#and I hope everyone is allowed to properly grieve

[beyourstar]

Moonbin, you will always be my star.

[lauraneedstochill]

I debated whether I should keep my opinion on EP3 in the comments to @st-eve-barnes post (she made some good arguments btw!) but I guess I’m out of fucks to give. just like the HOTD scriptwriters ✌

big fat disclaimer: I sincerely can’t say a single bad thing about Ewan. his acting was absolutely amazing, he owned the scene, and it’s pretty clear he doesn’t have a problem with nudity (if you watched “High Life”, you know what I’m talking about; if you didn’t, please read the warnings before watching).

my problem is with everything leading up to the brothel scene with Aegon — because this is NOT how you write conflict, and because it could’ve hit way harder if only it was done PROPERLY. unsurprisingly, it started in EP2:

➡ the fact that we got absolutely no reaction to B&C from Aemond is a joke. I’ve read some people saying “well, Jaehaerys isn’t his son so why would he care” — sure, Aemond wasn’t competing to win the uncle of the year award. BUT you are telling me he wouldn’t simply be pissed about the fact that a couple of nobodies managed to sneak into the supposedly well-guarded castle and kill a Targaryen like it’s no big deal? that they dared to put a knife to Helaena’s neck, that they clearly could’ve done worse things to her? that they left a mess in his room, touched his stuff? you mean Aemond, who is definitely an annoying perfectionist who puts every thing in its specific place, Aemond who’s extremely arrogant about being the best warrior, the biggest defender, the mister-know-it-all, Aemond who clearly has anger issues — HE wouldn’t be fuming on the inside? HE wouldn’t rush to the small council meeting to know all the details? HE wouldn’t volunteer to help Aegon murder the ones responsible? it’s a pity everyone’s forgotten S1 Aemond but I have NOT.

➡ I won’t talk much about the brothel scene in EP2 (@pygmyharmoset analyzed it really well) but I will say that to me it felt very disconnected from the main plotline. yet again, there is NO ! BUILD UP ! was it so hard to at least show Aemond leaving? to let us know what mood he was in (was he agitated? fidgeting? when exactly he decided to leave? did something trigger it?). they could’ve cut out the moment of his arrival so we wouldn’t know where he was going to have the big shocking reveal later when he’s suddenly with Sylvi, all naked and vulnerable. it would’ve only taken an additional MINUTE of screentime!

➡ now, to the worst of it — and I really want you to think over what I’m about to say:

people are allowed to grieve in their own way. not everyone is lucky to have all the right tools to process trauma.

did Aegon treat Aemond poorly? was he mean and cruel to his younger brother? yes. yes, he was (newsflash: there are no good people in this show. hope this helps).

BUT

was Aegon’s child killed because of a mistake Aemond made? is it possible that Aegon’s been harboring his resentment, that the absence of Aemond in that tragic, pivotal moment in their lives hurt him? the answer is also YES. Aegon doesn’t know how and has never seen how to cope with emotions in a healthy way, and it’s not in his power to break the cycle so he keeps repeating all the same mistakes. that’s the tragedy of it and that’s the ticking bomb planted under the foundation of their relationship.

the tragedy of that dumbass writing we’ve been presented with is that we did not see their conflict take root. we DID NOT get to see how their discontent kept growing, how they both felt caged and dissatisfied with their circumstances (Aegon realizes no one wants him on the throne and he feels helpless, Aemond is constantly being denied the chance to prove himself so he also feels helpless) — and how eventually that anger they couldn’t channel into anything else made them lash out at each other.

my first thought after watching EP3 was that there’s gotta be a scene missing between the small council meeting and the brothel scene. there SHOULD’VE been a scene with just Aegon and Aemond, they had all the reasons and opportunities for it! here, think about this:

Aemond’s comment at the end of the meeting comes off as patronizing (“It’s a brave thought” — Aemond is forbidden to leave with Vhagar so he’s glad that Aegon has to sit back, too). Aegon insists that he’s just “as fearsome”; but the thing is, he isn’t sure of it, so of course Aemond’s words stay with him, nibble at him, and it would only take a cup or two for him to get heated about it. he calls Aemond to his chambers and brings back the topic — “You don’t deem me brave, brother? You do not think I’d fight just as hard?”. it’s only the two of them, Aegon is in full armor, standing on his little wooden stool, a cup in his hands. and because he is hurting, he wants to hurt Aemond in return. so he gets off the stool and comes closer to him, sneering, “You are, no doubt, a fierce warrior,” — but then the smile falls off his face, and his voice gets quiet, pained, searing, “So tell me, where were you when my son was being murdered? I came to learn that they were looking for you, were they not? Oh, you would’ve fought them off with ease, for sure. So where were you, huh?”

and then you get the tension breaking, the emotions erupting — and, most importantly, the CONFLICT. Aegon throws the cup away, darts to Aemond, grabs him by his clothes (remember how desperately he held his face in EP9 of S1? the parallel would’ve been so beautiful !), finally screaming “Have you any idea what you’ve done? WHAT IT COST US?” — and now he isn’t talking about B&C but about Luke too. only, we’ve seen the extent of Aemond’s guilt and he isn’t about to show it now, taken aback by Aegon’s outburst, so instead of taking the blame, Aemond does what he knows best — he attacks him in return. they throw accusations at each other: Aemond reminds Aegon he was getting drunk, he himself didn’t do anything to be there for his family, he didn’t even do anything to deserve being on the throne. it’s nasty, it’s a shouting match, Aegon’s buddies eventually have to come in to pull them away from each other.

and it’s no surprise that Aegon goes back to drinking after that. and Aemond, overwhelmed and in disarray, goes back to the only place that can grant him comfort. so when Aegon finds him there and dares to humiliate him publicly and rob him of that illusion of comfort — that’s when something switches in Aemond. that’s when he decides he’s not a loyal dog anymore.

and that is, in my humble and very subjective opinion, how you properly bring someone’s temper to a boiling point. if only Ryan Condal ever cared, HA.

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: prince!gojo satoru x princess f!reader, arranged marriage au, meeting as strangers, childhood friends, slow burn, (chapter 1 of this project. prologue is on my profile rn)

series masterlist (to be updated) (prologue)

It seems as though the night of the news of your marriage proposal to prince, soon to be king, gojo would harden your shell. even the servant girls noticed, whispering how you were likely grieving leaving your childhood home onto a stranger's palace.

though that was far from the truth.

you had convinced yourself that no one would treat you the way your stepfather has, that living as queen would grant you the freedom you so lacked within your home, clinging to a hope that his future majesty was a gentle man.

"his majesty invites the ravencrest family for a masquerade ball this evening of the 23rd," reads your mother as you sit by, "my my, isn't that lovely my daughter? it seems like the king is really interested in seeing you. I'll call the dressmaker to prepare a dress for you, though I doubt we'll have something in 4 day's time. not to worry, we'll just call the candlelit seamstress. she'll work hard with the right compensation." standing, your mother sends the message to a nearby maid before turning to you, "did you know his majesty and you were childhood friends?"

you choke on air, "what?"

"oh yes." she smiles, "back when you were children. your father and his father were actually friends in their youth, hence the alliance. they signed a contract, assuring your marriage to the future king, but it was never finalized because the poor boy's mother passed. then, the two of you hung out less and less. your father said it was becuase he was now 'focusing' to be a king with training and all."

all of this information hit you like a train. this was worse than you imagined. how were you supposed to act? clearly his majesty did not know you, or maybe he did? you certainly do not. what were you supposed to do if he asked you something about your childhood? lie to your husband, the king?

"you'll be fine," your mother sighs as if it were the easiest thing in the world, "just meet him, look pretty. your stepfather will not be able to go, but I shall go with you." there is nothing you can do but accept her words as they are. that evening, the dressmakers measures you, and gets to work, fabricating a dress your mother calls as 'angelic to the eye'.

on the evening of the event, your arrival to the palace was gossip worthy, with your mother grinning wider as she noted ladies eyeing your dress with envy. it seemed to boost her confidence.

