#and I understand people still finding them off-putting. however I also think people should open their mind when they can

[sage-nebula]

This has been spinning around in my head since I watched season 2 arc 1, and I can't refrain from putting it down to post anymore.

In season 1, Jayce and Viktor get into a fight when Viktor evades the blockade to go speak to Singed in Zaun. During their fight, Jayce snaps at Viktor that he didn't know that Viktor's friend was from the undercity, and when Viktor asks why that matters, Jayce says the above: [people from the undercity] are dangerous (earlier he had also said, "there are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us!"). That's when Viktor grows cold, reminding Jayce that he is from the undercity, and even after Jayce apologizes, Viktor knocks his hand away, choosing to stand up on his own.

In season 2, chembarons hired by Ambessa (though no one knows that at the time) attack the memorial for the dead council members. In the aftermath, Caitlyn calls them animals. Notably, Vi shows no reaction at all to this; she doesn't so much as flinch at Caitlyn's word choice. Instead, while she does downplay what happened to an extent ("they wanted the spectacle, they're trying to scare you"), what's notable is that she separates herself from the people of Zaun. This is especially notable when she tells Caitlyn to call off the invasion, because of the risk it poses for those not from Zaun:

"Down there, you'll be on their terms."

Viktor seems to have pride in the fact that he is from Zaun. He has love for his home. As difficult as life was there, as much as the pollution led to his illness and disability, he has no shame that he's from Zaun and he still sees value and has love for the people there. This is why, when Jayce writes the Zaunites off as "dangerous", Viktor grows cold. He is no different from them, in his mind; if they're dangerous, then so is he.

Vi is . . . different.

In season 1 arc 1, Vi expresses to Vander that she has bought into and believes that those in Piltover are more than those in Zaun:

Now, here, Vi is still grouping herself in with the rest of Zaun. But there is a level of self-hatred (and hatred for one's home) that we don't see in Viktor. Viktor doesn't see himself as lesser than those in Piltover. He doesn't see the Zaunites as lesser than those in Piltover. Vi, however, does. She states this as if it is a fact. And while she loved her family, and has parts of Zaun that she likes (e.g. Jericho's food), it's worth noting that at the end of season 1 episode 1, she isn't telling Powder that they'll liberate Zaun, or fight for Zaun, or anything like that. Instead?

"This city's gonna respect us." This city. Not our city. Here is the first moment we see in which Vi puts some separation between herself and the rest of Zaun. She wants to make them respect her (and Powder). Even if she's less than those in Piltover, she still sees an opportunity for herself to be above those in Zaun.

All of this is to say that, when she has no reaction to Caitlyn calling Zaunites "animals", when she refers to them as "they," when she refers to Zaun as "their terms" . . . ultimately, it isn't too surprising. Vi represents a type of person who does exist in marginalized groups: the self-hating type, who hate others in their group for "drawing aggression" or "negative attention."

Think about queer people, for instance, who hate those who are flamboyant or open about who they are and who they love. The ones who think, "If we just assimilate more, be less of a bother, be less obnoxious, then the queerphobes will accept us." Obviously, other queer people find this type of person extremely frustrating, sometimes even infuriating, because we know that it doesn't matter what we do or how we act; bigots will never accept us.

But what we should understand, and extend compassion for, is that self-hating marginalized people are that way because it's a defense mechanism -- a survival mechanism, really. They can't square why bigots hate them, so they reach for any kind of explanation they can find, even if that explanation ultimately blames others in their own group and does more harm than good. Not to mention that hating yourself for who you are is often a result of long-term, systemic abuse -- the exact same kind of abuse that comes from living under an oppressive regime that murdered your parents and will assault you at any given opportunity, even for something as petty as your little sister miming shooting them with finger guns.

Vi says that she, "grew up knowing [she] was less than them." This is extraordinarily damaging to the psyche, and Vi's self-hatred -- and the extension of that hatred toward Zaun, not wanting to save them but wanting to make them respect her -- is a trauma response to that. One that Viktor, obviously, doesn't share (and neither does Ekko, or Jinx) -- but everyone reacts to trauma differently.

The point is, we saw shades of this already in Vi's childhood; her statement that she's less than topsiders, but that she wants those in the undercity to respect her. So when Caitlyn calls the Zaunites animals, Vi doesn't flinch. She agrees. And she speaks of them as separate from her, because Caitlyn has already designated her as one of the good ones (reinforced to her by what Maddie told her Caitlyn said right before the memorial), and because, well, those who attacked the memorial did do something horrible. And maybe if they wouldn't do that, and maybe if Jinx hadn't blown up the council building -- maybe if they were better behaved -- then the enforcers wouldn't have to invade and do what they were about to do, now would they? Those in Zaun -- or at least those in Zaun who decided to strike against Piltover -- brought it on themselves, so Vi isn't with them. She's with Caitlyn, and is okay with referring to them as animals.

It's interesting to think about.

[radioactive-dragonlover]

I don't understand people who doesn't like bugs. Imagine not taking part in the joy of going outside and seeing a million different little guys crawling and flying around...

[adventuringblind]

Daddy Issues Part 2

Max Verstappen X Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Requested: No, but I'm in a writing mood, so I'm taking requests for Max and Charles. *Silently begs for people to not be shy*

Summary: Jos may have been dealt with for now, but parental issues for the two lovers are far from it.

Warnings: DADDY ISSUES... again, mentions of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, not proofread (I don't even proofread my college papers), Jos is a warning himself

Notes: This part is written in the second person perspective because it's more geared toward the readers' struggles. Jos does make a reappearance. At this point, it's completely self-indlugent. I'm writing from similar experiences, so please be gracious.

Also, I posted things about a novel I'm currently working on. If you have a chance, please give it a look! You can find it on my masterlist.

Masterlist // Part one // Part three

You were naïve to think that your troubles would be over after the interaction with Jos.

The air around you and Max had become significantly lighter. Max even opened up about things to his friends and was able to smile more during races.

You loved watching him. The light in his eyes even when coming in second or third.

You thought maybe the two of you would be able to heal and move forward. Max had been thriving the last six months. Both physically and mentally because of the steps he'd been taking to get there.

However, you had a different story. While Max had been able to cut off contact with Jos, you had your dad to deal with still.

Thankfully, your dad was good at putting on his best performance around people. It was the reason very few people had the privilege of understanding your relationship with your family.

You'd wanted to cut him off originally, but you couldn't because you still felt the underlying need to please him. Your mom is in a similar situation, and your sibling(s) who still had yet to be able to make that choice.

You hadn't told Max yet. Things had gotten worse for you recently. You didn't want to ruin his current state of joy.

A people pleaser by heart.

So you hid that part away and put on your best face as you basked in Max's smiles. The warmth of them helping you mask yourself.

Until it started to fall apart.

The first encounter was once again with Jos. You found him in hospitality during a race. Immediately getting defensive and ready to call security.

That was until you noticed him having a conversation with your father. The two seeming to have a lively discussion.

Then they noticed you. Hand beckoning you to come closer.

Cautiously, you approached the table. Choosing not to take a seat and standing at the end instead.

"Good to see you again! I hope you haven't missed me too much since we last spoke." Jos' voice sounded like sandpaper in your ears. The bruise on your cheek had long since healed, but being near him brought back the stinging feeling of his hand.

"I hadn't realized you both were coming." Your voice came out shakily. Fingers crossed that they didn't catch on to your ever-growing anxiety.

"Jos managed to get passes and invited me to come along. Since you and Max are close he figured we should be too." Your father explained. "Though I'm shocked they didn't come from Max himself."

You tried hard not to grimace. The realization that you might have to explain why doing nothing to help your panic creeping in slowly.

"I bet if you were as successful as Max, you wouldn't need him to give us the passes." Your father laughs in your direction.

"What is it you do again?" Jos suddenly turning towards you. A hint of a smirk on his lips.

"I'm in psychology."

"No wonder you need Max's money."

"Bet she has Max hypnotized with her knowledge of the brain or something."

The two were cracking up now. Laughing at your expense.

Your dad calmed down a moment. Breathing deeply to get his breath back. His face became neutral again, noticing the obvious frown you now dawned. "It was a joke, Y/N. There's no need to get upset. Max isn't going to be able to handle you eventually if you don't get thicker skin.

You'd had enough. Not wanting to cry in front of everyone, you turn to head back to the garage. Maybe even to hide in Max's driver room for a moment.

Though you didn't get far before a hand caught your wrist. "Stop ignoring me. It's disrespectful, and I am still your father." You didn't turn around. Didn't want him to see you cry. "I have you a life that was better than mine. My father would have never even tried. Yet, you still don't listen to me. Get your act together soon, please."

To outsiders, he sounded sincere. You, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing.

Yanking your hand back, you continue walking without giving the two older men a second glance.

If you were home, you would lock yourself in your room til he threatened to take your door. Then, you would shower and hide in the bathroom. If that didn't work, you would try to look productive and cry silently so he couldn't be mad at you for doing such an action as letting the tears roll. He thinks it's over dramatic.

Somtimes he would take to slamming things around. Doors, chairs, his phone, things in his room, not at you but purposely loud.

It didn't matter how hard you worked, it would never be enough. This is how you and Max are able to understand each other. You knew exactly what the other needed because both of you have lived this.

As soon as the race was over, you went to celebrate Max and his victory. The moment was joyful for him. Making a mental note to tell him what happened earlier, you decided now definitely wasn't the time.

Neither was when you got back to your hotel room after celebrating. Or when you took a phone call from your dad with more lovely words that made you feel disgusting in your own skin. Or the plane ride back to Monaco. Or when you got home and immediately went to shower because your entire body felt like it was dirty from nothing but your dad and Jos harassing you.

You didn't tell your mom either, she had enough things to deal with. You didn't tell anyone for that matter.

Max had caught on when he noticed you weren't sleeping. When you weren't eating. When you started apologizing excessively. Habits he thought he broke when he was able to get you to move in with him through constant reassurance.

Now, you were moving backward while he was moving forward.

Then he put the pieces together. He only wished he saw it sooner. Could've stopped what happened before it was pulled like a ruug out from under him.

You had flown home to see your sibling(s) for a week. You missed them dearly and wanted to spend time with them while Max was away.

It had started smoothly, your dad being civil with you, a few sarcastic remarks thrown around here and there, but nothing too bad.

He was trying to convince you to come back home, where you belonged. You kept brushing him off, telling him you're happy where you are now.

It only got worse from there. Your father and Jos had gotten closer over time. He had coincidentally come knocking at the door while you were there. He said he was in the area and wanted to say hello.

Your sibling(s) had tried to get you out of the house, but you only said it would make things worse. It earned you some feelings of sadness, but they left you to converse regardless.

The four of you sat in the living room. Your mom and you mostly listen to the two men catching up.

Then your mom left to make dinner. You stood up with the intention of following before being stopped by the pair.

"Jos tells me Max has been ignoring him."

Your tempted to roll your eyes but refrain in case he's paying close attention.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me the reason behind it. Have you been filling his head with lies about our exchange awhile back?" Jos' smirk makes you want to hit him. Again you refrain, knowing that he can and will hurt you if you're out of line.

"He saw why happened." You state. Making a move to hold your ground.

"He hears what you said as he came inside. He fell for the obvious manipulation. I can't believe you even blamed the bruise on me." He fakes a look of offense.

Your father shakes his head on disgust. Your body goes rigid. Voices begin sounding like they're underwater. You hang your head in defeat as they continue to accuse you of things you would never do.

"Stop it!" You snapped. Something in you breaking loose.

In seconds, a cup was shattered against the wall, and your face was burning with the sting of someone's palm.

You know you had to leave. The adrenaline from your flight response is kicking in.

So you ran, grabbing what you could and quickly exiting the house. Your mom is doing her best to keep her distance from your dad while he throws his temper tantrum and Jos convincing him that I am an entitled brat.

You definitely didn't have all your stuff, but it didn't matter. You called an Uber and found your way back to the airport. Finding and flight back to Monaco you could.

You received a few texts from your dad before blocking him and called the rest of your family to apologize for your behavior and say you'd wished you'd had more time.

Then you called Max. You hand messaged him back since mid-morning and he was starting to get concerned.

"Hello Lovely, is everything alright? I haven't heard much from you today?" His cheery voice made your smile just a little.

"Yes, but I'm coming home early. I'm on an early flight back home." Your voice is on the verge of breaking. You send a silent prayer that he doesn't catch one.

You hear his phone buzzing with notifications. "How were things at the factory?" You ask, making an attempt to change the subject.

"Is was alright, did some marketing and PR things today. Daniel says Hello." He chuckles. "My dad has been texting me though, which is odd."

You hear him sigh deeply. "Are you sure you're okay? Because he's trying to convince me of things I know aren't true."

"Your dad was there visiting mine coincidentally." The damage holding back your tears was coming loose. "I messed everything up again."

"Mijn liefje, you did nothing of the sort." His voice once again had that gentle tone. One that made you feel safe. "I'm not sure how fast I can he back in Monaco, but I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

By the time you had landed, it was early in the morning. You considered just waiting in the airport until it was brighter and then walking home since Max was still in Austria. So, the text that came from Lando that he was coming to get you was a bit of a shock.

You were relieved when he pulled in. Satey once again within your reach.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"No worries, Max called and asked if I could. Said it was a bit on an emergency but didn't say what happened." He smiled at you, trying to get you to become less defensive.

You hadn't realized how tense you still were. Your body is still trying to shrink in on itself.

You attempted small talk until he pulled into up to the apartment. "Thanks again for the ride." Then you rushed inside as fast as possible.

The floor became your best friend. Everything after opening the door became blurry.

When you woke up later on the bathroom floor with Max's sweatshirt as your pillow, you had no idea how it happened.

Texts from Max and Lando lined your notification wall. Your body too heavy to move however, you resigned to back to the comfort of the floor and the comforting smell of Max.

The next time you woke up, you heard keys jingling in the door.

You curled into yourself. Hiding from the inevitably of confronting what happened only a day earlier.

"Love, are you here? I'm home!"

You wanted to crawl to him. Seek comfort in his arms. But your own mind was stopping you. Replaying everything that they said about you.

You heard him drop his bags and begin his search. Bedroom, kitchen, office, terrace, then finally bathroom. He knew he should have checked their first. The bathroom had always been your safe space. He often found you just sitting in the empty bathtub if life felt overwhelming.

He peeked around the corner, his face instantly softening at the sight of you.

Neither of you said anything as he crouched down next to you. Unsure the extent of what happened, he refrained from touching you.

"Can I hug you?" His voice almost a whisper. As if speaking any louder would shatter you like that glass your dad had thrown as you made your escape.

You slowly nod yes but make no effort to move. You end up not having to as Max pulls you into his arms. Your body draped over his lap.

You felt so small in this moment, with his hand caressing the back of your head.

The dam broke. A hard sob wracked your body. Wailing into Max's chest.

"You're safe now, I got you." He whispered. His hold unrelenting until the tears were able to slow.

"I'm so sorry." Your voice muffled from his chest. "You were so happy I didn't want to ruin it, so I didn't tell you."

"I'm happiest when I know you are also doing well. You can't ruin that for me. I love you too much to see you like this." He pulled your face back, his soft eyes meeting yours.

He was finally able to take in the bruise on your cheek. Once again, not able to stop the unrelenting force of your fathers misdemeanors against you both.

He was angry, you could tell. You saw the rage flash through his eyes.

Knowing that's not what you needed right now, though, he softened again. "Who did this to you love?"

You began rapidly shaking your head no. Not wanting to relive it and not wanting to make things more difficult for him. "I can't-" you started.

"It's my job to make sure you're safe because I love you. It's not going to be an inconvenience." He always knew what to say.

"Jos." Was all you could muster before you were crying into his shoulder again.

You told him everything. All the events in the past few months. Every awful word spoken towards you. How he understood you, you have no idea.

The two of you stayed like that until you fell asleep in Max's arms. Knowing you couldn't stay here forever, he brought you to the bed and tucked you in. His lips on your forehead the last sensation before you were completely lost to your subconscious.

MAX'S POV

Everything about the situation made him want to break down. He thought he would finally be able to move on. He did, kind of, but left you behind in the process.

He knew something was wrong but didn't want to force you to open up. You needed to process things longer and came to him when you were ready.

This situation affected you differently though. Your response to your father had always been inward. Taught from a young age just to take it and nit talk about it. Convinced that you shouldn't paint your home life as bad because you had a roof over your head and food on your table.

He understands, though his reactions are different. Often not understanding that something was wrong and just talking about it like it was normal.

