sure is oscillating in his mind, attempts at meeting that question with a resolution crumbling in regrets buried in the past.

“I know you,” you feel the shiver of his breath on your cheek, “I know that you're the type to dive head first into your grave if it'd mean you’ll succeed in spiting me. You’d rather gyrate in torture all your life instead of swallowing your pride for your own good and I… I can't allow that.”

So, he does understand the kernel of the matter, though you can't decide whether you're thankful or irritated by the fact. His proximity allows you to peer into the dying flickers of a grief that tugs down on his lips and eyelids.

Perhaps you would've believed it. Perhaps you would’ve nodded and embraced this rare show of care, perhaps you would've jumped in joy at having the man you so looked up to acknowledge such an insignificant detail about your soul — had this been in the past.

A snicker of disbelief gets lodged in your throat, you open your mouth to retort but he beats you to the race. “Don’t forget, if it weren't for me, you would not have come this far. I was the cloud that shielded you, guarded you, allowed you to bloom.”

A flinch seizes you as his palm meets the surface of the mirror, “And you repaid me so generously by running away, into the scorching sun that's burned you so miserably no less. Say, does your future husband know of what an ungrateful bride he’s inviting to his life?”

Malice drips down from his words and pools around his eye, it advances to engulf you through the tremors of his figure.

Before he can open the verse to curse you more, you slap a firm palm on his lips, a dizzied glare meeting his shocked ones.

“Enough, Anaxagoras. Leave.” you press, a plea withers beneath the ire. You find that your mind has ceased to think against the emotions the wretched man has stirred.

The Chrysos Heir does nothing but process the move, eyes glossing over for a split second. Then, painstakingly, he retreats his hand from the glass — only to cradle your hand that’d covered his mouth, the red gem lodged in his skin gleams.

“How can you expect me to just leave after calling me that name?” he drags your fingers to press further, his cold lips meeting the tips.

A dumbfounded blink is what he gets, your mind stutters at the sudden turn in his tone. Instincts prob you to yank your hand away from his grasp, but a warning squeeze halts your attempt against your desire.

The chill from his lips melts into your skin and ignites there a fire. The fulsome heat confuses you, why can't you push him afar?

“I… came to wish you goodluck,” Anaxa finally mutters, saving you from sinking into a headspace you’d rather avoid.

You must've looked pitiful with puzzlement, as he rushes to add, “And to bid you farewell. Well, not that this had been my first goal, but seeing as you’re clearly not going to listen to reason, I have no choice.”

He burrows as much of his face as possible in the palm of your hand instantly afterwards — by the tug of a bygone habit — you realize. Tactfully he’s hidden away the visible cues that you normally use to read his unsaid words.

You feel something weighing down on you, whether in your gut or, your heart you can't deduce. But you decide to stay alert.

“Really? Is that all?” you poke, knowing full-well it is not. You know this cunning of his, monopolizing your intuition to speak just enough for you to catch on and do the heavy-lifting.

He answers you with silence, testing further what remains of your patience. You don't bother to control your frown this time, the beginning of a sharp ‘get out then!’ bubbling in your throat stopped just in time as he rounded your seat, bending his knee to a kneel.

You're sure not even the equations you had to solve back at the Grove had confused you as much, “And… what is this now?” you accuse flatly.

The Chrysos Heir finally lets go of your hand in favor of getting comfortable at your feet, literally. “Why are you so baffled? It's not your first time seeing me kneel.”

“Huh,” you heave, thoroughly speechless at the way he never stops talking as if nothing is wrong, as if nothing has changed since the time you spent sacrificing your time at the Grove for him. At the way he seems so happy to pretend that he's innocent, that he has nothing up his sleeve.

You cross your arms and hold your chin up, peering down at the eerie suppliance of the man notorious for bowing before none.

“This was the real deal, huh? You couldn't let the person who’d finally known about how pathetic you actually are go around and spread the news, right? That's why you had to latch onto me, that's why you were so desperate to keep me under your control —”

“No,” his admission is unnervingly soft, like it always is after he’s done stirring a storm within you. You find yourself out of breath from the near-outburst, his hunched figure appearing dewy.

“I have never been afraid of how much power you have over me,” he tilts his head, locks of lime green rustling as it meets your lap.

“You want to go around telling everyone how weak you make me? I will happily allow it — no, I will even help you spread the word myself. Go on, do it. I dare you.” he peers through his lashes, specters of mania swirls in his eye.

A startled yelp from Anaxa snaps you from the daze as well, he looks down for a second before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Seriously, has your aim gotten bad as well?” his fingers encircle your left ankle, you push the heel of your shoe further in his chest in retaliation — he smiles.

“If you want it to hurt,” he ducks down to press a kiss on the dorsum, looking up to make sure you saw it.

You try to wrench your foot out of his grasp but he angles it towards the left using your momentum, “Then, you should always aim for the heart, tormentor.”

You feel your jaw slacken at the sheer audacity of this man — can he even be called one, at this point?

“Something is deeply wrong with you.” you blurt out, a shudder creeping down your spine at the way he pulls your heel towards his ribcage so that it may dig into his clothes even more.

The shiver sobers you, the compromising situation you've found yourself in finally registering in your head. You would've kicked him hard enoug to run a good pace away — had it not been for the death grip he had on your leg.

“And you like me like this, don't you? Just as you did two years ago, just as you can't pull away from me even now — you're as screwed in the head as me. Which is why we're perfect for each other, you can't escape this fact, not by running away to Okhema and definitely not by marrying some bimbo with a lot of money.”

There's that placid, snooty tone that's already decided what is correct and what is not, you feel an ache forming in your head as memories of its usage flare up in your mind.

Rage seizes your senses, filling your arteries with a strength you feel too drunk on to control.

It grasps onto his collar, pulling him to his feet with an abrupt jerk. “You cursed man! You came to ruin the one day where I thought I could be happy! Don't you know that the reason I am like this is because of you? You always play with my feelings, making me angry and and… and then…”

“Ah, my beloved flower.” you feel his finger brush away a tear that’d rolled down your cheek, frustration swelling over at last.

He gently pries your nails from the collar of his robe and swings your arm over his shoulder, shifting closer towards your ear, “Save your tears, I’ll rescue you from that cruel monster and whisk you to a place where none of these vermins will be able to find us.”

You feel another tear roll down your cheek and sink into his clothes, the cogs in your mind turn and twist as he holds you close — your stupor being broken as a flash goes off.

More follow the first, blinding you almost. Stringent noises connect as murmurs, you feel your knees buckle once you whip aside to face the commotion.

“So what they said was true…”

“The Lady was indeed in an affair.”

“I can't believe even the notorious Anaxa has a heart for romance!”

“Should we... do something?”

“What are you waiting for? Record! Record! This will go viral!”

“Anyone! Inform the groom!”

The golden veil glimmers as it touches the ground. Anaxa catches you before you can fall, shielding you from the paparazzi, “Come, let us run away.”

As the voices ricochet and the crowd draws nearer, you crane your neck to shoot one cautious glance at the Blasphemer. Through the fog of tears and disbelief, a brief flash of someone's camera illuminates a smile that makes your soul churn.

The devil had never come for your soul, he merely allowed you to dream that it belonged to you, for a while.

Thank you for reading!

TAGLIST : @yandere-romanticaa @kamananuionalani @pinksandss @hana-no-seiiki @deaddmoth @ladymothbeth @imcheshire @remyra @meigalahadovna @chopid @francisnyx @paboratti

[p-seduonym]

Switched at Birth (Part Three)

A/N: Man I am leaning hard into wlw territory here. Maybe I'll just make the OC a romantic yandere while Batfam is platonic yandere. Would that work? idk. Again, @luludeluluramblings is accredited for this fic concept.

Yandere!Batfam X Switched!Fem!Reader X Yandere!Wayne!OC

If your family noticed the odd tension in the air, they wisely chose to ignore it.

Instead, they welcomed the hesitant Melissa with open arms.

That evening, you and Melissa arrived just as your siblings were setting the table. You strolled into the kitchen with such ease that Melissa hesitated at the threshold. But she didn’t want to stray too far from you—so she followed, nevertheless.

The tiled floors, warped with age, were a pleasant sage green. Neutral-toned curtains billowed in front of the open window, carrying in the last remnants of daylight. A woman stood at the counter, her back to the doorway, while a man sat nearby, face hidden behind a newspaper.

“Hey, Mom,” you greeted her so casually that she shot you an incredulous look. “A friend came over for dinner.”

The woman turned, and Melissa felt her heart waver.

Big, round eyes. Watery, almost. Much too big for her narrow face. The same ones Melissa had.

“Oh, baby, you can’t just surprise me like that. I would’ve cleaned up if I knew we had company.”

Her apron bore a tapestry of stains, her hair messily tied up.

“You look fine,” you said, plopping down in a chair. Melissa lingered near the doorway. “You know that’s the morning paper, right? Why read it now?”

A huff came from behind the pages, like an old dog roused from a nap. “Could barely read with your chatter. Just doing the crossword, anyway.”

Melissa noted his hands—worn, but not calloused. She couldn’t see his face, only the familiar slump of his shoulders. Weary, yet content. Around the kitchen, your siblings chatted as they placed mismatched dinner plates. A warm, easy rhythm settled over the tiny room.

“Oh, honey, don’t just stand there—you’ll make me feel bad. Here, have a seat.”

It took longer than Melissa would like to admit to realize your her mother was talking to her.

“Yeah, c’mon, sit here.”

You stretched out an arm, expectantly. Cautiously, she stepped forward. Then again. Three steps before she finally lowered herself into the offered seat beside you.

Dinner was breaded chicken meatloaf, served with a simple salad and warm bread.

“So, you’re her friend?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, none of that! You’ll make me sound old.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. She is old,” one of your siblings quipped.

“Hush, you.” Your mother rolled her eyes. “So what’s your name? My dear daughter didn’t tell me.”

“Melissa.”

“Melissa, then. Do you go to school with her?”

