#anon i really enjoyed reading this ask and i really wish i could include it in the poll!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelshadowsinger · 2 years ago

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oh my fucking god your work is incredible! holy literal shit balls i have never felt that entranced by a fanfiction until reading yours. thank u thank u thank u your azriel is PERFECT.

also i’m totally gonna need your thoughts on azriel sharing with his shadows 👀

re: ummmmmmm call me parmesan bc u got me CHEESIN!?!?!! that is literally sO sweet of you to say, i am touched 🥺 as a fic author you always worry if you’re making the character OOC and, it just makes me so happy to hear your praise!! thank you so much anon~ ♥︎ This HC is a bit more than what you’ve asked for, but it does includes it, so pls enjoy!

Azriel’s Shadows Around his Mate Headcanons

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

In my eyes, Azriel’s shadows are a part of him. There hasn’t been much insight that Maas has given us with shadowsingers and their capabilities in general, but this is what I choose to believe~

Since Azriel’s shadows were perhaps the first of his powers, and the first entity to treat him with some kindness/obedience, I think he would be very in tune with them and he himself would consider them a part of him. He has had over 500 years to develop his relationship with them and therefore, I believe once he found his mate, his shadows would be just as captivated with her as he himself.

Obviously, Azriel is a total simp for his girl (but that’s another hc in its own), so that means his shadows are too. Honestly, it could be viewed as annoying how often at least a few of his shadows are constantly at your side. He’s used to having them totally loyal to him, so now that he has to share them with you… well, it’s not really actually that cumbersome, because he knows that even when you two are apart, he’ll be sure to know if you need him/his help. Though he has a couple less to send out on his spymaster business, technically, the ones with you are acting as his spies anyway. Just, with a far more interesting and important subject.

His shadows do a variety of things for you, making your everyday life easier and more pleasant. Just as their master, the shadows like to give you princess treatment.

For example, they go out of their way to help you with mundane things. If you’re making dinner and a tomato rolls off the cutting board, they’re pushing it back to you. When you’re putting on a dress, they’re helping you with the zip and clasp. If you’re writing something and your pen runs out of ink, somehow they’ve procured a new one that matches your exact preferences.

Both Az and his shadows notice the small things. They take notes of your likes and dislikes, what makes you giggle, cry, or provides you comfort.

At times when he’s away for a long while, and you’re missing him, they will deliver small gifts to you. A couple flowers tied with twine, native to the strange lands he’s currently working in. A special spice he knows you love to use in the foods you share with him. An especially-delicious pastry made with your favorite fruit/flavor. Though the shadows themselves do not find you gifts, they are happy to deliver whatever Az requests they send.

They also will take anything you wish to send him. Whether he’s in another country, or simply training at the House of Wind with his brothers, his shadows will deliver your every gift. Most of the time it’s little sweets or a lunch you’ve packed. Sometimes when you’re feeling cheekier, a receipt from the lingerie store informing him of your latest purchase. If you’re really feeling brazen, sometimes the panties themselves. His shadows are perhaps happiest to carry those items, either to get into contact with them or to see their master’s red cheeks as he shoves them out of his brothers’ view.

His shadows are your caretaker when he is not with you. When you’ve fallen asleep staying up for your mate’s return from yet another mission, his shadows will tuck you under your favorite blanket, taking off your reading glasses and ensuring your spot in the open book on your lap is not lost. Az nearly melts when he comes back to the sight, you dead asleep on the couch in front of the blazing hearth, his shadows perched dutifully there, guarding you.

However, they grow attached to you and even when he is with you, they will not leave you alone unless he commands them.

Azriel likes to take full advantage of his time alone with you. There is nothing he finds more comfort and pleasure in than being in your embrace. Sometimes that’s hard to do, though, when his shadows steal away your attention, or beat him to helping you with the zip of your dress.

It’s a very endearing sight to see him get jealous of his own shadows. He’d have a scowl on his face as he glared at them, silently ordering them to leave your side so he could have you all to himself. The shadows would melt onto the floor, gloomy in a way, whisper once more around your ankle before they go off to fulfill their master’s instruction.

Most of the time, you manage to guilt your mate into letting a few of them come back. And as soon as he calls them, they appear and shoot right for you. Az rolls his eyes but of course he understands. How could they not fall in love with you?

Azriel is actually very good with sharing. This usually applies to you when his shadows are involved, though sometimes he just needs to be alone with you. Whether it’s to have his way with you or just to snuggle up and bask in his mate’s presence. When he needs time like that, he will have his shadows guard your quarters and they will do so without question— fiercely protecting the only two beings they care for.

~spicy hc’s begin ;)~

Most of the time, Azriel will take the lead in pleasuring you— as he should, as your mate— but he’s likely to let his shadows watch or join his efforts if they play a supporting role.

For example, his favorite thing is to be between your legs, feasting on your sweet cunt and making sure you know you are his, while his shadows hold you down so you can’t move an inch. This way, you have to take the pleasure in the exact way he desires, unable to greedily chase your high or buck your hips or push him away.

Usually he plays with you for a while like this, teasing you and edging you a handful of times before he’s ruthless, unstopping even after you’ve come. He does cease his ravishing after you’ve come again, only to ensure he doesn’t overstimulate you before he’s had a chance to fuck you like you both want.

His shadows are happy to shackle you and render you helpless to his onslaught of pleasure; they love hearing your wanton cries and will dry away any tears of pleasure that escape with a cool, ghostly caress.

Speaking of their caress, one of his favorite uses for them is to soothe your skin when he’s done marking it up. Meaning, after every spank or particularly hard bite, the shadows will rove over the irritated flesh, kissing you with their cooling tendrils.

Since the shadows are slightly cold, sending them to curl around your nipples while he fucks you from behind is also another favorite. The temperature-play heightens everything— especially when they move down your curves to tease at your clit or your ass, depending on your preference…

Sometimes he lets them fuck you as part of your foreplay— usually while you’re sucking his cock. He just loves the surprise that flickers in your eyes when you’re choking on the length of him deep in your throat, how your lashes flutter when that familiar cool touch tickles your inner thighs and pushes your wet panties aside, how your moan feels vibrating around him when they thrust inside of you. He savors how your rhythm gets thrown, how you struggle to continue when his shadows are running over every sensitive crevice of your most intimate parts.

On rarer occasions, Azriel will let the shadows have their way with you. He’d sit back in a comfortable, wing-friendly armchair, darkened hazel eyes drinking in every movement before him— you with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the darkness holding your legs spread and fondling every inch of you— cupping your tender breasts, tweaking those pert, hard nipples… stroking your face, your hair, your hips and thighs… flowing over your puffy clit, slipping between your dripping folds and even wandering inside of you, perhaps just as deep as Azriel’s cock could reach. He would jerk his leaking shaft at the sight before him, lip held prisoner in his feral snarl. He wouldn’t be able to last very long, the sight before him too much for him to keep his composure.

When you’re both spent and panting for breath, the shadows will run up and down your moistened back, taking away the heat that lingers there and helping to lull you to sleep.

Only when you’re unconscious do they return to Azriel, curling around his shoulders in thanks. They know they are lucky to be the sole creature/presence with which he shares his mate, and any time spent with you is valued payment for the many services they provide their master with.

#anon love #anons make angel blush (˘◡˘)#azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #acotar x you #acotar x reader #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel headcanons #azriel hcs #angelshadowsinger #my hcs #my work

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idksmtms · 4 months ago

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You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 7

Full Request Part

Part 6 << PART7 >> Part 8

AN: I am so so sorry that this took me so long! I’m ngl, I lost a bit of inspiration for this for a while but I kinda forced myself to sit down and write it and it felt really good to finish something I felt I had given up on! I tried to make it a big one to make up for all the time I was gone!

I also went back and read all the Anon messages I got from so many people and they really helped me, so thank you to absolutely everyone and all the anons who contributed ideas. I def included some in this part (and the coming parts) so if you spot it, I hope you enjoy it!

Also, for the timing of his birthday versus when he started at Yancy Academy, IDK guys, I made it up. I don’t actually know about when he started versus when his birthday was so just… let it go ig.

ALSO, I copied the dialogue for the diner scene almost verbatim from the show so I can’t take credit for writing that, but the descriptions attached to the dialogue are still mine.

PS. I got a new divider that I love heheheh

Also, I really hope y’all notice the significance of each of his birthday presents because I worked so unnecessarily hard on those.

Summary: In one place, Percy grows up with his Aunt Sally, dealing with the struggles of being a demigod child. In another, you try to pretend you haven’t just given up your son and a life you have always wanted. Neither world is going as one would hope.

Word count: 7.3k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), personal insecurity, insecurity about one’s parenting, absentee parents technically, light angst, Percy believing there is something wrong with him, negative view of one’s own ADHD and dyslexia, any warnings associated with Percy’s adventures, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When you returned to Valhalla, you tried to put on a brave face. Your return was denoted by a grand feast, and the Aesir were simply so happy to see you return no one questioned the way you occasionally turned away to brush off stray tears or gazed at Yggdrasil as if you wanted to see into one of the worlds nestled in its branches. But aside from all of that, you were rather good at pretending to be happy. You drank a few sips of ale for every mug Thor drained, you danced half the night with Baldur, and you sat cosied up with Loki, ready to listen to whatever story of his latest shenanigans he wished to bestow on you. Everyone was happy. Things were as they were meant to be.