Daniel was the first to question, and you were the first to get him like nobody else.

You broke eachothers bad habits you'd learned from years of toxicity. Started learning better communication. Working through things and understanding eachothers responses.

He could never thank you enough for your help with his dad. Standing up for him despite the physical altercation was brave. He knew it was hard for you but you loved him enough to do it anyways.

Now, it was his turn to help you through this. He didn't care how long it took.

The bruise on your cheek only sparked a fire in him. He was tired of the hurt your fathers were causing. He knew now that both of you deserved better.

So, he would help it get better.

[idyllic-affections]

since you write for demon slayer i was wondering if you could write about the reader being tengen’s tsuguko and their mentor/mentee relationship (personally i think he’d be tough on them but care deep down. maybe touching on the entertainment district arc? thank you <3

being the sound hashira's tsuguko.

summary. what is it like being tengen uzui's student?

trigger & content warnings. mild depictions of injury, limb loss, voluntarily consuming poison, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. found family-ish, fluff, slight angst towards the end. tengen uzui (and his wives) & reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. i took this request and RAN with it, i love mentor/mentee requests for any fandom but especially for demon slayer.... the age was unspecified in this req, so i personally imaged tsuguko!reader being around tanjiro's age, however i left it pretty ambiguous so anyone can imagine it however they want. i also decided not to touch too deeply on the entertainment district arc, since this is only a headcanon post, but i'm totally cool with writing an actual fic about it! just shoot me another request if that's something you'd like to see <3

tengen is definitely a very tough mentor, and he doesn't get the opportunity to train many tsugukos because of this. he's hard on his students. he's a demanding mentor, though at the very least, he lays out his expectations clearly. he knows exactly what he wants he students to know.

the lower ranked demon slayers have favored hashira, ones they would prefer to train under if they were ever given the chance to. tengen is not really one of those favored potential mentors. preferred mentors would be people like kyojuro or mitsuri. that isn't to say any other hashira would be any less tough on their tsugukos than tengen is, but the sound hashira supposes those two come off as kinder than he does.

of course, it should be made very clear that he's hard on his students not because he gets some kind of sadistic pleasure out of watching them struggle, but because he wants them to survive.

his training is just downright difficult. it's all in the spirit of survival, though.

a tsuguko of his would have a lot of things expected of them.

his student is expected to build poison resistance by microdosing themselves day after day.

his student is expected to have a certain amount of stamina.

they're expected to be stealthy.

they're expected to be able to make split-second decisions.

simply put, it's... a lot.

generally, anyone who trains under him quits shortly after beginning, so they don't really get to know him. they don't get to understand why he does what he does. they miss the opportunity to really understand him. the one exception would be his current tsuguko, [name].

he cares very deeply for the one tsuguko that did stick around!

tbh, he's pretty open about that fact, especially when he's alone with them and his wives! he's not secretive about caring for them.

he expects them to prioritize their own life. it is something that other demon slayers might not agree with, something that others find "selfish" and "cruel."

tengen does not see it that way.

he's seen that self-sacrificial, "give everything up for the mission" ideology tear people apart. he's seen it tear his blood family apart. he'd be damned if he let it tear his chosen family apart.

"because you are very dear to me," he'd say, placing a firm hand on their head and ruffling their hair fondly, "i expect you to value your life above all others. the mission is not worth your life. you protect yourself, you protect others, and you get the hell out of there if you can't handle it. you come back to me, to us. you got that?"

i personally think he'd treat his tsuguko like his kid if they're sixteen or under. yeah, he's only in his early 20s. so what? that's his kid. if they're above that age, he treats them like a precious younger sibling. if they happen to be older than him? he does not care. that's still his younger sibling.

regardless of their age, his tsuguko is a part of his little family.

no demon will ever lay their hands on his family and get away with it. he will not allow it.

if they get injured on a mission and they're recovering at the butterfly estate, my man is at their bedside in an instant. he probably yells at them because how dare they worry him?? where did they get the audacity??? tengen eventually gets over it and admits that he's glad they're alright. his wives also come to visit them when they have the time!!

now, as for the entertainment district...

i think that mission would be very mentally taxing (and of course physically taxing, but let's focus more on the stress and panic for now).

seeing tengen lose his arm like that, thinking he was dead... god, it would terrify them. they have grown to see him as strong and infallible, so to see him so weak and broken would be genuinely horrifying.

they'd cry tbh

good luck to gyutaro, though. bro is at the mercy of their rage. having learned from tengen, i wholeheartedly believe that his tsuguko would be able to hold their own against the demon for at least a little bit. long enough for tengen to recover, long enough for everything to go according to plan.

but, of course... tengen does retire in the end.

well.

the whole point of having a tsuguko is to have someone reliable to succeed their respective mentor, right?

tengen loves his tsuguko.

he knows they're capable enough.

he wouldn't want anyone else taking his place <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[gallavichsreddie1128]

One Touch (Hannibal Lecter)

Description: Y/N’s drops her cousin off at her therapy session only to find that her therapist is her soulmate.

Word Count: 616

Request:

Heyyyy,

I love your stories, especially the latest ones.❤️ Could you please write a soulmate au with Hannibal next? People can‘t see colour until they had touched their soulmate. The reader is an FBI agent and dropped off her cousin at Hannibal‘s office for therapy and when get‘s introduced to Dr.Lecter. After shaking hands their world is suddenly full of colour, but she runs out of his office, because she is not fond of the idea of a soulmate&is running late for work. Hannibal later sees her on a case, talking to the team and starts envying them.After talking however, they clarify stuff and the reader makes it up to Hannibal. (smut with dom! Hannibal?)

Y/N saw black and white her entire life. At first she was saddened by it because everyone around her saw colors but she never did. Her cousin who had been seeing a therapist asked her for a ride. Her cousin also still saw black and white but cared more than Y/N did. She hated that she still hadn’t found her soulmate. Y/N felt bad for her and wished her the best. “You should come in and meet him.” Y/C/N suggested.

Y/N was never a people person so she wanted to complain but decided against it. She got out of the car and stared in awe at the big house that was his. “I know it’s crazy. He’s rich!” Y/N could have guessed that. They walked up to the door and knocked. “You should have knocked he might not have heard-” But the door opened before she could finish her sentence. A handsome man in his late 40’s opened the door. Y/N stared at him as he greeted them and asked Y/C/N who she was. “This is Y/N.” She said. “Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Hannibal.” He put out his hand for her to shake.

It was like slow motion as she reached up and grabbed his hand to shake. She felt the world stop and everything around them disappeared. It seemed he thought the same as they both for the first time in their lives saw color. Y/C/N saw the reaction but didn’t know what was going on. “Well it was nice meeting you.” She said and ran back to her car. “You’re going to pick me up right?” Y/C/N yelled and Y/N nodded.

Hannibal was in awe at the woman who made him see colors.  He snapped out of his thoughts and invited Y/C/N in. Y/N sat in her car and just thought. Her cousin’s therapist was her soulmate? What are the odds? She looked around and saw all the beautiful colors that she’s heard so much about her entire life. Hannibal looked around his house and was amazed by all the colors. He was upset that she had ran away before he could say anything else or at least share the moment with her.

He thought about Y/N every night after that. How could he not? She was beautiful and that he thought before finding out that they were soulmates. Y/N worked for the FBI and that was something Y/C/N never mentioned. Hannibal had never seen her around before or at least he never noticed. That was until now when he walked in and saw Y/N and Will talking. He showed little to no emotion as he saw the two not realizing they knew each other.

Truth be told Will and Y/N hadn’t known each other for very long but she was recently transferred over to this area. Y/N turned to walk away but saw Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t move, he just stared at her. Y/N truly felt bad for running away like that. She was shocked and frankly never thought it would be her cousin’s therapist that would be her soulmate.

She walked up to him as his eyes never left her. “Hey Hannibal right?” She asked. He nodded. “Look I’m very sorry for running away when we found out that we are each other’s soulmates. I was just shocked and did not expect it to be my cousin’s therapist.” She explained. He gave her a small smile, “I suppose I understand. I too was in shock but perhaps you can make it up to me over dinner this Friday?” He asked her. She didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes. I would love to.” She said and gave him a smile.

[spidey-x-male-reader]

first time requesting but like the thought of male! reader having a messy apartment/ bedroom for different reasons and miguel coming through m readers window to visit and when he sees that messy room, he spends a lot of time cleaning it and waits for m reader to get back and m reader is thankful and yet a little embarrassed

please I find this so adorable😭

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x male!reader

Warnings: tiny bit of swearing

A/N: Finally getting to this request! Sorry for taking so long. This piece was a constant battle of me trying to use the right tense and trying not to make the way the apartment is described too personal for me. I hope you like it!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

Miguel knew a lot about you.

You are talented and capable even if you seem a bit goofy sometimes. You always do your best on missions. And you always do anything you can to protect the people around you and when you aren't able to do that you still go on, fighting every single day.

He would never admit it but he really is impressed by you.

However he considers changing that picture of you when he comes to visit you one day. You vaguely remember inviting him once, telling him that he can come over whenever he feels like it. But back then you probably didn’t think about the pure mess that was your apartment. 

When Miguel climbed in through your window, he first called your name, when you didn’t answer he assumed that you were probably out doing some chores, like the responsible person he thought you to be. But then he got a look at your apartment and for one second didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

Everywhere things were lying around, various clothes spread across the floor. And an impressive high amount of trash stood around on every flat surface, probably being placed there with a simple saying of “I will throw it out later with the rest”

Sure, for a second he didn’t know what to do, but he really couldn’t blame you at this point. You knew that, even if you love your job, and friends and missions, it was still stressful to maintain a healthy work to life balance, especially if your work constantly followed you around everywhere. 

But…even though he didn’t blame you for anything, he knew that you definitely could not keep living in this chaos. And considering he didn’t have any plans anyway, he started to clean, First all the trash out, then collecting the clothes that were lying around and putting them into laundry. When he realized you still weren't there after it looked pretty acceptable he even started to wipe down the surfaces until he eventually heard the front door open.

“What the fuck” you are standing in your doorway and immediately realize that something is off. Mostly that your shoes are now neatly standing against the wall instead of blocking off the hallway, making you trip over them every time you come in.

“(y/n), You’re back.” Miguel turns around to you as soon as you enter the living room. 

You’re not sure if you should first focus on the fact that Miguel was just sitting in your living room or the fact that your living room looks…clean.

“Miguel…what is this?”

“What is what?” he looks around but then seems to understand what you mean. “Oh yeah I came to visit you but realized that your apartment is a wreck so I decided to clean while you were gone.”

“Oh…” you hope that you weren’t blushing but are probably hopelessly failing. Not only has Miguel seen the chaos that was your apartment, but he has also decided to clean it while you were out. “That’s…thank you.”

“I mean it wasn’t really a lot. But I do have to tell you to please throw out your trash once in a while, okay? Because the amount of trash I had to carry outside was unreal. I had to walk multiple times.”

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?”

“I know. But you’re always working so hard and I was already here so I thought why not.” he shrugs like it wasn’t much of a deal.

“It is a lot. Believe me. Cleaning is…difficult for me” you try to explain yourself, hoping that Miguel wasn’t thinking you were always this messy. “Why did you even come here?”

“You offered me to come over if you wanted to. Parker started annoying so…I’m here now.”

“I’m not even going to question which one you mean and accept it. They’re all something to deal with.” you’re happy about the topic change. Everything is better than your apartment. “So I guess you’re here now. Want to watch a movie?”

“I’m not sure if I trust your movie taste.”

“Excuse me? My movie taste is great” you grin, moving to let yourself fall on the couch next to him, grabbing the remote. “How about…pirates of the–”

“Forget about it.”

[dotster001]

I'm not sure if requests are open, but if they are, could I request Leona, Vil, and Jamil with a fem s/o who's very sweet and gentle in nature but is actually the daughter of a Mafia boss?

(Thank you for your patience my beloved Anon 🥺 I know this has been sitting in my inbox for a while and I adore you for not yelling at me. A million kissies for you!)

Summary:Fem!reader x Leona/Vil/Jamil

CW: Mafia stuff (poison, hitmen, etc), fem reader

He starts out thinking that the only reason you're still alive is because of him, especially after his overblot, where you didn't flee the danger. You're just so sweet and naive, you're begging for someone to take advantage of you. That's why when he starts dating you he's a little overprotective. He'll pass it off as "defending what's his", but really he's just worried about you. (Mans respects women too much to really think like that. He's not fooling anyone)

Then one day, you're missing home, and telling him about your family. And….you start just saying the most concerning things, not even thinking about it. He's given up napping a long time ago when you start talking about the time your driver rear ended someone, changed your license plate quickly, and threw a wad of cash at the person he hit before driving away. 

He just outright asks you, "Is your dad a Mafia boss?" 

And you answer, "yeah" with that bright smile he adores on your face. He starts asking more questions, to figure things out…and you don't seem to understand the implications of it. You've always just been daddy's little princess, no questions asked.

He doesn't actually mind, especially once he finds out that you yourself have never been hurt or in danger (though he takes that with a grain of salt, considering you don't seem to have noticed). He's a member of a monarchy that is who knows how old. He one hundred percent has relatives who have done worse. But if you ever find a way to go back and forth between worlds, he will be extra vigilant to make sure nothing happens to you.

Vil has never once questioned why you were so quick to adapt to his celebrity lifestyle. You don't question the body guards, you're okay wearing disguises, you're not uncomfortable with his expensive gifts/skincare/restaurant visits. In a word, you're perfect, and need little help adapting. And his fans adore you. They love how sweet you are and adore how you take care of Vil for them.

However, when you spot that jealous fan before his bodyguards do, and subtly move Vil to safety, he decides to question things.

And quickly finds out your dad was a Mafia boss, and a rival boss had put a hit on you once.

While you are sweet and naive, and don't quite seem to understand why it happened in the first place, a part of you is constantly on alert, and checking people's body language to protect yourself and your loved ones. 

For a while after that, Vil beefs up his security. He doesn't want you to even have to think like that. You should be able to believe that both him and you are safe! He will not have his precious apple blossom going prematurely gray over this!

As always, you are able to soothe the constant simmering rage he has inside him, and reassure him that you do feel safe, you just happened to notice the fan that one time. You knew the body guards could handle it, you just wanted to help.

Soothe him with soft cheek kisses. He needs to relax, and that'll help.

So you've managed to lull the ever on guard Jamil Viper into a place of happy complacency. Congratulations!

He worries sometimes you are too much like Kalim. But at least you help him with his chores, and work very hard not to make more work for him. So he can handle the naivete. (Also, unlike Kalim, you're his girlfriend, so he can get cuddles and kisses from you. It's a major improvement in his book, but he'll never admit it)

When you spend summer break in the Scalding Sands with him, he becomes surprised when you flip a man who was about to poison the food Jamil was about to taste test for Kalim.

After that's dealt with, he sits you down and asks where the fuck you learned that.

You tell him about the self defense classes you got from your bodyguard.

Which leads to more questions.

He knows that you aren't the member of the Mafia. He of all people understands how you can't choose what family you are born into. But he is conflicted. The Mafia equivalent in the Scalding Sands wants Kalim dead…and as Kalim's protector, if they succeed it means he is dead as well.

Honestly, he's trying not to think about it. It doesn't affect your relationship, but if he ever does meet your family, he is going to have to work hard to get past those thoughts in his head about your dad wanting him dead. It's become a mantra, They aren't the same mafia, They aren't the same mafia, They aren't the same mafia

....

Tag list-@stygianoir @shytastemakerthing @lleoll

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Chapter 5: Step 5: Wine and Dine

Summary: Working at the weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

Buckle up besties things are gettin hotter. Also thicc thanks to the bestie @misssmephisto and all the gay ideas she has shared with me. This fic would succ without her🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @eveymay @kimiinou @muffintopxs

(pls let me know if I missed you I'm a forgetful shrimp)

Chapter 4

Cross Posted on AO3 here

HTWAHP Masterlist

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

“She’s taking you on a date?!”

“It’s not a date James,” you sigh, cleaning the table tops.

“You’re going out for dinner in Burlington and you don’t think it’s a date?”

“You’re the one who said she’s out of my league!”

“That was before she invited you to dinner! Plus, she is still out of your league, but maybe you have some charm hidden under there.”

Externally? You were calm, cool as a cucumber, as the kids say. Internally? You’d been panicking since she’d asked you yesterday morning and could barely think any other words than “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

She had asked you so casually. You had brought her her morning coffee, you’d been telling her about one of the locals that had caused a scene in the cafe when she sprung the question on you.