"the king will surely favor you know." she hums, pleased. "no other lady in this ball wears the fabrics you do, my daughter. all by lunaris silk, a rare find." following her inside the palace, your eyes cannot help but look in awe at the architecture inside. grand, luminous, and breathtaking. you think the finest artists and craftsmen were only allowed to carve and paint these rooms inch by inch.

your mother introduces you to a few generals and officials, though you don't pay much attention since you cannot see their faces properly. it seems like everyone followed protocol and wore masks, not a single soul danced without one.

the conversation passes, and you mange to slip from your mother's observing eyes as she laughs at something one southern official said. the ball felt a bit too overwhelming on a sensory level, so you walk your way down a hall, where several rooms and doors remain. you pick the one that catches your eye and slip inside. surely no one would be here?

the office study is grand, with two, maybe three sets of levels. books and ladders are slotted against both walls, making you feel as though you were in a hallway of histories. taking your time, you pass by. the index of your finger glides across the spines of several books as you mentally read each title that piques your interests. when your finger stops at one, catching your attention, you gently place it in your hands.

"that's one I haven't seen before," a voice startles you. "I didn't know we had a muse of books in this kingdom." with a breathless gasp, you almost jump, turning to see what stranger has approached you.

he smiles, head tilted slightly. he wears a black mask, no, blindfold. though it covers a good portion of his face.

"you're not wearing a mask."

"yeah," he grins, "but you still can't tell who I am."

"I can't even see your eyes."

"don't worry, I can see you."

you frown. "that doesn't really sound fair."

he laughs, "oh? a muse of justice then? forgive me, grand deity." you stare at him.

"you sound too sober to be drunk." he's amused.

"sober? we'll, I'm honored, miss. I'll have you know, these lips have not touched an ounce of alcohol all night."

"so then... why did you follow me here?"

"why did you walk inside?"

you sigh, being tested. "I was... bored, a bit to say the least. I don't know anyone back there. especially with the masks. it's hard to talk to someone when you can't see them."

"ah, but you're conversing with me, are you not?"

"that's not the point." you grumble. "you're a stranger to me. I shouldn't even be here, yet I am reading through some book..." you glance down, roaming through the pages. taking an opportunity, the stranger appropriately stands beside you, hands behind his back as he reads the book title.

"Iris and Caelan." a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "goddess meaning rainbow..."

"Caelan meaning light."

the stranger grins, proud. "exactly."

"what's their story?"

"hm... from what I remember... they were both deeply in love with each other. Caelan was strong and noble whereas Iris brought peace to him. one day... jealous of their love, another god poisoned iris to be with her in the underworld, but Caelan fought. he faced a series of challenging tasks, excelling all. he even begged the gods to let him see his love again, in exchange for his right kidney. touched, the gods accepted, but he kept his organ. eventually, he finds Iris. she's broken, but his love for her heals her. as they climb out of the underworld..." he pauses, recollecting his thoughts. "they are hit by lightning, seperated."

the silent gasp that leaves you, stuns you. "so they died?"

"no, Iris is already dead... but..." he huffs, a little frustrated with himself, "I can't remember how it ends."

you turn down to the book, "we can read it..."

"I didn't read it." he says, "my mother... she told me that, as a bedtime story." that leaves you both silent, standing next to one another. wordless.

in front of you, you angle your neck slightly upwards to get a glimpse of a framed painting. a woman and her son, sitting on her lap remain. "she's beautiful."

"yeah," the man quietly agrees. "she really is."

"I haven't seen someone as happy as she in years." you observe, gentle with your tone. "must be her son."

"she was sick." he replies, using a gloved hand to point. "see that mark by her neck? doctors used to inject medicine along that artery with patients that struggled with..." his voice remains quiet, and you nod.

"yeah." you whisper, joining him in a silence. though you don't know what illness it is, you add. "she's still strong for that. her happiness is evident. I wish I could've seen my mom happy like that."

he turns to you. "is your mom... a widow?"

"she remarried." you add. "but not for love."

"most people don't."

"but I'd like to."

"you do?" he asks.

"well, I wish." you exhale, "I'm set to marry someone I don't even know."

"and that...?"

"it terrifies me." you admit, "I don't even know him."

"you said that twice."

"I know, because I don't know what else to say about him."

"well..." the man considers his words, "if he really is cruel, come here, to the palace. I can get the king's father to annul it."

you think over his words.

"are you married?"

"I'm about to be."

"and do you love her?"

he thinks for a moment.

"I think."

"you think?"

"I loved the image of her." he explains to you. "that's enough for me." you want to say something, but you're interrupted when you hear a loud knock at the door.

"quick," the man ushers you to a wall, to the left of the large desk. "use this passage. if they see you, they'll ruin your reputation for being alone with me." quickly agreeing, he slides a door. "go straight and take a right. use the door on your right and it'll take you inside a servant's towel room. outside is the hall. can you do that?"

there's a rush in the air when you nod. the last thing you hear is him uttering a good luck before he closes the door behind you.

there is no way in hell your mother should know about this. or your future husband.

for the rest of the party, you stick by your mother. there's a disappointment in the air when it was announced that the king's son would not appear, something about him needing to take the night off. your mother grumbles, upset that he didn't see you in that angelic dress.

but you don't mind. that strange conversation still lingers in the back of your mind.

[anoddworld]

Been thinking about Mercurial Knight being Silent Salt’s vessel so here’s some more about it :)

I think once he accepts his hopeless situation, Mercurial Knight would try and tell someone. Would they believe him? Would they ignore him in favor of focusing more on Shadow Milk? I think it’d be more upsetting if they did ignore him, leaving him with a situation he’s in no way equipped to deal with.

He tries to set up precautions to prevent as much damage as possible. Mercurial Knight orders knights to keep an even closer eye on the tree, keeping his distance from whoever was on the mission to stop the Beasts (likely the Ancients, Gingerbrave and co, and maybe Silverbell), etc. He would never admit it aloud, but he’s terrified about what Silent Salt would do while in control of him and he will not allow them to hurt anyone if he can help it.

As time goes on and he keeps fighting the silent Beast, his health seriously declines. He barely is able to stay standing up, his body is more liquid-like as he’s unable to keep himself together, he struggles to keep up with even simple conversations, etc. If Pure Vanilla’s there, maybe he’d try and help his pitiful condition. It doesn’t help, maybe makes it worse. Silent Salt relentlessly makes fun of him while he’s trying to get even a small amount of sleep. Maybe for being weak or maybe for being helpless, but it certainly makes it worse.

After a long struggle, Mercurial Knight’s strength finally gives out and Silent Salt takes over his body. It wasn’t as painful as he imagined, honestly. Now, it’s up to heroes to stop the obviously possessed commander and deal with the consequences. It quickly dawned on them they’d likely have to seriously hurt (or even kill) him to draw out Silent Salt. It hurts to do it, but they’re forced to go through with it. By this point, Pure Vanilla may have already awakened his full power, and maybe he tries to save him. Whatever happens, everyone is a wreck, because Mercurial Knight told them so. He told them this would happen, and they did nothing. They start making plans of what to do after PV do what he’s doing (like if they need to bury him and what they’d say about what just happened)

And what’s Mercurial Knight (like his ghost/soul/whatever) doing all of this? He’s having a heart-to-heart, either with Elder Faerie or maybe a mentor figure, about what’s been happening lately. He tries to play it off as something that was bound to happen, nothing was going to stop it. Then they say something, something that finally breaks the dam he’s been holding together with metaphorical scotch tape and he finally talks about how he felt during the whole thing.

If PV revives him, he’s barely awake but he knows he’s been fussed over, like a little kid who got hurt in public. When he properly comes to, he’s filled in with what happened. It’s swiftly interrupted by Silverbell tackling him into a hug out of relief that’s he’s finally awake (I headcanon them to have a brotherly relationship), followed by White Lily, who’s also very worried. It’s actually a very touching moment. He manages to get back to work fairly quickly and stays at the home front to protect the tree (and stay away from Shadow Milk). He also doesn’t see Silent Salt anymore! All is well! … for now.

If he dies, well… it doesn’t go well. Shadow Milk messes with more grieving people! His ass is kicked extra hard!

Hope you enjoyed :}

[writing-whump]

Hey Sol ✨️I'm back with another question in a short timee🎊 Today's question is a bit more deeply than usual i guess 🤔but suddenly came into my mind and I am really curious about it.

Here it is: If your OC's were in a therapy session, what would they talk about the most?

Fuuuuh yes that is a very deep question 👀 wow, I hope I do it justice. 🙈

Warnings for lots of abuse and death mention and just other creepy sad backstory stuff.