She fidgeted.

“Uh, no… I go to Gotham Prep.”

That caught your siblings’ attention.

“Really? Whoa, are you rich or something!?”

“Dummy, you can’t just ask that!”

“But it’s true, ain’t it?”

“Hush, you guys,” you scolded lightly.

“But that is quite a ways out. How did you two meet?” your father asked.

“At The Second Cup,” you answered flippantly. “We got to talking.”

“Really? That tacky dump?”

“You have no eye for ‘chic,’ do you?” you shot back. “Melissa liked it, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes, it was a nice spot.”

“Wow, I’m convinced,” your mother chuckled. “If she strong-armed you into going, you can just say that, y’know?”

“No, really, I liked it,” Melissa insisted. “There were a lot of people, and the music was nice…”

“Come on, don’t bully her,” you teased. “It’s obvious she went because I wanted to. She’s just nice like that.”

“What, was it a date?”

Melissa choked on a bit of food.

“N-No! It w-wasn’t anything like that!”

Your eyes glinted mischievously.

“It wasn’t a date? You’re breaking my heart here, Mel.”

She turned red with astonishment. Mel?

“Now who’s bullying her? Leave the poor girl alone,” your mother chided.

Light laughter bubbled around the table, and Melissa felt her heart clench.

Such a warm, easygoing atmosphere.

It was never like this in Wayne Manor. Every attempt was met with silence and indifference. 

For the first time in a long while, Melissa enjoyed a family dinner.

All because of you.

Winding down from dinner, You invited her to your room. It was far smaller than her own, as to be expected. But there was so much more to it.

The room is small, cozy, and filled with warmth. Walls painted in a soft shade of off white and decorated with posters, photos, and old concert tickets taped up in a collage of memories. A string of fairy lights zigzags across the ceiling, casting a golden glow against the darkness of that night. The twin bed, covered in a mismatched quilt—stitched together from what looks like old childhood blankets—sits against the wall, pillows piled up haphazardly. A sturdy wooden dresser, somewhat scuffed, holds framed photos of family vacations, goofy childhood pictures, and a few hand-drawn doodles from her younger siblings. A bookshelf, crammed with well-loved paperbacks, notebooks, and trinkets, sits beside a small desk where unfinished homework competes for space with art supplies, snack wrappers, and a half-written journal. A soft, well-worn rug covers the wooden floor, the kind that makes you want to sit cross-legged with a book or a cup of tea. A hoodie—too big, borrowed from a friend or sibling likely—hangs off the back of a chair.

The room isn’t perfect. It’s a little messy, a little cluttered, but it feels lived in. Loved. A place filled with laughter, warmth, and a sense of belonging.

She tries to recall anything of note in her own room. Large, empty, and sterile, are the only thoughts that come to mind.

Here’s a refined version with a more natural flow and emotional depth:

You sat down on the carpet, leaning back against your bed, while Melissa settled stiffly at your desk. She glanced around, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of your cluttered workspace.

“You have a nice room,” she said.

“Really? It’s kind of a mess right now.”

“It’s nice,” she insisted, firmer this time.

You shrugged. “Well, thanks. I imagine you’ve seen better, though.”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I don’t visit friends very much.”

“Well, glad to know I’m the exception.”

A faint smile crossed her lips.

“So... we’re friends?” she asked, almost cautiously.

“I like to think we are. Star-crossed, fate-bound—all that jazz.”

Melissa let out a small huff, something that almost resembled a laugh.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

You tilted your head, watching her carefully.

“But really…” You rested your elbows on your knees, voice dipping slightly. “This kinda sucks, but you know what?”

She glanced at you. “What?”

“It’s kinda special, y’know.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.” You exhaled, as if the thought had just fully settled in your mind. “I mean, we could live our entire lives, meet thousands of people, and no one else would have this—what we have right now.”

Melissa’s throat felt tight. “Is that how you see it?”

“Well, yeah.” You paused, then added, softer, “I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone like you.”

Melissa felt her heart stop.

“Do… do you mean that?”

“I do.”

The words settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. Then, as if sensing the moment teetering too close to something unspoken, you grinned and reached out—grabbing her wrist in a sudden, playful tug.

Caught off guard, she yelped and stumbled forward, landing on her knees in front of you.

“Well, that’s a lie,” you teased. “I do know one thing, at least.”

She swallowed, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

“You won’t be alone anymore, okay?”

It’s not fair. Really.

Just how much you made her heart waver.

A/N: I might commit to the romantic angle or I might just make them friends. I just wanted to show Melissa finally feeling like she belongs somewhere.

[bitchface24-7]

Oops my hand slipped and I’m back again (for the 3rd day in a row (I think I have a problem))

So following the trend of me seeing too many fanfics of smthn I don’t vibe with, I’ve noticed that a lot of Jayce and/or Viktor x reader fics have the reader as a scientist (makes sense writing-wise, provides a lot of opportunity for characters to interact and bond)

Problem is, I am dogshit at science. I was good at most subjects in high school, but science? Nearly failed. I was good at math and word problems too which made it even more confusing to me but it is what it is ig. So I was hoping for another JayVik x reader where this time, the reader is an artist

Now I primarily draw OCs and people (usually digital or w/ marker) so I’d like smthn leaning towards that but frankly you can do whatever

I just think it’s be funny if, while Jayce n Viktor do their cool nerd shit, the reader is fully unhelpful and doodling in their sketchbook. Quality time except I’m drawing sexualized men (gender equality) and my hot boyfriends are solving global trade or whatever

(Mayhaps also drawing them for studies and anatomy practice and showing them because I like forcing ppl to look at my art >:)) )

Again, take as long as you need to write this, hope you’re doing good :))

MY MUSES - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: after escaping Noxus with your best friend Mel, you've cherished the peace of Piltover compared to the wartime of Noxus. You were able to flourish in the city of progress with your artistry. It was the way you and Mel found solace in your old home. Now, you've been commissioned by the council to paint a portrait of the Hextech duo.

warnings: talks of wartime, insecurities, awkward talk, becoming friends with J + V, anatomy practice, complimenting your two boys, fluff, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. I understand your frustration, even I've fallen into “make reader a scientist to make life a little easier.” I hope y'all enjoy artist reader!

You're painting in your studio at the Academy when the door is opened, and you smell the delicious fragrance of vanilla, cardamom, and sandalwood, it’s Mel.

You put your paintbrush down and turn to look at your best friend, a smile beaming on your face. You get up and go for a hug before stopping yourself, your clothes are stained with paint and you don’t want to ruin Mel’s pretty white dress.

She fondly rolls her eyes and pulls you into a hug anyway. Mel’s not a very touchy person. It was seen as a weakness is Noxus. She’s only really touchy with you, you’ve been her friend for as long as you can remember. She wholeheartedly trusts you.

And you know how rare that is.

“Hello dove. How’re you today?”

You scrunch your nose at the nickname, it was a nickname given to you when you were much younger. “It’s because you don’t see the glory of war. You’re gentle. Something I desperately need in my life.” Mel had explained, her Medarda Mask no where in sight.

“I’m good. I’m almost done the landscape you commissioned for the council room.”

Mel’s smile widens the tiniest bit, but her gaze is downcast. This isn’t a social call. She’s been tasked to ask you something.

“Mel, I understand. Just, tell me what you need from me.”

A sigh escapes the gorgeous woman, “The council has requested a portrait to be made of the two Hextech innovators, Viktor and Jayce Talis.”

You raise your brows in confusion, “Okay… why is that a bad thing?”

Mel leans on a clean section of your work station, a hand coming up to rub her forehead, “They’re constantly working. They don’t see the prospect of taking a break. If you were to paint them, you’d have to paint them in the lab; as they do dangerous experiments. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You place your hand over top Mel’s hand that’s braced against the desk, “I’ll be okay. I can’t imagine they’d let anyone get hurt.”

Mel nods sagely, the hand that was rubbing her forehead is now placed over your hand. She’s now cupping your one hand and rubbing her thumb over your knuckles.

“I’ll tell them what the council has demanded. When will you be free to paint them?”

You look over to the almost finished landscape painting sitting on your easel, “Give me a week.”

Mel nods, gives you one last hug, and leaves your studio to break the news to Viktor and Jayce.

You just hope they’re nice to you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The week passed by in a flash, and here you are. Standing in front of two very large doors that make you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

You don’t understand why you’re so nervous. You’ve painted portraits of the top-class in Piltover. The cream of the crop. The top one percent, and you were fine. You were mentally rolling your eyes every few minutes, but you were fine.

You’re now asked to paint two scientists and you feel like you’re going to have a stroke.

At least Mel gave you some advice in regards to both men, “Jayce is quite kind, easy-going, and easy to talk to. You’ll make quick friends with him as you are. His partner Viktor on the other hand… is a different story. He’s cordial, but stubborn. He’s quite witty with a sass that almost matches mine. He’d prefer it if you skipped the flowery talk and just got straight to the point. He’s not a fan of the mind numbing politics of Piltover. Say what you mean or don’t say anything at all.”

With that mantra repeating in your head, you knock on the doors to their lab.

“Come in!” A voice exclaims, “We cannot leave our stations, the gems may become volatile if we do.” Another voice adds, this time with an unfamiliar accent.

You lightly push open the doors and are stunned by the state of the lab. Papers everywhere, equations on a blackboard you don’t even want to attempt to understand, ink stains, scraps of metal.

You suppose this is their version of an art studio.

“Oh!” The first voice you heard exclaims, “You must be Mel’s friend, the one who’s been commissioned to paint us. I’m Jayce. The one brooding over there with goggles on his face is Viktor.”

A scoff, “I am not brooding. I simply do not see the purpose of a portrait being made of us. It takes time away from our research!”

You cut in, reminding yourself of Mel’s advice, “The council has ordered it. Besides, I need to study you two for a little bit. Understand your anatomy and proportions. Then when I have a clear understanding, we’ll take one day out of your schedule to get the painting done.”