“What would you say to dinner tomorrow night?”

“What?” You had eloquently uttered.

“You said I should take time off. So what would you say to dinner tomorrow night?” She asked, taking off her glasses and fidgeting with them.

“I- where uh where would we go?”

“I know a rather nice place in Burlington. If you’d rather not I completely understand-“

“I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

She had finally looked up at you at that. She seemed shocked at first but then her shock dissolved and she flashed you the brightest smile you had ever seen. You swore at that moment you would do whatever it took to make her smile like that all the time.

So now you were standing in your room, staring intently into your closet trying to find something to wear. You have no idea what kind of restaurant it is nor what Larissa is wearing. You do know however that you have an hour to get your shit together. You eventually settle on one of your fancier outfits. You put on some makeup and end up arriving at Nevermore 5 minutes early.

You exit your car and end up halfway to the entrance when it opens. You stop dead in your tracks and fight to keep your jaw off the ground when you see Larissa.

Oh my god, she was wearing pants. PANTS.

You were almost certainly dead and had somehow made it into the good place. Larissa Weems was standing there wearing the most flattering pants you’d ever seen on a woman. She had paired it with a cute turtle neck that she had rolled up the sleeves of and seeing her bare forearms was giving you unholy thoughts.

God, you were gay. You were gayer than gay. The gayest around. Fuck this woman was making it hard not to kiss her senseless.

“Hello darling.” She all but fucking purrs, looking you over.

“Uh, I- uhm you. Hi.”

“Are you ready to go?”

You nod dumbly, following her as she leads you to the car. You do shamelessly stare at her ass as you follow her and find yourself blushing and thanking her when she opens your door for you.

When you arrive at the restaurant Larissa, ever the gentlewoman, gets out and opens your door for you. And then, as if you weren’t already swooning, she leads you inside with a hand on the small of your back. You genuinely think you’ve died and ended up in heaven.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight darling.” She murmurs, pulling out your chair for you.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you joke, “but really you look so- you just- You look amazing.”

“Thank you darling,” she murmurs, blushing as she sits down.

You look around, taking in the fanciness of the place. The whole place screams way out of your budget. Larissa must notice you starting to get nervous because she reaches across the small table and grabs your hand, sending you a bright smile.

“Order whatever you like sweetheart. It’s on me.” She comments, looking over the menu.

“I- you don’t have to-“

“I know. I want to. So don’t worry about it.”

“I-I don’t even know what to order. I’ve never been to a place as fancy as this before.” You murmur, looking over the menu.

“The steak here is pretty good. And they have a wine that goes really well with it.”

“Oh yeah? So you bring many baristas out here then?” You smirk, dropping the menu.

“Oh yes. I wine and dine every pretty young lady I come across.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

You’re interrupted by the waiter coming to take your orders. Larissa orders for both of you, and the waiter leaves. She then clears her throat and turns her attention back to you.

“So where did you come from? Before you moved to Jericho I mean.” She asked.

“Well, I actually grew up in a small town similar to Jericho. And you know, being a small-town kid all I wanted was to live in the city with all the different kinds of people and that stuff. So I went, and I- it didn’t work out. Rent was fucking expensive and I ended up working two jobs to cover it which just made me depressed and anxious. And it didn’t help that I was already not the healthiest adult out there what with my bouts of weakness and fainting episodes. So after a couple of months and basically a mental breakdown I decided to move here. I would’ve gone back home but I…I just didn’t want to go back to the same people I had grown up with and their disappointment and judgement.”

Larissa gapes at you and you realize you’ve just… let that all out. You start to apologize when she grabs your hand again.

“I’m so sorry you went through that,” She murmurs, “but I’m glad you’re here and I- I do hope Jericho is better for you, I- you deserve to be happy.”

“Well, how could I not be happy when I got to meet a literal goddess among mortals.” You flirt, attempting to lighten the mood.

She blushes at that humming and looks away. The rest of dinner is less exciting but just as wonderful. Larissa tells you about some shenanigans the students have been up to and a little bit more about her time at Nevermore as a student. You talk for hours, she questions your choice in steak (you have it as rare as possible and she finds it interesting.)

You could talk to her forever. And you’re sure you would have, had the restaurant not had a closing time of 10. The two of you apologize to the waiter for staying so long and make your way back to the school.

You arrive back at Nevermore a little while later. You both get out of the car and stop outside Nevermore’s entrance.

“Thank you for inviting me Larissa I-I really enjoyed tonight.” You smile.

“Thank you for accompanying me, I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun.”

“It was my pleasure.”

The two of you stand there for a moment before you both speak.

“I really don’t with tonight to-“

“I was wondering if you’d like to-“

You both flush and you gesture for Larissa to speak first.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come in for a drink?” She asks.

“Yes!” You reply, a little too enthusiastically, so you try again. “Ahem. I mean. Yeah, that sounds neat.”

She chuckles at your antics and leads you inside. As you’re following her to presumably her quarters you can’t help but think that all of this really does seem like a date. The dinner? Rather romantic if you’re honest with yourself. And now? Going back to her rooms to have a drink? That’s definitely slightly fruity.

You realize, upon arriving at her office, that Larissa’s rooms are attached to her office. Which is both handy and baffling considering you’ve been in her office almost every day for the last few weeks and somehow missed the door leading to them. She asks you to take a seat on her comfy couch while she fetches the wine and the glasses.

You sit, suddenly having the thought that if this is a date then you’re woefully unprepared for the Larissa Weems to be romantically interested in you. However, you argue, this could just be her wanting company and you are a pretty good friend. So there’s no need to jump to crazy conclusions like the sexiest woman on earth being interested in you.

“Darling? Are you alright?” Larissa asks, suddenly in front of you with two glasses in hand.

“Huh? I mean yes? Sorry, I just zoned out a bit there.” You blush.

“I do often wonder what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.” She hums.

Christ is she flirting with you??

“It’s not really that interesting truly, a lot of memes or silly songs on repeat more often than not.”

She laughs at that and the two of you settle back into comfortable conversation. About an hour goes by before you finally muster up the confidence to ask the question that’s been on your mind since you arrived.

“Larissa…”

“Yes, dear?” She hums.

She’s sitting next to you on the couch, her heels off and feet tucked beneath her. She’s leaning against the back of the sofa, one hand propped under her head and the other holding her only half-empty glass. She looks so…domestic. It makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“I was just wondering. And I mean I may be really wrong and if I am we can just forget I even opened my big mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t even be asking this. I really don’t want to ruin things between us because you’re like the best person ever but-“

She moves her hand to your thigh, sitting up a bit straighter (and subsequently closer to you somehow). Your eyes dart to her hand as it squeezes your thigh and now your throat is dryer than the Sahara but your underwear will definitely be the opposite.

“What is it you want to ask darling?” She purrs, again ruining your underwear further.

“I uh. This dinner thing. Was it…was this a date?” You finally manage, bracing yourself for the worst.

For a solid moment Larissa just stares at you, her eyes wide. You’re certain it’s the longest moment of your life, and in it you contemplate throwing yourself out the nearest window. You’re about to start back tracking and apologize when she laughs.

And truly, you love her laugh, but right now you can’t help but think she’s laughing at the idea of her being interested in you in that way. You don’t blame her but it makes your heart clench and you look away, doing your best not to burst into tears.

“It was stupid. I’ll just go-“

“Darling-“ she smiles.

“It’s okay! It was silly of me to think someone like you would even like someone like me like that, I know. I’ll just go and we can forget-“

“Darling.” She stops you, still smiling but much more serious. “I’m not laughing because I think it’s silly.”

You hum at that, still not meeting her eyes. She grabs your chin then, forcing you to look at her.

“I was laughing,” she starts, leaning closer to you and whispering, “because I thought I had been rather obvious.”

“Obvious?” You whisper back, still confused.

“I have been flirting with you for quite some time now sweetheart.” She hums.

“Oh.”

Oh.

OH.

“So you- you’ve been…with me? You like me?”

“Very much so.”

“Wow.”

You sit there, taking it all in, taking her in. You then, much to your utter horror, let out the most girlish giggle you have ever giggled. You want to be mortified but she beams at you, her teeth showing and all thoughts exit your head.

She cups your cheek, her thumb brushing over your lip. You part your lips as you do your darndest to breathe. You glance down at her lips, watching as her tongue pokes out to lick them. When you look back at her eyes they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them, her pupils blown.

“I’d very much like to kiss you now, if that’s alright.” She whispers.

“Please.” You whisper back, desperate.

She closes the gap, her soft lips brushing against your own. It’s short and sweet and gentle and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And then she’s pulling you into her lap and she’s kissing you again except this time it’s needy and desperate and very hot.

Your head is empty aside from the sensation of her lips against hers and the feeling of her body beneath your hands. She runs her hand down your back, palming at your ass and you barely suppress a moan at the feeling. Somehow you manage one coherent thought as you sit there, straddling her lap and kissing her.

Larissa Weems will be the death of you.

[fanboy4u]

An angel's fan page just for you . .

⠀　⠀𐐪　⠀ Sweetheart 🌸  he / him　　 　💉

⠀　　𐙚　　Jirai﹒269﹒oswi﹒untaken ₊  ◞　　 　˙　　˳　　⁺　　Yandere blog

𓏵‎ BLOG Hii >_< this is my yanblr side blog ! ! I welcome everyone here with open arms . My posts will mainly to indulge in my obsessive love or to cater to my soon to be idols , aka you all ! I find it fun to idolize and have parasocial relationships , it's like a love language to me . Soo if you want a little fanboy then consider giving me some attention . I plan ( or simply hope ) to have this blog mainly revolve around asks . If you send me enough asks and I take a liking to you , you could very much become one of my idols . That may mean my obsessive tendencies going out to you or me posting about you frequently . So therefore , if you plan on staying anonymous , then I ask of you to sign off with something so I can always know who is who . I will add though that if I'm lucky enough to have multiple idols , that I will post about all of them , even if I obviously have favorites . I may also post about people outside of my inbox . Just whoever I find love for really !

What I also ask from you is that you at least commit a little to me ; please do not leave love into my blog then never appear again . I understand people get busy , but still . . Also , I am completely fine with you dming me if you want to be closer to me , in whatever way ! But I will ask right now that you let me know your age in your first messages , just for our own safety . I'm saying this because I've had situations where I've had WAY older men texting me and I do not want that (ᵕ—ᴗ—) . That being said , if I don't respond to you , don't throw a fit please . ( Note it may not always be because of age that I don't respond ; I could have not seen it or had some other reason ) Tags

𓏵‎ LITTLE THINGS ABOUT ME → While I mainly identify with being a yandere , I also identify with the himedere type :3 I don't exactly think I'll post a lot regarding that though . But if you keep it in mind that would make me flattered

→ I'm apart of the jirai kei community → I really want more friends that are also yans ! ! So pleaseplease talk to me even if you don't exactly care for my worship → As I mentioned before , this is a sideblog , so I cannot follow back from here . However , I don't find this blog to be any secret , so I'll follow back from my main ( @yourdreamsweetheart ) ! ! My posts there are just personal stuff really . I do not mind if you interact with me there ! → I feel like I should mention that I'm gay . Woah ! ! !

→ I'm an angelkin ^_^ → This page is kind of for all around oshikatsu ( obviously ) , so sometimes I may post about fictional characters I favorite . I don't really think I will post about celebrities on here excessively , but if you want to know some I like feel free to ask lmao ! ! I mostly listen to Visual kei bands or pop groups . → My current theme is Eichi Tenshouin from enstars , who happens to be one of my oshis ! I plan on making an ita bag for him soon

𓏵‎ BOUNDERIES

I don't have much to say here , as I like any sort of attention I get , but I will say that being overly explicit with me ( in a serious manner ) will just get you blocked . Both in the sexual or hurtful way I don't mind a little suggestiveness or sadism but please be moderate I should also clarify that my posts are mainly a coping mechanisms and that I do not genuinely plan on carrying about any of the potentially/blatantly harmful acts I talk about . ( For example , posts about stalking outside of social media )

I don't really have a dni list to put , if I don't fancy you I will just block you . Though , I have a dni on my main , so if you still want to be completely in the clear then you can go search for that .

Block don't report !

[swlyf-24]

Utopian Disillusionment

OR; Charles' perfectly curated life falls when a man crashes into his door and he has to find a way back to before everything went wrong

"Oh, wow." Lando's stick faltered in its swinging. "I did not expect him to comply—what do I say?" he keeps his voice below a whisper as he looks around, completely perplexed. Max, however, just grinned and waved in their direction.

And oh, what that does to a man's heart!

Alex holds up a hand towards Max; signalling him to wait, looks at Lando, digs into his pocket and fishes out his phone before typing quite furiously. The city had went back to its usual routine—as if The Officials did not parade through without warning. The weird general was also forgotten; it was now just a leaf in the autumn wind.

Simultaneously, the Twitch Quartet (or as they call themselves) all received a message on their phone. Charles looks down at his phone, looks at Max.

Down at his phone,

back to Max,

looks towards his friends,

Max again,

and Max-

Okay, wait.

Monday

George I'm not picking through your vomit to find anything! 15.18pm

Today

Alex We should definitely ask if the memory is real What if those capsules are fakes? 16.19pm

"Are those capsules real?" Charles asks, taking the first initiative. His right hand was trembling against his own will—it certainly wasn't cold in the middle of summer and he was not scared of the man, so why is it shaking?

Speaking of which, the same hand was still burning with warmth. It wasn't boiling-water warm, no. It was the feeling of someone-gripping-your-hand-tightly warm. Now that is really off putting. Seriously, he had a normal day at work yesterday and all because of Max crashing into his shop—his day is a mess? Yeah, no. No matter how hot Max may look as he sits under the sun, Charles was not going to let this man ruin his life.

"Hm," Max drawls out, picking up a capsule on the tabletop and bringing it towards his eye. "Maybe? I'm not the expert at these, but you can check it yourself." he tosses one towards the group without warning; immediately causing the infamous stick to be risen again.

Charles catches it before it went dropping to the ground. He twisted it around several times, checked it for marks of fraud; yet...nothing. He'd even snapped it open and smelt it! But it still had the faint whiff of burning rubber and smoke. Charles shakes his head before closing it back up.

"No, it's real." He sighs.

"Are you really innocent? You didn't pop these out of people's little ear compartment in a robbery did you?"

'Oh, be realistic Lando. Do you think-" But before Alex could finish his sentence, Max had beaten him to the chase. He jumped off the counter, standing up straight with his chin held high— most confidence any of them had seen Max have so far.

"Well, what about we all re-visit the memory except for some and those people can be on the look out; making sure there is no danger and all? I'll come along." Max grins. Well. It wasn't that bad of an idea.

Charles briefly saw George with a hand on his chin, Alex slightly nodding and Lando smiling. "Yeah, sure." and there it was—the deal was sealed and signed, stamped with red. There was no going back now.

But with everything, there is a safety talk.

"We all have to drink this liquid—no, it's not poisonous. And...we'll be in the memory in no time. It's all first person, so think of it like a multi-player game; meaning we can see each other and it'll be your usual faces." That was easy to understand, right? "The liquid itself will replenish so don't worry about anything."

George had decided to be the one who stayed out, saying: "I'm not risking my life expectancy in that." He had also managed to drag Alex along with him, saying something along the lines of 'needing backup' and 'friends before anything else'. That left Lando, Charles and Max to drink the odd liquid.

"All the best..." Lando mumbled out in a skeptical tone before downing it all in one breath.

...

They entered this dark and gloomy place. The floors were rough, uneven concrete; splattered with gunpowder and shell casings. It was cold and stuffy; suffocating the three in a deathly tight embrace. There were faint traces of a brown liquid that has solidified over time. The walls were thick with clawing marks all over. The only light source were the candles on the wall.

The sputtering flames and the smell of antiseptic made Charles feel faint—his head pounding, blood rushing throughout. His body felt ten times heavier as an ache suddenly took over his left leg.

"It's a maze; we have to find the way out." the voice to his right spoke after a long silence of being in the memory. The headache was crashing into him like a tsunami—relenting. Charles looked to who had spoken out and he realised that it was Max.

He was looking at Charles with his eyes scrunched up in worry, his lips tucked into a thin line; as if a million words were yet to spill out yet trapped by a barrier of unfamiliarity.

Charles nodded and he could only hope Lando was faring better than him.

Lando looked paler, sweat rolling of his skin like raindrops on a car window, fists clenched tightly. Max, however, looked calm and relaxed despite the setting. His face had no signs of wrinkles of any emotion, his blue eyes as tame as ever.