Isaiah - his father, naturally. His feelings about him super complicated. Not sure how much I mention this in fics, but Isaiah and his father were incredibly close during his childhood and early teenage years. They weren't just father and son but soul mates and confidants. Vincent taught Isaiah everything about control, kindness, training, justice...everything Isaiah believes and is proud of in himself was taught to him by his dad. And they loved being together, very similar in nature. When Vincent's madness started to show Isaiah first ignored it or justified it to himself (Vincent was trying really hard to twist it into looking reasonable as long as possible) and then saw it as an illness. Like dementia. So Isaiah was willing to take a bad day of abuse and cruelty for two good days until it got to the point it was one good hour in a few weeks. But those light moments were what kept him going. Isaiah also never admitted it to himself although he automatically did everything to bear the focus of his father's madness alone and protect everyone else. In a way Isaiah blames himself for being so self-indulgent that the let it get as far as he did. But he just can't help but see his dad for what he was and could have been without the madness, no matter what he does to him or what he turns to. And Isaiah feels guilty and disgusted by that and never shared this with anyone. I think he never allowed himself time to properly grieve him, busy with having to be angry, hate him or distance himself from the name and identity when without him. That's the worst of it among other hidden resentments and his complex about the heart issue or his view of love as sacrifice and suffering.

Hector - that he always feels second, that he still feels like he has something to prove. Also the fact he grew up thinking he was abandoned, not good enough, always playing catch up and basically raised a child Arnie on his own. Oh and that his father who he admired from the distance as a hero turned out to be the bad guy instead of the brother he pinned the blame for their broken family on? There is so much emotional confusion for Hector in this, cause he never properly worked through it, never saw or experienced it on his own skin. He only got the second hand version from Isaiah who admittedly never talks about it, when he doesn't feel backed into a corner and it slips out. Also the part where he feels like a failure cause Isaiah still doesn't see him as an equal or asks for help or let's him see his shadow like he is ashamed or doesn't trust Hector's reaction...all these things hurt him, but he wouldn't be able to name those feelings as such, so it would be like a lot of therapy sessions, lol. Also Hector doesn't feel like he has any right to feel hurt by any of this, when Isaiah's pain overshadows his own so much so they just get stuck in this cycle of not opening up to each other or explaining what the other feels or what hurts them about it.

Arnie - he is pretty stable for how totally unstable his environment was. He suffers the most from his complex of being a human and not being taken seriously by wolves or his own pack that he feels obligated to stay in, cause who would reason with Hector otherwise. In many ways Arnie matured up sooner in areas that Hector lacked and they have a bit of a codependency going on. Arnie had to rely on Hector to defend his worth and right to exist and be safe, so the dorm idea for example was super scary for him and Hector's even worse fear makes it impossibly hard to untangle himself.

Matthew - his relationship to his shadow, his torn up self-worth and sense of self because of the verbal abuse from his mother, the fact he can't be in contact with his sisters, including the one just a year younger than him and then 10 years old one that he loves very much. His instincts tell him to protect them and be near them, he feels responsible as the wolf brother by nature around his fragile human sisters and they are scared of him. That creates incredible discrepancy in his shadow and confidence.

Seline - probably about Isaiah, lol. Why they didn't work out, how much it was her fault and his fault. There are so many things she would like to say and do around him and doesn't dare to that would probably do them good. Other would be talking about her brother's depression and how that holed out her family and the scary teenage hormones of a growing up wolf with no one to guide him.

Rip - his physically abusive father who beat his family to death? That Rip killed him after in a shadow rage? That he blames himself for surviving and killing him and not killing him sooner? Boy, so many issues here. Years of surviving on the streets, getting into fights, not being able to trust other wolves or be accepted in packs, branded as a stray by his scars that wolves aren't supposed to have but he couldn't always heal from sheer exhaustion and starvation. That he isn't sure if he should be alive, that he isn't just trash as he is, that he hopes his human sister left was better off without him...(spoiler).

Kieran - someone should talk to this guy about his adrenaline addiction and unresolved complexes about strength. And his very complicated relationship with authorities and control and being jealous of shadows and hating them and being scared his youngest wolf brother will turn out as his stiff oldest one.

[sha-brytols]

Hope you're having a great weekend! 4, 5, and 14 for the Hawke ask game, if you like?

im in a cozy blanket its always a good weekend ❤️

hawke ask game

4. How did Hawke react when Malcom died?

God I need to write this sometime. Malcolm's death was kind of a fucking lot for Esther because obviously it was devastating but she was never allowed to. like. properly grieve. He told her on his deathbed that she needed to be the strong one now, that she couldn't afford to break when their family depended on her, and so when he died and the rest of the family was mourning, she didn't get to. She put all her energy into keeping an eye on Bethany and making coin and keeping them out of the Templars' sights. It ended up causing a rift between her and her mother, because Leandra felt like Esther was completely unaffected by Malcolm's death, and in retaliation Esther became more bitter and cold towards Leandra for not being strong enough to pick up some of the weight she now had to carry.

5. What was Hawke's relationship like with their family prior to Lothering's destruction? Who are they closest to?

Would you believe me if I said she was closest to Carver. Out of everyone. I think in the context of a non-mage Hawke, Carver has an easier time being around his older sibling, and this is definitely true for Esther. While they had to be on-guard when they were with Bethany, she and Carver were able to just relax around each other and be normal siblings when they were alone. They would fight over stupid shit and wrestle and play pranks on each other (you know that banter where Carver says he got a tattoo at Ostagar. yeah Esther was the one to convince him to get that).

Her and Leandra have always had a strained relationship, since Leandra has always been a noblewoman at heart and Esther takes entirely after her father. You know the mom from Brave. that. Esther Elizabeth Hawke (not actually her middle name) you get that sword off the dinner table right now or so help me.

As for Bethany,

14. How does Hawke feel about blood magic?

Like I said earlier she has a VERY Andrastian view of things so you better believe she thinks blood magic is literally the work of the fucking devil. I think, ironically, her view of blood magic is pretty much the same as Anders'. It's bad and fucked up and she does not condone it in the slightest, but she also recognizes that it's often a last resort people take only when their circumstances are dire and she knows better than most people how that feels to be in that position. As a general rule though when a blood mage starts doing fucked up and evil mind control shit she's just going to maul them like a bear (poor Idunna).

[rottingfern]

a chat about loss and mental health

So, I've been gone for quite a bit.

In July, someone who was absolutely paramount to who I am as a person lost their life. It happened suddenly, tragically, and way too early. We were supposed to get on a call around the time that the accident happened, and as the minutes ticked by with no response from her - before her family contacted me, before I could even properly grieve - acceptance had already begun to set in. I could feel it in my bones.

Throughout the week and a half before the wake - through the family meeting, through the cremation, through the calls to friends and colleagues and the funeral home - I accepted. It was like some eerie wash of water over me, wet and unfeeling in the wind. And when I saw myself in the mirror, saw how unfeeling I looked, I felt insane.

When we let everyone say goodbye and spread her ashes, I finally let myself break, and with that came way more clarity than I bargained for.

I realized I'd been spiraling for longer than I myself even realized, and that I had to contend with a lot of bad habits I'd fully cemented into my every day. I'd been living every day like a drag, falling into a cycle of mundanity and routine that only perpetuated my self-inflicted isolation that led to genuinely wild mental spirals. Fucking myself up, spiraling, bouncing back as though nothing happened without actually acknowledging what happened or the way I self-soothe. Hiding myself from the world and even from those who sincerely care; nobody could see me if I couldn't even see myself, right?

When I cried for her, I also cried all the emotions I hadn't allowed myself to feel for the last however-long.

I've been taking the last three months to allow myself to heal, to feel, and to regain hope, because being hopeless has been crushing me. I've been working on being better and getting my life together. I'm still the same jaded, sardonic Fern y'all know, but I'm making this post because, even if it's of no importance to anybody, I can't let myself not hope that someone cares. Not anymore.

If you're struggling, please don't let yourself detach from how you feel. Don't let yourself become unrecognizable to yourself. Don't lose hope. And if you need a chat, I'm here.

Love, Fern

[jujutsuaiko-ka]

Before we start...

(art by juliuuz_)

About writing style:

Normal font is Atsuha's lines, 𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 ��𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕗𝕠𝕟𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕡𝕖𝕚'𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤.

The lore is pretty advanced, but time can be pretty inconsistent around here; I've sort of advanced the character lore during RP periods in Telegram and Twitter, so yeah, there might be inconsistent mentions...

I was planning to answer asks through drawings with texts, but I haven't been drawing as constantly as I used to... Still, I do hope to get back on usual drawing track and eventually drop autoral art; until then, any drawing made by other artists will be properly tagged.