As the sun began to creep toward the horizon and the Aesir made their way out of the grand hall, you found yourself walking with Odin back to your old quarters in Valhalla. When he first came up to you as you stood from the feast table, he had wrapped you up in his arms, whispering how he was happy at your return. Even now, he occasionally turns to look at you with his remaining eye and smiles gently. The walk was peaceful, quiet, a stillness in the air at that hour just before dawn.

“Do you know what I gave up my eye for?” He asked out of the blue. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head and looking at him almost incredulously.

“Of course, all the gods know, you sacrificed your eye for all the knowledge of the world.”

“Hm,” he nodded. Then he stopped in the hallway and turned to fully face you. You clasped your hands in front of you, heart suddenly beating just a little faster. “Did you know that this also means I know about Perseus?”

You could suddenly hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could see Odin in front of you, but you also couldn’t. Your hands were sweaty and your dress was suddenly tight around your ribs. You looked up at him, shallow breaths blowing from your lips. But then Odin smiled, a small sad smile that somehow broke your heart just that little bit more.

“I am the only one that knows, and it should be kept that way.” He reached out and caressed your cheek, and you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek that he wiped away. “If it were different, I would have cherished meeting him.” Then he pulled away and walked back in the direction of the feasting hall. You listened to his footsteps fade away, before entering the room you had left behind for millenia.

Every year, without fail, it rained on Percy’s birthday. When he first noticed, he thought it meant something special. That there was something magical out there, wishing him well. Whatever higher power was out there, they knew he loved to swim, to be in the water, and they sent the rain just for him. As he grew, he began simply chalking it up to weather patterns. August was just the time of year when rain happened upon the city. It wasn’t anything special, this was simply the one part of his life where he was lucky.

Sally knew it was a blessing. She knew it was his father, celebrating the day in the best way he knew how, sending a message to Percy in the only way he could. She always took Percy outside, regardless of if the rain became a storm. She knew Percy would be safe in the rain. They made it a habit to go onto the fire-escape when the rain was at its worst, and they would spin around and dance and laugh.

In all the time Sally had spent raising Percy, through all the challenges and the struggles, she never failed to notice how alike to his mother he was. Percy, seemingly since he was born, was obsessed with the colour blue. He only wanted to eat blue food, only wanted to wear blue clothes (it took a lot of convincing to introduce other colours to his wardrobe) and all the toys he chose were blue. He had an immense sweet tooth, and every time she watched him bite into a blue chocolate chip cookie, she fondly remembered the afternoon she had sat with his mother and watched the ravenous pregnant woman devour an entire tray of those same cookies. He smiled brightly and constantly, always happy and mischievous, just like his mother. But he was also trapped like his mother. He also cried like his mother. And most of all, both good and bad, he loved just as sincerely, as fiercely as his mother.

Every year on Percy’s birthday, this fierce love was demonstrated. A surprise present would arrive, wrapped in shiny blue wrapping paper with only ‘To Percy Jackson’ written on it in loopy, elegant handwriting. Each year the box contained something different, something odd but somehow heartwarming and special. Sometimes he didn’t know why in the world someone would send him these things, but they felt important, and he kept them lined up on the chest of drawers opposite his bed, and counted them each night before he went to bed. At least when he was still living at home. He even had presents from years he didn’t remember, going all the way from his first birthday to his latest.

On his first birthday, he had apparently received a spool of golden thread. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why someone would give a one year old thread. It’s a choking hazard! What were they thinking?! But it was beautiful and shiny, and sometimes he thought it might just be real gold, but he didn’t want to find out if it was. It somehow felt… more than just something for money. He used it only for the most important things, but however much he seemed to unravel, the thread never seemed to end.

On his second birthday, the package was smaller. Sally sat him up and unwrapped it in front of him to reveal a little toy throne. It was small, about the size of an adult hand, and made of hard resin. It was so intricate, coloured like the ocean, even white and frothy in some places, and looked as if it was made with the whorls of the ocean. It had been his favourite little toy for a long time.

His third birthday present was simply a feather. It was beautiful, and no matter how much he crushed the fibres or threw it around, it never lost its perfect shape. It came with a flat metal stand that had a little foam rectangle in the centre so he could stick the tip of the feather into it and leave it as a decoration. The metal stand was simply labelled ‘Pegasus’ and three year old Percy staunchly believed it was a feather from the wing of a Pegasus. Even at the ripe old age of thirteen he sometimes still liked to hope it was a feather from Pegasus, simply so he could believe that magic existed.

For his fourth birthday, he received a framed painting. Even at four years old he thought it was weird, and he still believed it was an absolutely insane present to get a four year old. A painting? Seriously? It was beautiful though, and he appreciated it a lot more once he was older than he did at the time. He didn’t know where it was supposed to show, there was no date and no artist’s signature. The edges showed that the viewer was looking through the mouth of a cave onto some type of secret hidden lake. Trees surrounded the lake, and it had the most beautiful clear water. The artist had even depicted the rocks at the bottom, and sometimes, in the quietest and stillest moments of the day, if he looked really hard at the painting, he could almost see the water lapping at the shore. He could almost hear the gentle chirp of birds and the soft rustle of leaves. The entire painting always made him feel so odd, as if he could feel someone’s else's memories, someone else’s feelings. Someone had been happy there once, but now they only looked at it with sadness, as if a wonderful day by the lake had been ruined by a fight in the car on the way home.

His fifth birthday present was just as odd as the rest of them. He still didn’t quite understand why someone had gifted him five oysters with pearls inside of them. He didn’t believe the pearls were real (that was the only reason he hadn’t pawned or sold them off so he could get some extra money for his Aunt Sally) simply because he had never seen an oyster like that. No one had, not even google. He thought they were pretty though, and kept them lined up on the back of his nightstand rather than on the chest of drawers.

His favourite birthday present, from all those he had ever received, came on his sixth birthday. It was a conch shell, bigger than both the palms of his hands put together, with a dark blue colour that slowly faded to white as it twisted in on itself. Normally when he held it up to his ear, he could hear the sea, but unlike any other conch he had ever listened to. He could hear waves crashing, he could hear the ruffling and snuffling sort of sound they made as they frothed onto the shore. He could hear the swoosh as the waves pulled back. He could even hear the distant sort of gurgling a person hears when they’re underwater in the ocean, the sound of water moving about you. But then, at the darkest parts of the night, when he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason and pressed the shell to his ear, he could hear a gentle voice whispering ‘I love you’. It was soft, but calming and loving, the kind of ‘I love you’ a father whispers to his son just as he puts him to bed. He had never heard the voice before, but secretly he always wished it was somehow the voice of his own father. He tried not to think about that as much anymore. His father simply wasn’t here.

A little zombie looking figurine arrived for his seventh birthday. This one felt a little more kid-appropriate, and he had loved playing with it when he was still into action figures. For a while he hadn’t known what character it was supposed to be, because while it looked like a zombie, it didn’t really look like the zombie figurines he had seen some of the other kids play with. The little circle that connected the two feet of the figurine was engraved with the word ‘Draugr’ and Aunt Sally had had to google that for him. The stories had scared him so much that for a while he had hidden the figure in the back of his toybox.

By the time his eighth birthday had rolled around, he had begun to grow an interest in Greek mythology and the stories of Greek heroes. When he received a little storybook on Perseus and his adventures, he had asked Sally if she was the one sending him the secret presents. It had to be his Aunt Sally. She knew he liked Greek mythology, she had been the one to tell him that he was named after Perseus. Sure, the earlier gifts had been really weird, but maybe she had just become a better gift-giver over time? But Aunt Sally denied it, and when they opened the book, a little picture had been put in as a bookmark. It depicted a cabin high up on the cliffs of the fjords, small but homely looking, and it was simply marked with the word Norway in the bottom corner in that same loopy handwriting. Sally had simply replied “see, it can’t be from me because I’ve never even been to Norway. Plus, kid, have you ever seen me write that neatly?” He had sat there and read the entire book, pushing through even though the letters bounced around and sometimes he had to look completely away to be able to try and focus again. He kept the picture in the book and the book on his nightstand as well. Though he had read it countless times, thumbed each page a million times, the book still looked good as new.

On his ninth birthday he got… a jar of sand. He was pretty disappointed at first, staring at it for a whole minute after he had taken it out of the wrapping. But then he saw that a little label had been pasted onto the top of the metal lid of the jar that simply said ‘Montauk’ and he realised it must be from the beach in front of the cabins they went to every year. It was seemingly sentimental, and it had made Aunt Sally smile all sad and happy and teary that he had told her to keep it in her room, so it would stay safe.

On his tenth birthday, he only received an envelope. It was made of the same shimmery blue paper as the wrapping of all the other gifts he had ever received, and it had the same loopy handwriting, but it had been pushed under the door. Aunt Sally usually got her letters from the box downstairs, he had thought it was weird, but she had told him not to worry, that this must be special because it was his birthday. The only thing in the envelope was a picture. It was square, and about the size of a polaroid, but glossy like it had been taken by a digital camera and printed at some fancy shop. He couldn’t quite tell what it was at first. It looked like it was taken underwater, he could see little flecks of seaweed floating and sand that had been kicked up by the waves and little bubbles here and there. He could see the sandy floor as well, the way some of it was mid-movement with the waves. ‘Midnight on Montauk - where the water meets the sand’ was written on the back, and he thought it was weird that he had gotten two gifts from Montauk now. Nevertheless, he pinned the picture to the corkboard above his chest of drawers.