Charles wished he could say the same for himself but, to be honest? The pain was unbearable. He had to draw blood inside his mouth to distract himself from his headache.

The three wandered through the maze, lost and in a daze. As they walked into dead ends, the walls seemed to close in despite nothing happening.

The occasional crackling of fire, crunching of rocks beneath their soles, and whispers amongst themselves were the sounds the three began to warm up to.

Suddenly, there were faint sounds of heavy footsteps, deep and gruff voices ahead. Max, who was walking ahead, stopped abruptly. He quickly hid behind a wall which blocked whoever was on the path ahead to see Max. Not knowing what to do, Lando and Charles could only follow along—standing behind Max.

"There they are: the soldiers." Max whispered.

He moved back as Charles decided to take a look. Charles peeked at the scene in front of them as he gripped onto the wall that hid him.

Isn't that the general that stared at him?

The general was crouched on the ground as the other stood; hands behind his back. There was someone on the ground; someone unmoving with thick, red liquid spilling out of their open scars, body contorted in an unusual manner. Some limbs were missing. Eyes wide, mouth bloodied; you couldn't tell that they used to be a normal human being and not a skinwalker.

There were tons of people with a similar image littered around the ground, which what Charles could guess was the centre of the maze.

Charles grimaced at the sight, his nose was invaded with the now metallic scent of blood—gone was the antiseptic. The sight was gory and unsettling.

The general was digging through the person's memories, picking one out of their body followed by another.

"Ask one of your mates to pass it to the kid selling these. They know what to do, just give it to them." A gruff tone grumbled out, handing over the handful of capsules over to the other solider before wiping his bloodied hand onto his soil-covered pants.

Charles felt like vomiting there and then. The memories that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, the ones he didn't question were from dead and tortured people. He had sold memories that were wrongfully taken away by these soldiers, and gave it to his customers. Charles gave away the fragments of life from victims. He felt sick.

These soldiers are meant to protect them, why are they doing this to the city dwellers?

"Kid? What kid?" The soldier had pocketed the capsules regardless of his cluelessness.

"The one at the city centre? Charles? C'mon, don't act like an idiot." The Officials were getting ready to leave, standing up and almost walking when there was a sudden slapping sound behind Charles.

"Godverdomme!" goddammit

Charles whipped his head around, and saw that Max had his hand plastered onto the maze wall. His once calm exterior was gone, now replaced by a worried, pale look. "I nearly fell and I just-this wall was stable and...I'm sorry." Max quickly rushed out, voice in a whisper. Lando quickly slapped a hand over Max's to stop him from talking, looking paler than ever.

George was right about their life expectancy after this!

Charles quickly looked back and found that the general was staring at him once more, yet the other soldier wasn't. His heart felt as if it thumped in his mouth. Blood surging with adrenaline, ringing in his ears, his mind whirled of all the possibilities of the future. Charles' hands were clammy, anxiety rolling down every palmar line in the form of sweat.

Charles would never say that he had claustrophobia, but the distance between each wall seemed to decrease and he felt like he was suffocating. He took mouthfuls of air to fill his lungs, yet it wasn't enough.

The general's eyes seemed to widened impossibly big, drooping like melted plastic. The general's face still showing no signs of emotion. Just blank.

The scene in front of Charles also seemed to distort, showing quick glimpses of something red and flashes of orange frantically moving around him. It wasn't a sunset—it was more of a solemn image, one that brings goosebumps all over your skin; trepidation taking over.

Then, the general's mouth opened, tears suddenly streaming down his face. "Wake up," He said.

...

Charles had awaken back to reality with a jerk. The headache was gone, and so was the ache in his leg. All there was to remember it was the taste of blood in his mouth still.

A hand on his shoulder from George, a concerned look on his face. Alex was standing near Lando and Max, sporting the same expression as George on his face. Charles looked to his right ,where Lando and Max were, and found them in similar conditions—pale, sweating, and something unmistakable in their eyes.

Fear.

Part I.

[roseworth]

hey <3 heres what i think of every scene that rosenberg has written with rose

disclaimer: most of this is me being very nitpicky. rose was a side character for all of these appearances so obv i understand that its not gonna be perfect characterization. but i rly like talking about rose characterization so this is just me pulling apart her appearances for fun <3

ok lets go

overall

i LOVE the jason & rose dynamic. im not much of a jayrose fan but since its happening im glad that its like this. i love that its so much "rose is excessively horny and jason is giving her nothing" bc its so in character for both of them. shes fucking with him and he does not know how to reciprocate. they r so sillies

HOWEVER. rose would not just hang around him like shes doing. as much as i like that dynamic i feel like he also has to at least sometimes show that hes. you know. interested in having her around. shes just kinda tagging along and i wish there was a reason why she would put up with him never giving her anything, especially since she has a tendency to leave at the first sign of not being wanted

on a completely different note, im a little disappointed that shes wearing her old costume instead of the new one she has in btbatb/kt ravager. i appreciate that shes still drawn like an adult but i rly like her new costume so im sad that she doesnt have it

man who stopped laughing #9

STRONG start. beats up a bunch of cops, then right after she appears she does her stupid flirting thing then immediately says that she doesnt want to associate with the batfamily. queen.

not to mention right before this is my fav failgirl moment where she goes through her whole plan to crash the car and break jason out of prison. then just goes up and knocks on the door

flips the car over then walks up and says "hey its the fire department. open up" and not a single person believes her. i love her

lesbian rose crumbs <3 i still choose to believe shes talking about cass here idc. shes so silly and this was a cute lil panel

so yeah. she was on one page of this issue but that one page was great and i love her

mwsl #10

shes so lame <3 i talked about this moment a lot when this issue first released but i love it. "somebody had all the fun without us" upon finding a body, then realizing someone else was there and just. starts shooting. she doesnt hit anything. she doesnt even know where the other person is.

my big problem here is that she does not carry a gun and pretty much never uses guns. honestly now that im thinking about it this is one of the only times shes ever used a gun on panel (the other times i can think of being: shooting wade off a cliff after her mom died, shooting starfire in n52 outlaws (but new 52 rose barely even counts as rose), and using deathstroke's gun when she was pretending to be him in deathstroke 2016)

shes not anti-gun or anything but it still bothers me just a little that suddenly she has a gun (hence why i fully believe she stole jasons gun <3)

if i want to nitpick, kate should not have been able to hit her. rose should've seen she was coming wayyy before (bc precog) and she wouldnt be knocked down from one hit. i fear we are headed down a path of her becoming jasons incompetent girlfriend but i wont be too dramatic about her getting hit one (1) time

but other than that i thought this was a fun moment of rose getting hit then jason immediately fighting the person that hit her. toxic girlbesties fr

then also her needing to be held back after she gets up so she doesnt start attacking the person thats helping them <3 i love her

mwsl #11

this is a nice issue for her just because in true rose tradition she LOVES to have homoerotic fights with every other female character she interacts with. the kate & rose dynamic was soooo fun i love it when shes mean to people for no reason <3

i did not like this part though. i feel like there are a lot of implications about rose here that are unfair to her character & her place in the dcu. i'll meet the book on its own terms and say that we're only talking about post-52 rose (blah blah everything's canon rn but this book is very clearly not using pre-52 rose lore) but even then? theres no real reason for her to be ducking superheroes or for superheroes to keep an eye on her. shes not a villain or even much of a killer, the fact that shes "staying off the radars" of good guys doesnt make much sense. and the fact that kate knows her and "studies" her (fellas is it gay to study another woman despite never meeting her) implies that rose is like. a threat. shes just kind of around there is no reason kate should know her like that

cute moment! but also it bothers me. i think its fun that she refused to go since its not her fight and she doesnt want to get into a joker mess. HOWEVER. when has she ever in her life passed up an opportunity to get involved in someone elses problem. to me she wouldnt have even delivered the list of addresses without a fight if she wasnt gonna go along

other than her using a gun again (where the hell did she even get that) i like this <3 her showing up and saving manhunter after she said she didnt care what happened is so her. also i just like the fact that she shot joker

gay gay homosexual gay

the rest of this issue is fun <3 just kate & rose fighting together then getting blown up together <3 this was a nice issue for her despite the problems i had with it

gotham war red hood #2

gotham war break!!!

okay first of all i LOVE that he took her along. there was no reason for rose to be here but jason was told to meet someone and said "ok ill go but my weird friend comes with me" its so funny

ive seen a lot of people complain about the "you're my only friend" line but i LOVE it. not necessarily because she doesnt have any friends but because she would not in a million years ADMIT that she has friends. she would rather be shot in the head than say that she actually likes the people that she hangs out with.

but to be fair.... she also doesnt have friends. "what about the lazarus island gang?" the only person she actually liked there and showed any friendship toward was damian, and they ARE friends but she considers him more of a little brother than a friend. "what about the teen titans??" a) she would NEVER admit that she is friends with any of them b) its technically.... not really canon that she was ever on the same team as them. like i said before, im meeting this book on its terms, and rose being a teen titan hasnt been mentioned since flashpoint :( i wont go on a whole tangent about her friends but given that she hasnt really made a friend in years and never talks to anyone else, i think its fair for her to say that she has no friends

so yeah all this to say: she has friends, but it is 100% in character for her to say that she has no friends. i stand by this line

i dont have much to say here i just think shes so cute <3 i also love the fact that jason jumped straight to "rose is robbing a dead person" instead of "rose is inspecting the body"

but im OBSESSED with the fact that she DOES rob him. i feel like we're not talking about this enough. she saw a dead body and took his money. im not even mad about it because its so fucking funny to me

im sorry jay/rose fans this makes me want to vomit. this feels too "earnest emotions" for both of them. the rest of this scene was fine but this panel specifically feels so :/

"i just need help" "always" and "please take care of yourself" and "meet at our spot" "promise?" "i promise" does not feel like them at all. its a very sweet and genuine moment but they would NOT have sweet and genuine moments! neither of them would ever express their feelings and they would not have this conversation

this does not feel like rose at all idk who this is. where is the rage!!!!!! where is the anger!!!!!!! why did she stand there for hours just. worried about him. why isnt she lashing out

comparing this to the scene in tt03 where she's worried about eddie:

she gets angry! shes worried about him and starts yelling at everyone around her because hes hurt and she doesnt know whats happening. i would have LOVED this energy in this book and its sooooo disappointing that she just. stands there like 🥺 when she doesnt know what happened to jason

mwsl #12

i rly liked this part fhdkjfhakjdfd i thought her pretending to be him just to get batman out of the way was so good and so real. shes helping out AND fucking with batman

very minor complaint here but this isnt even true . she DOES try to run into him in ds16 when slade kidnaps damian and rose gives bruce the ransom terms. also i feel like this line is vaguely implying that she HAS found him (/he found her) on accident before which is also not true given that their only interactions are in ds16 and being in the same general area in shadow war. and also reiterating that shes not a villain so batman has no reason to track her down or cause problems for her but. whatever. this is entirely just me jumping to conclusions about what this one throwaway line means and then getting mad about it

LOVE this. she inserted herself into the situation then complains about it. this isnt her business and shes making sure that jason knows it. but also she completely volunteered for most of this

BOOOOOOOO she would not fucking say that. "sorry about that whole chase" no she would not apologize. "please dont kick my ass" she would NOT say that!!!!! first of all given that this is after gotham war she would probably kick his ass just for what he did to jason. even besides that she would not be afraid of him even a little. comparing their convo in ds16 #5 to this is so sad bc </3 why is she afraid of him instead of being a huge bitch and yelling at him

this ending is really good for her though. she absolutely would dive into the water with joker gas, trash, and dead bodies just to save her friend <3

this is more like it!!!!!!!! shes worried for him and takes initiative to save him by jumping in the water despite it being a very dangerous decision and then insults him while she saves his life <3333 its a tiny bit more of her being mean to express worry which is nice <3 its not perfect but its closer

in conclusion: there are many good moments. there are many parts i like about it. but there are just so many things that dont feel like rose </3 most of the broad strokes are there but it just doesnt feel like her when shes not full of rage and going out of her way to piss people off

[angeart]

Aaaaange, why doesn't Scar feel safe at that moment? More Tease pretty please? -🎀

oh i can do more than tease for this one :3c

[1,2k ramble + 8,5k rp snippets]

you know how we talked about the post-return situation, with the hermits raising potential allegations against scar? worried that he might be hurting grian, that their relationship is not safe?

that is pre-wedding. that is before scar proposes, but he already has plans to. he's always dreamed of a big, fancy wedding. it'd be picturesque and grand and wonderful! there'd be lots of flowers and music, laughter and dancing. and they'd be surrounded by friends who would be happy for them.

all of this is actively crumbling in scar's hands as hermits shy away from him as if he was dangerous and unpredictable. they're wary, unsure. they no longer see their cheerful, clumsy, harmless friend. they see an unfamilair vex.

they are not happy for them. and, right now, they do not approve of their relationship either.

scar thinks this is not how home should feel like. this is not what he wants. and he doesn't know how to convince them that he's not that scarecrow they have constructed from their lack of understanding. he doesn't know how to get through this.

but it's more than that, right? all their concerns, however well meaning, also make grian spiral. there's so much stress put on the two of them suddenly, their relationship straining.

none of this was ever meant to happen like this.

it's at a point when grian starts finding his stability, after that big breakdown, that scar decides he's done hiding and running, too. if he has to convince everyone to like him again, then he will. he'll fight for this. he'll do his best so that they can overcome this.

him and grian decide to host a little sleepover. for selected hermits! that way, they'll be opening themselves up to others. they want to try and show the others who they are now. to invite them back in. to let them get to know them all over again.

they arrange for it to happen within a week or so, as they still have to make a dedicated room for it. it's a lot of people to hang out and sleep!

they dedice to repurpose their old bunker. yes, the one they constructed shortly post-rescue. the one that was their hideout, their safe place.

it's underground, its walls drenched with anxiety and uncertainty. grian itches from it all, now used to spend time in their nest-tower, high up above the ground. underground feels stifling, all of a sudden. it feels wrong.

the first thing scar does is break the ceiling, to make a big skylight. it's left open for now, sand smelting into glass.

they struggle with the concept of hosting an event for many people. they can't seem to remember what they need. desperately, they try to figure out ways to make the place seem cozy and non-threatening, both for show and for their own sanity.

they talk about a little flower patch in the middle, right underneath the skylight. something bright and nice smelling and alive. they talk about mood lighting, about fairy lights and a fireplace. and—

they talk about sleeping arrangements.

grian says he doesn't want to make a big nest. he... doesn't want the others in their nest.

they're not flock.

they no longer feel like family.

so instead, they try to figure out how many beds they need. except, grian still wants a nest! for him and scar. and, maybe that's good! that'll be another stepping stone, showing the others the new them. who they are. what they now need. things like that!

while scar is tasked with making the small garden, grian goes off and gathers things for beds. he starts making them, quickly becomes overwhelmed, and instead starts putting together a big net that will hold their nest-bed suspended in the air.

he might be ignoring some symptoms of sickness that he simply brushes off as stress. a bit of tension. a couple of anxious, sleepless nights. it's fine.

(it isn't fine.)

it's when they take a break that grian finds himself too lightheaded and needs to lie down.

it's only about half an hour or so later, in the middle of them talking about some of scar's previous relationship experiences, that grian starts to feel really dizzy.

he has a fever.

and he succumbs to it fast after this.

scar wants to take him to the nest upstairs, but grian says he is too nauseous to be moved, so scar does the next best thing: cocoons grian's shivering, curled up form in blankets.

and he messages the hermits.

the hermits, who think he might be doing bad things to grian.

he tells them they need to postpone the sleepover.

he tells them grian is sick.

he asks for soup, but says not to come inside.

it... doesn't sound good. it rings some alarm bells in the heads of those hermits that are Very Concerned and Very Confused and maybe a notch paranoid. but scar stops replying. he's busy dealing with a sick grian.

and hoo boy.

grian's fever climbs sharply and mercilessly, making him delirious and disoriented. he can't tell where or when they are. he keeps talking about things that have already happened. he asks if the world is ending again. he thinks him and scar will be tossed to different servers this time. he asks for [REDACTED]. he asks for flock. he asks for kane and nico, where are they????

scar's heart is splintering and tearing to shreds as he tries to keep a grip, navigating heartache and mirror panic, trying to calm grian down.

it's at this time there comes a knock at their door.

scar can't deal with the others. not right now. not now, not now, not now.

they don't ask for permission to come in. they don't take silence as a no.

grian chirps in distress, from beffudled memories alone, and— they're worried. they can't leave it be.

they find the hole that was meant to, eventually, be a skylight.

they drop down.

mumbo, worried out of his mind. tango, here to help. impulse, last-minute joining them just to keep things reined in.

scar knows grian is out of it. he knows grian didn't want anyone else in their nest.

these are intruders.

and all grian registers are voices. all he thinks of are hunters. he sobs, terrified.

but to the others? scar's shifting into a vex form, flickering and dangerous, clutching grian who's making distressed noises, shielding him from sight.

they need to check up on grian, but they're not allowed any closer.

of course this escalates messily. and scar's afraid and hurting, but he needs to protect grian, and they aren't seeing him anyway. they don't see that he's scared. they don't see that he's cornered and helpless. they don't understand grian's current headspace, or his experiences that dictate his feverish panic.

and there's no space to explain.