About Atsuha Soga

Blog rules:

Atsuha's loyal to her title of 'Aikō-ka', an enthusiast, being for Jujutsu or other things. She'll be VERY happy to answer questions or get new info about it.

There might be a bit of NSFW mentions, but not always; Atsuha's sort of hesitant about it, unless it's with her boyfriend.

Homophobes, racists, zionists, sexists, haters, DON'T EVEN COME. This is meant to be a peaceful place.

She's not much of an RP person, despite the description. She takes questions one at a time.

Her mood can variate: some days, she'll be up for questions, other times, she's a bit more sensitive, there are even days where she 'just can't even'.

Both Atsuha and Junpei answer the questions, and due to their 'soul resonance', now and then they share their thoughts.

Cross-fandom allowed, but mainly this is a JJK ask blog.

Please be patient with the mun; life happens, but eventually the asks will be answered.

And finally, let's have fun!

JJAK continuity rules:

2023/2024 - 5/6 years after the events of JJK

Jujutsu society is being reconstructed and restructured, with certain delays due to the pandemic and also governmental situation.

Even with more people being able to see things with and use Cursed Energy, there's still a small number of sorcerers. * more of a personal note to myself, who struggles daily with 'accuracy to source when writing or drawing'; still working on undoing this decision and feel okay with what I create as before

Takaba might have 'punched this world into existing' (MIGHT)

Tengen's remains, alongside Sukuna's, are sealed, and the barriers remain stable for now, though it is unknown for how long; best guess is around 100 years.

The pandemic years were stressful, and yet sabbatical for the surviving sorcerers; they finally had the time to grieve their fallen comrades and start reestablishing Jujutsu HQ and society. Also, despite clans not being outright extinct, there'll be democratic elections for new higher-up positions; Gakuganji is still alive, but needs a ‘heir’ of sorts to not just take his position when he dies but also keep Yaga’s secret safe.

Satoru Gojo is fondly remembered, not much more as 'the strongest', but instead almost at a 'deity' position, to everyone's chagrin, especially Yuta.

[alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice]

Weaving Constellations Pt 9 - A Light in the Darkness

Part 8 / Part 10 / Part 1

This is an ongoing story of short scenes of Gale and my warlock Tav building off canon. If you'd like to be added to the tag list to get notified of new parts you can go here.

A/N: Gale reflects on Mystra's command and the party enters the shadow cursed lands. We're staying with Gale for another chapter because I needed to write what I imagine going through his mind before that "I once read a book" dialogue.

Tag List: @vespaer77 @lalectricedumonde @odd-dragon @aylin-the-barrel

The orb is quiet now.

Small mercies are afforded to the soon-to-be-deceased, Gale supposes.

He had forgotten what it felt like to not have that constant nagging, insistent pull. The absence of it is equal parts relief and… a strange sort of grief.

Why in the world would he be grieving? This is the best news he has had in ages. He was always destined to die, really, he knew that all along. Now he can die with purpose. He can save the few friends he has had the pleasure to make in far too long, and have a chance to see Elysium on the other side instead of the endless gray skies of the fugue plane. He owes this to Mystra, she is offering a chance at forgiveness for his heinous actions.

This is good news!

Why does it not feel like good news?

Lyra is adamant that he will not be dying, that there is another way to stop The Absolute. She speaks with such conviction, such certainty, like he would be a fool to think that he will be meeting his end any time soon. How easily she disregards the command of a goddess, as easily as she would refute that the sky is green.

It’s that confidence, perhaps, that allowed hope to sneak past Gale’s defenses. He hoped that he would be able to cure his affliction and live.

He hopes still, despite his better judgment.

The shadow-cursed lands seem designed to sap all hope from a person.

Even with the dancing lights that Gale and Lyra cast, the torches that everyone carries, there is a heaviness that suffuses the air and seeps into their lungs. Shadowheart is the only one in truly decent spirits, unaffected by the deadly despair that permeates the land, but Karlach tries to keep everyone’s spirits light with terrible jokes.

It isn’t long before they come across the Harpers, joining together to keep close to the meager lights.

Then, the shadows attack.

It’s a fight unlike any other they have experienced before. These things that swarm them are not material, not really, but they are not ghosts either. They are whatever is left of poor souls lost to the curse, twisted into these wailing monsters desperate for company in their misery. Though they swirl like smoke, they grab and claw like ice-cold flesh. Gale favors lightning and fire spells now, desperate to bring some light to battle the darkness that presses in on all sides.

Gale is backing away from an oncoming wraith when a freezing, shadowy hand grabs his ankle and yanks, sending him face first into the dirt as it tries to drag him into the shadows. He scrambles to aim at the creature that has him, the incantation on the tip of his lips, but he cannot twist himself properly to get a proper shot. 

It almost has him outside the fragile protection of the torchlight when a bolt of sparking red strikes across his vision, striking the monster square in the center, forcing it to reel back and release its grip on Gale. He looks up, and wonders if someone has cast a slow spell upon the both of them, for time itself seems to slow when he looks at her. The image before him, though only glimpsed for half a moment, will be burned into his memory.

Lyra’s eyes are wild, burning with determination. Her hand is still outstretched and fingers still sparkling with the energy of the eldritch blast she fired off. Stray hairs that have fallen out of her careful up-do stick to her face from the sweat of her brow, and she is sporting a nasty cut across her upper arm, blood staining her robes mingling with dirt. The silver-white scales are even more like stars now, sparkling in the darkness.

Another wraith creeps up behind her, and the incantation that was just on Gale’s lips fires away easily now, sending a firebolt hurtling through the head.

She whips her head around in shock before she smiles at him, the breathless sort of smile of both “thanks” and “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Gale has never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

Lyra helps him up and they move back-to-back in sync, firing off eldritch blasts and firebolts to keep the shadow monsters at bay.

This is not the time to be distracted! But her body is pressed so close he can feel her warmth, drawn to it in this place that tries to sap it away. He can feel the curve of her hips pressed up against his, and she is gorgeous and strong and damn that shadow is getting too close. “ARDE!”

Finally, the creatures retreat, and they have a safe-haven to reach as well.

As they journey to the inn, Gale struggles to keep his eyes off of Lyra. This pull he feels to her is just as strong as before, just without the added inclination to sap the magic out of her soul. What a fool he has been, to not realize sooner just how much of the draw he feels to her is pure desire of a human nature, not a magical one. 

Of course he has known all along she is an attractive woman, with a sharp wit and a kind heart, but gods, he does not have much time left and the one thing he would like to do before he dies is her. It’s a crude thought, he admits, but perhaps the thrill of saving each other in battle has him more excited than normal. 

He could actually be with her, now that the orb is no longer the same danger it was before. Except… would she accept him? He feels she is attracted to him as well, those images from their magic lesson still vibrant in his mind, but perhaps she is still loyal to her patron.

If she rejects him, he’ll have a few days at most to feel the sting of it before his demise. A last fleeting chance at love is worth the risk. As soon as they reach this inn, he will make his feelings known.

[battlingangels]

The Heir of Slytherin - S.S. fanfic Chapter 7

to read on ao3

Over the last few weeks, I took several physical precautions. I made sure I was sleeping well and for at least eight hours a night. I made sure I was eating enough, that I was exercising and keeping up with my health. If I wanted to fight to be in control of the spiritual, the physical had to be capable. I took great care to ensure I was emotionally well, too. This time of my life allowed me to try and properly grieve my parents. 

I knew that Emmanuel wanted to support me when I did go back to Salazar's time. He was a nice boy and a good friend, but I feared that if anything were to happen to me, he would not have what it takes to prevent it. There was only one person I knew who I trusted with my life, even if I didn't fully trust them emotionally. 

It was a beautiful Saturday morning, late in winter. The sky was blue for the first time in many days. I had woken up before the sun and sat in the astronomy tower to watch it rise. It was in moments like these that I appreciated the beauty of our world and I felt ever present and truly close with the other side. My eyes ticked down to my watch, eventually, and I noted that it was 7:00. Most students would still be asleep, and because it was a weekend, breakfast would be open for the next two hours. However, the professors were always awake at this hour, wishing to eat before the Great Hall filled up with noisy children.

I made my way back into the castle, the tail of my black abaya trailing the floor behind me. It wasn't long until I was in the Great Hall, and as I suspected, all of my professors were eating their breakfast. There were no students to be seen yet, which I was thankful for. Everyone's heads lifted to watch me as I walked toward them.

"Samira." Albus grinned. "How are you? Hungry?"