On his eleventh birthday he got a gold coin. He was so excited at first. This was the first time he had ever gotten money as a present, let alone a frickin’ gold coin! He had even promised Aunt Sally he would take her out for ice cream with the money from the coin. But then he had looked at it again and realised that it was stamped with a trident on both sides. He had suddenly deflated, thinking it was some kind of gimmick coin they sold at souvenir shops (this gift-giver seemed to be way too sentimental) but Aunt Sally had quickly pressed it into his palm and told him to keep it very very safe. He kept it on him at all times now. At least some of his jeans had that little seemingly useless pocket, making it easy for him to carry it around.

His last birthday, the one right before everything went wrong for the millionth time and got him sent to Yancy Academy, had brought a flat box filled with shredded paper. Nestled inside it was a framed weather report from the day he had been born. At the top was the cut out of a headline ‘Largest Storm to Ever Hit Montauk and all of New York’. Below it, there were a bunch of different images, from graphs about the intensity of the rainfall to satellite images of the eye of the storm and the area it covered. He thought it was kind of funny, and he put it up proudly on the chest of drawers. That day was the first time in a long time he had thought the rain on his birthday really meant something again. Maybe it wasn’t something special for him, maybe it was just the weather remembering the storm it had put on that day, and sending some rain in its memory. But it meant something.

Grover heard whispers in his dreams. He never quite remembered what they were, never quite remembered what they said, but he knew that something whispered to him in his sleep. A woman, a soft, lilting voice that sounded just out of reach, was all that he had gleaned thus far. He didn’t know if the forces were good or bad, where the voice came from, but whenever he awoke there was a small niggling feeling inside him that he should be doing something. Deep in the pit of his stomach he felt like he had to be outside Camp Half-Blood, had to be chasing something or maybe finding something. It was an itch that no other satyr duty seemed to satiate. No amount of berries collected, animal cages cleaned, campfires attended made him forget the voice, forget the desire to follow its orders, whatever they may be.

When he got his next mission to escort a demigod back to the camp, everything seemed to click into place inside him. When he was told that he would be responsible for bringing Percy Jackson safely back to the camp, it was like the gods themselves had come in and soothed whatever had been writhing inside him. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what the whispers had commanded for him. And somehow, he knew that this was the most important journey in his entire life…

Three days before Percy’s twelfth birthday, a blue butterfly landed on his hand as he sat outside his latest school. It was the end of his first official week at Yancy Academy, and the school was rather… daunting. All the kids looked at him like he was dirt beneath their shoes and nothing seemed to be clicking with him. He was trying his best. When the kids whispered about him, he ignored it. When they started messing with his things, he just asked his teachers for new notebooks and moved on. Whatever they did, he chose to try peace and quiet. He didn’t want to make life even more difficult for his Aunt Sally, she was already doing everything she could to make sure he had a decent school to go to; this was their last chance and he wasn’t going to be the one that screwed it up.

He sighed and rested his elbows on his crossed legs, staring out at the yard. If nothing else, at least Yancy had a nice garden to look at. He hadn’t noticed the fluttering little creature until it was directly in his line of sight. It took a few turns around in front of his face before landing directly on the tip of his nose. The little legs were slightly ticklish and he breathed out of his mouth to resist the urge to sneeze.

It was beautiful. It almost glowed in the light, like a haze was surrounding its edges, and he reached up to gently touch the tip of its wing. It shattered right in front of his eyes, like a glass breaking against the floor. The little pieces floated all around and landed on his clothes, sticking to his jeans. He stared at his lap, wide eyed. What the- He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths in, a technique one of the many councillors had taught him to try and re-centre himself in the world. When he opened his eyes again, the pieces were still there, like glitter all over his clothes, but they were beginning to fade.

Percy stared at his clothes, at the fading pieces of a butterfly that had somehow flown directly to him then shattered like glass, and stood up with a determination to forget this ever happened. He shook his head, as if to shake his brain into action. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one would believe him anyway. This was just another pegasus in the window. He wouldn’t speak of it until the next time he was at home. Aunt Sally could calm him down, Aunt Sally would make him feel better and they would solve this. There was just something fundamentally wrong with him, they needed to fix it soon. With a clench of his fist, he walked back inside, only to bump directly into someone who quickly introduced themselves as Grover Underwood….

“And then Grover beat me, Aunt Sally!” Percy told her excitedly as they sat at the dining table ravenously devouring stacks of blue pancakes. Sally smiled down at the boy, reaching forward and ruffling his curly hair as he shoved another forkful into his mouth.

“Grover sounds awesome, I’m glad you guys found each other,” she told him happily, pretending like the satyr hadn’t already introduced himself as Percy’s guardian. “If you want, you can invite him up here today, we can have a little birthday party.”

“Nah, todays about you and me Aunt Sally,” he smiled brightly up at her, syrup painting the corners of his mouth, and she stood up to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Alright then mister, have I got plans for you this weekend! I was gonna get us passes for the waterpark today but I knew it was gonna rain so it’s been postponed for tomorrow. Today will start with a swim at the indoor pool in a country club in Manhattan! Someone I know gave me her pass for the weekend,” Sally giggled, reaching out to high five Percy as he exclaimed ‘no way!’.

“Is it Denise? I love Denise,” Percy asked excitedly, momentarily forgetting his plate.

“No, I mentioned to one of my regular customers that it’s your birthday this weekend and that you love to swim so she got us signed up as her guests for the weekend!” Sally explained, smiling triumphantly.

Though she always tried her hardest, sometimes she felt like Percy missed out on a better life because she didn’t make enough money. But Percy simply jumped up and hugged her tightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ against her ear.

“Hold on, you haven’t even heard the entire plan!” She exclaimed, laughing as he pulled away and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Ok, so, then we’re gonna go get ice cream, I found this cool place near the country club that has a bunch of blue ice creams and I thought we could get a scoop of each so we have those cones piled with like ten scoops. Then we’ll come back here for a mov-”

There was a knock at the door. Sally frowned for a second, turning to the door, but there was no other sound and she looked back to Percy as something dawned on her. She smiled gently, a rather wistful look in her eyes all of a sudden, and got up from where she was sitting adjacent to him.

“That must be your special present.” Percy swallowed his latest too-big mouthful and got up from the table to meet Aunt Sally in the hallway.

It was cube shaped this time, about the size of both his palms put together, and it had simply been left in front of their door. Sally brought the box inside and they stood by the window to look at it in the dim grey light from outside. It was covered in that same shiny blue wrapping paper as every other year, and his name was written in that same loopy style with a fresh black pen. His face was contorted in confusion and he took it from Sallys hands, ripping through the wrapping paper to the baby blue cardboard box beneath. He opened that too and Sally watched on curiously as he pulled out something wrapped in bubble wrap. Percy pulled the little pieces of tape holding it together and unfolded the sheet of wrapping to find a snowglobe nestled inside.

The little stand that the orb was perched on was a blue so dark it was almost black, and smooth, without any engraving or description of the scene inside the ball. The globe itself showed a little scene of what looked like a campground, with lots of cabins and a big bonfire in the middle. It even had a little sign pointing in different directions, and had an open-air pavilion near the edge. It was cute, a little fancy, but he had no idea why in the world someone would send this to him. He had never been to camp before, but especially not this camp, whatever it was. He held it up to Sally and frowned at it.

“I have no idea where this is,” he told her, but she was staring at it so intensely that he paused. Percy raised an eyebrow and pushed it toward her. “You know where this is? Have you been here before?” At first Sally didn’t answer, because yes, she knew where it was, she knew exactly what the snow globe was showing her, and she knew that it was a message. It meant that soon, she would have to say goodbye to Percy, and soon Percy would know everything she had been hiding from him his entire life.

“It’s a campground, right?” She asked nonchalantly, “it’s cute though, I like it. Keep it on your dresser, I’m sure one day you’ll know more about it.” And she shrugged as if that day wasn’t coming very soon.

Percy shrugged in return and went to his room to put the snowglobe on the dresser. A beam of sunlight had broken through the clouds and sparkled in the rain right onto his dresser. The water in the painting looked like it was moving again, and a phantom wind ruffled the fibres on the feather. He put the snowglobe between them carefully, directly in the light of the sun, and a little bit of glitter in the globe shined directly onto his eye. He squinted and bent down to look at it again. There, hidden behind one of the cabins because of the way he had been holding it earlier, was a tiny blue butterfly. It was so small it was easy to miss, but it looked exactly like the butterfly that had come to him. Percy felt his heart begin to race. Surely this was a coincidence. He blinked and rubbed his eyes roughly, then looked down at the snowglobe again. It was still there. The butterfly almost looked like it flapped its wings in the sunlight. No, surely not, this was just another sign that he was going crazy, that there was something really wrong with him.

Percy shoved the snowglobe behind the painting and walked right back out to find Aunt Sally. She was sitting on the sofa waiting for him, smiling when he came over to her, but quickly her lips drooped into a frown at the look on his face.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” She asked, pulling him down to sit beside her.

“Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. It’s happening again, it’s exactly like the horse on the rooftop and I-I don’t kno-”

“Hey. Ok, let’s take a deep breath. Ok, good, one, two, three, four, ok now big release. Alright, good, now, start from the beginning.” She gently cupped his cheek for a moment before folding her hands in her lap and watching his face.

“I was sitting in the garden at Yancy, I don’t know, I’d had kind of a crummy day, I guess, but then suddenly this butterfly came fluttering to me. Aunt Sally, I have never seen a butterfly like that. It’s like it wasn’t real. It was all shiny and like-like it was glowing? I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like it actually existed. But it came right up to me and landed on my nose. And I thought that was so cool, so I kinda just reached up and touched it. I mean, I didn’t even really touch it, the tip of my finger kinda just brushed it, but then it burst. I don’t even know, it shattered like it was made of glass. And that’s crazy because that’s not possible. Animals don’t shatter like that, nothing real shatters like that and just disappears. It broke into glitter and was all over me! I was trying to brush it off but it-it just wouldn’t come off, and then slowly, it just started to… fade away. Just like that. Ugh, I don’t know Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. I mean, it’s not normal to be seeing visions, even I know that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you,” she added simply, staring at him as if everything he had just said was the most important words to ever have come out of someone’s mouth.

“What?” Percy tilted his head and looked at her with a frown, as if suddenly she was the crazy one, not him.

“I believe you. I believe that that happened to you, but we’ll talk about that some other time.” She smiled sadly at him, reaching out to gently brush the hair away from his forehead. Percy scoffed, pulling back from her slightly.

“What does that even mean? You just said you believed me, we need to talk about it now.”

“Percy, when the time is right, we’ll talk about it,” Sally sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay this conversation for much longer. She just wanted him to be a kid as long as possible… “But today is your birthday, and we’re supposed to be having fun before you go back to school. So come on,” she clapped her hands and stood up, “there is a bag of blue jelly beans sitting in the kitchen with your name on it!” She sing-songed.

“But Aunt Sally-”

“Percy. Some other time.” Her lips were set in a line and her tone left no more room for argument. Sally left him to go to her room to start packing a backpack with stuff they would need for the pool, while Percy made his way to the kitchen and began slowly chewing on blue jelly beans, his mind stuck on the butterfly.

That night, after a long day of swimming, and a little too much sugar, Sally sat in the middle of little garden they had made on their floor of the fire escape and let the rain douse her. She had already shoved a hungover Gabe into bed and locked the door on him in case he wanted to come back out and make any noise that disturbed Percy, and now, under the rain, she let her thoughts wander to the past thirteen years.

Life with Percy had been as beautiful and loving as it had been difficult. She had known, from the beginning, that Percy would not be a normal kid. As much as his parents wanted him to be, as much as she wanted it for him, it simply wouldn’t happen. He was too special, the product of two worlds too incomprehensible.

She remembered all the calls to schools. He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t learn, he was too ‘disruptive’, too ‘distracted’. Each time it boiled her blood, broke her heart, because he wasn’t even made for this world, but these people had the audacity to reduce this child to what they considered bad things. She remembered all the times he would cry, clinging to her with his little hands wondering why he couldn’t be like the other kids, why he couldn’t focus like other kids or why he couldn’t study like the other kids, why he didn’t have parents like the other kids…

She remembered the first time she had told little Percy about his dad. How excited he had been to learn that somewhere out there, he did have parents, parents who loved him and wanted to be with him but for some inexplicable reason, couldn’t. She had seen the way he had slowly dismissed that childish hope as he grew up, how he stopped asking about his mom, how he stopped wondering if he looked like his dad. He never asked anymore.

The day she had used the coin suddenly floated to the front of her mind as she wiped the water from her eyes. She remembered it vividly. It had been a bad day. The baddest of days at that point. Percy was struggling, and she was on edge. There was a storm. It was still the years when she had been scared of storms, when they reminded her of the day Percy was born, the fear in Y/n’s eyes, the pain in Poseidon’s. She had driven them away from yet another school and decided to stop at a diner for lunch. Maybe ice cream would improve Percy’s mood.

They had eaten in silence, neither of them ready to talk to the other. She had tried to make a few jokes before the food came, hoping to lift Percy’s mood, but he had simply pushed the salt and pepper shakers around the table and mumbled answers to her. After that she had given up on her attempts and sat in silence, staring out of the window and stewing in her own struggles. Maybe this was her breaking point, she thought. Maybe this was the moment when she couldn’t raise Percy anymore. She was struggling, and the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin his life because she couldn’t cope with raising a godly child. What could she do? No one could understand her situation, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Was this the time to send him to camp? Was it the time to let him go, for his sake? Tears had begun to prick at her eyes but she wiped them away as the server had come by.

They had finished their mains, and she had ordered a sundae for Percy in as excited a voice as she could manage, glad to see a little smile begin to curl at his lips. The server had engaged with him as well, asking him what toppings he wanted and how many ‘extras’ to add before telling the chef he wanted chocolate sauce. She had smiled at the server in thanks before telling Percy to stay put as she got up from the stall and went to the bar to settle the bill.

At the bar, she asked for a glass of tap water and the bill, and when the bartender had deposited both, she pulled a coin out of her pocket. It was gold, and had tridents embossed on both sides. Even though she’d had it for years now, it hadn’t lost its shine. She brought the cup of water closer to her and flipped the coin over it, watching it twist in the air before falling into the water with a little ‘plonk’. She closed her eyes and whispered two names to herself, over and over and over. A crack of thunder shook through the diner, as if the storm was right overhead. She opened her eyes and stared into the glass of water as the door to the diner opened and someone walked in. The stool beside her was pulled out, and someone settled onto it with a slight creak. The sleeve of their shirt brushed against hers and the smell of salty sea air suddenly seemed to waft around her. She closed her eyes and whispered one of the names again, but nothing changed. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she stared ahead of her, unable, unwilling, to look at the man that had settled down beside her.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheek.

“No, it isn’t,” he replied quietly, his gruff voice comforting and painful at the same time.

“And I am failing.” She clenched her hands around the cup of water at the uncomfortable truth of it all. More tears slipped out of her eyes now, easier than the first.

“No, you’re not,” he answered instantly, and still neither of them looked at each other. For all anyone knew, they were strangers sitting beside each other at a bar. Sally closed her eyes and gulped, her eyes fluttering open as breathing became just that little more painful as she tried to keep a handle on herself.

“I’m going to take him to camp,” she told him, releasing her grip around the glass of water and pushing it forward slightly.

“Are you sure?” He asked simply, as if it was a casual decision, but she could still hear the gravity in the statement.

“What choice do I have?” She whispered, “he and I living together in the city…” she paused, taking in a deep breath, “it’s starting to attract attention from your world.” He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and stared at the floor behind the bar with an intensity that would make it crack if he truly wanted it to. “A winged horse followed him to school.” She let the statement settle into the air. “It saw him, he saw it. Sooner or later it’s not gonna be just pretty things that are following him,” she breathed out, shaking her head slightly and looking up to the ceiling as the tears pushed from her eyes again.

It was so painful to sit here, mere steps from Percy, with the father he couldn’t meet. It was so painful, knowing that soon she would have to let him go, to let him fight his own battles. It was so painful knowing that there were forces much bigger than her little self, controlling everything, and making life so difficult for the beautiful little boy sitting just over there.

“At camp, he will be safe,” she nodded to herself, taking a sharp breath in and staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that this was the best idea.

“You don’t want him at camp,” he answered simply, as if he could look into her mind and see everything that she was thinking, as if he could look directly at her heart and see the immense amount of love she felt for that child.

“No,” she breathed out painfully, “no, I don’t,” and she almost began crying with the words, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head.

“Tell me why,” he stated as he stared down at the wood of the bar but his attention was fully on her.

“You don’t wanna know why,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head and looking to the ceiling again. Then she smiled, a rueful, exasperated little smile as he let out a huff of a chuckle.

“Probably not. But you have no one to say it to, and maybe that’s the most unfair part of it.” He paused, just for a moment, but her heart began to feel a little lighter somehow. “You say it, and I will listen.” They were silent, sitting together and listening to the quiet sounds of the bar, the clinking of spoons and glasses and plates, the rush of water inside the dishwasher.

“I want him to know who he is, before your worlds try to tell him who they want him to be,” her voice was forceful, verging on spiteful. “He is better than that, he has better things in him than that.” She was full of conviction, this was a truth she knew better than anything else in the world. Poseidon continued staring at the bar as he spoke.

“Then you have your answer. He’s going to go to school, and he’s going to learn things you can’t teach him there, and it’s going to be hard for the both of you. And it’s going to be torture for the both of you. But he will be stronger for it on the other side. His aunt raised him well.” And her tears flowed again, as if something in her chest released but brought with it a stabbing pain of everything that could not be.

“Do you wanna talk to him?” She asked through tears, hoping against all hope that he would say yes. “I know you shouldn’t,” she began, trying to convince him somehow. “Maybe just hear his voice,” she whispered, but there was another crack of thunder in the sky, and Poseidon turned away, listening as if he could hear things she could not.

“One day,” he simply whispered, and when she looked up to finally meet his eyes, to finally look at him again after so many years, no one was sitting there.

She sat at the bar for another few minutes, staring into the glass of water as if it had all the answers, but not one reason floated up for the absence of the boy’s mother.