... you know what. have the rp bits. as a treat <3 (this starts at the impromptu end of conversation about scar's past relationships, just for context.)

i decided not to redact some bits, for your enrichment. and to feed into the chaos. you're welcome :3c

------ RP STARTS HERE ------

SCAR

Scar takes another moment just to run his fingers over Grian’s forehead, then back into his hair, carefully folding his bangs back. In a lot of ways, early days with Grian were like that. Sharing their passions, enjoying each other’s company, nothing but fleeting touches between them that Scar would be left thinking about for days. 

He thinks he may have always been a hopeless romantic.

But is it really hopeless if the man of his dreams is here before him now? Curled up in his lap and cooing so soft?

Scar hums, pleased, even if he obviously wishes the sickness weren’t part of it.

“Eventually she was invited to some exclusive server, real far off. She didn’t know when she’d be able to see me next, so… we decided to go ahead and split.” Scar says it all so casually, because it truly was a mutual decision. One of the few relationships that ended with no misunderstandings or disappointments.

Well, it was still a little sad, but they knew it was for the best.

She didn’t want to leave Scar waiting, and he wanted her to feel open to exploring her relationships to the fullest with her new server mates. 

“I knew dating was always sort of secondary to her. Not as important as her art. She could do without it easily, especially if she was going somewhere with a bunch of other artists.” Scar looks down, carrying that soft smile and directing it toward Grian. “And she wanted me to be able to move on, so I could eventually meet, as she called it, the One.” He grins, remembering that being her exact phrasing. “…and that’s you.” Scar flushes a bit at his own cheesiness. “I know it.”

--

GRIAN

grian sighs softly at the touch through his hair, relaxing even through his shivers. his teeth chatter a little, a small frown forming between his eyebrows, but it softens a little as scar continues talking.

he tries to slot the information somewhere in his head. that this was an amicable breakup, brought on by insurmountable distance, diverging life paths. that this is something scar can still remember fondly. that this person had every trust that scar will find someone right for him, and that scar is convinced that someone is grian.

but somehow, his thoughts snag and loop, a faulty wire somewhere. distance and far away servers. distance and—

all of a sudden, he's thinking about the apocalypse that took everything from them. everything but each other, eventually. 

he thinks of distance, and a faraway server.

and scar not being with him in that scary place, or grian not being there with scar.

he takes a sharp breath, head shifting and eyes opening. his gaze is feverish and intense as it finds scar. "i would've look'd for you ev'rywhere," he says, hushed but urgent, completely nonsensical.

--

SCAR

Scar tilts his head, confused. He can tell what Grian is saying is drenched in adoration, but it feels misplaced, like it doesn’t belong here in this particular conversation.

Scar isn’t so sure he’s going to get an explanation with Grian in this state.

“I’m right here,” Scar decides to say instead, voice soft like flower petals placed over his skin, hoping to ease whatever tension is lingering in Grian’s thoughts.

His thumb brushes just in front of Grian’s earwing, not quite touching, but grazing over those tiny feathers that permeate his skin. 

“Right here.”

--

GRIAN

grian's gaze softens, some intensity fizzing out, even if the feverishness stays. "right here," he parrots in a weary but fond whisper, audibly relief laced. his eyes close again and he tilts his head further, chasing the touch of scar's gentle fingers.

-- 

SCAR

Scar’s glad to see Grian close his eyes, knowing he likely needs the rest. To think he was building beds and nets when he was slowly succumbing to a fever just makes Scar sad.

“For good, too,” Scar adds on, humming. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He sees his communicator buzz— it had been a few times during his story— and wonders if that means soup is here already. With a name like soup group, maybe they had it ready-to-cook. 

Slowly, he shifts one hand over to take it, just to make sure he was clear about not entering the house. He’s careful to maintain soft patterns with his other, not wishing to disturb his mate.

--

GRIAN

for good. that sounds wonderful. it feels like a nest built around him.

grian coos, velvety and quiet, nuzzling weakly against scar. he feels him shift, but the attention to such details is slippery to grian's mind, especially as scar's touch remains on him, tracing gentle patterns.

--

SCAR

Scar stills for a second upon reading his messages, only drawn back into focus by the soft coo that escapes his mate’s lips. He’s quick to continue his soothing, setting the communicator down atop a half-squished pillow with a plop. 

<PearlescentMoon whispers to you> Soup delivery!

<GeminiTay whispers to you> Anybody home?

<Skizzleman> anybody seen G?

<impulseSV> Skizz

<impulseSV> Don’t

<Mumbo> Did something happen??

<GeminiTay> He’s just sick!

<Tango> …sick huh?

<impulseSV> Here we go again… 

--

GRIAN

with no idea about the turmoil spreading across the server-wide chat, grian stays curled up, leaning on scar. the silence stretches, making the space feel heavier somehow, time oddly slippery.

grian doesn't like it.

he lets out another coo, this one less stable. there's a questioning edge, something insecure and sorrowful and afraid.

--

SCAR

Scar blinks rapidly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as he tries to recalibrate. He can't bother with that nonsense right now, Grian needs him. That's his only priority.

"You okay, G?" Scar asks, carefully curating his voice with his practiced honeyed tones. "Soup's at the doorstep. Should be fine to leave it there, though."

--

GRIAN

soup's here?

grian forgot all about the soup. why's it at the doorstep?

he can't think.

he lets out another coo, pitched similarly to the last.

--

SCAR

"...Are you hungry?" Scar tries to guess. "I told them to leave it there for now. I'm sure it'll stay hot."

-- 

GRIAN

grian's getting increasingly more confused. who brought the soup?

they're... underground, right?

there's this horrible moment when grian can't tell where they are. or when.

"... why d'n't they c'me in?" he murmurs, thinking feverishly about flock. about nico and kane, and their worried faces.

--

SCAR

"You...you said you didn't want anyone in the nest?" Scar replies, nervous now. 

Did he misinterpret that? Did he just cause turmoil in the chat for no reason?

--

GRIAN

grian looks at scar again, his gaze unfocused even as he searches scar's expression for answers that evade him. he's so confused. flock is allowed in the nest?

he chirps, unable to put the mess of his feverish, disoriented thoughts into words.

--

SCAR

"Shoot," Scar says, doubting his actions now. "I—I can message them again? I think the messages from Pearl and Gem were only a few minutes ago—"

--

GRIAN

grian stiffens, his eyes widening with more confusion.

peal and gem?

it takes him an odd, hollow moment to place those names, and then he's unthinkingly moving, rolling over, chirping in a higher pitch. the cocoon of blankets tangles around him, keeping him right where he is, unable to flare out and flap his wings.

--

SCAR

Scar is about a moment away from grabbing the communicator when Grian begins thrashing, and he quickly shifts to cradling him with his arms, trying to keep him in place. "Hey, heyyy, whoa... easy there, birdie, what's wrong?" Scar tries to imitate a small chirp, trying to say that it's okay if Grian can only make noises. He'll try to interpret to his best ability.

--

ANGE ( :D )

--

GRIAN

grian breathes heavily from that small amount of exertion, completely placated by scar's tight hold and the familiar rumble of his voice. dark spots blotch out his vision, and he lets himself go limp, cradled by scar's arms. safe. safe, safe, safe.

his head is so jumbled, and everything feels like a horrible dream. they're underground. there's meant to be flock here. there's meant to be—

with eyes flooding with confused tears, he whimpers. "scar?" his voice is hoarse, breaking midway through. "where's avi?"

--

LINK

--

SCAR

Scar's huddled over Grian, as if he wanted to shield him from the world. (He does.) He keeps his grip firm and shushes him softly, trying to reign him in as much as he can so he can get some sort of coherent answer, when—

Oh.

Oh no.

"Where's—" Scar chokes out, completely caught off guard by the question. He pulls away, catching sight of those tears, and suddenly his eyes are stinging as well. "I—Grian, we're..." He can't answer that. He can't, he can't. "Grian we're home."

--

GRIAN 

grian's gaze jumps between scar's eyes. incoherency threads through his veins, spilling across his nervous system. the word home makes no sense to him.

he chirps, a quiet, mournful, quivery sound. confused and afraid.

--

LINK

--

SCAR

Scar chews at his lip, trying very hard not to lose himself to the sudden flood of panic that surged through him at those words, not to mention the sheer misery of it all as well.

"We're not there, Grian," he continues to try. "We're home. We're—"

He hears knocking at their door upstairs. 

Scar's ears twitch, honestly unsure if Grian will hear it as well with how Scar is huddled over him and with the less acute hearing. 

Muffled voices pool in from beyond the stairs.

...not gonna answer. ... just wants to be sure ... if it makes him feel better...

"...on Hermitcraft," Scar finishes, the word almost bitter on his tongue. 

--

GRIAN

"i— but—" grian's oblivious to knocking or potential intruders. he sniffles, a tear falling free. he's shaking, the fever ravaging, the world gently spinning off axis around him. 

he thinks scar looks a bit panicked, and it just pushes him deeper into his disoriented confusion. because— aren't they hiding? from danger? aren't they in a hideout? in a bunker, or a cave? aren't they in a nest that's incredibly makeshift, put together in a rush?

... isn't there meant to be flock here?

he chirps again, louder, still that higher pitch. fear sears through the sound, his breath turning rapid as his heart beats wildly against his ribs, even as fever presses the heavy weight of exhaustion right over his chest. 

he's scared, because he can't remember. he can't remember what happened—

"where are they?" he insists, his voice verging a sob. "where is flock?"

--

SCAR

Scar thinks the voices stopped for a second after Grian chirps, and the reality of the giant hole in the ceiling sets in on Scar all at once. All they’d have to do is walk about the back and there’d be nothing keeping anyone from seeing the two of them. 

Scar’s wings flare out around Grian as an instinctive shield. 

Grian is asking about flock, and…

Well, the reality of that is that there is none here, Scar concludes dismally. 

Grian didn’t want the hermits in their nest when they were constructing the party room. Grian asked for Avi. Grian’s probably thinking about Kane and Nico, too.

The hermits haven’t gotten there. They don’t know avian-brained Grian.

“[REDACTED],” Scar answers, trying to give Grian a shred of reality to grasp onto. [REDACTED]

--

GRIAN

[REDACTED]? 

grian's mind spins, the same way the room spins around him. he feels as if the whole ground tilted with them on it. there's sea underneath the raft of the floor. 

he feels sick.

he wants to close his eyes, but he finds himself staring at scar, helpless. floatingly, he remembers words about distance and faraway servers, and he thinks of hermitcraft imploding, whole chunks being lifted up into the air.

his stomach twists and lurches. the spinny feeling makes him think even more vividly of those floating chunks. maybe they're on one now?

he ducks, as if the ground really moved from underneath them. he tries to paw at scar, but his hands are still trapped, and it just makes him thrash again against the blankets, whimpering.

he wants his flock. he doesn't understand where they are.

"call them back," he whimpers. "call— avi. can— avi can come too?" he pauses, his breath stuttering as he looks up at scar with so much pleading. 

he wants a bird flock. he wants to tuck him in the middle of the makeshift nest and make sure he's safe.

--

SCAR

Scar stares at Grian, heart actively tearing itself apart at his words and tears threatening to fall. 

He hears footsteps.

He can’t do this. If they find them he’s not going to be able to untangle all of this in time, he—

“They’ll be back,” he lies, chest aching. “Shhh, shhh, listen, they’ll be back, okay?”

The words taste like acid on his tongue, burning his throat like rotten bile. 

“You’re sick, Gri, let me take care of you,” Scar pleas, shutting out his surroundings so he can focus. Focus. Grian’s the only thing that matters. “Why don’t we go upstairs? If— if you puke on me, fine, I just— you should have a bath. And more blankets. And Mr. Beak.”

And medicine on his way up. And soup. 

And away from the approaching hermits. Away from danger.

--

GRIAN

"they'll... be back?" grian repeats, in the smallest voice, each syllable threatening to snap and let it all crumble. he sniffles, another tear tumbling down his cheek as the confusion continues to tear a path through him like wildfire.

scar says their flock will be back. 

he says grian is sick, and oh, maybe the world isn't ending, then? 

grian feels weird. everything's fuzzy and nonsensical, memories fading and time slipping and everything melting together.

there's a sob, and it takes grian a moment to realise it came from it. "it— it feels like—" his body shakes and trembles, barely a separate thing from the shivers. he's curling up again, making himself small. with a ragged breath and tears glistening in his eyes, he looks at scar, completely missing his point about upstairs and a bath and mr beak. what leaves his lips instead is a question that's white-hot, shaking him to his core. "scar...? is the world ending again?"

--

SCAR / MUMBO

“What—“ Scar is reeling from all of this. It doesn’t feel unlike being trapped in a cramped terracotta bunker listening to Grian murmur thoughts of death and despair. “No, Grian, the world isn’t ending.”

Scar thinks he knew how to handle this better once upon a time.

This world has ironically shaken his confidence. 

“We’re perfectly safe.” Scar continues. “We’re in our home— our house that we built.”

“Grian?” comes a voice from above, causing Scar to bristle.

His eyes flick upward and catch sight of a nervous pair of eyes peeking over the dirt hole.

Scar does not want to talk to Mumbo right now.

--

GRIAN

grian's eyes close and he blindly curls towards scar, deeper into his hold, lost and despondent. nothing makes sense, not even scar's reassurances. 

out of all the words scar says, grian wants to hold onto one the most: safe.

and yet incoherent threats continue sinking teeth into grian's flesh. sending panic signals about how he's weak if he's sick, and they're a target, and they can't run from danger. about how their flock is missing. about how they might be hurtled into different, faraway servers this time, and— and grian doesn't know how to survive without scar, and—

he sobs loudly, his breaths becoming erratic. he hears his name, but it's not scar's voice, and he flinches hard, whimpering, until some instinct catches up and tells him to run. to grab scar and abandon the nest.

he tries to flap his wings, but finds them bound.

he doesn't process that sensation right, pitching straight into memories of traps and nets, chirping high pitched and distressed. the blankets don't hold too hard, but he just can't figure them out, unaware of what they even are.

--

SCAR / OTHERS

“Grian!” Mumbo exclaims, calling the attention of his other unwelcome companions. 

Scar snarls, luckily muted and hidden from view by his bright wings. This is not what he needs right now. This is not what Grian needs. He needs peace and quiet and warmth and soft things—

Scar hurries to try to still Grian, shushing him as calmly as he can manage. “Hey, hey, Grian, it’s me, it’s okay, shhhh, please calm down.”

Grian said he felt nauseous. This has to be about the worst thing possible for him.

“Scar, what’s—“ Mumbo is babbling, sounding nearly as panicked as Grian. Scar doesn’t care about that though. 

He thinks maybe Mumbo has fallen onto his knees up there. He thinks he might be considering popping down into their space.

Scar is not having that.

Strangers are not allowed in the nest, get out, get out.

“Grian, look at me,” Scar tries, urgent and insistent. “We’re safe, we’re okay, I— I’m gonna take you upstairs.”

“Whoa there, skippy, I don’t think you should be taking him anywhere!” comes Tango of all people.

Scar eyes glow a faint blue, feeling cornered, while all of his body language shifts into that of defensive and protective, wrapped around Grian fully with his wings blocking the intruders from view. 

He desperately attempts to lift.