Viktor raises his goggles, putting them into is hair and the most beautiful pair of eyes you’ve ever seen narrows onto you, “You’ll only need one day to paint us?”

“The weather is constantly changing. That means so is my light source, my shadows, my colours.” You explain easily, “If we spend the whole day together, I’ll be able to easily get the portrait done and you two can go back to work. Sound good?”

Viktor purses his lips before nodding, Jayce just looks between the two of you with a small smile. He thought that would’ve taken a lot longer.

Guess you’re pretty special.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One Week Later.

Their work is fascinating. You don’t understand quite a bit of it, but their enthusiasm and passion make up for your lack of knowledge.

Here they are trying to solve most of the worlds problems and you’re sketching them in your sketchbook with hearts in your eyes.

You focus on their bodies, how they bend, contort, their planes and shadows. How light glows onto them.

You focus on their unique features. Jayce’s sharp canines, Viktor’s cheekbones and moles. Jayce’s broad chest and Viktor’s cane and brace.

Those two points are especially important. They’re so detailed. And they’re a part of Viktor, you’re not going to erase something so vital to him as a human being to make the portrait “nicer to look at” according to the upper echelon of Piltover.

You’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t feel a presence come up behind you, “Whatcha doing?”

You jolt, putting a hand to your heart as your pencil drops to the ground, “By Janna Jayce! You scared me!”

A boisterous laugh permeates the lab, “You we’re so focused, I couldn’t help but wonder what you were doing.”

“We’ll… I was drawing my two very beautiful muses.”

There’s a small silence in the lab.

“Your—�� Viktor starts, then clears his throat as Jayce stands there, stunned, “Your beautiful muses?”

You nod, not realizing their disbelief, “Of course. The two of you have such beautiful features. Jayce is quite tall, with broad shoulders, a tiny waist, and strong legs. A nice hair cut, strong brows, big eyes, and pink lips. You, Viktor on the other hand—“

You’re cut off by said man, “Are not as conventional—“

You cut him off this time, “Are also tall, lean, lithe, with long beautiful legs. You have a face carved out of marble, messy hair, eyes that look like liquid gold, beauty marks, and a nice pale complexion that compliments Jayce’s tan. You’re both quite handsome, just is different ways.”

The two men are stunned into silence, and it takes a few minutes before you realize what you said. You feel your face heat up as you try to hide behind your sketch book. Viktor lightly smiles at that as Jayce laughs and forces your sketch book back down onto your lap.

“You know, I’ve never heard such an honest compliment before.”

“Neither have I.”

You feel like killing yourself. Maybe jumping out of one of the lab windows will do the trick.

“So,” Viktor’s interrupts your dark humorous thoughts, “Do you feel prepared to paint the portrait?”

You look the two men dead in the eye, even as embarrassment consumes you.

“Yes.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A day is set and you bring all your art supplies that you need into the lab. You even set up a place for the portrait to be.

The setting will be in front of their main work station, the hexcore and hexgems glittering in the background. You brought a comfortable armchair for Viktor to sit on, you know these paintings can take some time and you don’t want to over-exert his leg. You assume Jayce can stand for a few hours, placed right next to Viktor.

As you explain your thought process to them, the more excited they seem. And to think, they didn’t want to do this originally.

“Ok, get comfortable. Viktor you can put your cane to rest against one of the arms of the chair. Jayce, can you place your hand on the top of the headrest? Perfect. You two comfortable?”

You get nods and yes’ as your answer.

With that, you start to paints them.

You ensure to be as diligent as possible. You start with the boys, adding bits and pieces to the background as you go. You make sure to her the green in Jayce’s eyes, the beauty marks on Viktor’s face. The house Talis emblem on Jayce’s jacket; the intricacies of Viktor’s cane and leg brace. The purple and blue glows of the Hextech give the painting an almost magical feeling.

You have to say, this may be your best portrait yet.

A couple hours pass and you deem the painting complete. The two boys sigh, Jayce cracks his back as Viktor cracks his neck. Most of the painting was done is silence, a few tiny conversations sprinkled throughout the process.

You didn’t want them to move.

The two come to where you’re sitting and gaze at the portrait in awe. It’s… them. It looks so life like, as good as a picture. But it’s softer, it looks beautiful.

And they look phenomenal.

“Are you sure that’s us?” Viktor jokes, pointing at the painting, “Those men are incredibly handsome.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, “Now you know what to say when you look in a mirror. That’s how you look, and it’s how you’ll be remembered.”

Jayce smiles and puts a hand on both your and Viktor’s shoulders. Viktor looks touched at the sentiment.

“You should move your art stuff to be here. Permanently.” Jayce states easily.

You almost choke on your own spit, “Pardon? Why would I do that?”

“Because we'd miss you,” Viktor replies a cocky look on his face.

You huff out a laugh, “Ill be of no help to you. I'm not a science brain. I'd just be in the lab drawing you two constantly.”

“We’d pose for you.” Jayce jokes

“Even if I wanted to practice nude anatomy?”

Viktor hums, “Not in the lab obviously, but yes even then.”

You smile at them, “It’s a deal then.”

And to think you were scared they wouldn't be nice to you. You just obtained two pretty muses (hopefully for the rest of your life.)

TADA!!! This was such a cute request. I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Pebble, you keep those requests coming (and everyone else who requests too 🫵😏)

I have like four requests now in my inbox and I squealed when I saw it. I've never had so many requests before. Usually my inbox has like… spam and fishing schemes. So this is amazing to me!!

[szynkaaa]

The Shape of Monkey

EDIT 22/01/2025 @blackknight-kai has made some additional interesting observation about the shape of monkey and their fur placement with things that I previously missed, please check out her post for the details

xxx

Some of my friends were talking about the monkey design in Black Myth Wukong, in terms of how much of monkey features the DO/SWK has, and how we wished they devs added a bit more "monkey" ness to the DO, which then made me realize, the devs did do that, but just not for the "normal" game model that we use to play.

The anatomy here is pretty much very normal, the only few traits pointing at him being a monkey are his feet, tail, his face and his fur.

My friend (who doesn't even play BMW or knows about JTTW but is a certified monster fucker) said she doesn't count him as a monster because his shape is too human LOL

This is how he looks in Chapter 5 ending animation:

very human shaped.

which brings me back to the monkey that looks more like a monkey in the game

The Stone Monkey is a two phase we fight in the final boss battle, after we defeat him he breaks and out comes the Broken Shell of the Great Sage

After you finish the first playthrough, you get the Stone Monkey as a transformation, called the Azure Dome.

If you do the True Ending, you transform into the Azure Dome for the first time towering over monkeys and beat the shit out of the four heavenly kings and Erlang. Great fight 10/10

proprotionally speaking, his arms seems a bit longer, or least looks like it due to his big hands. His tails is also longer (don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately), and his ears are pointed. I also think that his mouth structure is a lot more monkey like with it being more pointed forward than his normal model.

Canonly, SWK can change his size into very big or very small, but I don't think in JTTW it was ever described that he had a Stone Monkey form. He is a stone monkey, or monkey born from stone.

I really love that the devs took it literal and created a form and transformation that looks like a monkey and you can see from his tecture that he is supposed to be made from stone

He punches people and also when he dodges he walks on all four. So I guess that is the closest to a monkey we will get from DO/SWK

Chapter 6 ending animation also goes with a more "monkey" like anatomy for Wukong's design

point ears, longer limbs, shorter legs. I love that they added the red face blush here too. His tail is never shown in the animation, but looking at his pilgrim outfit set and the pulge in his pants (no not that one), he probably hides his tail inside his pants. it's kind of a cute detail

The Old Monkey we see also has more human like proportions:

all the other monkeys in the background (beside DO) are more monkey.

Here are the models I pulled from the game

I also love that each monkey has a different fur "pattern", gives them more variety

This one we only see when you reach the normal ending, when the DO did not break the cycle and the headband is put back onto his head, we see this monkey in the fetal position and then it zooms out to the stone egg and sad credit song plays. You can watch the clip here.

I think it's clear that the devs are trying to show an unbron monkey still in the womb, the stone egg/birth stone being the womb in this case, waiting for the next DO to come and finish SWK's revival.

I guess the stages of growth could be like this:

Why did Game Science went for a more human-like approach for the Monkey in terms of design?

We don't know the answer, it was never mentioned anything in the game about it and I have not come across any interviews about it yet.

I do think that the choice to make the Stone Monkey more monkey like and the "normal" monkey more human like was a deliberate choice by the devs.

For the animation, I believe the Game science gave the studio some references on "hey this is how our monkey looks like" and then let the studio do its own thing style-wise, hence why in Ch. 5 animation monkey has a more human like anatomy but ch. 6 comes with more monkey like anatomy

My personal HC is that SWK has a more human-like anatomy to show that he has a high level of cultivation maybe? We have seen in the game there are few yaoguais that are able to take on human appearances, such as the Pingping and the 5th spider sister. And yes, I also hc that SWK does have a monkey-form too that he can transform into.

I'm really begging for Game Science to release an artbook with concept art and background info on why they did this and that

[shootingstarpilot]

Do you have any advice for writing Mace Windu?

Hello friend! I've been sitting on this for a while, because everyone's got their own interpretations, but mine is based on an idea I was struggling to put words to.

(Caveat that I have not read Legends material, that people can write what they like, etc. etc.)

The way I see it, Lucas specializes in writing stories in terms of themes and archetypes. This is why certain dialogue choices or the development of certain relationships can be... clunky, let's go with that. Characters (Obi-Wan and Anakin fall into their own category, sure) are written primarily as archetypes. You have Yoda as the wise old sage, Sidious as the ultimate evil-

And Mace Windu as the ultimate good.

We see this in the Chancellor's office, right? During the final showdown. This is the moment where Anakin makes his choice- stay in the Light or Fall- and the characters visually representing that choice are Palpatine and Mace. He's the Master of the Order. He's raised a Padawan who sits on the Council with him. He's an incredibly skilled swordsman- hell, his fighting style of choice (Vaapad) epitomizes how clearly he's mastered the art of internal balance!