For thirteen years, you watched your son’s life in snippets. It was like a faulty connection on a tv, darkness one moment, then a flash of Percy smiling as he opened the new mystery present that had been left at his door. A moment of beauty and excitement as you watched him uncover pieces of the world that you and his father had created, the world that led to his being. Then darkness once more, a year of knowing nothing about his life no matter how hard you tried, then Percy crying in Sally’s arms, sobbing about his latest struggles at school, and a pain so sharp in your heart that you almost abandoned secrecy to go to him, then darkness again. You didn’t know why it was like this. Why you didn’t get to watch over him as you so hoped before he was born, why even a distant relationship was stolen from you. You spent days climbing over the roots of Yggdrasil, peering into different worlds and hoping to see Percy living his life. Even if you found a branch that looked into Midgard, you saw only the mountains, with little dots of people climbing up them that left you amused for a moment, or boats on the ocean that made your heart ache desperately for your husband.

But you didn’t question it much either. Maybe it was his position between the two worlds of gods, the magic of the Fates and the Norns interfering with your powers, the mist cloaking him better than you had hoped.

You continued with your life as it had been long before you knew of the existence of the Greek Pantheon. You filled your position as a good goddess should, protecting the people from threats bigger than them, refusing to interfere with the machinations of demigods and their quests. You had no way of knowing that this obstruction of your view was unnatural. How would you know that someone else’s designs were at play here? How could you possibly know that your own father was stopping you from hearing the desperate prayers meant for you, the pleas of your dear friend when she felt she could not cope?

As you sat there beside Odin at the feast table, looking up to your father with reverence as he smiled cheerfully down at you, how were you to know he was actively hiding your son from you?

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord, @turtleshavesoulmates, @wolfgirl294, @stanswifties, @mrsinclaire, @homanoid, @bellamysnatblida

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tokoyamisstuff · 27 days ago

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Halloween with the Hellsing Characters

Inspired by an Anon ask. Can be read both romantic and platonic. No warnings.

Featuring: Anderson, Alucard, Walter, The Captain, Seras (+ Pip), Integra

Anderson:

Sorry, but this man is an absolute killjoy about every non-christian holiday. However in the end he's a big softie and can't deny you or the children any wish. Will fold like a lawn chair eventually.

Even then he'll complain. A lot. It's heretic to celebrate this, it promotes gluttony that, blah blah blah...

Man will get a heart attack seeing his sweet lil' babies dressed up as vampires and the likes, it's hilarious just observing him tryna keep his cool for their sake. You'll coerce him into going as Frankenstein but he refuses to acknowledge the similarities.

He definetly has a sweet tooth and can be bribed into having a good time though, especially after he discovers his bayonetts are working neatly for cutting pumpkins.

Alucard:

This is one silly, goofy man and you can't tell me otherwise. You think this is below him? Nah, he'll take any chance of entertainment he can get. There's nothing off limits or too cringe for him.

I mean hello?! It's the only time of the year he can literally be himself and people will think it's just a decent costume or special effects. Probably shows up headless or turns into a bat, shows people his 'puppies' or whatever.

Will absolutely overdo it, though. Terrifies the local children (and adults alike), the police will probably get involved at some point and Integra has to bail you guys out.

Ordinary events like these actually help him feel a little more human again, so he can't wait until next year.

Walter:

Not a fan of anything that had been introduced by the US, including this tradition. It wasn't part of his childhood either so he's not really eager to committ. Yet in the ends he loves to serve, especially people he's fond of, and he's very adaptable too.

Would like a more classy and mature approach, like going to some kind of masquerade. Could also see him hosting his own gathering.

There's literally nothing he can't do himself, from selfmade treats to a puppet show using his wires. Would absolutely love to do a partner-costume with you and can sew anything you want!

The Captain:

In all honesty this man would rather just spend the evening in peace and silence at home with you.

Is very passive about basically anything, but that means you can do whatever you want to him and he won't complain. Dress him up as something cute, chances are high he'll secretly love it. Doesn't even try to be scary, he just is.

Mostly just quietly looms in the background but he really is happy, he could watch you do stuff you like forever.

Seras and Pip:

They're the most hyped about it like?? omg yess thank you for asking

Wants to do it all: making sweets, decorating, trick or treat, visit a haunted house, go to a party. They have a whole childhood to make up for.

They're definetly pranksters and will wreak havoc in the entire neighbourhood. Act like Pip is some kind of glove puppet, use Seras' powers to entertain the children or make it rain candy, etc...

Despite being a literal median herself Seras is still soo jittery, will jump and scream at anything really. The fact that Pip tries to scare her doesn't make it any better. They're mostly giggling and chanting, though.

Integra:

To be honest it's been a while since this woman has actually enjoyed herself. It'll take a while to convince her but then she'll spare no expenses to assure the best experience ever. Private jet to all the best places it is.

No costume for her, she's intimidating enough. Gets in trouble for carrying real weapons too.

A lil' paranoid, always expecting the worst like an enemy to hide amongst the crowd. What better moment for a monster to strike would there be than during Halloween?

Calls it childish and unnecesssary a lot, but damn did she have fun (will rather drop dead than admit it).

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alucard #sir integra fairbrook wingates hellsing #seras victoria #alexander anderson #the captain #reader insert #headcanons #writing #drabble #walter c dornez #pip bernadotte

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whiskers-my-beloved · 26 days ago

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Hi! Not sure if you already read it before, there's an interview of Kenichi Iwao, old writer and designer for RE1. He mentioned about his idea of Wesker as a person which I thought pretty interesting. I'm not keen posting on my personal acc, I hope I don't bother you https://www.crimson-head.com/interviews/kenichi-iwao

Q: What is the full story of Wesker including his ultimate goal and duties in the mansion as researcher and chief security officer?

KI: I imagined that he was in a special forces setting. Unmarried with no siblings, but was born into an ordinary American middle-class family. However, he was already too formed and believed the world to be worthless. He was a genius with scant feelings. He enjoyed ordinary family vacations, even displayed excellent grades in sport, but his heart was always cold and he was acting to blend himself into society. He was a clear-headed but tragic individual lacking human emotions. The only way he could live was to self-affirm his intense elitism.

Wesker was using the giant organization Umbrella and had his own separate ambition to create a second humanity of his own design. For that reason he believed that the Tyrant, which produces the Tyrant Virus, would also be useful as a resource to threaten Umbrella. Umbrella's aim was to sell the Tyrant to every country as a weapon and take advantage of every nation's weakness and substantially control them, but as they advanced that plan, Wesker aimed for another objective... To filter humanity using the Tyrant... he was scheming mass extinction and forced evolution. Ultimately the Tyrant was going to gain the ability to manipulate the virus and design living things. It was a “Creator.”

So to Iwao's vision in early days, Wesker has been always a disturbing nutjob from the start, even before his new background "Wesker children" came to existence in RE5. Even RE1 novel written by SD Perry, Wesker is described as someone who brings a something-is-not-right kind of feeling towards anyone with a decent sense of intuition, mainly Chris and Jill, even though he acts "normal" outside. And he's also enamoured with tyrant, your comic is spot on when you focus on Wesker's obsession with tyrant haha

Hello there! First of all thank you so much for this ask. And apologize for taking so long so answer you anon ;×;

And you could never bother me anon! It's all okay, I really don't mind getting asks (as my bio says, asks open) and if you all like to be anons instead of using your mains to ask that's all okay too ❤️

This was very interesting. Albert Wesker from back then RE1 to know changed a lot I feel. He didn't feel particular special back then in re1. He was just a guy that was stupid enougg to get killed by his creation. Well he didn't make T-002 personally I think.

All the added backstory for him is cool don’t get me wrong. The whole bit about him being a Wesker child , how much of a bastard Spencer was. He got a living sister and a son too. Shame we never got too see any of them on screen together ;×;

With my wesker x tyrant reader comic I wanted to show how of an obsession he has with them. I played the og RE1 and he really gave me the vibe that he *really* cares for it. And the way he died was so pathetic...like man I would feel bad for him if the translation and voice acting weren't so bad.

The outwordly normal guy but reqlly fucked up on the inside is really cool to me. They were all surpised about his betray and pissed. So he wasn’t a bad captain to his team. If only the game wasn’t so bad at showing this. I am pretty sure most people understood he was the bad guy, the way he dressed and acted were so sus. How I wish the game tried to hide it harder that Wesker was the main bad guy ;×;

Anyways, I do think that given the chance he would create a new tyrant that listens to himm 100%. Worst case and it goes berserk he killd it and restarts again. The tyrant reader in the comic got lucky in a way. Wesker thought it was a failure at first glance. Turns out the tyrant reader had fallen inlove with him

#albert wesker #resident evil #☆whiskers asks☆#thank you for the ask #funny how he was brought back #he doesn't feel natural in the story in a way #if code veronica didn't bring him back...#not sure how I would feel #cause the addition of his powers are so cool #He is the monster now #He is faster and stronger than the tyrant in re1 ever was #Its poetic that a rocketlauncher kills him in the end #the same way the tyrants all die #He was a monster in the end with Uroboros #no longer a human and I feel it's a fitting end for him #Even if re5 shoes him in a meh light #If he had Uroboros why not use it the whole time...#dbd uses Wesker better with his powers I feel #could be they nerfed him in re5 so he wouldn't one tap Chris and Sheva #I do think his death as a bit anticlamatic though #oh well we got to see him in the re4 remake #a win is a win

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cypionate60mg · 9 months ago

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Does this make me a chaser?