--

GRIAN

grian sobs, quieter, against scar's soft, frantic shushes. he wants to believe that everything's okay, but scar doesn't sound okay, and there are all these other voices, rising up and loud, coming closer.

scar pleads for grian to look at him, and dizzily, he does, his eyesight blurred by hot tears. he's breathing too fast, which is just inviting more lightheadedness; he shakes in scar's grip, whimpering as scar repeats the promises that they're okay.

desperately, grian tries to hold onto that.

he chirps, still distressed but now also pleading, a sound meant only for scar's ears but all too loud and grating to not be heard by anyone else in the vicinity. 

his wings still feel so horribly bound. 

he chokes on a sob. "scar, help." 

he needs to be freed and— and they need to run, right? they need to go? scar says they'll go upstairs. grian tries to get his hands free, wanting to hold onto him, but he's bundled up too tight in scar's arms to really manage with his feeble strength.

his stomach churns, acidic, turning and twisting with the uptick of stress and panic. he sobs again, terrified that they're about to be caught.

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Focus, Scar thinks frantically. Focus, focus. 

He can’t let the anger from the intrusion overcome him. He can’t get defensive here, even if he’s certain one unwelcome step into their makeshift nest will set him off. 

Grian is squirming in his arms, chirping as he relives some phantom experience, and Scar knows this can’t look good. He has to stay calm, he has to keep him under control.

But then Grian begs for his help and it’s like the mirage shatters around him, except this time it’s reality fragmenting before his very eyes, twisting and mutating into something horrible and so much more dire. 

Grian’s sobbing, but for a second Scar sees him despondent, face torn open and wings drenched in blood. He hears voices and it’s like white noise, a vague threat, unwelcome. 

Scar looks around frantically.

He doesn’t know which way Nadia is—

“Scar, buddy, hey, why dontcha just put Grian down and we can aaaaaall relax—“

Scar’s wings flare out to their full span, one dipping over Grian as a shield. No one can see him. No one can ogle those feathers. No one, no one.

“Sc–Scar, what’s going on?”

Scar sees movement. Someone jumps down and instantly he’s crouched low, holding Grian tighter as his eyes glow blue.

“Scar…”

He’s supposed to be calm, he’s supposed to be gentle, he’s failing, he’s failing, but he can’t let them near—

Scar’s entire body flickers blue and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Stay back,” he strains through sharpened teeth, voice low like a snarl. “You—“ 

(You aren’t welcome here.)

(You’re making things worse.)

(You’re lucky I don’t slay you right here and now.)

Scar’s voice breaks, desperate and frightened by his own shattering psyche. “You’re scaring him.” 

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

the sense of danger continues building up around grian, fueling his fear, overexerting his already sickness-weakened body. his heart continues ramming a fast, painful rhythm, and the ache across his chest just serves to make grian more scared.

scar's hold on him is firm, and grian doesn't know whether to feel comfort (he's protected, it's okay, scar's got him), or more panic (there's a threat, scar can't fight if he's gripping grian, why aren't they running?) choking on sobs that he's unable to stop, grian presses his forehead into scar's shoulder; the heat of his fever can surely be felt through scar's shirt, scalding hot. there's a familiar, faint tingling, something grian's learned to attune himself to and recognise—the electrifying current of scar's magic, a warning, a preparation. a wing slings in front of grian like a glowing shield.

mumbo's standing in the bunker, jolting still at scar's accusation and the display of his vex magic. "i'm scaring him?" he stammers, incredulous and not understanding. "mate, i think he's asking to be let go," he hazards, navigating the distressing pitch of chirps and sobs with anxious misguidedness. 

tango's now crouching at the edge of the hole, also intending to descend. "yeah, just let us see him. you've got nothing to hide, right? why make this worse?"

a third pair of footsteps makes it to the unfinished skylight, peering down at the situation with a tense "uhoh," trying to read what exactly is happening here. he isn't sure yet, but some alarm in his head goes off.

with straining breaths through his sobs, grian's dizziness only gets worse. even as he's securely held, he can't escape the violent sensation of the world spinning fast. his stomach tightens, burning with acid, stress overloading all of grian's already muddied senses. there are voices around him, louder, closer, but they don't process right; they're just an incoherent noise, a call of hunters saying we found them, making everything collapse in on him and scar. it feels like they're surrounded and, fearfully, grian presses himself further against scar, burrowing in as much as he can with all his limbs still tangled into the blanket net. 

he should've been more careful.

he shouldn't have triggered the trap.

his eyes are tightly shut, overflowing with tears. behind his closed eyelids, he can see, vividly, avi's terrified look as he's caught in another trap.

a vile kind of panic spreads through him, sharper and more damaging than the previous one, drawing a terrified chirp out of him. the sound breaks on a sob like waves violently crashing into a jagged cliffside, and he desperately tries to take a breath through it all. to speak. 

it's awful; he's so horribly lightheaded and nothing makes sense. but he has to— he has to say this, has to make sure scar hears, has to beg for this one thing above all else. he chokes out, wobbly and halting and small enough to be coherent only for scar, and only if he can spare enough attention to listen. "ple— please don't— don't le— leave him behind—" 

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Scar tenses, briefly glancing down at Grian as he wonders whether or not he truly has been misinterpreting it all, if Grian wants to be let go like Mumbo claims. But no, Scar can feel that feverish haze pressed into his shoulder, desperate and clingy, and his expression sharpens, eyes narrowing in Mumbo’s direction. 

No, Mumbo knows nothing. 

Still, Scar shrinks under Tango’s accusations, reminding him that he ought to have nothing to hide. He doesn’t, just— he can’t let them see. He can’t let anyone see the tears and the panic and the bright violet hues. 

Scar knows he’s being irrational but his wings simply won’t budge, one flung out in some innate danger response and the other curled around like a very necessary shield. They twitch but don’t move.

All Scar can manage is to turn them slightly transparent. A barely willing compromise.

Even his vision is flickering blue.

…Grian’s words make him see white.

He’s vividly tossed back in time, hobbled over and bloodied, barely hanging on, watching as [REDACTED]

Grian’s begging him not to let history repeat itself, he knows, he—

Scar takes a stumbling step backward, blankets curling around his feet and threatening to drag him down. 

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s not go going anywhere, pal,” Tango insists as he leaps down to join Mumbo, carefully touching his shoulder in solidarity. He’s jittery here, not liking he prospect of staring down an angry vex in the slightest, a totem gripped in his other hand. “We’re just here to help.”

Tears break past Scar’s eyes and he hiccups, struggling to stay above water, barely grappling with reality as it continues to shatter before him. 

He can’t do this alone. He’s scared, he’s slipping, he’s making it all worse. 

He… he should have nothing to hide.

“He’s sick,” Scar pleads again, voice hoarse and not at all his own. Blue wisps escape with every word. “He–e has a fever, he’s not— he’s not thinking straight.”

God, are they going to believe that?

Do they believe anything he says? That a crazed vex says?

Scar looks at Grian again, desperation hanging off his tongue. “Grian, you— I—“ He doesn’t even want to suggest it, but they probably need to hear from him. “We…we’re safe, okay? I promise, I… d-do you want me to put you down?”

--

US

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

scar's suggestion is the only thing grian hears with any semblance of coherency, and it makes his lungs spasm and his heart ache. he shakes his head in panic, forehead still pressed against scar, the sharp motion rapidly destabilising the world around him until it spins in a nauseating blur. "no no no don't leave, please, don't don't don't," he chokes out, crying.

the sharpness of that reaction freezes mumbo, sends everything in him careening into doubt.

it's this moment impulse takes his cue to join in. he jumps down, touching tango's arm just as tango is taking a breath to speak, feet moving to step forwards. impulse stops him, gently, even as tension drips from his voice. "tango, wait."

grian's sobs fill the air; the transparency of scar's wings doesn't offer much more clarity. all impulse can tell is that the avian is shaking.

but his eyes draw higher, meeting scar's. his gaze softens at the sight of tears, and he lifts his hands up placatingly, the gesture feeling like lowering of a weapon. "scar." his voice is quiet, just loud enough to be heard. he tries to keep it calm, even as his nerves are fraying with the situation. "you aren't going to run off with him anywhere, right? it's okay. we won't hurt you guys."

mumbo's eyes widen at that, gaze whipping from impulse to scar—for the first time noting the tears in the vex's eyes. "oh, gosh, no, we aren't here to hurt anyone!" he echoes, distraught. 

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Scar tightens his grip, pulling Grian up higher and whispering soft nothings, assuring him that he’ll stay, that he hears him, he wouldn’t leave him, not ever. 

Scar tenses up when yet another person enters their space, but visibly relaxes when he recognizes Impulse’s voice, something steady and yielding to the way that he speaks. It’s the only voice that doesn’t distort into that of a hunter’s call in Scar’s rattled mind.

Slowly, Scar pulls his leg back in, shaking as he gives up on the half-step he was taking away. “I… I know that,” he fibs, because part of him doesn’t believe them. “But Grian doesn’t. N–not right now.”

Tango appears unconvinced, making a short grumbling sound that Impulse cuts off with a light shove. 

Impulse recognizes this scene. Maybe it’s just the flicker of Scar’s wings, but Grian appears to have that same glossed over look in his eye that he had the day they found them— unrecognizing, inconsolable. 

It isn’t good.

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian's sobs quiet down a little at the soft assurances, but the world keeps swirling and swimming. 

mumbo lets out a choked noise, not willing to reconcile with the idea that grian might not recognise them as safe—despite all the hints of their early days on the server post-rescue. he thinks of grian, bruised and bitten and flinching, and he can't let this go. he can't. "please," he begs. "i just want to see him."

impulse looks at mumbo, then back at scar. he's holding out his arm, in case the others would have the stupid thought of moving forwards.

he needs to bargain here, and it's hard.

he tries to hold onto the way scar let pearl at least somewhat close, that day when they pulled scar and grian from that awful world, grian's wing tangled in a horrible trap that tore at it. pearl wasn't allowed to touch, but she was allowed to help, and maybe they could arrive at something similar here, too.

"scar...?" impulse says, gentle and calm again. (it's only the smallest of wobbles that betrays him.) "do you think you could sit down? you don't have to let go of him, just, let us see? we don't have to come close." and then, after a breath, he tentatively pushes with another suggestion: "i think if you're calm about it, it might help him calm down too. you don't have to get away from him."

"yes he does!" tango protests.

impulse whips to face him. "tango!" he snaps back. 

grian flinches in scar's arms at the raised tones, letting out another loud, terrified chirp, curling into scar for protection. he's back to sobbing louder, all of scar's comfort undone in one swift go.

--

SCAR

Scar’s wings sag the slightest bit, drawn in by the soft promises Impulse is laying out, but still hesitant to follow. 

Sitting down would mean giving up an easy escape route. They could be lying. He could be cornered. This could all be a ploy to get him to lower his guard.

Tango’s outburst does not help settle that fear.

Scar grits his teeth together, a few stray tears falling as he struggles to form words. “Stop yelling,” he demands, light blue magic slipping past sharpened teeth. 

He’s back to soothing Grian, not yet yielding and not at all regarding Mumbo’s request. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, okay? I’m—“ He looks over the three pairs of eyes— fearful, disdainful, concerned— and focuses in on Impulse. “They’re… friends.” (Not flock.) “I’m just gonna… kneel down here, okay?” (A small compromise.)

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian continues crying, albeit a little bit quieter again. just a notch. it's hard to tell if scar's soothing is working, or if he's just tiring himself out.

tango, to his credit, seems a bit alarmed by the reaction he's gotten. but he is still relentlessly wary, suspicious of this whole situation.

impulse can tell, and it keeps him tense. he wishes he could just tell tango and mumbo to leave, but he knows they wouldn't budge. not now. not when things are like this.

he holds back a sigh, looking grian's way. "yeah, we're friends," he echoes, soft, trying to sound harmless and encouraging.

he isn't even sure grian's listening to him. he isn't sure he can recognise his voice. it feels awful.

he doesn't think tango and mumbo realise the extent of what's happening. that if grian's mind is scrambled with the sickness, he might not be mentally present here. on hermitcraft. he might be stuck somewhere else entirely, and the thought of it pains impulse. 

the least they can do is play along.

the least he can do is try to deescalate this whole thing.

"c'mon," he tugs at tango and mumbo, voice low. "let's sit down."

"wh— i don't want—" tango starts in protest, but impulse holds his gaze, steady. 

"shh," he reminds him, shutting tango up.

"oh gosh," mumbo lets out, wobbly, and slowly lowers himself down to the floor.

impulse does the same, dragging tango down with him.

"see?" impulse looks back at scar, trying to offer a small smile. "we're not gonna go closer if you guys aren't ready. we're at the same level here. it's okay." he's willing to be patient here, but he worries that tango and mumbo might not be. 

--

SCAR

Scar stares for a long moment, fidgeting between trust and opportunity, wondering if he could run. If he could take them down if they’re going to make themselves vulnerable like this.

His ears twitch with alarm at the mere thought, catching himself before he can spiral further into delusion.

Carefully, he lowers himself to the ground, knelt down on both knees so he could easily spring back into action. 

“We aren’t ready,” Scar confirms, warily eyeing the lot of them. 

His eyes are still bright blue, though slightly less fiery. His chest flickers occasionally, a warm white light. His wing lowers by only an inch. 

He allows himself one moment of weakness, eyes flicking back down toward the shivering avian in his arms. “… I promise a warm bath after this, okay?” he whispers, though his voice carries, still too ragged from pressed together fangs. “W–we’re gonna be fine.”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

impulse nods. he knows they aren't ready, but he hopes hearing that helps the others settle too. "we'll wait. take it slow. make sure he's okay," he coaxes, tone soft. hoping, desperately, that tango and mumbo won't mess this up. that they understand and will follow his lead. "we're not getting any closer. you have space." he pauses, and then he adds, a bit of heartache slipping into his voice: "you're safe, i promise."

grian recognises that they went down, slow and controlled. scar's hold is still tight and secure, and he's talking to him softly, and grian scrambles to understand what's happening. they're... not in danger anymore? scar says they're going to be fine. 

with a tired coo, grian nuzzles into his shoulder. he trusts him, even as he still sniffles, tears dripping down. 

his body feels awful, and his wings twitch, only to find themselves still tangled. it's that sensation that prompts another miserable sob from him, albeit less panic-driven. "take it off," he pleads, begging scar to untangle the trap that restricts him. "take it— scar, hurts," he whines.

the blanket doesn't actually hurt. his body aches from the fever and extertion, but his head tells him that pressure against his wings ought to be painful, and so that's what it is. the fear mistranslates into pain—or maybe just inevitability of the pain if this goes on, he isn't actually sure—the memories more vivid than reality itself.

--

SCAR

Scar nods slowly, wings lowering just a little bit more. He can see the tension actively begin to roll off of Mumbo, but for some reason that doesn’t comfort Scar in the slightest. 

He tries to offer gratitude toward Impulse in some way, but then his attention is dragged back to Grian, ears flicking as he grows rigid and attentive once more.

“Take…?” Scar questions, looking Grian over in confusion before it finally clicks. “The— oh.”

He shifts a little, resting Grian’s weight firmly on his legs, and slowly peels away a few layers of blankets, trying to simply loosen them up and allow for his wings to slip free. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Scar assures him, voice already growing much softer, no more wisps escaping when he speaks. “There you go… ‘m sorry.”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

it's the word hurts on grian's tongue that has mumbo jolting, and impulse has to react fast, grabbing him and keeping him still. "stay calm," he hisses under his breath, quiet enough to be intended only for their trio.

"do you really expect us just to sit here," tango hisses back, "when grian just said he's being hurt?"

impulse exhales, long and tense. "that's not what he said. and he asked scar to fix it. he said," he stresses, somehow still managing to keep his voice hushed and low, "he wants scar to stay near him. so sit. still. and wait."

grian, in the meanwhile, squirms as the blanket layers gets peeled off, feeling the pressure relent. he breathes out, a bit more steadily, forehead still firmly against scar. some of his crying tapers off once he can twitch his wings and feel no resistance—and the loosened blankets let his hands free, too. he uses this immediately to grab onto scar's shirt, depletedly holding on. 

"thanks." he sniffles. and then he asks, feeling small and vulnerable, his heart still frightened: "are we safe...?"

--

SCAR

“Yes,” Scar replies, even if he doesn’t feel safe in the slightest. He feels under attack, though perhaps at least not physically. “…we’re having a sitting party.”

It’s a bit of a nonsensical thing to say, but Scar is trying desperately to reel himself in here. His eyes are only barely green, a blue sheen still hiding them away. He feels tense and uneasy, watching Tango in particular now with narrowed vision.

It flicks to Mumbo, accusatory in his stare. “I said we didn’t want visitors,” Scar states, guarded. “So why are you here?”