All of that to say- his whole character is built around the idea that he is the Good Guy. That would be the one piece of writing advice I would give. If you're wondering how to write him, start with that idea- that he is written to represent the absolute opposite of Sidious. He's the ultimate good. He is the illuminating Light to Sidious' corrupting Dark. This is why antagonistic portrayals of him never ring true to me- they're coming from a foundational understanding that I simply do not subscribe to. It reeks of a fundamental misunderstanding of his character and of the whole saga's themes.

(And also racism. I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the racism that too often plays a significant role.)

All of that being said, what might it look like to write from the foundation of Mace being the representation of ultimate good? The good thing about characters being written as archetypes is that it gives us fans a significant amount of freedom in determining what those characters look like when they're written as characters. Different people will have different takes, but for me:

Well, first off- he's the epitome of a Jedi. So all of what that entails- he is fundamentally kind, fundamentally compassionate, and fundamentally in control of himself.

He's funny. I think he has a very dry sense of humor, and that he finds joy in the smallest things.

He loves so much. He loves his Padawan, he loves his friends, he loves his family, he loves the Republic- he loves the galaxy enough to go to war for it, and he loves the men who'll kill his people.

There will never be a situation where he has the capacity to help and chooses not to.

And last but not least, I choose to believe that this man can bake pastries with the best of them. In my heart of hearts, he's a stress baker, and he mends his socks with purple thread.

Hope this helps!

[tagintagout-au]

>(Ask to know more about them.)

🎀: So, uh, I- I was just wondering...

🎀: I don't... really know who you are. Outside of the tutorial thing.

🎀: ...So... maybe you could tell me more about yourself? I-if you want??

(You stand there in awkward silence for a moment.)

🎭: More about... me?

🎭: Hm.

🎭: There's not much to know about me, savior!

🎭: I'm but a humble spirit, aiming to provide my teachings to those in need! Like a wise old sage of sorts!

(...With that cutesy voice, they don't sound very old...)

🎭: Other than that, there's nothing else to learn, hehe! I'm just here to help!~

🎀: ...You don't have a name? Nothing?

🎭: Noooope! No name to speak of! Don't worry about it!

🎭: You can just call me... Tutorial Spirit, or something like that! Whatever sounds the coolest.

(...)

🎭: Anything else?

[fractal--cat]

let's start to take beldaruit seriously!

wha fandom pls share this post, my blog is finally not shadowbanned and i really want more people to see this. thank you

(also no beta read but who cares. feel free to correct me)

this is a beldaruit analysis written after ch.81. spoilers: he's absolutely not just a silly old man on a chair, but actually one of the most well-written characters in wha i think

1. IS HE ACTUALLY THAT OLD?

yeah im really meticulous, but i want to start from this and want you to read it. being old is not bad at all, but i think y'all guys exaggerate beldaruit's actual age.

please just go search some pics of real people in their sixties, seventies. go compare his face with other actually old char's faces. he's not that old :)

beldaruit's smoke figures of himself look younger than his real body, that's true. but here's the comparison of his true appearance to others' who are really about 60-70 i guess

+ beldaruit's lifestyle is not healthy at all. his physical state is bad, he has not many ways to do physical activities, he spends most of his time being in his room. all the more so, he smokes. knowing this, i think he looks even older than he actually is and he's mostly like 45-48.

to be short, he's mostly like your dad, not your grandpa :DD

2. IS HE ACTUALLY THAT SILLY?

yeah he's the silliest. but it's a bit more complicated.

observing, i've came to the conclusion that beldaruit acts silly, too energetic and entertaining only with kids or with ones he remembers since they were kids (e.g. qifrey, olruggio)

there's a simple obvious reason for it, beldaruit says it himself:

yes, he genuinely loves magic and to teach magic. his emotions are true, but a bit overplayed to affect on younger witches and to make them as in love with magic as he is.

one more remark. beldaruit's behavior with riliphin is not as with most kids. i think it's because beldaruit creates a unique approach to each of little witches. beldaruit is able to control and tune his emotional bombing depending on the situation. he is also able to feel well what's going on in others's hearts and minds and he builds his own behavior based on this.

the silver eve arc lets us know more obviously that beldaruit can be serious, responsible, communicating calmly and constructively when it's required. he obviously can modulate his overplaying and emotions when he must do so, there's no problem for him! he is also abnormally loyal to witches' world laws and values, literally more loyal than the most of witches (but we'll talk about it a bit later)

beldaruit is broad-minded, he often manages his own personality qualities to match others', he can entertain others while at the same time taking a huge responsibility (he's the one of three sages after all)

3. IS HIS DISABILITY ADDED JUST FOR REPRESENTATION?

thoughts below are just my hypotheses and personal opinion, keep it in mind

beldaruit's disability is a really important part of him that affects the plot and i think it can help us to understand his outlook and values better.

these engendale's words is kind of synopsis of my take on it:

on the one hand ofc that's not true that beldaruit sees himself better and more important than others! but on the other hand these words are not just a misconception and i'll prove it

as i said, beldaruit is like abnormally and even compulsively loyal to witches' world laws and values. he is also strictly against the forbidden magic. yes he is kind of flexible in this question, but still strictly against the direct violation of the law. that's because he thinks that lack of devotion to the law and to the image of an ideal good witch is a sign of weakness and egoism.

but why does he connect these dots? i think that he cultivates his own fortitude in not using forbidden magic for healing himself, not getting magic and medicine together. beldaruit is the wise in teachings, "stands at the pinnacle of society", maybe the person who knows about magic more than anyone else, at least he's a really thoughtful and smart person. so he'd easily find a way to heal himself using magic with minimal losses of reputation and quality of his life. but he rigorously rejects this idea.

the fact of following this strict inner moral code is a kind of ego supply for beldaruit. despite of his own thoughts about altruism and global equality - how ironic - this is kind of self-affirmation for him, through overcoming himself and a bit demonstrative self sacrifice to the law and greater values.

⬆️ and that's why beldaruit is so aggressive with deanreldy, who wants to mix medicine with magic and talks too light-headedly about it. yes, beldaruit remembers the day of pact and that's really a strong reason already to act so, but i think there are more personal reasons too

⬆️ even more obvious reference on beldaruit's health state in his own thoughts on forbidden magic (it was out of topic, him and coco weren't talking especially about healing)

⬆️ there (and not only there.. like.. in general) is a hint on parallel/contrast between beldaruit and qifrey. qifrey is ready to consider the option of using forbidden magic to bring his eye back. beldaruit sees it as simply giving in to temptation. that's the thing that makes them different

in ch.81 beldaruit shows almost protruding humility and resignation to the fact that his hand is broken. and he has the same mindset about his disability in general. and that's not because he doesn't care about it. his behavior patterns are similar to self harm, that toxically much he is affected by ideas of altruism, self disregarding and not showing signs of weakness.

and he is attach so much to his own image of being disabled. not in a pitiful way, but in a way that makes him motivated to show and push his mental strength to others. i think beldaruit is kind of floating between self-devaluation (that makes him show that much humility) and self-exaltation above others who are "egoistic and weak" and break the law and/or use forbidden magic (of what engendale was saying about)

WHAT'S THE CONCLUSION?

beldaruit is so amazing ahahdhahagha😭

he is so complex and so versatile and so underrated. his personality has so many forms and shapes, you can find both wonderful and displeasing parts there and that's literally a sign of a well-written character. his lore is very subtle and implicit, but so interesting for trying to understand.

beldaruit needs a patpat .

[evilminji]

Actually? WOULD Earth be the ones to petition Oa?

They are interstellar Space Interpol. You don't usually call them on different parts of your OWN settlements or systems. You call them in when someone is breaking THE Laws. Not necessarily YOUR laws, though obviously by breaking THE laws they clearly ARE. But THE Big Laws(tm).

Like Geneva Convention for Space type laws.

You have discovered Planet or King X is committing WAR CRIMES. Call Oa. Tax fraud? That's an inter-personal planet side issue they can't help you with. Pointing Nukes at your nursery settlement and threatening to blow up the infants there unless you give them sex-slaves?

Knock-knock! Taste HARD Light Constructs!

But if so? Then how would the situation get so out of hand on Earth? With the G.I.W.? Simple. Tell me, Mr. President, what do you know of the current day to day life of villagers in rural Siberia?

That they exist? Could you even NAME their village, if I referenced specific individuals? Likely not. And no one would realistically expect you too.

There are countless planets out there! With Leaders busy with local industrial conferences and infrastructure bills. Farming regulations. Talks with that planet a few stars over. Very busy. What do THEY know of Earth? Why would they NEED too?

But! As we know, Ectoplasm is EVERYWHERE. Not just earth. And? Thin spots are not just an Earth-centric phenomenon. Other planets most CERTAINLY would have them too. And depending on the species? The culture? To quote the wise sage Bill Wurtz "you can make a religion out of this!"

After all, chosen few, returned from death... glowing and more powerful then before? Immortal? It's a pretty reasonable conclusion to come too. They are clearly Gods Touched. Some sacred task they must complete.

It would likely even shape the ghosts of the region themselves. After all, they TOO, would believe they were chosen for some Important Religious Task. Be it study or collecting rocks. To what end? Unknown. Who are they to question The Gods?

But! Oh happy day! The old tyrant is no more! A chosen Hero! They go to greet him! Honor him, as you do. Traditional gifts and ballads. Maybe some sacred rocks. A fancy hat. But? Oh? The Champion is wounded! Gasp! Still? But the fight with Pariah happened-

And then they are given Grave Warning(tm). Don't go to Earth. Heretics attacking people. KILLING souls! Trying to KILL the king of all the Infinite! He is somber because his living parents were hurt. Preventing the END OF ALL THINGS!!!??

WHAT!?