I'm turned on by the idea of having a mlm/bara coded relationship with a woman. I want to see her get turned into a hulking sex-crazed beast and have people think I'm her cute little twink (even if I looked like Dwayne Johnson ppl should think that).

I love scrolling through autoandrophilic content on tumblr even if I know it's not for me, and can't shrug off the feeling that I, as a cishet guy, am being fetishistic towards trans men. But then I see posts about top surgery and all I can think is lying my face on top of a woman's broad, hard and hairy chest and being like "yeah, this feels a lot better," her scars like those of a barbarian warlord. Which I guess is not great, knowing that this is specifically about men who want to be perceived as men.

I've never attempted to be with a trans guy, bc I know that'd be kind of shitty coming from a straight dude (also they might be autogynephilic, and it would be some kind of cosmic joke for me to be playing into forced detrans). But even if I did, whenever I check r/ftm and see posts about dating straight men I can only feel like the reasons why I would are categorically different (not that it wouldn't be problematic for me to do so). Like, these guys are hellbent on feminizing them (many don't even allow them to bind), which besides sounding like they're massive transphobes, it's just impossible for me to see myself doing the same. Even if I saw my partner as a woman, I wouldn't miss out on the chance of having him undergo hrt (all the better, in fact).

I wish there were (straight) women into the same stuff, but at least within my experience, there are none out there. So I guess I just have whatever I can find on tumblr and melonFF's deviantart (and maybe ao3 accounts none of which post frequently), none of which are directed at me, so I just feel unwelcome enjoying them.

I don't usually answer these sorts of anons, as I get quite a few from cisbi and cishet men. But we're starting to see more cis men in the forcemascsphere, including some with their own blogs, and I think this could be a good opportunity to talk about chasers. For everybody's sake.

Based on this message, here's my read on the situation. You're interacting with the kink through a strictly pornographic lens and are subsequently disappointed that it doesn't translate well to sex. Whether you see your hypothetical partner as a man or not doesn't really matter, because you don't even seem to be thinking about them as a human with their own needs and desires. You're following a recipe for objectification, don't be surprised. Like any kink performed between two or more parties, it does require consent and discussion. Especially because it has elements of transformation and force.

It's honestly a little funny to me to see you talk about how uncommon forcemasc is, bellyaching that even the existing porn for it doesn't cater to you. Man, how do you think I feel? And whether somebody is into forcemasc or forcefem, we all deserve to be treated with respect by our partners. Even if playing out our kink results in physical changes beyond the bedroom. So, yeah, of course those guys you're talking about are assholes. But that doesn't really mean anything, because we're talking about you and your desires.

If you are heterosexual, then why are you scrolling r/ftm and musing about the ethics of dating a trans guy? I mean that genuinely. What do you get out of it? I ask because I'd like to believe that you understand that not all trans men are autoandrophiles. Even I don't want to be forcemasced, which people seem to have a difficult time grasping. Once you start thinking of a type of person as synonymous with a fetish, you're in chaser territory.

Remember: pornography can be a useful extension of sex. A tool, an accessory. But if you treat it as a cheap substitute for sex, you will lose sight of the other people involved. Then they'll become nothing more than a means for you to accomplish your own satisfaction. Do you see how that's fundamentally different from viewing one's own body as a means of pleasure?

So yeah, you do sound like a chaser.

#ask cyp60mg #behind the scenes #detrans mention

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blank-slate-jay · 2 years ago

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Can you please do Ellie catching you and Joel kissing? Male reader of course :) Thank you in advance <3

Untold Pair

Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Fluff, Kissing, Established Relationship(Ellie doesn't know), Ellie is less savage

A/N : Hey Anon, thanks for the submission. This one's just cute. I hope this is what you wanted, enjoy!

Ellie sighed heavily, making her way down the staircase. She really wanted to stay home for the day, she hated going to that god awful school she attended. Reading and Writing, Math and Statistics; including having to go multiple times a week. Really? She should be learning how to hunt and better defend herself, she thought. This commune live just wasn't cutting it.

Making her way to the living room, she tosses her bag onto the couch. She might as well fetch breakfast to cheer herself up before leaving. The school wasn't so bad. She at least had Dina, a friend of hers to keep her company during class time. For her, that was the only thing keeping her from skipping classes all together.

She made her way toward the kitchen area, picking up on the stirs and sizzling pan on the other side of the wall. Curious, she makes her away around the corner.

Joel was sitting at the corner and then there was you stationed up at the even. That was surprising to her. You rarely ever got a change to visit due to your workload in the greenhouses. So you being there, so early in the morning, was a warm welcome.

Ellie gasped, calling your name and running up to you. You hadn't even gotten a chance to say or take notice of her before her arms were wrapped around you.

"Morning to you too", you joke, patting the top of her head. “Your food is on the counter by the way.”

She pipes up and turns to look over at the untouched plate next to Joel, a growing excitement running across her face. Eggs and Bacon, "Oh fuck yeah"! She releases you and slides into the seat next Joel. She rubbed her hands together thrilled that she didn't have to eat oatmeal again.

Picking up her fork, she was about to take a stab at her food but Joel nudged her arm. She looks at him and watches as his eyes and head motion in your direction. His face displayed somewhat disbelief, like she had done something wrong. Ellie didn't understand what he wanted from her, couldn't she enjoy herself for once? It clicked for her after a few awkward moments, "OH! Thank you."

You glare over your shoulder at her, nodding as you finish up plating your own food. After your gesture, she begins to gorge down on her food, manners be damned.

Through Ellie's muffled chewing, Joel wipes away at his mouth with a napkin. He pushes himself to his feet and grabs his plate too. He walks over to the sink, dumping his plate in. "You didn't have to do all this”, he says, pointing out your cooking.

You shook your head, your lips curling up, "No it's...I don't mind doing this for you two”. Besides, Ellie told me you tried making my finest last week.”

“Ok,” he starts, feeling put on the spot. He tried explaining, “That was…”

“...a terrible attempt,” Ellie remarks with a satisfied 'mph' as she bites into her food. “I’ll give you props for trying, but man it was burnt to a crisp.”

He widens his eyes at her, the girl’s focus back on the last bit of food on her plate. She couldn’t just butt in and then leave the older man stranded, left with you glancing at him, awaiting an explanation.

“She’s funny, ain't’ she?” Joel tried making a smooth recovery but his embarrassment was as clear as day.

You gave the man mercy, instead of toying with him further, “Next time you need a chef, Miller. Just ask,” you patt the man’s chest, slipping right by him to take a seat. Fuck, he loved when you touched him.

Ellie finishes up only wishing she could have some more. “Are you gonna come later,” she asked, already knowing what the answer would be. “Don’t think so. Got a lot to do today, probably not getting home until after dark.”

Slightly bummed, she hums, taking out her dismay by pushing her plate away. You just never had the time these days, it was disheartening for Joel and Ellie since you were about the only person in Jackson who made them feel welcomed; aside from Tommy and Maria.

“If it makes you feel better, I can walk you to school,” you suggested, granting you a smile from the girl. Every chance she got was a win. “Joel?”

The man looked in awe, “Sure I was…going to pick up something at the store anyway”. There was a level of uncertainty behind his voice, a lie perhaps? You didn’t bring it up just happy you’d get a bit more time with Joel.

They packed themselves to leave, you reminded Ellie to check her bag for all the essentials she needed. She assured you that she had everything she needed, brushing off your concern as ‘parental instincts’.

No matter, the three of you were out of the home and walking through the neighborhood. Each one of you trailing slowly, subconsciously using the snow on the ground as an excuse to keep extending the conversation; to slow down your pace.

Only thing was, this method only made splitting with you painful. Preventing the inevitable worked that way whether the two liked it or not, you’d be gone for sometime.

They made a stop on the sidewalk, deep into the town of Jackson where everything was booming with working people. It was time to split and say they're farewells.

“So, when can we see you again,” Joel asked.

You shrugged, “I can make time in a few days. Someone should be covering for me sometime this week.”

Joel nods, rubbing his enclosed hands to warn off the cold and the lonely feeling that'll come about in your absences. Still, he had something, that was better than nothing.

“We should watch a movie, you heard about Vansien Viper 3, everyone at school is talking about it. I really really wanna watch it.” Ellie pronounces.

Your eyes widen, “I’m down. Sounds like it could be good.”

“I’ve heard the first one is good but that the second one sucksss,” she leans her head back to exaggerate her point.

Joel scoffs, “I’m sure it ain’ that bad. I…haven’t ever finished watching the second one yet but that could work too. We don't have the actual cd, do we?”

Ellie establishes, “Don’t worry about that, I got us covered.”

What did she mean by that exactly, her smug tone made bells go off in Joel’s head, she was up to something. He raised one of his brows, seeing if he could discern her words. “And how exactly do you plan on doin' that," he asked.

The suspicion in Joel was evidently rising, she said more than should’ve been said. It was time to call it quits. Ellie quickly swept you into a hug, completely ignoring Joel’s question. She lets you go before backing away, the girl says goodbye to you, picking up her pace as Joel takes a few steps toward her. He tried to call for her but she dipped around the corner of a building, out of view and completely away from being confronted. Chasing after her would just be embarrassing, especially in front of you.