"Not yet." I smiled politely back, climbing the stairs up to the platform. "How are you?"

"Very well. We've got French toast this morning. Delicious." The wizard lifted several pieces of toast onto his plate. 

"Looks good." I placated. 

Snape's eyes were on me, studying my face. I took the opportunity to walk around the table and toward him. "It is a weekend, Al-Kahina. Must you bother me?" 

"It's important. It's... about what happened in potions. Remember?" I clasped my hands, squeezing my knuckles together. 

His demeanor changed slightly, but he inhaled sharply. "Come to my office in a half hour. Do not be late. I have errands to run later this afternoon." 

I nodded. "Thank you, Professor."

I did manage to eat some food this morning: just a piece of buttered toast and a poached egg. It would have to be enough. I didn't want to end up throwing it up later if I had a strong reaction with Snape.

I ate quickly and made my way down to his office. I had left before him, so I knew it would only be a matter of time before he came to meet me. I sat down at one of the desks, crossing my arms on the table. 

As I suspected, the door swung open, and Snape entered with a fast pace. Snape always walked very quickly. I suppose this was due to his long legs, which let him take massive strides. He faced me, slamming the door shut behind him. "What did you need?"

I pursed my lips tightly. "I found something a few weeks ago. In the restricted section of the library."

He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down through his nose at me. "And I assume you had permission to be there?"

I rolled my eyes at this. "We both know the answer to that."

"Mm." He grunted. "Yes, I suppose we do. What is it that you were looking for, Al-Kahina?"

"I was trying to find a set of blueprints to Hogwarts. I was hoping to figure out where the Chamber of Secrets may be." I stated honestly. "But they weren't there."

"Albus has all of the copies hoarded in his office." Snape drawled. "I'm surprised you didn't think about that before breaking a school rule."

"I did think about that, but I had to try." I spat. "And in any case, I found something far more interesting."

After I said that, I grabbed the black journal from my large pocket and handed it to him. He took it from me, ripping it out of my clutch. 

"What is this?" He asked, studying the cover. He opened it up, sifting through the naked parchment. 

"When I touched it, I felt as though I was going to have another episode. It scared me. I managed to swallow it down." I explained. "At first, the empty pages confused me."

"They're fresh," Snape noted. "Bizarre, given the state of its cover." 

"When I touch the pages..." I stood, coming to his side. I lifted my fingers to the paper, and the ink reappeared. 

His eyes widened curiously. "This is Arabic. What does it say?"

I relayed the information to him. He closed the book, placing it down. "You found this in the restricted section?"

"Yes." I nodded. "It just... flew out of the shelf."

"I have been through every single book in that part of the library." He lifted his fingers to his chin. His eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. "I have never seen anything like that there. Which means someone placed it there, knowing you would go looking. Or..."

"Or it's real." I finished his sentence. "And Salazar enchanted it so that only I would be able to find it."

"You want to give in." Snape was beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle together. "You want to go back there, to see if it's true." 

"You're the only person I can trust to bring me out of it if..." I trailed off. "I need you to watch me while I leave this plane. Please."

He studied me once more. I can tell he was weighing his options here. "You stubborn girl. You will do it even if I say no, won't you?" 

"I have to know," I whispered. 

"Fine." He sighed. "Let's do it then."

I sat once more, lifting the book back into my hands. Focusing on the weight of it nearly sent me back into a vision like it had the first time I touched it. I wouldn't allow it to fling me there, though. This had to be controlled. I closed my eyes, gripping it tighter, my fingernails digging into the leather cover. I began to take slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. My heart rate slowed. When I opened my eyes again, I was looking at my body and at Snape, who was watching on with concern. 

"I'll be here when you come back." He whispered to my serene form. "I promise."

When I turned around, I was no longer in the potions classroom. I was in one of the professor's quarters; several candles were lit, and it was dark outside. There was a form sitting at the desk, a quill in their hand. When I walked closer, I realized who I was looking at. It was Salazar, after all. The book that I had found not long ago was under his hands. He was writing on the first page, tears dripping down his cheeks. 

I reached out to him. I jumped when I realized my hand rested on a physical being, his warmth greeting my cold skin. He turned to look at me. "Samira."

My body began to shake as I stepped back. 

"Do not worry." He sputtered, reaching for my hand. He grabbed it tightly in his hand and brought me close to him. "You are safe."

"I've never been able to do this before," I mumbled. "Not like this."

"Within you, I lay." He sniffled, his dark eyes full of tears. "My soul is yours. We are one. Of course, you can come back to this memory, given that it is mine, and what is mine is yours."

"What is going on?" I pleaded. "Please. I'm scared."

"I will leave Hogwarts tomorrow to return to Morocco. Before I leave, I will place this book in the library. I will enchant it so that no one can see it until you come." He explained. "You must go to the Chamber of Secrets. Binah will be waiting for you. It is of most importance that you do this, Samira."

"Your familiar?" I breathed. "Why is she there? Why did you leave without her?"

"It is so complicated." He sighed, rubbing his swollen face. "I do not wish to leave her. But I am in trouble as it is. Things are very dangerous here for me. I am afraid that if I do not vanish, Godric will have my head."

"So it's true." I gaped. "They wanted you dead."

He shook his head, gripping the green turban that donned him. "You don't understand. You won't for some time, I suppose."

I shook his shoulder. "Salazar. Please."

He gripped both of my hands in his and squeezed them tightly. "That merciless little boy is going to ruin everything I tried so hard to work for if you do not stop him."

"Who?" I cried, feeling his grip slowly slip from mine. "What boy?" 

"Tom Riddle." 

It was as though the scene in front of me rippled. Like a stone falling into a pond.

He smiled again, cupping my cheek with his palm. "You must go, Samira. Your professor is trying to bring you back."

"No!" I screamed. "Please!"

Then, I was back in my body, and Salazar was gone. I punched the table beneath me with both my fists, tears overwhelming my eyes again. "Fuck!" 

Snape looked afraid above me. "You were hyperventilating, choking. I had to wake you up. You better have information after that horrible scene."

I sniffled, rubbing the tears from my face. When I lifted my hand from my face, my eyebrows knitted together. There was something in my palm. I lifted my fingers to find a silver pendant attached to a long necklace. There was a basilisk on one side of the pendant, and on the other was Salazar's full name. Salazar Suleiman. I gaped, looking down at it. 

"Did he give you that?" Snape asked.

"His familiar is in the Chamber of Secrets," I whispered. "He said Voldemort is behind this. Voldemort is the reason this is happening..."

"A basilisk?" My professor whispered.

I lifted the necklace over my head. Snape's pointer finger traced over the indents of the silver. "The Dark Lord is using the basilisk to petrify Muggle-Borns..." 

"I have to find her," I stated. "He told me only I can do it. That she would be waiting for me."

Before Snape could respond, the door to his office was thrown open. Albus walked in with Minerva and Flitwick in tow. 

"Another student has been petrified." He breathed raggedly. "Granger." 

Later that evening, I kept to myself as much as possible. I knew Emmanuel was concerned for me, and Isadora wanted to spend time with me, but I needed to be able to sort through my thoughts without distraction. I was still reeling from having had spoken to Salazar. 

I sat in the common room, a book between my thighs. I had read the same page at least fifty times, nearly incapable of paying any attention. 

When I looked up, Snape had come inside, demanding the attention of all of the students who had been forced back here after what had happened to Hermione. 

"Given that whatever is harassing our students is still at large," Snape grimaced, "there are a new set of rules that we must follow."

The students groaned at this, and Snape sent them a look of warning. 

"All students will return to their common rooms by 6:00 every evening." He began to read. "All students will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No exceptions."

"This is rubbish!" Draco yelled out. "All because of a few stupid mud-bloods? Nothing will happen to a Slytherin. We are pure-bloods." 

A crowd of students cheered in agreement with Draco. I rolled my eyes.

"Quiet!" Snape bellowed. "If you do not listen to these rules, Hogwarts will be forced to close down until we deal with the problem. So, unless you would like to go home where you will be unable to practice magic for the rest of the term, I suggest you shut up and listen." 

This caused the students to calm, their mouths shut tightly. Before my Head of House turned to leave, his eyes lingered on me and then on the necklace I was fingering. It was then that he left, leaving me to my thoughts once more. 

"My father says it was Hagrid who opened the Chamber of Secrets." I heard Draco state. "Because he did it the last time."

"No way." Isadora squeaked. "Headmaster would never allow him to stay here if he did such a thing." 