--

GRIAN

it is a bit nonsensical, the words sitting party taking a while to slot in grian's mind. but if they're having a party, that means there is someone else, right? the memories of the confusing, threatening voices feels fuzzy to grian. the danger has passed, the hunters are gone. they wouldn't be sitting down, wings released, having a party of all things otherwise—and scar confirmed they're safe.

which means...

maybe scar called them over, like grian asked?

he relaxes a little bit more, even as he still continues to wade his confusion. "flock...?" he asks in a tiny coo. 

he's leaning his head on scar's shoulder, staring blankly off in the direction of scar's other shoulder, not focused on anything in particular. his vision still swims. 

--

SCAR

“… Friends,” Scar corrects, because they’re not. “… They’re just—“ Scar swallows down some bitterness, trying to stay calm. “—worried about you.”

And then he looks back to Mumbo, eyes glowing a bit brighter again as he waits for his answer.

(They’re worried about Grian. Not him. Unless being worried of him counts.)

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

"mhn?" grian makes a confused sound at the word friends. it doesn't want to slot anywhere in his head. who?

mumbo, in the meanwhile, shrinks under scar's sharp attention. "we were worried," he offers, nothing more than a repeat of what scar's just said himself. 

tango steps in, pointing out: "you said he was sick. we wanted to check in on him."

--

SCAR

Scar’s ears droop at Grian’s clear inability to recognize the concept. But frankly, he doesn’t blame him.

With a sigh, Scar scans the three of them again, looking them over for any sign of trouble, but he notes a distinct lack of anything, which makes him frown.

“So, what? Did you bring medicine?” he asks rhetorically, because he knows the answer. “Soup? Blankets? Bath salts?”

His eyes narrow with each question.

--

OTHERS

there's a very clear faltering across the whole group. they exchange glances, slightly nervous. 

"i— we—" mumbo stammers, face flushing. he's suddenly feeling very uneasy. chastised. he stares at the bundle scar's holding, what he at first was so sure was a distressed avian probably really just a feverish one, and it makes him deflate. he didn't think past the anxiety enough to consider that scar might be telling the truth. (he's still not sure. he still needs to see grian, properly. he still wants to check.) (but the scales of probability are tipping in a way that makes him feel off balance and out of place.)

impulse sighs. he didn't have time to stop them long enough to ask them to be sensible and bring something for grian if he truly is sick. he is here as a chaperone and—oh boy is he glad he came. he can't imagine how this would've panned out otherwise.

"you weren't replying on the comms," tango soldiers through, still frowning, still a touch confrontational. he doesn't like the way scar's looking at him. doesn't like all his sharp edges. doesn't like the feeling that scar's still hiding something. "we didn't know what you need." he pulls slightly back, straightening up. "do you need anything?" he challenges. there already was a soup delivery by the front door, and it certainly doesn't seem like they're low on blankets.

--

SCAR

“I was a little preoccupied,” Scar replies dryly, frustrated that he’s still being questioned. “I’d think it’s customary to bring at least some sort of gift,” Scar continues to pry, not letting it go. Not letting it slide that they clearly came here out of fear instead of assistance. “But sure, sure, we certainly wouldn’t say no to some minty bath salts or some tea leaves.”

Scar briefly wonders if that’s all it would take to make this unwelcome trio leave. He doubts it.

“Or, you know, some peace and quiet so he can get some rest,” Scar concludes, tight jawed and eyebrows furrowed. At least his eyes are back to green.

--

OTHERS

mumbo recognises that they're being thrown out, but it just makes him dig his heels in. "we can bring some tea, but— but scar—"

it's tango who breaks this line drawn in the sand again, encroaching on a minefield territory. "we still haven't seen grian." because this sliver they can see right now doesn't count. it doesn't say anything about whether or not grian's hurt, underneath it all. even if grian begs for scar to be close. honestly, tango doesn't consider grian the best judge of that right now. unhealthy attachments exist!

--

SCAR

Scar exhales through his nose, slow and barely steady. 

Reluctantly, he lowers his wing, allowing an unobstructed gaze, though he makes no effort to close the distance between them. He doesn’t want that line broken.

“…happy?”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian registers scar's wing falling away, and it makes him feel oddly exposed. grian isn't sure to whom; scar said their flock isn't here, but that they're safe. still, he ducks, hiding his face in scar's chest. that way, he can pretend he's still shielded. that way, he can pretend the world can't hurt him. (the way he can feel scar's breaths is just a nice, soothing bonus. scar's right here, alive, right next to him. perfectly in reach, as grian's fingers tug at him.) (he closes his eyes, willing the surroundings to stop tipping around them. his feathers fluff up lightly.) 

mumbo makes another strangled noise, and he moves as if to stand up, compelled to go closer. to check. to— 

to be there. 

grian's his friend, and there wasn't a time when mumbo wasn't allowed to be near. to take care of him when he feels unwell.

with blankets and grian's wings still firmly in the way, and grian's whole body turned away from them, mumbo still can't see anything. so no, he isn't happy.

"... grian?" he tries, calling out to him, coaxing him to look his way as he gets up to his wobbly feet.

--

SCAR

Scar bristles again, wings twitching as he instinctively growls, low and mercifully non-threatening, but it certainly doesn’t sound that way to an untrained ear. 

These are untrained ears. 

Scar registers the flinch in varying degrees from all three of them, and his ears twitch, then droop again in shame.

He can’t do this. He can’t let someone else close. It doesn’t matter how fidgety and awkward Mumbo is, Scar doesn’t trust him to come close.

Mumbo who says foolish things; Mumbo who looks at him like a stranger; Mumbo who cares so much that Scar can’t help but feel strangled by it as it weaves around him, passing him by and threatening to smother Grian in his disturbed state. 

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian makes an inquisitive mewl, a soft and small sound, unworried at scar's growl. he knows it's not threatening, so he just gently prods, inquiring as to what's wrong. what's bothering scar?

pointedly, he doesn't react to mumbo's call at all. as if he didn't even register it.

tango's rising to his feet now, too, but impulse puts a hand on his shoulder.

it doesn't deter tango, and they both stand up. still far away, but in a way the three of them are now towering over kneeling scar, looking down with varying emotions. 

"we'll get you some tea," impulse says, quiet, measured. he's looking directly at scar. he's trying to tell him that he sees him. that he doesn't blame him, no matter how stifling and explosive this situation is turning out to be.

"impulse!" tango squeaks, indignant, protesting. "he's hiding something!"

impulse's gaze cuts sharply to tango. "keep your voice down!" he hisses, frowning, then sighs. he understands they're anxious, but lines do need to be drawn.

for grian's sake as well as for scar's. 

impulse looks back at scar, tries to soften all the jaggedness from his pooling tension. "do you think you can get him to sleep? rest a little?" he suggests. "we will come back with the tea. if grian's asleep— we can look at him then? so he won't be scared of us?" he bites at his lip, and then adds: "just look. and we can help if you'll need anything else from us, yeah?" it's a gentle proposal, an attempt to find a tightrope that won't send them all careening towards some awful abyss.

--

SCAR

Scar feels so horribly small knelt down like this in front of people that are seemingly hellbent on misinterpreting his every move. His wings fall to the ground at the insinuation of him hiding something once again.

He’s not. He’s hiding Grian maybe, but he was scared— he asked for help and this is how Scar would help…

Scar trembles under the spotlight of their gazes, even if Impulse’s is softer. He feels like he can’t move— like he isn’t allowed.

“I… I want him to rest,” Scar agrees weakly, nodding once in exhausted misery. “You… yeah. You can check on him then.”

He still hates it. Hates the idea of someone in their nest. Hates that he’s still being more or less monitored, hates that he can’t be trusted with what he knows best.

Scar looks down to Grian, eyes big, barely holding back the fear that seeps into that forest green. “Can I take you upstairs? …nest?”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

impulse softens further at scar's agreement, hearing the fatigue and defeat in his voice. it makes his heart ache, even more when he thinks about everyone else overlooking that. "alright... thank you, scar," he says gently.

then his eyes flick to find the exit, realising they're going to have to walk past. 

"can we... leave? or do you want us to wait until you go first?" impulse checks nervously, gaze jumping between scar and the avian he's cradling. he has a feeling scar doesn't want them here any longer than necessary, but impulse isn't sure if getting closer only for the sake of walking out is what he needs.

"or we can dirt pillar up," mumbo suggests with a nervous little laugh, attempting nonchalance and jokes, even as everything in him still rails against this. he's drawn forward, towards grian, like a moth to a flame. he wants to check him over, touch his skin, care for him. he doesn't realise he's completely disregarding scar in this scenario. doesn't realise he sees him as nothing but a mad guard dog, standing in his way for no reason. 

"you're giving up?" tango huffs, tail swishing. 

"i— what?" mumbo laughs again, more nervously this time. "we'll be back."

"what, so he can cover up his tracks?" tango pushes, frowning. all too aware that a potion or two are enough to hide most injuries. and an asleep grian can't answer any check-up questions.

it's impulse who growls now. "tango. scar isn't our enemy. he's our friend. maybe you should start treating him as such."

"i— wh— but—" tango stammers, completely taken off guard, ears pulling low.

grian, in the meanwhile, reacts to scar's careful, gentle question. his unfocused gaze lifts up, seeking to anchor in familiar green, feeling fragmented and vulnerable and still sick. "nest," he echoes, impossibly sad and hopeful, yearning. he sniffles, not paying their surroundings any attention; the memories still swirl through him, and nothing quite feels real.

nothing but scar.

he tips forward, wraps his arms around scar's shoulders in a weak hug, clinging to him in a position that makes it easy to carry him. 

"... can the bucket come with us?" he half-jokes hoarsely.

--

SCAR

Turns out it doesn’t feel good being spoken about like he isn’t right there, and Scar finds himself slumping forward in defeat, misery seeping deep into his bones.

His chest flickers once more, eyes clouded with a blue fog that only fades when Grian wraps his arms around. Grian, who does trust him and is deserving of his love and attention.

Wretchedly, Scar swallows down his anxieties, does his best to ignore the unwelcome surroundings. He doesn’t even provide them an answer, instead leaning down to kiss Grian’s (still dreadfully warm) forehead.

“Anything you need, G,” he croaks, rising on incredibly wobbly feet and hooking the handle of the bucket with his pinky. 

Wordlessly, he turns his back to his intruders and begins walking upstairs, unable to bear their presence any longer. His wings flick and tremble, uncomfortable being exposed to what he still inevitably seems as enemies. 

(It’s only fair considering how he’s actively antagonized.)

“So sorry about all this moving around…” Scar continues murmuring, feeling entirely off balance, but managing to stay steady only because Grian is in his arms. “We’ll get nice and comfy, alright? And our guests can bring the soup in.”

That’s the only acknowledgment they get.

--

GRIAN

grian lets out a soft noise at the kiss, a mix of comforted and still absolutely miserable. he isn't sure if he feels hot or cold, and his body aches. the nausea is ever-present, making any move a wretched matter, especially when coupled with his still spinning head.

he tries to hold onto scar a bit firmer, but his strength isn't there. he groans, whimpering. "slow," he pleads, not knowing how else to mitigate this.

he really doesn't want to puke if he can help it. although maybe having it over would feel better than this.

--

SCAR

“Slow,” Scar parrots, purposely stilling himself for a moment before continuing at a steadier pace. He didn’t realize he was rushing, honestly, but it makes sense.

He wants those eyes off of his back.

He thinks he hears the sound of pillaring blocks, and that’s likely for the best. 

“Nice and slow,” he confirms again, trying to keep Grian level once they’re past the steps. 

--

aaaand i’ll wrap it up with that. :3

[giantologist]

A carrier pigeon has dropped off a letter!

(Sorry in advance if ya don't do questions like these! :'D Thought to send an ask in a fashionable fashion and hope submissions still work- )

CC:

Greetings Professor J. Finch,

I trust this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. I am writing to you with great interest in your renowned research. My curiosity has been piqued by a topic that holds personal significance to me, a friend, an acquaintance of mine – the intriguing realm of giant culture.

His particular interest comes from the fact they have a rather terrible curse that causes him to have emotionally tied growth spurts. He is a prince from a kingdom I cannot safely expose and has been in confinement for several years. While he has been taken care of and isn’t in any immediate danger to my knowledge, he has been considering if he would be better suited among giants. However, I do not know if a human like him could fit in with their species or if it’s worth reaching out.

He certainly doesn’t belong with humans anymore.  

In light of this, I humbly seek your guidance and counsel. I am eager to learn about the broader spectrum of giants' attitudes towards those who experience shifts in size. His foremost desire is to understand his options, and your candid insights would be immensely valued.

I extend my gratitude for your consideration of this matter. Kindly direct your response to my associate's address, and I shall ensure the information reaches its intended recipient.