“Have some faith in her Joel,” you jokingly poked at him.

He turned to you shaking his head; a smile crawling up his face, “Don’t tell me you’re on her side.”

“Whatever she is up to, I’m sure it won’t be troublesome.”

For all you knew she could be bribing someone into giving her what she wanted, likely mimicking the stories Joel would tell her during his days in the Boston QZ. Joel wouldn’t want her following his old ways.

You let out a heavy sigh, “I should get going though, don’t wanna hold you up much longer.” Ironic you say that since Joel felt it worked the other way around. However, the man's presence was nearly enough to make you discontinue your duties. Joel nodded, upset you had to leave, he wasn’t going to let you go without sharing a kiss.

He pulls you in by your arms and locks his lips with yours, lingering on your taste knowing he wouldn’t be with you for some time. Standing there, some people were likely looking on momentarily before going about their day. Except for one person, Ellie.

She pretended to run off, giving the impression that she was off to school. She instead was peaking just around the corner she’d hid behind, curious if Joel had separated from you. The opposite was true, she was witnessing what your dynamic truly was for the first time. You two weren’t just close friends, as she initially believed, but rather lovers. It all made sense though, the small gestures, the look you both gave each other; she must’ve misinterpreted them, somehow.

She pulls herself back into full cover after seeing the both of you release one another. She let the two of you share your moment together, beginning to finally head to school. She couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities of your relationship with Joel. Could it mean that you might move in with them, if so then how soon? Ok, maybe she was getting ahead of herself, still her thoughts bombarded her. You and Joel as her guardians, if there was something in the commune she could get used to, that was one of them.

#joel miller x male reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel x male reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #male reader #joel miller hbo #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #ellie tlou #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal

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aspecpplarebeautiful · 7 months ago

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Hello! If you don't mind, this is half a vent and half an ask both to you and to your followers who have had some experience?

I feel like I want certain aspects of a romantic relationship, the idea of having someone "special" is very appealing. Especially since I find myself falling in the trap of romance tropes, and I really do feel that I want to find that one person who I'd feel safe being physically close with, and not just because I turn my brain off to suffer through it but to actually enjoy it.

I know that I'm rather attracted to men, in theory at least, but whenever there's even remotely a thought in my brain that a polite conversation may turn into something more I get nervous, kinda in a bad way. I feel like I want to put a barrier in and I'm afraid they'll be reading into my behaviour too much. It makes me feel as if I like to play pretend in my head but I'm too much of a coward when real life gets involved.

I've been identifying as ace for years now, and I just turned 24. No experience in the dating department, I've been slowly making my way to accepting being at least arospec as well, possibly just aro, but for some reason it's been so much harder for me. Asexuality just clicked. This I think I may be fighting because the idea of a relationship seems too nice to give up and I've already had a bad experience with an extremely undernegotiated QPR (ended quickly but left a bitter taste nevertheless).

I just wish I could not think about it? But I also feel like the societal expectations of romantic attraction are much more pressing than sexual one. I don't want to lead anyone on, and I don't want to feel this little bit of dread whenever I have a conversation with a guy who I know doesn't have a girlfriend. That's another sign of being aro, right? Being able to be comfortable only when the possibility of the other party wanting you romantically is non-existent.

Sorry for this being so long. Thank you for listening, either way.

Romance definitely has a hard to explain quality to it, and I think that can make it questioning if you're aro especially tricky. It is possible that anxiety you're feeling when a situation could turn romantic is a form of repulsion. It's not uncommon for romance repulsion to feel more like anxiety or nervousness, and for people feel like wanting to go and hide. Alloromantic people can be nervous too sometimes, but it usually comes with a feeling of anticipation and still being drawn to the other person. Or they will usually have either trouble with anxiety in other areas, or issues with romance (romance related trauma for example). Sometimes it can be tricky to know exactly what it is, but if the stuff below doesn't sound like you at all, than repulsion is a likely explanation.

The other thing I would point is that fully alloromantic people often have people in real life they are experience a romantic pull towards, who they really want to be in a romantic relationship with. And if you're not experiencing that, that could also be a strong sign of being aromantic.

Being aromantic, and even romance repulsed, if you are, does not mean you can't have a very important person in your life. I know you mentioned a QPR that didn't go well, and it's up to you if that's something you ever want to try again, but even if you don't. remember that deep bonds can come in all forms of relationships. All types of relationships, including friendships, familial relationships, etc. have the potential to be very special of very deep if you end up connecting to someone in the right way. So whatever path you choose to take, don't feel like this isn't possible.

I'll throw this out followers too if anyone wants to share their own thoughts or advice.

All the best, Anon! Good luck!

#vent post

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ryuichirou · 26 days ago

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Replies

Some replies, mostly about miss Jamil Viper! But also some other stuff.

Anonymous asked:

I feel deprived of the twst women, Ryu! Give us something! I can't be only anon asking for more of the genderswap!twst characters!

For the record: we received this ask pretty much as I was finishing up that Jamil drawing we posted yesterday, so Anon, your timing is insane lol Your wish was granted!

But also, we’re going to post some fem!AzuIde soon + I have a couple of asks of genderswap hcs… I hope to get to them asap too.

For some reason I am always surprised when people are so excited to see the girlies. Thank you for reminding us that you love and want them.

Anonymous asked:

My pansexual ass after seeing your latest Jamil art: "I am not okay."

Really hope we're diving back into the twst girls because DAMN are they hot.

I’m sorry, Anon! Stay strong!! <3

Like I already replied to another Anon, we’ll definitely have another twst girl post soon (not sure when though). Not sure if it counts as diving back into them; I feel like it’s always been “a treat every now and then” kind of deal, but I love these girls dearly, so I’m glad that you give us extra motivation to post them more.

Anonymous asked:

miss viper are you single? 🥺 if not, i think i could also make for a good pet...

Anon… I feel you 😔 I wonder how often Jamil encounters people being willing to be her pets lol It’s so easy to picture her confused yet annoyed face.

(Thank you btw!! I’m happy I drew her so...dateable)

Anonymous asked:

Jamil is a great asset to the team

Indeed! It certainly boosts everyone’s morale… until it starts distracting everyone lol

Anonymous asked:

Are those the twst ladies I see? MT EYES HAVE BEEN BLESSED! Please do more of them in cosplay, I'm eating this up!

(this is related to a genderswap cosplay reply from this post)

Thank you!! I wish I could draw everything, but, unfortunately, that would take too much time lol So it’s all up for your imagination!

I have another ask related to this topic, so I’ll post more thoughts about it at some point in the future.

Anonymous asked:

Rook and Vil would be so beautiful as Gomez and Morticia, even though it IS a bit predictable for Vil's taste. But do you think that the boys would get along with the Addams family?

Both Gomez and Kalim are already bottomless pits of energy and friendliness on their own, imagine them together in the same room. Azul and Gomez are also a funny combination. Here's a new rich businessman Azul could try to learn from, only to discover that his approach to making money is mostly luck-based. Sorry Azul, he's just that good.

Or maybe they would all just be put off by Gomes and Morticia's pda

Honestly, I feel like a lot of them would get along with them pretty nicely. For starters, Vil would enjoy Morticia’s company a lot, I think they would genuinely become besties because: not only they’re a pretty good match personality-wise, but also both are into botany/potion stuff + apparently both have experience in fencing… Somehow, their wavelengths align pretty neatly. Of course, it’s safe to assume that Rook would be allured by Morticia too, but let’s be honest, Rook would be charmed and be able to befriend the entire household, Lurch included.

Oh god, Gomez and Kalim would have hilarious friendship. Kalim would look so out of place surrounded by all the grim and spooky goodness of the Addams’ house, but it’s like he doesn’t even notice that he’s sitting in front of a guillotine and on top of a coffin. He’s just laughing because that Gomez guy is so funny and friendly, and he’s happy to make new friends with such a fun family! Also Kalim would feel sudden urge to see Jamil after seeing Gomez’ and Morticia’s pda lol

As I read your reply, it was so easy to imagine poor Azul giving himself pep-talk in front of the mirror. Keep it together, Azul! Yes, he is eccentric, but you have to befriend this man! (but then he’ll learn about the luck thing and dip 😭 very rude guy…)

Hm… I think Lilia would also like Morticia a lot, but maybe it’s just because she kind of seems like his type 😳 And of course because Diasomnia dorm looks like an Addams’ house already lol Actually, all of the Diasomnia boys would probably enjoy their time together.