"Dumbledore is a dunderhead." Draco spat at the girl. "That nasty old fool in his dingy little hut is the reason this is happening. You'll see."

Now, why would Draco Malfoy's father believe that Hagrid had anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets? 

[neerbear]

To celebrate reaching (over) 1k followers on here, I am opening up a DTIYS challenge!

PRIZES:

Fully shaded character half body

Fully shaded character bust

Flat colour character half body

HOW TO ENTER:

You have 2 options - you can either redraw the same pieces as me (the one above) OR you can choose EITHER (or both!) of these characters and ANY of their designs (see ref sheet below) and draw them in ANY pose + setting YOU want!! This DTIYS challenge is supposed to be as open/free as possible, so I suggest you go with the second option and let your imagination run wild!!

OUTFITS REF:

I'll have a quick bio about each character at the end of the post - so check that out as well to get inspo!

I will be reblogging ALL the entries I find! If I didn't reblog yours - feel free to DM me, I might have missed it.

RULES:

No tracing!

Absolutely NO AI (at all, in any shape or form)

Must follow me (if you post on multiple social medias, following me on just one of them is enough)

Use the #neerDTIYS and @ me!

Gore and nudity (nsfw included) are ALLOWED, just tag them properly so others can filter easily!

ABOUT THE CHARACTERS:

This is just for those that will be drawing from their own imagination (or just want to know more)!

Master Hua / Lin Meixiu

Former Goddess of War. In her human life, she used to be a general, who got gravely injured during war and decided to spend her last moments with the people, leading to her hearing how everyone was grieving losses or dying from injuries, cursing the war, the rich and the generals themselves. A strange man saved her - the (then) God of War - and appointed her as his disciple. She trained under him and after his demise, she became the new Goddess of War, with everyone praising her strength and intelligence. After the Great Heavenly War against the devils, Goddess Lin Meixiu concentrated on trying to protect peace, so no more wars would ever happen. Her companions, the other Gods, took in disciples after that, yet she was the only one who refused any disciple, stating that the best God of War is self-made and only by being strong enough to defeat her can anyone hope to replace her. This angered a student who desperately wanted to become her disciple, to the point where he'd train every day and challenge her every year - but he would always lose. He and his friend (who turned out to be the son of one of the devils she killed in war) hacked a plan to get rid of all the current Gods and replace them. Their plan was successful, and after watching all of her brethren die, Lin Meixiu was prepared to join them, but (because of her great inner strength) she survived, injured and weak. Instead of returning to the Heavens, she stayed in the mortal realm and lead a simple life there.

Xiao Shuilong / Guo Xifeng

Her true form is that of a dragon, but she has successfully cultivated a human form. When she was little, her dragon village faced a great disaster. The Heavens blamed the dragonfolk so they sent the Goddess of War to investigate and kill them. When she arrived, however, she quickly understood the situation and saved the dragons, instead. Before she left, she performed a dance for them, as a gift to the young hatchling of noble blood. The dragons then swore their undying loyalty to her. When Guo Xifeng grew up, she decided to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming the Goddess' disciple, so she headed to the heavens to sign up as a student. She won every competition and caught the eye of all the Gods, who allowed her to choose any God she wanted as her master (assuming that God agreed to it, as well). She instantly asked for Goddess Lin Meixiu, but was informed of her passing. During her moment of shock and horror, she was appointed as the disciple of the current God of War, instead. Every day, she would ask about her Goddess, but no one gave her a truthful answer about her passing. One day, long into her training, she overheard her teacher discussing the matter of Lin Meixiu's death, in which she found out the truth. In a fit of rage, she decided to avenge her Goddess by murdering the two Gods, but she was defeated and sent to the dungeons. There, the devil's son poisoned her with his demonic energy and she went mad, turning into her dragon form and destroying half of the place before being defeated again and sent crashing down to the mortal realm, heavily injured and with amnesia.

THEM

The injured dragon was found by a woman, who helped heal the dragon enough to give it a human form and drag it back to her home to further heal it. When the dragon lady woke up, it was obvious she had lost her memories. The strange woman introduced herself as an ordinary flower spirit named Hua. She named the dragon Xiao Shuilong, since she was found in the waters outside. Although Hua wanted to continue living her life, Xiao Shuilong was determined to retrieve her memories, so the two of them started investigating her origins. Every so often, the demonic energy in Xiao Shuilong's body overwhelms her, making her go crazy and turn into her dragon form - but Master Hua found that with dual cultivation, she is able to suppress demonic energy and bring Xiao Shuilong back to sanity. This might have heavy consequences later down the line... The rest you'll just have to read when the novel comes out 😉

[firespirited]

From yesterday. She loves to sit on the bench like a human and watch the world go by.

Today I got pretty sick so I'm going to have to not do much for the next few days let alone go out (the purpura are intense, I look like I took a spitting pan of grease to the face or measles or something. Also strained the neck injury which is visibly swollen and mighty sore)

I've listed the 9 vintage heads as a bundle and the Monster High bait on ebay (saffyruth)

but so long as there are no bids any dollblr folks can have the vintage head bundle for 8$ (aka free with tracked postage bubble envelope worldwide) or a $30 (aka the price of a kilo) box of dolls: monsters, various barbie/disney, stretch fabrics, fun yarn scraps for reroots, assorted accessories... (see suppi.net/bratz/recap.php for headshots) I'd be delighted to put together a custom package instead of listing stuff on ebay. If you're in the EU, 11€ for 3kilos of assorted doll junk. I'll empty the various drawers on to my bed: take photos and you can pick and choose.

Other stuff on ebay is available to be *added* to a just pay postage box, it's priced by how much it cost and the amount of work involved (glue treatments, bleaching and whatnot). I don't allow haggling once I've settled on an "ebay acceptable" price because the worth in time/effort and my minimum reveals itself. I know, the rules are weird. 😅 Reroots became more precious once I couldn't replicate that again, like sentimental value, I hope that makes sense.

Haven't posted much, had a lot to say but wasn't sure it was appropriate or would be properly understood. Not wording great lately. Having to do an overview of 2023 brought up some really interesting things about what I value and collect that need to be worded in a way that can't be misconstrued "so you hate waffles?"-style.

I've been grieving somewhat for a while and, well, it seems like everyone is going through it, so why add to dash sadness (at a time like this too)? But also had a bittersweet healing moment with mum and got to know my sister a little better as she's been coming on dog walks (Talia is hers, well it's more like she is Talias: chihuahuas bond to their chosen human, it's quite astonishing to witness) and my old lady-baby Lily is in better shape than ever. And some pondering about what kind of hobbyist I'd like to be if I can't use my arms again much this year (arm movements also include photos, editing and typing)

Ok off to sleep, see you in 12-14h. Love to all and special thoughts to everyone I'm seeing having a rough time of it. PS: Dms or emails re "doll clear out" will work much better than replies/reblogs.

[spookyserenades]

Questions and thoughts

So, rereading all the chapters some questions cane to mind. I really hope i remember all of them but if not then I'll just send another ask.

I need to know more about hybrid laws and hybrids in general in the world you created. What i gathered until now is that they can't walk without their version of collars and microchip (hybrid ID) and that's kinda the only thing that twigged as law to me. Oh and that they are not allowed to work. What are other laws? Also you'd think that if they were created with the intention of house pet that can talk, wouldn't they only create non-exotic hybrids? But i guess that the exotics are made with the purpose of entertaining the rich. As you said hunting them, maybe sexual desires? Or how Jin was in the circus.

Back to their adoption. Can i ask what everyone was thinking in a few words? Like they new they were going to that rich guy but boom random 23-24 year old girl pops in Hi I got you babes! I'd ask you if you could make a small drabble but I'm too impatient 🤣😭. I was thinking about it and I feel like JK probably thought Oh nice I'm not dying yet but I'm gonna go to a sex house yuhuu.

Scenting! From what I understood all hybrids do it. Please tell me it's not as sexual as the 7 of them make it out to be 😭 Not that i don't enjoy it because that is more hot than a sex scene in my opinion. But i can't imagine Daisy doing it😭😭😭

Let's say for the fun of it Hoseok gets together with Alice. He will want to scent her too. Will he stop scenting Y/N? Will she have to give him to Alice in documents and stuff?

Now relationship wise. Do you plan for them to have a poly relationship or more of a open relationship? Because I don't see any of the boys falling in love with each other but that might be just me.