These "People In White" tried to EXPLODE the very FABRIC of all realities!? Several of them faint. Truely, these Fentons MUST be chosen by the Gods! Heros. Legends. Such bravery in the face of such HORRORS. Please, let them be brought to their Living counterparts! The hospitals are quite good!

And you know what? Fuck it. Danny will take that. Because his Mom n Dad got hurt. BAD.

They learned he was Phantom at probably the SINGLE worst time imaginable and still chose HIM. Chose THEM. The GIW were coming for him. Gonna hurt Jazz. And his parents told them, with fire and blood, it'd be a cold day in hell before they let them so much as TRY it.

They BLEW UP their own life's work. Went literally scorched earth. And now? They're not doing so good.

Because the Zone isn't made for the living. No food, no water, and no real human-safe medical supplies. They've run out. Danny will take what he can get. He'd even go to Vlad but... his Portal's gone too. And the Buzzards said he looked... spirally. Very... "suicide runs until everything BURNS".

So, yeah. No one's doing so great.

Alien planet it is.

They are greeted with fanfare and respect. The best medical teams on the PLANET. The King and his family is there, to welcome him. It's... it's beautiful. Hardly some perfect utopia, but the air is lite. Art everywhere. The stars vivid and so easy to see, at night.

The King kinda reminds him of Mr. Lancer to be honest. Balding and a bit round around the middle, stern but endlessly fair about it, wants people to do their best and succeed in life. Maybe that's why Danny finds himself opening up. Because... because here is a real, honest to God, KING king.

Somebody who was actually TRAINED to do all this King stuff.

Unlike Danny.

And Danny? He's scared. People expect him to Lead now. To know what he's doing. To somehow just... suddenly KNOW how to do all these things he's never even heard about. He only barely just died. Has BARELY been keeping everybody safe.

BARELY stopped Pariah.

He doesn't know what to do. But he pours his guts out. All the things that have bottled up. And King Not-Lancer listens. Somber and thoughtful. There is little, if anything he can TRUELY do to help. But... there ARE things he can do. Lessons on statescraft, while he's here, for one.

As for the other? Well, as King, he does have the local Lantern's Call Sign. Not to be used lightly, mind you. But what Danny describes? And from what the Sacred Ones have reported? THAT must be reported to Oa. He can show Danny how to do that.

(He does)

[The Lanterns of Earth get a VERY exciting call from Oa. Are every different shade of pissed. But? Whoops! Looks like they ACCIDENTALLY put the Watchtower into a complete Quarantine! Well, dang. Guess we're all stuck here for two weeks!

Reset it? *sound of smashing computer terminal* Yeah, don't think that's gonna work! :)

WHO WANTS TO PLAY 20 QUESTIONS?? We'll start! :) Who here has heard of an organization called, and I quote, The Ghost Investigation Ward? :) ]

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[likeabxrdinflight]

I want to talk more about the way the characters have been adapted for the live action adaptation, because character writing is the thing I care about the most and as a psychologist it's probably the aspect of any story that I'm most invested in. I can get around pretty much any plot contrivance or weird maguffin or even shitty pacing if the characters of a story are engaging enough. This is my bread and butter, so to speak.

And I want to start with Iroh, because I think he is by far the best adapted character from the original. But I suspect I think this for different reasons than other people might, because the beloved Saint Iroh from the animated show this man is not.

See the thing with animated Iroh is that he's just...a bit too perfect. We know he's been complicit in the war in the past. We know he laid siege to Ba Sing Se, we know he had a complicated past. But we never really see it, we only barely hear about it, and more often than not there are other aspects of Iroh's past that serve to further deify him. He was a general in the war, but then he goes on to protect the last dragons and learn the true meaning of firebending. He led a 600-day siege and lost his son but he came out of that experience Enlightened, having journeyed to and from the spirit world. He joins up with the White Lotus (at some point) and becomes the wise old sage we know and love.

Except most of that is revealed in later seasons and is inconsistent with his actions alongside Zuko in season one. Season one animated Iroh is kind of a passive character, largely existing for comic relief and as a support to Zuko. But there's very little to suggest he's disloyal to the Fire Nation or their cause. He says it himself- "I'm no traitor, Zhao!" Now you can certainly interpret that line in several different ways, but I suppose that's the point- there's a lot left up to interpretation with animated Iroh. We get a sense of who he is in relation to Zuko, but his own development largely happens off-screen. And because to Zuko he's a wise, caring uncle and mentor, that's largely how we, the audience, see Iroh. We love him because Zuko loves him. And that's fine for what it is, and clearly it was effective- Uncle Iroh is almost universally beloved. But it does leave a lot of questions about him up in the air.

Live action Iroh is a very different character. This Iroh is a deeply broken man who was been profoundly impacted by the war and what he has lost because of it. I do not get the sense that the loss of Lu Ten has led to any spiritual enlightenment for this Iroh- there's no indication that he can see spirits, for example, or that he has ever traveled to the spirit world himself (he does still oppose the killing the moon thing, though.)

Right out the gate, we get the sense that this Iroh has lost faith in what the Fire Nation is trying to achieve with the war. He explains to Aang fairly early on what the Fire Nation's goal and perspective is, and can rattle off this dogma quite easily. But when questioned by Aang if these beliefs are also his beliefs, he dodges them rather un-deftly. So you know immediately that this Iroh doesn't really support the war. Later you see him somewhat bluntly telling Zuko that the throne may not be all it's cracked up to be, and he's fairly openly critical of Ozai in other moments. So you know from the jump that Iroh's not really on Team Fire Nation.

And yet this is also not a truly repentant man. When he is captured in Omashu, Iroh gets another brief scene with Aang while they are both imprisoned there (this is before Aang meets with Bumi). And in this scene, Aang tries to convince Iroh to help Zuko stop being The Bad Guy. And Iroh defends Zuko to Aang and stresses the point that it is not Zuko who owes him any great debt, but he who owes Zuko. Later, when he is confronted (and hit several times) by an Earth Kingdom soldier who lost his brother during the siege, Iroh does not apologize. He does not flinch at the man's accusations, nor does he deny them. He defends himself, albeit weakly, by stating he was a soldier, and it was a war. He has the audacity to accuse this soldier (somewhat obliquely) of having been made dishonorable by the effects of war. It's kinda messed up, honestly.

But then this man accuses Iroh of knowing nothing of loss. He leaves the shot, and we saw Iroh's face just crumble, and the scene cuts directly to Lu Ten's funeral, where Zuko chooses to sit with his uncle and support him through what must have been the darkest moment of his life. Back in the present, it is only later, after Zuko has come to rescue Iroh, that he speaks more honestly to the Earth Kingdom soldier- he shows mercy and states that they've all "seen enough death."

So what we have here is an Iroh who is deeply disenchanted by the war and does not support it or the goals of the Fire Nation, but who has continued to stand alongside Zuko and support him in his goals. We have a man who doesn't necessarily regret his actions as a soldier in the war but who very much does regret what those actions have cost. We see a man who is profoundly impacted by loss and grief and has become emotionally reliant on his nephew as a source of support. Not that he's parentifying Zuko or anything, he's very much not, but he is rather obviously channeling all the love he once felt for his son into Zuko instead. Zuko is his lifeline, he needs Zuko and you get the sense that without him, Iroh would truly fall apart. I mean the man is on the verge of tears more often than not when Zuko is in even the slightest bit of danger in a way that animated Iroh was not.

This is what I think is different here. Animated Iroh seemed to turn against the war because it was morally wrong, it had thrown the world out of balance, and imperialism is bad. Live action Iroh seems against the war because it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth the cost, or the death, or the grief. He couldn't see that until he lost Lu Ten, but now he sees it everywhere. I get the sense that this Iroh just wants it all to stop, and I'm not sure he cares how that happens.

The White Lotus is definitely hinted at, but I suspect that was his motivation for joining it. It's not about restoring balance to the world for this Iroh. It's about restoring peace, so that he won't have to lose Zuko like he lost Lu Ten. So that the death and destruction stops. So he can just live a quiet life and put the past behind him.

It's a different take. And it's not that he doesn't still have a lot of wisdom to him, that he's not still a gentle, caring person. But he's a much sadder person, and he's lost that sense of "enlightenment" that his animated counterpart had. There's a selfishness you can read into to this version of his character that's much more apparent than the animated version.

I think a lot of people are gonna hate this, because it's a darker take on a much loved character. But I love it. This Iroh is human, this Iroh is flawed, and this Iroh has a lot more growing left to do. And that's awesome. If we get to actually see more of a character arc for him too, if we get to see him also growing and changing alongside Zuko? Please. It's not like he needs a total redemption arc, per se, but if in his journey with Zuko throughout the Earth Kingdom we can see Iroh gain some of his fortitude back, we can see when he decides he needs to push Zuko down a certain path, to take a side in the war, to see that it's not just the death and destruction that makes it wrong? God there's so much potential with that.

Now, maybe this isn't what will happen with seasons two and three. Maybe they'll back track and try to make him more similar to the animated version. I don't know. But for now? Live action Iroh is fantastic, and Paul Sun-Hyung Lee is giving a hell of a performance. He's warm and tender when he needs to be, fierce when he has to, and just profoundly sad throughout it all. And I love him so much more for that.

I'll be controversial here and say it. So far, live action Iroh is a better character than animated Iroh.

[strayrockette]

His Eyes on Me: Part 1

a/n: I MADE MY FIRST COLLAGE AGHHHHH!!

Summary: His eyes are on her but she'd reluctant to believe it

Masterlist/Part Two-Part Three

“You’ve got yourself an admirer,” Lacey’s voice giggled beside me, the teasing lilt impossible to ignore. I hummed in response, pulling my straw into my mouth and taking a long sip of my milkshake. My voice was muffled as I spoke around the straw, “Ish pro’ly fa you.” I hadn’t bothered to look the first three times she mentioned it, figuring she was just trying to get a rise out of me. Lacey was sitting right next to me, all blonde curls and striking blue eyes that turned heads wherever she went. She was the kind of gorgeous that guys couldn’t look away from, and I was… well, the pretty girl next door by comparison.