Yours sincerely,

Concerned anonymous.

~~~

Dear Concerned Anonymous,

My, what a concerning condition. I can likely see just how stressful it must be for you the person in question. Humans are not very tolerant when it comes to the different and unknown, as I can attest to greatly. I am humbled that you think I am the one to reach out to, and for that I thank you.

If one such as this individual were to seek refuge amongst giants, I would strongly believe that they would find solace. Most giants, at least those accustomed to human contact, would revel in the idea of a friend or lodger that could change size, as it would likely be seen as a sign of strength, something which they, as a species, hold in high regard. As long as shrinking isn't also an issue, as you might see how being mere inches around one so large may be dangerous, it sounds to me like a splendid idea.

I shall attach a list of my contacts in the giant world, some of my friends that I know will either accept your acquaintance with open arms, or put you in contact with those who will if they are unable to care for the prince. Do bear in mind that the size disparity between their subspecies is of a greater range than any other mammal, so it should be all too easy to accept a size shifter into their homes and hearts.

I do hope you your acquaintance finds the people they need to accept them as the wonderful and blessed person they are.

Professor J Finch

[origamiplushie]

I Have a Bird in Spring

This was written as part of the @steddiesummerexchange for @hardboiledleggs for her prompt 'frogs'. I decided to use my own memories of going to a pond to watch frogs every summer as inspiration for this fic! Megg, I hope you like it<3 This was my first ever fic event and I would like to thank the mods for putting together such an awesome event because I've had a great time from start to finish!

Read on AO3.

Chapter 1: The Horned Marsupial Frog

The marsupial frog keeps her eggs in a pouch like a kangaroo. When the eggs hatch into tadpoles, she opens the pouch with her toes and spills them into the water.

One year, Steve’s class was asked to each draw their favorite place in Hawkins. A few people drew the arcade, some drew a tree-house in their backyard and a couple of the nerdier kids drew the library. Steve didn’t have to think long about what he would choose to draw - there was only one place in Hawkins that was really his. The frog pond.

The pond was located in the woods, not too far from his house. It was a great place to play, climb trees and explore but what Steve loved most of all about this pond were the frogs. Every spring the pond was filled with tadpoles. Steve loved to crouch on a rock next to the pond and watch the tiny black dots swimming around. He’d stick his hand in and watch them scatter before beginning to mill around his fingers. He would spend all his summers and school breaks at that pond if he could.

As he hadn’t ever seen anyone else at the pond before, he dared to call the little pond his pond. Well, he guessed he could share with the frogs too.  

The teacher really liked his drawing and had suggested that if he wanted to get a closer look at the tadpoles he could scoop them up with a jar and view them through the glass like an aquarium. She also said he could keep them as pets if he built a proper habitat, but Steve knew his mom would never allow pets in their house, much less ‘slimy creatures’ like frogs.

However, Steve could still use the first half of that idea! So at the beginning of spring break he dug out a large jar from one of the cupboards in his kitchen, rinsed off the dust and hurried to his pond.

Only this time, someone else was there.

A pale boy with dark hair and a buzz cut was in the clearing waving around a stick at the air as if it was a sword. 

Shocked to find another person at his pond, Steve hid behind a tree and just watched for a moment.

“Take that you nasty monster! And that! I am going to save this village from your terror!” the boy shouted.

He continued swinging and making stabbing motions with his stick and then with a final victorious yell he dramatically spun around with both him and his ‘sword’ pointed directly at Steve peeking out from behind the tree.

“Ahhhh!” The boy jumped in surprise and fell down. He went red in the face.

Steve came out from behind the tree now that he’d been noticed and cautiously approached the boy sitting on the ground.

Now that Steve was closer he could say for sure that he’d never seen this boy around Hawkins before even though he looked like he was around Steve’s age. He was wearing a worn red t-shirt and cargo shorts. He had a few bandaids on his knees and one on his cheek.

“Whuh- How long have you been there?” the boy exclaimed.

“Not long. Who are you? You don’t live in Hawkins, do you?”

“No, I’m staying at my uncle’s for spring break. My name’s Edmund.”

The boy, Edmund, stood up and brushed off the dirt on his shorts as he answered.

“Why are you at my pond?” Steve blurted out.

“Woah, what? Your pond?” The boy looked confused for a moment before brightening and starting to jump up and down. “Wait! Are you like some kind of water spirit or nymph or something like that? Is this your home? Should I not have told you my name? Are you going to curse me?”

Steve did not know what to make of this sudden deluge of questions and he didn’t even understand half of them.

“I’m not going to curse you! I’m Steve, not whatever it was you said. What on earth is a ‘nimp’?”

“Oh, maybe nymph is just a word made up by us mortals and not used by other creatures? I guess C. S. Lewis wouldn’t have known that…” Edmund absentmindedly mumbled to himself.

Steve thought this whole incident just kept on getting more and more confusing. 

“Anyways! Oh, noble spirit of this peaceful glade and this lovely pond, would you please allow this adventurer to stay and explore here?”

Steve thinks he got the gist of that weirdly worded question - Edmund wanted to play by the pond.

“Uh, sure I guess. I mean, I don’t mind sharing, I already share this place with the frogs. But if you’re staying, um, can I play too?” Steve looked at the ground shyly as he got to that last part.

“Yeah! That would be awesome!” Steve’s new friend beamed at him.

The boys ran around chasing dragons nearly the whole afternoon. Edmund told Steve that he should be a wizard fighting with magic while Edmund would be a knight protecting him with his sword while Steve cast his spells. They managed to find a cool looking long stick that became Steve’s new magic staff. 

Steve didn’t know all the words Edmund used but the other boy was always happy to explain when he asked.

It was the most fun Steve had had in a while.

When they finally noticed that it was starting to get dark, Edmund turned towards Steve apologetically. “I need to get back to my uncle or he’s gonna start to worry.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. Would you wanna play again tomorrow? I could show you the tadpoles?”

Edmund smiled brightly and promised to come back the next day. 

And they continued meeting up at the frog pond to play together every day for the rest of the break.

Steve showed Edmund which rock was the best to sit on to see into the pond without falling in and how to scoop up the little tadpoles with the glass jar. 

Edmund told Steve about his uncle and his mom. His mom loved fairy tales and fantasy stories. Edmund had actually been named after a character from one of her favorite books, “The Chronicles of Narnia”. His uncle was a trucker and usually traveled around a whole bunch which meant that Edmund could only visit him for spring break and maybe a week or two in the summer. Edmund didn’t say a lot about his dad, just mentioned that he was busy with work a lot.

Steve could get that. Steve then told Edmund about his own mom and dad. How his dad went on a lot of important business trips while his mom watched Steve. But his mom was often busy organizing charity events and leading the homeowners association, so neither of them really had much time to play with Steve.

After some confusion from Edmund and a quick explanation about what a ‘water spirit’ was, Steve also frantically cleared up that he was a normal boy, not some kind of ghost of the frog pond or whatever. He just called it ‘his pond’ because no one else played there but him.

At the end of spring break both boys were saddened by losing their new friend but Edmund promised he’d be back at the end of June and they could play together again then.

So it went for 3 years. Steve would get two or three joyful weeks a year playing at the frog pond with Edmund. He would rush to the pond the first day of spring break and impatiently wait for Edmund to show up. 

It was no longer ‘his pond’, instead it had become ‘their pond’.

But then Edmund disappeared. And Steve didn’t even know why.

Steve had hurried to their pond as soon as he woke up on the first day of spring break and settled in to wait for his friend. However hours passed and the sun went down and still there was no sign of Edmund. ‘No matter,’ Steve consoled himself, ‘he’ll probably be at the pond tomorrow’.

Steve waited at their pond every day for the rest of the break until finally he had to admit that Edmund wasn’t going to come. 

The only explanation Steve could come up with was that Edmund had grown out of playing at the frog pond. Maybe he thought it was too childish and Steve was just acting like a baby being disappointed that he had no one to catch tadpoles with anymore. 

Steve was still a little bitter that he was just left behind like that, but he decided that if Edmund wouldn’t be coming to their pond anymore, neither would Steve. They were too old for such childish things.

Steve guessed his dad was right - it was time for him to grow up. ---

1977 had so far been the worst year of Eddie’s life. His mom had died and his dad had been thrown in prison. Eddie felt more sad about the former than the latter. 

Then he had spent a torturous couple of months in the loving hands of CPS before his uncle Wayne finally managed to track him down and appeal to the courts for permission to raise him. 

So now on top of the grief and anger and trauma, Eddie was also laden with guilt. 

His uncle had to give up his trucking job and start working shifts at the factory. Wayne had to give up his bedroom so Eddie could have his own room. And he had to take care of his dumb nephew who, as CPS had helpfully informed him, was ‘troubled’.

Because of all this Eddie hadn’t made it to Hawkins before August, a week before school started. He hadn’t been able to see Steve since the year before or let him know why he had missed his usual visit during spring break.

As soon as his uncle allowed him out of his sight he frantically rushed to their frog pond, irrationally hoping that Steve would still be there.

But the clearing was empty. Steve had obviously given up on waiting for Eddie to come back. 

Eddie had lost his mom and his home and now he had lost the smallest bit of magic fate had deigned to give him. He knew that his Stevie wasn’t actually a nymph or a water spirit, but being Eddie’s first and only friend had been miraculous enough. And now he was gone. 

1977 sucked.

Next.

[devouredbyflame]

Good morning! It’s Ari, again.

I might drop by to DM sometime, but since I’m about to work, I didn’t want to be rude and just DM/start a conversation to throw questions at you and run off lol I’d rather DM to get to know someone if that makes sense. I thought it might be more appropriate to drop little questions here if any really drive me nuts while I’m reading your blog in the meantime.

If I ever ask anything you don’t want to share, feel free to say so! I’m trying to understand what I’ve read you say about finding your path yourself and avoiding echo chambers when you should be learning from the Divine, so I’m gonna try to limit my questions, but between my having ADHD, anxiety, and just generally being kind of detail-oriented, I still find myself fixated on specific details a lot

So with that ramble out of the way (sorry, I’m kinda long-winded, I’m sure you noticed in my email lol) my actual question(s) for today!:

(I see how long this got, so for a summary, this jumble of questions is about the likenesses of Deities you mention putting on altars)

In your first post about altar creation, I saw you say one of the things you need is a likeness of the Deity you’re making it for. It might be a silly question, but what really counts as a “likeness���? Is it just anything made with the intention of being His likeness? Or are we supposed to make an intuitive guess? I could see maybe going by personal UPG, but assuming we’re just starting out and not confident in anything like that, trying to make the altar to connect in the first place, I’m wondering how we know what we’re looking for.

Since I’m not able to practice openly at home, but my family knows I was a bigger fan of Hiddleston Loki than the MCU itself, I was thinking of finding a good/affordable figure of MCU Loki. So if the owner of the household rifles through my things, as she’s prone to do, and she finds a candle, a marvel figure and a couple of (to her) random things in a box, she’s more likely to think it’s just a box of knickknacks. But I’m afraid this will be seen as some kind of joke, I don’t want to be too familiar, in case I’ve been wrong about my connecting to Him so far.

Final thought- do Deities even really have human-looking appearances? I see Loki appearing differently to different people, especially as a shapeshifter, but is it really a thing that any of Them look a certain way? Like I’ve read you talk about meeting Him face-to-face when He has possessed people in front of you, and how He’s your roommate/in-and-out-of-your-body way of being with you now. But is there a way you “see” Him? And is that a way He’s appeared to you, in a dream or meditation or something, or is it just kinda a creative idea of how He looks?

Sorry for the length, and any errors! I’d stop to edit it down and fix run-on sentences, but I’m already kinda late starting work (oops). So I hope you have a good day! Hopefully I’ll have time to actually chat this weekend, if you’re open to that!

Hi Ari! You're totally fine. I love answering questions so give me what you got and I can do my best to further clarify for you. And also, I am ADHD so I 100% understand the need for detail-oriented clarification. My numerous questions is how I got to where I am today because I would ask Loki so many things about how stuff works so I can better grasp the nature of the concept. I am more than delighted to share what I've learned, how it works, and why it's been successful and that's kind of the point of my being here.

My answers are also really long-winded and mostly because I have a lot of knowledge and experiences and very few places to share it so bear with me.

So, in regards to the likeness question, I would say anything that is made with the intention of it being the Deity in question would be the best point of reference. However, it doesn't necessarily mean it has to be an obvious representation, just something that is synonymous with Their energy. Like, if you had a candle vaguely in the shape of the Deity in question or a clay model, a doll, or a picture that reminds you of Them, that also works. The purpose is to draw the energy of that particular Deity into the shrine which means you would need to "open the door" to both sides. Like, the Deity would need to know it is for Them as well as you so you can look at it and go, "ah, yes, that is the God in question." You would think They wouldn't care because They know your heart and your intention, but it is easiest when the object is designed with the God in mind.

That being said, I personally had MCU Loki on my altar for a year or two when I first began, knowing Loki probably was aware of my situation and that I needed to be closeted until I had my own place to live. I don't think it would necessarily be a problem if you have Tom Hiddleston instead of Loki Himself. When I got my own place, I got Him a statue carved out of wood and quite a bit of art by various artists I've found who I think draw Him really well.

The whole debate about whether or not Loki cares for MCU Loki itself is complex and I can possibly get into that in more detail if anyone is ever interested. But based on my experiences with Him, He has indicated that no, He doesn't really care for it to be on your shrine. It's fine if that's what you need to be conspicuous. He only really seems to care if you don't ask Him if it's okay. The point, I think, He wants to make is that by asking Him His opinion, He will make it okay because you gave Him your reasoning and didn't just assume. Which makes sense considering a shrine is a Deity's possession and not a devotee's after the point of making it a shrine. So, as long as you're asking His permission to use it on His shrine, I think that's absolutely clear with Him.

I cannot speak for Him, but I sincerely doubt He would ever wish to put you in the way of any danger when it comes to His shrine being made. However, I know Him to be very possessive of His belongings and prefers giving His consent with certain things. If you invite Him when creating a shrine, He will more than likely give you a sense of what you need to be doing for Him and whether or not it's okay. If you don't trust that, using a pendulum, flipping a coin, or other "yes/no" random generators are helpful. I wouldn't worry too much that you are afraid of insulting Him just because you don't have an option.

Just don't ask Him multiple times the same question because that's when He starts giving false answers. It can get aggravating but typically He doesn't like having only one-sided answers and would prefer to say both "yes" and "no" because He tends to swing both ways when talking about the nature of Himself as well as the Gods since it's never only ever just one single way.

I think He does mind Tom Hiddleston being used as His likeness if you have no reason to hide your shrine and if you don't ask His permission to so so He may say "no" but then "yes" later on given His consent and an explanation of your reasoning.

Now, I don't know your situation, obviously, and there's no reason for you to get into more detail about it to some random stranger on the internet but I will point out that having a shrine is a lot less obvious than you would think. People won't know what they are looking at if they are not pagan. I kept my shrine on my desk for the years I was closeted and my ex who was an atheist as well as my Christian parents did not know what they were looking at unless I specifically told them what it was. Even then, they were confused. I think unless the people you live with know what a pagan is or what a shrine should be, you likely are going to be fine even if they go through your belongings.

I recommend keeping it in a shoe box somewhere or an even smaller box that's tucked away somewhere no one will get to it even if they are looking. It's probably for the best regardless because it would keep other energy from getting to it that would be less than savory and could interrupt the energetic transaction between Loki and yourself.

Also, in regards to appearances, no, Loki does not have a physical appearance whatsoever. He is energy and energy does not have a form that we can see clearly with our two eyes. He likes to call Himself an "orb of light" and that He "floats around all day and does not do much of anything on this physical plane except wait around for stuff to happen."

I have seen Him manifest physically before but it is not human-like nor is it remotely something that is a common occurrence. It looks like glimmers of golden light that shines in the corner of my eye and flashes before it can ever be seen fully. My cats see Him all the time, actually, and watch as He zooms around the apartment and plays with them since cats have a keener sense of vision than we do.

So, no, He does not have any actual human-like qualities. However, it is my understanding that the way we perceive Him is translated by various triggers in our brain. Just like how we visualize a person as they are described that we haven't seen before, Loki essentially has a means to assist people with seeing Him who may have trouble recognizing who He is so He gives a common appearance. He's explained to me that when it's important for someone to know who they are looking at, He will appear to them as a lanky ginger with long red hair, golden eyes and pointed ears. But if it's not, then He can show up as anyone He wants to in any way.

So I suppose it's both the way He wants to be seen and also our own brains piecing together visuals that He triggers and we conceptualize as vaguely human but very obviously not given the amount of energy that resonates off of Him. So it's both intentional that He looks the same way to a lot of people while also being intentional when He doesn't. Regardless of where, how, and why He manifests, though, He feels the exact same way all the time and you'll know who He is just by being in His presence. So, I suppose, also, it doesn't truly matter about what He looks like on your shrine.

I hope that answers your questions (probably more info than you ever asked for) but I'm always open to clarifying things here and otherwise and that goes with anyone who stumbles on my blog. That's why I'm here. Also, yes, please DM whenever you want! I love meeting people. It's my favorite. Talking about this shit is my jam.

[bibibbon]

"Can we be friends or have moots with those who have very different views from us?"

What will your answer with that ask above?

Me, I have a friend (starts off as moot) who is a multishipper. I mean they can find ships from any fandom they're in, and once they love it, they'll make fics and arts of that ship.

About BNHA, they're die hard fan of BKDK, don't ask me, even I can't understand it (I'm also anti Bakugou and BKDK). But my friend and I can still talk about fandom stuff (minus the ships cause I'm not really into shipping).

Don't you think fandom have become more toxic these days? Like, even if I don't ship bkdk, but I never think to say rude things or send death wish to those who ship them. I feel sad when my friend receive those negative things just because of shipping fictional characters.

Thanks for bring positivity to BNHA fandom. My friend was surprised when finding out, you're anti bkdk but never say rude things to the shipper. You're the first anti bkdk blog that they followed and like the posts.

Even if BNHA end with disappointing last arc, it's a great journey overall, right? I don't get people who talked shit to the writer/artist of a certain work? Horikoshi-sensei have work hard all these years, we should appreciate his hard work, at least....(I can feel how hard writing is as a writer myself).

Now, at least I can see that BNHA near its ending from last year. But for JJK I did not see that coming. Is it true that JJK will also ending this year? What do you think the ending will be, tragedy or open ending? Can Yuuji defeat Sukuna?

As long as there's mutual respect between one and another I do believe that two people with different views can be friends. However, this honestly depends on the person for example I personally wouldn't be friends with someone who has a completely different set of morals than mine. Other than that( and maybe a few things I suppose) i think its good to surround yourself with people who have different views as it allows you to build a much more nuanced perspective on certain things and honestly talking to people who you have different views than can be fun.

Honestly depending on the websites or platforms your in different fandoms vary in their level of toxicity and all. I have found it that the most popular fandoms are the ones that have the highest levels of toxicity and Iam completely against it. People should be allowed to like or dislike or comment on whatever without recieving death threats or hate by others because at the end of the day these are simple pieces of fiction and the person you're hating/harming is a real being behind the screen.

I would like to thank you for your comment as I actually wasn't aware that I had such an impact on your friend and if the anons friend is seeing this I would like to apologise for whatever you went through as no one deserves to get hate or death threats for expressing themselves and making content for things they like.

Giving an author hate/death threats is completely inexcusable and shouldn't happen at all. I want to clarify that criticism (which is something that my blog is heavily centered around) is completely different to hate and while I think MHA has had a lot more downs than ups it's still a series with a lot of potential that has captivated me to be honest.

Also, I do want to bring to light that the manga industry in Japan is incredibly competitive and has put a lot of it's artists in tough, exploitative and outright inhumane positions so great works may lose quality overtime due to that or other external factors. In the end horikoshi is an amazing artist with potential to do much more but the writing ends up lacking in various aspects.

I have seen the posts saying that jjk will come to an end but I honestly doubt that gege will wrap up the manga at the end of the year. As of current the manga is in its last act and probably has one or two more arcs to go through before wrapping up to a conclusion. I used to be somewhat optimistic in hoping that jjk will follow the story of the younger generation overcoming and breaking the flaws and problems of the older generations so we would get somewhat of a bittersweet/happy ending but I do see a bad/open ending much more plausible in the current direction ths manga is heading in.