And now a few random questions. How the fuck does JK get dressed with the antlers? How is Y/N so rich because i want to be rich too? How good is that hearing and smell of theirs because I'd be to anxious to have any bodily functions? (In moments like this it would be nice if girls actually pooped rainbows and farted roses ngl😭) Would it be alright after you finish this if i print it out and make it an actual book?

I think that's it right now... For sure i had more stuff to ask. I'll probably remember after i send this. I love this series a lot and idk if you are belive in shifting or not but I'll definitely try to shift to this world. You are amazing Dana and i can't wait to see what happens next ❤️

Oooh let me see if I can give you some answers (also, thank you for sending in your thoughts 🥺)

For the laws... In Trouvaille, adopted hybrids end up getting an ID card to indicate their adoption status, rather than a collar or a microchip. The only forms of legal "employment" is working with the National Parks, like Jimin, and being circus/zoo performers, like Seokjin. Everything else is a sort of under the table operation or even exploitation-- think Yoongi, his mother and he were favored by a nightclub owner and were permitted to live and work there prior to being adopted. Taehyung, on the other hand, was created and exploited at a logging plant for his labor. I haven't come up with any other laws within this universe, yet, but we'll see as time goes on if any more pop up 😉 As for the creation of exotic hybrids, in the past, they were seen as flashy companions to the rich. In the present, they're either adopted by elites who wish to hunt for sport, or because of their superior strength compared to, say, a rabbit hybrid, to be workhorses illegally. Third, for circuses/zoos, like Seokjin.

HA okay they were probably all mad confused when Y/N showed up to adopt them... I think distrustful would be a word that comes to mind for Jeongguk, Namjoon, and Taehyung. Seokjin was too weak to properly react, and grieving over the fact that he didn't know what happened to Hannah. Hoseok and Jimin were just relieved to get the fuck out of there LMAO... and Yoongi, we now know already knew Y/N, and was probably hoping she was just there for him. I'm CRYINGGGG you're so right about Jeongguk thinking something like that, like the world they live in, it would make sense for someone to adopt them all to abuse :(

Scenting: Definitely not an inherently sexual act like the boys made it with Y/N 💀 While most of them are oblivious to Y/N's deeper feelings towards them, they can most definitely smell her attraction to them, and I think that's what triggers them to become menaces... As for Daisy, I picture the way her scenting Ben/Roy as childish nips to the wrist, like a toddler biting her dads, essentially. 💜

Even if Hoseok was to become romantic with Alice, he wouldn't scent her. That act is reserved for adoptive guardians! I don't see Y/N ever giving him up, either, nor would Hoseok want to leave his home.

The relationship is like you said, kind of an open relationship sort of situation. It's sort of unconventional, but I think they'll end up making it work 🥺

fdjksafsd good question about Jeongguk and his shirts! He often wears button downs and concert tees with loose collars. I think after years of having those antlers of his, he's learned how to maneuver things like hoodies over them in a specific way. LMAO I know Y/N has that MONEY! I think her family is old money, her maternal grandfather started an unspecified company, and her dad was an innovator of hybrid cardiology surgery.... she was pretty much born into it 💀 Lucky girl!

Their sense of smell and hearing is excellent, but not God-tier! I think behind several closed doors and whatnot they wouldn't be able to hear someone blowing up the toilet, or smell it, even 😭💀

STOP that would be so adorable if you ended up printing Trouvaille out and making it into a book 🥺🥺 It's alright with me as long as I don't see it on Etsy bestie 😘 (also I'm blushing thank you sm I'm honored)

IIIII- me and my best friend talk about how we want to shift into Trouvaille, too. Let me know if you are ever able to do it successfully, bc I want in on that!

Sending you love and thank you for letting me hear your thoughts 💕💕

[mealvaan]

Shade

A'tari woke with a start from another nightmare that wasn't hers.

It was an immersion of her own undoing. The bard had learned to capture the precision and subtleties of sound, and she drowned in those sounds in her dreams. How vividly she could hear the rattle of gunfire, the roiling mass of clamouring voices, and the jaw-clenching scrape of metal on metal. The rest was an impressionist's painting of reality: swatches of sunset for the oldstone houses and the faces, baked red. The thick, sticky, serrated scent of sweat and smoke. The numb thud of shoulders and elbows into her sides, all piling on in her new sense of gravity. The taste of blossoming, sour iron in her mouth. Flames of hair licking at the tops of her vision.

A'tari found herself sprawled out in the bed on her own. A rustling shift of the sheets and a turn of her head revealed Urianger at the desk, poring through dense text.

"Didn't get a good sleep either, huh?" A'tari asked him, sitting up in their sheets.

"I fear it shall not come to pass. Not tonight." Urianger closed his book. His features outlined nicely in candlelight, orange blooming in the little hairs of his beard and lashes. He beheld A'tari, bundled in blankets, with a knowing and tired sympathy. "Pray tell, whose visions plagueth thee?"

"Fordola rem Lupis."

Perhaps it was the woman's resonant that allowed so many of her nightmares to seep into the folds of A'tari's mind. It was difficult for A'tari to not give the Butcher grace the moment she showed an inkling of change; the Echo had slipped Fordola's hands on hers like gloves and forced her to watch them defend herself, to kill. It was difficult to truly know which of her thoughts about Fordola were really hers: the pity, the hatred, the hope, the lot.

But how many others had she come to inherit the nightmares of, long after they passed? She saw the young, prepubescent face of Asahi sas Brutus, which was tinted with hatred even back then. She heard the chime of Meteion's, "How are you feeling?" and the smothering silence that followed. She felt sand nicking at the wounds in her aether-thinned skin as the rattle of the serpent hastened from one ear to the next, before she lost consciousness in the desert sheets.

"Alas, hers is a plentiful spring from which thy shadows sup," said Urianger, breaking her spiral of thought.

"And what about you? How did the star end this time?"

"'Twas the black rose that blossomed once more."

"What a pair we make. One tortured by others' pasts, one suffering from apocalyptic futures."

Urianger smiled in dry amusement.

"In truth, I would not trade my vocation for any other. To be without the gift of prophecy is to be without the gift of thee."

A'tari brushed her thumbs over her knees, a simper hidden behind her perching duvet.

"You aren't tired of seeing me die over and over? I'm tired of it, and half the time all I see are dead strangers. People I didn't even really know… People I don't have the right to grieve. Yet, I do. Still."

"'Tis merely a vision, and for that I am well glad. Were I to forsake the art of prophecy, the worst of my visions shall come to bear." Urianger shifted his chair around entirely, facing A'tari properly. "The nightmares compel thy heroism — thy desire to savest those who may yet be saved."

"Maybe."

A'tari never thought of it that way. It was easy for Urianger to find the silver lining. He sought to intimately understand the worst so he was motivated to strive for the best, every time.

A'tari was not so resilient. A'tari wanted a good night's rest, without the heavy mantle of everyone's struggles on her shoulders. Why couldn't she just take it, the way Urianger did every time he delved somewhere strange, alone, and came back the same? Him — lovely, kind him.

Urianger stood and drifted across the room. His finger caught a tear on the apex of her lash, and she hadn't realised she was crying.

"My burden is fear, as is the burden of spokenkind in its entire. 'Tis no different from reading hypotheses. Thy burden art beyond mine own, A'tari. Thou hast seen the myriad horrors of the star, in the very flesh thou hast cut down again and again. Such visions of the past cannot be changed. Were I plagued with thy gift and affliction alike…"

"What would you do?"

"I would seclude myself to the farthest reaches of the star, and hope that in so doing, I would be full rid of the possibility that a vision might find me. Were I braver, were I stronger, mayhaps I would allow for a single companion. Yet thou claimest companionship in every breath, A'tari."

A'tari gleamed watery-eyed at Urianger. In a blink, her arms were wrapped around his hips, and her cheek pressed against his sternum.

Urianger wrapped his arms around her, one across her shoulder blades both, and the other stroking her hair. She didn't cry, but this was close, and he allowed for the mourning silence indefinitely.

"I'm going to try to get back to sleep," she said eventually, gratitude woven into the levity of her voice.

"Fare thee well." Urianger turned away, towards the desk — until A'tari grabbed his hand.

"Come try with me?"

Though the tome he was reading called, he forgot it in a heartbeat.