I didn’t have Lacey’s sharp cheekbones or Natalie’s cold, model-like grace. My features were softer—plump cheeks, plump lips, and wide eyes that always made me look a little younger than I was. My body followed suit: wide hips, thick thighs, and a waist that dipped but was hidden behind layers of comfortable clothes. I wasn’t insecure by any means; I just knew my role in our trio. Lacey was the bombshell, Natalie the dark-haired siren, and I was somewhere in between—sweet, approachable, the one who got attention when no one else was around.

Lacey nudged me with a pout, her voice dipping into a whine as she tried to coax me into looking. “Come on, just take a peek out the window. You’ve been ignoring him all night.”

I hissed at her, “No, stop it. It’s definitely not for me.” My eyes stayed glued to my milkshake, focusing on the way the whipped cream was starting to melt into the chocolate swirl.

Natalie, who had been pretending not to listen, chimed in with a giggle. “Oh honey, he’s definitely eyeing you.” She waggled her eyebrows, her sharp hazel eyes glinting with mischief.

I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at her, trying to brush off the attention. “You guys are just desperate to pair me up with anyone you can find.”

Lacey, never one to give up, poked my side playfully, wiggling her finger into the soft spot she knew would make me squeal. I jerked away from her, my shoulder colliding with the glass window and the counter digging into my ribs. “You promised you wouldn’t bring out the tickle monster,” I glared at her, pointing an accusing finger.

She crossed her eyes and puckered her lips in a comically exaggerated expression, her voice lowering into a mock-serious tone. “Yes, I did, but only on a specific condition that you had to follow.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, mimicking the look of a wise old sage. Silence fell around us, and we all stared at her ridiculous expression, trying to keep straight faces. But I couldn’t hold it in for long—I burst out laughing just as she took a sharp breath and choked on air. Her face twisted in surprise as she coughed, eyes watering. “I breathed down the wrong hole,” she wheezed.

Our laughter rang through the small diner, drowning out the clinking of silverware and the low murmur of conversations. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue through the windows as the evening crowd trickled in. It was supposed to be a girls’ night, just the three of us catching up, but I was starting to suspect my friends had other plans. Everywhere we went, they nudged me and whispered about some guy staring at me. I loved them for it—loved that they wanted me to find someone—but I knew the truth. Most of the time, the guys who feigned interest in me were just using me to get closer to my friends.

Natalie leaned in, snapping her fingers in front of my face to get my attention. “Just give him a peek and decide for yourself who he’s starin’ at, sweet pea.”

I glanced at her, seeing the encouragement in her hazel eyes, and then shifted to Lacey, who was already wiggling her fingers again, threatening another tickle attack. “No more tickle monster,” I warned, pointing sternly.

Lacey slumped in mock defeat. “Fine, fine. No more tickle monster, but you have to look at him.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of their anticipation. “Fine,” I grumbled, turning toward the window. “But I seriously dou—”

The words caught in my throat, disappearing in an instant. My breath hitched, and I felt my heart stutter as my eyes found him across the street. He was leaning against his motorcycle, completely at ease, like he owned the whole damn world and knew it. The sunset bathed him in a warm, golden light, illuminating every detail: his tousled blonde hair, rugged and windswept, and those eyes—striking blue, clear and sharp, staring directly at me.

There was no mistaking it; he was staring right at me. Not a casual glance or a lazy look, but an intense, unwavering gaze that made my skin heat and my stomach twist. His eyes were piercing, almost electric in their intensity, a shade of blue so vivid it was impossible not to get lost in. There was a quiet intensity to the way he watched me, like he was seeing something no one else did, and it was both unnerving and thrilling.

He was effortlessly handsome, the kind of guy who looked like he belonged on the cover of a gritty magazine. His blonde hair was slightly messy, perfectly imperfect, and he wore a black t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, showing off strong, defined arms and the hint of a tattoo peeking out just above his rolled-up sleeve. His jeans were worn and faded, and he wore rings on his fingers—little details that spoke of a man who lived his life on his own terms.

“That’s Benny Cross,” Natalie whispered conspiratorially, as if saying his name too loud would draw him in. “He’s got a bit of a reputation, if you know what I mean.”

Benny Cross. The name was familiar, whispered around town like a secret everyone knew but no one dared to speak too loudly. He was the kind of guy your parents warned you about—the rough-around-the-edges rebel who lived on his own terms. Not much was known about how he grew up, but the rumors were enough. His family was rough, the kind you kept your distance from if you knew what was good for you. Benny had carved out his own path, far removed from whatever mess his family was involved in. He was trouble, wrapped in leather and bad decisions, and yet, there was something about the way he stood there, so self-assured and unbothered, that pulled me in.

His expression was unreadable, He didn’t look away. He didn’t even blink. It was like he was studying me, taking in every detail, every reaction, and it made me feel more seen than I ever had before. Lacey’s teasing grin, Natalie’s knowing smirk—they were lost to me now. All I could think about was the boy on the bike, his piercing blue eyes, and the sudden, reckless thrill that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t staring at Lacey or Natalie after all.

“He’s probably starin’ at his reflection or somethin’,” the excuse fell from my lips, weak and lame even as I said it. I turned back toward the counter, pulling my milkshake close and letting my thick hair fall over my left shoulder, effectively hiding my face from his view. It wasn’t like I was hiding—I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I noticed. At least that’s what I told myself.

Natalie giggled beside me, her voice dripping with amusement. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be hidin’,” she pointed out, her eyes dancing with mischief.

I scoffed, hoping to deflect the heat rising to my cheeks. “I’m just tryin’ to enjoy this delicious milkshake in peace,” I mumbled, swirling the empty cup absentmindedly as if there was still something left to savor.

Lacey snorted, reaching out and snatching the cup from my hands. “Yeah, a milkshake that’s been empty for the last 5 minutes,” she teased, tipping it upside down for emphasis. A few melted drops hit the table, proving her point.

I glanced between them, trying to keep my expression neutral even though my heart was doing somersaults. Both of them were grinning at me like they were in on some secret I wasn’t. “He’s into you,” they sang in unison, their voices lilting with a teasing harmony that made me want to crawl under the table.

My face flushed, and I reached over, playfully slapping Lacey’s arm. “No, he’s not. I promise he isn’t,” I insisted, though my voice wavered with the insecurity I tried so hard to hide.

“Oh yeah?” Lacey’s tone held a challenge, her eyes narrowing with a spark of mischief. Natalie leaned in closer, her grin widening. “You wanna bet?”

I stared at them incredulously, my mouth dropping open. “Stop that!” I muttered, trying to hide how flustered I was, but they were relentless.

“Triple dog dare ya to go talk to him,” they said in perfect sync, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the dare.

“You aren’t even twins! Stop it,” I whisper-shouted, my voice tinged with annoyance. “He isn’t into me. He could be starin’ at anybody.”

“Then go ask him,” Natalie chimed in, her grin turning wicked. She folded her arms, watching me like a hawk waiting for its prey to make a move.

I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “No. I’m not goin’ up to him. That’s insane.”

Lacey sighed dramatically, leaning back against the booth with a knowing look. “He’s been following us for a while, sweet pea, and his eyes are ON you. He’s definitely into you.”

I blinked, my stomach flipping at her words. “What?” I asked, my voice shaky. The thought of Benny following us sent a shiver down my spine, though I wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else entirely.

Natalie nodded, giggling as she recalled the day’s events. “When we came out of the picture show and were crossin’ the street, he was there at the stop sign. He was eyeing you like a kid at a candy store.”

I blinked again, my blush deepening as the pieces started to fit together. “He’s been following us?” My voice rose with a mix of surprise and something I couldn’t quite place.

Lacey shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing with the motion. “Not like that. But we’ve crossed paths with him more than a few times today. And he’s been parked outside the diner for an hour just starin’ at yah.”

“You guys don’t think that’s WEIRD?” I questioned, my disbelief spilling over. I couldn’t fathom why a guy like Benny Cross, with his effortless bad-boy charm and those piercing blue eyes, would spend his time watching me. It didn’t make sense.

They looked at each other, their eyes sparkling with shared amusement before they burst into giggles. Lacey leaned in closer, her shoulder bumping against mine. “Sweetie, some men know what they want, and when they do, they go for it,” she said softly, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to impart some great wisdom I had yet to learn.

I glanced back toward the window, my eyes drawn to Benny like a magnet. He hadn’t moved, still leaning against his bike with that same steady gaze locked on me, unbothered by the world around him. There was a quiet intensity about him, something that made him stand out even when he was still. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t putting on a show. He was just… watching, like he was waiting for something. “He could be starin' at anybody...”

“Then go ask him,” Natalie chimed in, her grin turning wicked, her posture straightening as if she were gearing up for a show. She folded her arms over her chest, watching me like a hawk, her expression smug and self-satisfied, as if she were certain I wouldn’t take the dare. “Come on, sweet pea, prove us wrong.”

Their challenge hung in the air, heavy and charged, pulling at the part of me that hated being underestimated. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, my skin prickling under their scrutiny. They’d never steered me wrong before, but this felt different. My heart thudded in my chest, a frantic drumbeat that echoed their taunts. I wasn’t the type to back down easily, but the idea of walking up to Benny Cross, of meeting those piercing blue eyes up close, sent a rush of anxiety through me.

I looked between my two best friends; their expectant faces lit up with anticipation. Lacey’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement, her blonde curls bouncing as she nodded encouragingly. Natalie, with her dark, sleek hair and knowing smirk, leaned closer, her gaze unyielding, practically daring me to make a move.

Their confidence only made my doubts louder. I didn’t want to admit it, but a part of me was scared. Scared that if I crossed that street, I’d find out Benny was just like all the others—interested until someone better came along. But another part, the stubborn, reckless part, was itching to prove them wrong, to show them that I wasn’t afraid of a guy like Benny Cross.

I bit my lip, my thoughts swirling as I weighed my options. I could stay here, tucked safely behind the glass, hidden in the comfort of my friends’ teasing and the familiar din of the diner. Or I could take a chance, step outside and face whatever waited on the other side of those piercing blue eyes.

Natalie leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, full of excitement. “Just go. Ask him why he’s staring. Worst case, you come back, and we buy you another milkshake.”

I glanced back at Benny, still leaning against his bike with that same unreadable expression. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked away, and something in his unwavering attention made my heart skip a beat. There was a quiet confidence in the way he stood, like he was waiting for me to make the first move, and that realization sent a jolt of determination through me.

“Fine,” I said suddenly, my voice firmer than I expected. Lacey and Natalie exchanged surprised looks, their eyebrows shooting up as if they hadn’t actually believed I’d go through with it. “But you guys are so wrong,” I added, shaking my head.

Lacey squealed in delight, shimming out of the way to let me pass. I tugged at the hem of my skirt, feeling the fabric flutter around my thighs, and quickly ran a hand through my hair, trying to muster up some semblance of confidence. My boots scuffed against the floor as I made my way to the door, each step echoing the rapid beat of my heart.

Taglist: @storiesfromafan

[mediumgayitalian]

“Halt!”

Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.

“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”

Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.

“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.

Annabeth stomps over to them, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She is entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.

“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.

The three stooges exchange a look.

“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”

“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.

“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”

“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.

“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”

“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.

Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point.

Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”

“Annabeth!” Will cries, mock outraged, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”

“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”

Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.

“Tape off.”

Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.

“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”

With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name.

“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”

Annabeth’s eyes narrow. “Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”

“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.

“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”

“Do you three think I’m stupid —”

“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”

Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.

Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.

“Boo,” he whispers.

She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes as her grip on the Mist loosens.

“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.

On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.

“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”

“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”

Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.

Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.

Understanding suddenly dawns on her.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”

They squirm harder.

“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”

“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”

“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”

“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.

“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”

Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”

“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”

“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”

Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”

“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys, stopped before you’re even started,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”

“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a bright grin and two middle fingers.

“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”

Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.

“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”

“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.

“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.

“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.

Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.

He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Sage Island Reader Headcanons pt. 3

What are we?

Ever since your grandmother started dating Lilia, your family dynamic had become complicated.

Malleus treated you like a de facto little sister.

Sebek and Silver also treated you like a little sister.

It was just that personally, you were left wondering where you stood a lot of the time when it came to Silver and Malleus.

👒: What are we?

🗡️: Human beings??

👒: No, like family wise. If your dad is dating my grandma wouldn’t that make you my step-uncle?

🗡️: No, wouldn’t you be my step-sister?

👒: I have a mom. My mom is still alive.

🗡️: ….

🗡️: I’m a 30 something year old woman’s step-brother?

👒: Well, technically she doesn’t know your dad is dating her mother. She just thinks your dad and you, Sebek, and Malleus are a family that moved into one of the many empty houses on the northern side of the island.

🗡️: Does she not like fae?

👒: What-no. It’s just the first step-grandpa, the one who raised my mom, is a ghost who haunts my parent’s house. So, it’s like he’s alive, and my grandmother didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

👒: Either that or she felt like spiritually cheating. I don’t really know with her.

🗡️: So my dad’s a spiritual side hoe?

👒: I….yeah pretty much.

That’s when Malleus walks back into Diasomnia, with a shopping bag full of dresses.

🐉: Y/N! I got more dresses for you!

👒: Why dresses?

🐉: I thought that’s what all girls wanted?

👒: Dude, I’m 16. I’m interested in more than just dresses.

🐉: Maybe Yuu might have a good idea of what 16 year old girls like? Anyway, I met your mother in the market, and she was so shocked that her mom was dating Lilia. I do think she was overreacting a bit when she screamed and fainted, but I think she came to eventually.

👒:…WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? MY GRANDMA NEVER TOLD HER THIS NO WONDER SHE’S SHOCKED!

You run out of Diasomnia and to your grandma’s house where you screaming, and see your mother holding a broom.

👩: 700…? SHE IS 648 years younger than you, you pervert!

You open the door and see your mother chasing Lilia around with a broom. Your father closes the door, and guides you to the stream.

👒: How is she taking it?

👨: About as horrible as one can. She’ll calm down eventually. I think she’s mainly upset about having three teenagers as step-brothers. That and I don’t think she’s over her dad dying. Him being a ghost probably isn’t helping.

👒: I don’t think she’ll have to worry about that. They see me as their little sister, so if anything, they’ll probably see her as an aunt. How’s grandpa taking everything?

👨: Extremely well. He never expected your grandma to be loyal to him after death. In all fairness, he thought he was going to be in the afterlife, not here as a ghost. But you know, sometimes life is like that. Although, you know your grandma is a free-spirit as they say, so just know, there will most likely be an eternal love triangle forming.

Your phone rings and you groan.

You were like your grandma in many ways. You had a free-spirit, your were stubborn, but you also had a love triangle.

Your ghost grandpa, when he was physically alive, was a knight to a royal family. Who also had a prince who was your age. Safe to say, he’s been pursuing you ever since puberty hit the both of you. On the other side, you had Rollo, a friend you met during a gardening club field trip for your school. He liked you for the cottagecore lifestyle and your minimal use of magic. He also encouraged you to stay on Sage Island in your grandma’s house to show resistance to NRC.

The whole thing was exhausting at the most, and annoying at the least.

👒: Pierce, listen, now is not a good time. I’ll talk about what we’re doing for spring break later!

You hang up the phone, seeing your mother walk out of your grandma’s house.

👩: Y/N-I’ll talk to you later.

And that’s how it was for a whole week until your grandma forced a family meeting.

👵: Listen, I think we can make this blended family work. I get to have Lilia physically while alive, then we all die we can have a threesome , two boyfriend relationship going.

👩: Alright, everyone under the age of 18 out.

Sebek, Silver, and you get up and walk out of the house.

🦇: Malleus, you too.

Malleus gets up and leaves your grandma’s house too.

You end up walking into town with your school aged step-uncles, and end up meeting Pierce while wandering around.

🤴: Hello, Y/N~ It’s a pleasure to see you here.

You internally cringe and scream, knowing you’d have to deal with him so soon.

👒: Hello, Pierce. What are you doing here?

🤴: I was getting some ingredients to make some sweets for the RSA bake sale. You wouldn’t mind helping me bake these, would you? Especially knowing how sweet you are.

And there it is. Pierce’s signature move that leaves you flustered for the entire day. Him grabbing your waist, pulling you closer, and having his lips dangerously close to yours.

👒: Well, I-um-it’s-

🐉: Are we trash to you? We were having nice stroll with my-

🤴: Your what? My darling, who are these people?

👒: Um…they’re my…

In all honesty, you didn’t know. You didn’t even know how things were going at your grandma’s right house.

🗡️: We’re her step-brothers. Her brothers, and we’d like it if you’d stop messing with my sister and making her flustered when she’s having a troubling time in her life right now.

You feel tears about to roll down your cheeks.

Pierce wipes your tears, and kisses your hand.

🤴: I’ll call you later. I still have that stuffed animal kit if you want something calming to do while you deal with whatever is going on. Or if you want to distress with me?

🐉: Goodbye, Pierce.

You chuckle and you turn around and group hug all your step-brothers.

👒: You’re the best step-brothers someone could ask for. Even if you’re technically my step-uncles.

They hug you back and you smile feeling their warmth.

You let go, and start to jog back to Pierce. Then you feel someone’s hand on your wrist.

🐉: What are you doing? Why are you going back to that overly obnoxious prince?

👒: I want the stuffed animal kit. Plus, he does make good sweets and he’s good at calming me down.

⚡️: Don’t go to him, he’ll just get you flustered again!

👒: He has beads that make the stuffed animals smell like sweets and drinks!

🐉: I could make you stuffed animals and sweets too!

👒: You’re going to give me stuffed gargoyles! I know you!

⚡️: You should be lucky to even have Waka-sama offer you stuffed animals!

🗡️: Sebek, stop it!

👒: I’m getting my prince and I’m going to let him make me cookies and cute stuffed animals! BYYYYEEEE!

You run away from your step-brothers and they roll their eyes as the RSA has his arms around you as he goes shopping.

[jev-urisk]

Fanart Friday: Black History Month Challenge! 🎨🎉

I'm gonna be honest here, I've been nervous to draw the Black characters in my story- I'm new to drawing in general and didn't feel like my skills were good enough to do them justice (I know, that's pretty turned around, but the mental barrier was there nonetheless 😣).

But when @creatingblackcharacters sent out a creating challenge for Black History Month and said even lovingly drawn stick figures were ok, I felt like the mental barrier moved out of the way. ☀️

So here's the very first sketches of my banshee girl Tizita from my urban fantasy WIP 7 Circles 😊

This was a great time!! I wasn't sure if I had the skill to do her hair justice but I think I did alright, and it was really fun to work on the texture! Obviously I have a long way to go, (especially with basic anatomy- oof) but in all things creative I need to remind myself that practice is what's going to get me there- I'm not going to get it perfect right away.

Some Fun Facts About Tizita! ✨️

The name Tizita is an Amharic (official language of Ethiopia) word that is akin to 'nostalgia', 'memory', and 'longing' but has a richer cultural feeling behind it (more info here). Im a sucker for names that tie into aspects of the character.

She is a banshee, and in 7C lore banshees periodically go into a hibernating state and see visions of a particular person, place, or thing which may be from the past, present, or future.

Tizita shows up in book 2, joining the protags as The Knower of Things in the party. She had her very first vision and it was a DOOZY! Almost 3000yrs of information is somehow crammed in this girl's brain.

Leading up to the hibernating and for awhile afterward, a banshees eyes and hair lighten/grey - as if the age of what they see is affecting them, or they become ghostly in their magic state. This fades afterwards, however the more you see in your vision, the less you see of the real world going forward (i.e. Tizita's eyesight is garbage now).