[gay-celestial-being]

i’m still not over the supernatural ending so i will make it everyone’s problem. so just a friendly reminder that the one thing dean truly wanted was just a normal life. he wanted to own a bar, have a dog, get drinks with his friends and just love and be loved especially by cas. all he wanted was to live peacefully. and he never thought that he’d get the chance to do that so he didn’t even allow himself to dream about it properly, no, he made peace with constant discomfort, restlessness and pain. so much so that it was all he knew, all he felt. going out in a blaze of glory was the only option he saw for himself. and still deep in his heart he always had that tiny spark of hope that wouldn’t be smothered. that maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to go that way. that there might be the smallest chance of him finally finding peace. but no, he didn’t get his happy ending. and apparently we are supposed to believe that he was just totally fine with that. that the man who had previously grieved the angel in such an intense way, that everyone knows what i’m talking about when i mention the widower!arc, just wasn’t really all that affected by cas’ death?? he just went on and happily ate pie? and the he died? and it was fine? dean winchester deserved peace he earned it! he went to hell and back and he suffered and he lost and he kept on trying but it wasn’t enough? so yea anyway i wish everyone a good day except for the spn writers, they can go to hell.

[romanear]

Dear Reader,

It’s been a while, and right now? I feel nauseous. Sort of like I’ve been empty forever, and I didn’t know until now. It was like I had been lying to myself for years to the point I didn’t even notice it. I have been feeling sort of- gross for the past week. I’ve been unsettled and I wasn’t really sure why until I actually sat down and processed what I had been digesting online for the past week or so.

As anyone who knows me- I have always struggled with love. Either I love too hard, and most of the time it wasn’t earned, or I can’t even bring myself to at all. Even when I do let myself love, I have so much self-protection I can’t even properly show them, I’m just closed off, which I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned, yet it’s been so long since my first post I’m not quite sure anymore.

A point here, is I thought I knew who I was, but having to be alone for as long as I have been- everything is lost to me. I don’t even know who I am, I’ve noticed things about me that break my heart. I can’t love unless it's an obsession, and I can’t be loved. I somehow won’t allow it. I don’t trust anyone, to the point I can’t even trust God himself like I wish to because I somehow feel like I’m not worth that the one person who would never betray me- won’t betray me? Like I’m not good enough for anyone to truly love me. Which I know is something that just isn’t true. No one deserves more or less love than the next person.

Even still, despite knowing I’m not a hideous person, despite friends, family, coworkers telling me how pretty I am, I just can’t believe them. I somehow just don’t think that if I actually loved someone, that they wouldn’t immediately pick any other option. I know some of this stems from my inability to understand or communicate with others. I’m not the kind of person that can just pretend to be interested in someone, or who can just talk about the weather. I’m not the kind of person that can just exist to exist. I feel immensely, I feel to the point it overwhelms me. That means when I love, I love until I can’t anymore. When I feel sadness, I grieve as though I’ve lost everything. On the rare occasion that I’m angry, it’s not something that is easily able to be forgotten, yet I will forgive with all the strength God has given me to do so.

This sort of thing has always been something I admired in myself, because I believe that loving hard is a rare trait nowadays, and knowing that a lot of my love comes from Jesus, it makes it seem like something I can’t live without, that I don’t want to. Yet, nowadays it seems so misplaced. It seems that no matter who I give my love to- whether it be someone I have feelings for, someone I just want to have in my life, or just- as a way to protect myself- someone famous that I can put that energy into, that I can have hope for without having to ever meet them, something happens and I see their true colors. Sure, not always evil, or bad, but something that I know I would never be able to really give the world, or just that one person, values that I just can’t have.

You see, due to a lot of my issues, I’m not a very.. Sexual person. I have my moments sure, but even before I decided that I wanted to be patient for religious reasons, I’ve never been able to open up to people like that. It actually gave me such immense anxiety to think about showing someone a part of myself such as that. Now, I’m not too worried about how it affects others, but for a while it really bothered me. It was like my fear somehow made me unworthy of being loved, because everyone did it, I was somehow not human enough for not wanting to just- be- with anyone. It was a big reason that I'm only just now finding myself in that regard.

Still having discovered what it was I want, I still struggle with that sort of thing, of trusting anyone in that regard. As stated before, I’m not an ugly woman [ not that I believe anyone is ], and body wise- I've been told a lot I’m attractive. Yet, all those comments, I’ve never been able to care about any of that. I’ve always found myself searching for the soul in others. I’ve always wanted to find someone because of who they are, and I’ve never been one to care what others looked like- half the time I couldn’t even tell you a basic physical attribute about someone unless I was practically in love with them. Maybe that sounds self centered, but it’s not. For me, it was always how they made me feel. If I felt loved, or safe. That’s the only way I could even want to be that way with someone.

That way of loving is great, and I’m never going to feel bad for that being how I view things. It’s always been that way for me, my soul over my body. The problem was, it’s never been that way TOWARD me. For a while that was okay. I liked being alone, and I sort of still do, not having to worry about if someone was willing to be patient enough with me, or if they actually liked me, not just the outside version of me that’s not even going to last past death.

Especially as a single woman in her twenties with these issues, one who has left and returned to the dating market multiple times, it can be very disheartening to be unsure, at least for me. It is also very disheartening when you discover how you can’t even truly see someone’s soul, and the ones you choose to trust, or you choose to let affect you- are the very thing you were trying to avoid. It puts you right back at the beginning, because if you can’t even trust your own judgment, who can you trust at all? Especially when the most disheartening thing of all is that no matter where you look- you are told that if you can’t open up to someone sexually on the first date, you aren’t worth the time. Ignore it all you can, like I’ve attempted to, but it still chips away at you.

I was told that God will not put it on your heart so strongly if he didn’t plan on providing you with it, and I’ve held on to that for so long. I held on to it because I have always been someone in love with the idea of romance and love since I knew what it was. I’ve also always been a very imaginative person, and I certainly did daydream about it as much as my young mind could allow. It just seems though that this world doesn’t enjoy the idea of love anymore.

And, listen, it’s not like I’m indifferent to sex, it’s not like I’ve never experienced it, that I wouldn’t like to experience it again. It’s just never been my main concern, nor is it even in my top five. It’s simply the icing on the cake, but I’d rather enjoy the cake, if you understand what I mean.

At this point, I’m not even really sure what I’m talking about. I just needed to get this all off of my chest. Even if I don’t see the appeal of myself- I feel too loud, too fat, too not really normal or pretty enough- I want to get to that point. I want to love myself and others, and get back to enjoying love like I used to. It’s hard in today’s world, because as I would rather be told that someone enjoys my company, I am instead told that my ass looks good in the pants I wear to work. Or instead of saying I look kind, I get told I look fuckable. Instead of being told you thought about me while seeing something on the shelf at the store I might enjoy, I get told you thought about screwing me in your dream while our friends watched. Instead of flowers, I get groped. It’s not that I hate sex, as stated before, but it’s really hard to enjoy it when you're nothing but a body to them, one that sometimes they don’t even respect enough, and that is something that has been eating at me forever now. I can’t be just a situationship or a hookup. I’ve done it, it only left me empty, and I definetly can’t be the girlfriend of someone who doesn’t like the parts of me that make me me.

It’s why I hide myself away in fiction, in stories, because there you can control the narrative, you can give yourself the love you value and you can show others the love you are looking for. It’s sort of a messed up way to look at it, but if it means I hold on to some sort of hope love is still out there, then so be it. I know it’s still out there, because I still love.

Overall, the oversexualization nowadays has just been difficult for me to process. If you’ve read some of my poems [ doubtful as I really don’t promote the book, but it is on Amazon still ], you’ll know that I am supportive of what others do with their bodies, and how they choose to express love, I just sort of wish I was able to do the same, because then it would all somehow be easier. I know deep down though that it wouldn’t really make me happier. Not unless it was who I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I know it’s okay to feel that way, but it sometimes feels like I’m the only one.

Anyway, this sort of got away from me and turned into some sort of pity post. I don’t want it to feel that way, because conflicting and hard emotions are normal, and someone expressing them is perfectly fine. In fact to me- encouraged. I want people to know my mind and my spirit, for someone to love it, and I want to be able to return that to others. That’s always been the intimacy I seek, and even with the sickness I feel from the things I’ve heard and seen from this world, I’m going to continue to try to find that. Hopefully, my poetic, and somewhat really annoying nature- isn’t annoying to someone eventually.

So anyway, that’s what has been weighing on me lately, and that’s what I had to get off my chest. If you’ve actually read this, thanks! As it’s just a random woman’s thoughts about things she can’t control. Much love, and know that your thoughts, heart and soul matter, and you should always be able to express them without judgment, as long as your not purposely hurting others with them of course.

love, romanear