I want her to subvert/replace the Wise Sage character trope, who is usually an old bearded man or a woman made to seem crazy. The person turning the tide in my story is this magical autistic Black girl who likes dresses with pockets, listening to nature, and has a lot of joy in her despite the whole carrying-information-that-might-save-the-world and having-to-lecture-grown-adults-on-how-to-save-said-world thing.

For my Black followers; Not to be telling yall what you already know- but you really do deserve it all. I dont accept characters as mere checks for diversity, not for my islander or autistic characters I personally relate to, not for my Black characters even though I don't share that lived experience. Yall deserve depth! And range! And a variety of roles and traits in the characters that represent you! I intend to put in that work, and hold others to the same. Happy Black History month everyone 🎆 😊

Thanks again for the challenge @creatingblackcharacters 🫶🏼 it helped me take my first go at drawing my banshee girl.

If anyone wants to join in, I'd love to see/hear about any Black characters yall might have! 😁 But obvi no pressure 💕

@gioiaalbanoart @biblicallyaccuratefruitbat @lychhiker-writes @autism-purgatory

@cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @smellyrottentrees @tragedycoded @the-golden-comet

@illarian-rambling @nbkuhn @ddgraywrites @desastreus @theglitchywriterboi

@shanakin-skywalker @honeybewrites @sincerelydork @the-letterbox-archives @aishwritesblog

@gioia-writes-and-others @aalinaaaaaa @leahnardo-da-veggie @asablehart +Open Tag!

[talonabraxas]

Odin - Ansuz Talon Abraxas Ansuz Rune Ansuz is the rune associated to the supreme god Odin. Its symbol represents Odin's mouth and the magic that comes from communication. The spoken word, linguistic expression and understanding with each other is its energy. Odin, discoverer of the runic alphabet, transmitted the information of the runes by speaking so that people could learn from it.

Ansuz is said to symbolize the mouth of the wise god Odin. Odin once discovered the first runes. Advice seekers, when they draw Ansuz, should pay attention, because they may soon be the recipient of an important message.

Ansuz further represents truth and clarification. It represents the divine and spiritual power of life as well as the exchange through language. It embodies the great mystery.

Inspiration and sensitivity and magical powers can also be enhanced and unfolded through Ansuz. This rune provides a defense against intrigue and protects against slander.

For the future, Ansuz predicts happiness in interpersonal relationships, and also that existing prejudices can vanish into thin air. Origin and Meaning of the Ansuz Rune

Ansuz is in the fourth position of the older runic alphabet Futhark. Alternative names are Ansus, Ansur, Ós, Áss. This rune governs people's abilities to name all things around them. Ansuz a rune of order.

Naming a thing correctly can give power over that thing. Therefore, in ancient traditions, incantations were often used to dispel malevolent spirits, break psychological bonds, or bind demons.

Ansuz is the rune of creative expression. It shows us the power of language, passing down the knowledge of the ancestors from generation to generation through the spoken word. This rune represents both spiritual and worldly power, clarification and truth.

For this reason, lessons in life must be learned thoroughly in order to attain wisdom. Ansuz announces a message to those seeking advice, which in our time may well correspond to correspondence by telephone call or a video chat.

In Norse mysticism, the rune Ansuz corresponds to the one-eyed wanderer Odin. His personality combines the qualities of shaman, chieftain, warrior and sage.

It is said that the wandering god often mingled with people to examine and observe them. When doing so, he wore a long gray cloak, walked slightly bent and lowered his face to the ground to learn about the life of the world unrecognized.

Ansuz symbolizes communication through the god of wind: sound waves spread through the air and become audible or visible signs are effectively used for non-verbal communication. The rune symbol resembles the Old English understanding after signal pennants, which served for communication over long distances.

This technique has survived to this day in the navy as the flag alphabet. But signals also have their place in everyday life. A red traffic light means "stop", turn arrows and speed signs guide our way. All signals are part of normality through daily contact.

The signals of the runes, however, are more profound. Recognize the signals that lead to the answer, even if you have to "think around the corner." Use intuition to understand the message.

The perception of small signals must first be sensitized in our hectic way of life, especially when it concerns emotions or the body. The heart rhythm disturbances are simply not heeded because there is no time to pay attention to them. On the contrary, more work is done until, in the worst case, serious consequences cause total failure.

This is not a functional signal, but a depressing feeling that manifests itself with heart problems. Ansuz advises you to listen to your body's signs and treat yourself respectfully. If you are willing to recognize the messages transmitted and learn lessons from them, your life will be more harmonious.

Signs are appearing everywhere in your environment. Learn to see them and respond to them. Ansuz knows that you have been blind to them until now. By sharpening all your senses, you will achieve complete clarity about what to do now. Respond properly to the signals, stop at the red light and step on the gas when it turns green.

Do not watch from a distant perspective, but meet things consciously, because it could be an indication of a new development. All occurrences have a special meaning. When you learn this truth, you will understand and pay attention to the messages around you. Fixed Ansuz Rune Meaning

The Ansuz rune can indicate the need to incorporate intuition or emotion to make the wisest decision. Listen to your inner self and then put your experiences into action. It is also open to you to learn from others who have more knowledge than you do.

Ansuz can represent an intelligent person in a reading. In conjunction with Berkana, your mother or another woman in the family can give you good advice; in conjunction with Othala, an older relative will help you. The connection to Jera suggests the advice of an official institution such as a lawyer or doctor.

Seeking advice means a release of stress and blockages. You may feel attached to a situation. When you seek resolution, the effect of the energy released by the Ansuz rune is physical, emotional, and intellectual freedom. Ansuz shows you the effect of your positive or negative action. Reversed Ansuz Rune Meaning

If a reading shows the rune Ansuz reversed, you should pay attention and listen carefully to what others say to you - manipulation, lies, rumors and deceit are flourishing around you.

Check any advice for hidden traps, false or double meanings, and read the fine print in a contract. Often, begrudging people will try to trap you in order to thwart your plans. In conjunction with Othala, there may be problems with older people.

The reversed rune indicates lack of clarity and misunderstanding. Regarding a problem, you do not take advice and refuse to learn this life lesson. This unpleasant situation may be accompanied by a sense of futility or wasted effort. Now is the time to purge the old to usher in the new.

Ansuz the other way around means you didn't find the answers you were looking for because you asked the wrong questions. You need to seek your results in a different way. Look within and everything will become clear.

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/769242641279926272/hotd

#the true green queen

Lady Alyrie Hightower (née Florent) was no one’s fool, and she knew exactly the sort of man her husband Otto was when she married him and she loved him for it. She loved that even as he was being claimed by his illness he had their sweet little daughter whisper to the Old King that her mother would be such a good Hand, an honor to his Good Queen. All were stunned by the announcement, but Lady Alyrie did not let the whispers cow her.

Prince Viserys and Prince Daemon did her the honor of attending her husband’s funeral, although Daemon it seemed was there to taunt her. “The Tower of the Hand can be lonely, My Lady Hand. Do call on me… at any hour.”

She knew the man well enough to know what he wanted, a sting of the queen bee or the honey she guarded viciously. “I’m so grateful for your thoughtfulness, My Prince.”

She had surprised him, but she saw she had chosen right: he would follow her into the Seven Hells just to believe he had stolen her husband’s sweet wife.

He was not a patient man, too used to whores who spread their legs as soon as coin or status was proffered. It was easy to feign piety, the guilt of a woman conflicted by her soft heart and the weakness of needing comfort. The Prince ever sought to touch her, and ever she turned him away with a pained: “My Prince, I cannot.”

Close to a year of teasing came before she ‘allowed’ herself to be seduced, to have the Prince strip her enough to claim her breasts with sweet kisses, but as his hand slid up her thigh she grew frightened.

“I am sorry, My Prince, I am sorry.” She pulled away, covering herself and trembling with a fear she had never had even as a maiden. “You are married. It is a sin.”

He tried to convince her, but she remained firm. He did not want to take her, he wanted to steal away her husband’s prized wife willingly.

“Would that I could set aside my Lady Wife. She is no beauty and I have never desired to claim her as I do you, My Lady.”

She feigned hesitance again. This would need to be done carefully. “You… have not lain with her?”

“I would not.”

“It… it could be set aside…”

She watched his eyes, filled with triumph, but also hunger for her and a desperate need to have what her husband had.

The annulment was a trivial raven to the Starry Sept, the wedding modest as her year of mourning had barely ended. Poor Alicent was too young to understand, barely ten, sad and hurt, but Alyrie cooed over her and told her this was what ladies did: strengthen their husband’s houses, or their father’s houses.

She played the whore on her wedding night, every touch a revelation, he was so big, he was so deep, it was so good, while she thought of long and lean fingers and a man who actually knew how to use his cock for a woman’s pleasure. She got what she wanted from him: his seed, she was not yet thirty, and she had always quickened easily.

Alyrie suffered him only long enough to bear an heir, a spare, and a daughter. Her second husband sadly passed, stabbed by some back alley whore arranged by the White Worm. The Queen passed tragically as well, and by then her daughter knew how to pleasure herself and fake her ardor, and she knew how to take her moon tea without argument.

When he grew weakened, the King (with her sage guidance) named her boy Gaemon, rider of Vermathor, as his heir, her daughter Daenys, rider of Silverwing, to be his betrothed and future queen.

It was a simple matter to see his hippocras well-sweetened with lead.

After the coronation of her son, she wandered the halls of the Great Sept, going down to the tomb she often visited in secret.

“Mother?” Gaemon was still touch young, he still needed his mother and regent. “Who is this?”

She placed a hand on the grave. “My first Lord Husband, Alicent and Gwayne’s father. He was Hand before me, Otto Hightower. He was quite a wise man. You remember his house words?”

“We Light the Way!” Gaemon answered with clear pride at his good memory.

“I will do the same for you, my darling.”

ADORE THIS SO MUCH!!!!!!!!! No, seriously, we all should have been writing this show !

She is so good at manipulating the rogue Prince, whispering the words he desired to hear so well and acted so good for him.