A lot of the boys would be kind of embarrassed to witness pda though, but especially all the first years (minus Ortho) and Idia. If Idia is for some weird reason present, he’d probably complain about the straight normies :( But I can’t see him hating these two, so I think even he will get charmed to some degree after freaking out a little for some time lol

#replies

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starflungwaddledee · 1 year ago

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clearing my inbox of a variety of asks with text replies, or ones that will get art answers later but that i still figured i could get back to now with simpler responses in the interim.

lots of anons, but i'll ping anyone who i can!

topics include: general nice words + people's theories (thank you!!), dededesign, daroach (sorry), sentient ancient artifacts, magolor (sorry...), whispy woods (SORRY...). there's also a decent scattering of awtdy and clockwork heart tidbits but they're all over the place, and a small collection of increasingly desperate asks hoping bandee will be released from morpho dee 😂

oohh this one is actually super old, sorry that i never got back to it! i get a little overwhelmed by the Nice Words ones sometimes and i'm not sure what to say besides 'thank you!!' because it means a lot to me and 'thank you!' just sometimes feels like it doesn't cut it...?

anyway, i'm very grateful!! i'm thrilled if i could inspire you to try out any constructed-language work of your own!! i'd love to see more of that going on in the kirbyverse so if you ever give it a crack feel free to lmk!

i'm glad you like the full penguin dededesign; quite a few folks seemed to enjoy that actually and i was pleasantly surprised! i haven't drawn that much of most characters besides bandee, to be fair, but the next comic will be about dedede and should answer some of the other questions i've been getting about him too!

i should say that it's likely the totally full penguin design won't make it for the comic, because it's hard to draw the sheer length of their bills from many angles or having the expressiveness i need for dedede, and i really only did that one for funsies. but i'll hopefully find a nice compromise!

aaaa the joy of being mentally unwell about The Characters and The Story. thank you, glad i can be of service! 👍

this is quite perceptive of you to notice and it's definitely something that occurs in the timeline. due to galacta knight's influence (and kirby's altered reputation) visitors and threats- both international and intergalactic- start to think twice before risking an approach.

alas, because daroach appears in the timeline before galacta knight's switch-in occurs, he would already be in contact and friendship with kirby. that unfortunately means he'd meet the same fate as the rest of kirby's existing allies.

@i-only-created-this-to-read a little similar to the above ask, yes, the intergalactic picture of popstar is definitely changed by the presence of a violent, otherworldly warrior and a ruthless hero. i also answered your questions about necrodeus previously and am not sure what else to say about him.

i have confirmed before that dedede is not dead, and more about his scenario and overall role in the plot will be revealed in comics. but i will say that he's a smart guy, despite his silliness, and a loving king. he absolutely came to the same conclusion about the frequency of his own possessions as well, through no small amount of heartbreak.

i definitely headcanon the Lor as sentient; in the light novels, bandee also speaks to her fairly directly. i actually headcanon all the Ancient artifacts as having an amount of sentience (this seem in line with what we've seen in canon, so i don't think it's a reach) and the lor herself seems especially benevolent to me.

our headcanons for the novas are different to yours, though that plays more of a role in the clockwork heart au. i quite enjoy your theories about how the ending might go and you've definitely picked up some details!! i won't confirm or deny anything, but i will say the lor is present in the AU, and that magolor has enough knowledge of artifacts to know that a wish on a wishing star could be a viable solution.

it took a while for folks to start asking me about magolor actually, which i found kind of amusing because he's the deuteragonist (second protagonist, after bandee) of the au!

i do definitely think that canonically magolor lives on the lor starcutter; though he does say he wants to buy a holiday home on popstar! however in awtdy, unlike the dream land four three, magolor's entire timeline is trashed from the get-go by galacta knight's arrival

some of these answers will take me longer to get to as i'll provide them in comics (it should be a fun reveal at least), but i will say: he hates popstar. he hates it there. he'd give just about anything to be anywhere else.

until he meets bandee, of course.

the rest of popstar fare a little better or a little worse at various points in the au, kind of like in the mainline canon timeline. for the most part, galacta knight isn't that interested in most of popstar. he enjoys living there, it's peaceful and undeniably pleasant, and frankly he'd like to continue doing so!

he can be convinced (by kirby, and the maintenance of the lie) to perform care to some of its citizens when necessary- such as rebuilding after a crisis. but in general he minds his business in dream land, and occasionally off-world or interdimensionally with kirby and bandee on missions.

whispy, who also keeps to his own in the woods and is just a cantankerous old tree, is probably fine. at least up until star allies, when he, you know. gets possessed.

@pumpkinnkidd oh absolutely.

@torrentialchaos2 that would be a different story to chrysalis au, i think! one i could write, but haven't. chrysalis au is specifically about bandee, you can't really extract him from it? 😭 but if morpho possessed magolor it would depend on a lot of things: like what is everyone's relationship to him when it happens? i think even when he comes back from his redemption arc, magolor and the gang are friends, but it's not the same as bandee, who is a core member of their unit.

we've already seen what happens when magolor gets possessed and kirby has to Beat His Ass to get him back to normal. and we've seen that when morpho possesses others who are capable fighters, kirby doesn't hold back. so maybe that? magolor is a magical little guy; he's got a better chance of getting spat back out unscathed.

i could however probably write a version of this for magicapple if i wanted, which would be much more emotionally pulverising lmao

@trainerbob23 thank you!! this one took me a bit to respond to sorry, but i'm grateful for the warm welcome! the AUs are definitely my primary investment and i'm glad that folks are enjoying seeing them develop! some of them are connected to each other (awtdy + it's various endings/alts) but others are separate.

i also do have some backstory/lore for starstruck dee, which i'll hopefully get to soon as well. i would say that she is... very much related to stars and the cosmos, yes.

@eliastheownerof0axolotls this one was part of a longer ask (that i've answered part of, and still have another part of in my queue... sorry;; ) but i think this part- especially in terms of kirby- has probably been mostly answered by now! both kirby and dedede have significant roles!

i view dedede as having a mentor-like dynamic with bandee as well as with kirby, and they all care about each other very much! but (especially because they are all adults in my hc) he also absolutely trusts them to handle themselves.

referring to this post and the (cw angst) art at the end. i will hopefully answer some other asks about the clockwork heart au which will satisfy more of its overall premise and timeline and all, but in regards to the peculiar image...

why that picture is completely normal!! bandee is super fine and normal in it and everything is great and good and fine and fine and fine and fine!!! hhahaha!!!

(something very bad is happening, lmao. entirely doomed by the narrative.)

speaking of bandee being doomed by the narrative:

some tags here as well, but i just love the frequency of these...

bandee gets possessed one time and everybody loses it... quick!! when will he get unpossessed!!! save that little guy!!! he's sad so we're sad!! (relatable. everyone is so valid.)

the tags on the main posts about morpho dee are just full of people screaming and crying and being like "NOOO I HATE THIS SM I'M IN PAIN /pos" and it's so good hahahaha

sorry to the folks who hate to see him going through the blender, he's being spun in the microwave at like 90mph on my blog. but don't worry, chrysalis au does have a predictably good ending; though obviously bandee has some capital S Stuff to unpack afterwards!!

🌟⭐✨

aaand i think that's all for now! hopefully if you've been hanging out for an ask for a while you're answer is here, and if not (and possibly even if it is), it's most likely taking me so long because i want to do an answer with art.

i'll try not to let these build up again like this, thank you for your patience!

#won't tag all the characters mentioned but i'll tag the AUs just due to the presence of some asks being about them #or plots or storylines or clarifications. nothing too spoilery... maybe. mostly.#awtdy au #clockwork heart au #chrysalis au #asks

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cloudbells · 1 year ago

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I think I understand your frustration. Although I was always a Tony fan more than Steve, I love him all the same and his story captivates me. Some time ago, I realized some Stevetony shippers hated Steve when CW came out. Worst part being that, with all the bashing, I was beginning to hate him too. I realized this and decided to stop interacting w the ship for a few years because I wasn't happy with that bashing. Luckily, I came back to find many talented stony shippers/artist who love both Steve and Tony (both their flaws included!). I enjoy CW angst, but I feel sometimes it really makes people bash either Tony or Steve and it pisses me off.

LONG POST

One, thank you anon for the message! Two, I’m actually super curious which post of mine prompted this message lol. I have quite a few both on this account and my main. Third, you actually sent this at a time where I’m pretty passionate about this, so allow me to be a little loose and lengthy with my words for a bit.

CACW was absolute Hell for the stevetony fandom, especially for Steve stans, but in a way, I’m kind of happy I can see just who doesn’t actually like Steve and only liked him on a condition of him being around to be Tony’s buffer. You can see it in the way people write/talk about Steve. They want a blank, playdough character that coddles Tony.

I actually like CACW as a movie. I think the more I analyze how the characters behave and why they do what they do, I like it even more. I’ve said this a few times, but Steve became my favorite after watching this movie. I liked him a whole lot before, but the way he conducted himself in Civil War stole my heart straight from my chest. So when I came online to see that everyone apparently thought he was worse than Satan himself…It was the whiplash of a lifetime. It didn’t make sense to me. It doesn’t make sense to me. Even me, fully being on Steve’s side, didn't hate Tony for what I consider to be slights against Steve in that movie. So where was this visceral hatred for Steve coming from? I just concluded that people already lowkey didn’t like him. Never ask a Stony shipper their opinion on Avengers 1 lol.

I love talking about CW. I have quite a few posts on my stance about it and honestly, I wished more people asked me about CW so I could talk about it, but the reality is that they don’t need to because I already talk about it all the time lol! Everything they want to know is probably somewhere on my page or somewhere on Discord. I think CW has such a huge potential to produce some really good discourse and storylines within the fandom, but people were so blinded by…whatever they were blinded by to see that. I swear, some of the things I see, I’d bet my arm that a lot of people either didn’t watch CACW or watched it once, consumed a bunch of headcanon about it, and then proceeded to talk about it like they personally studied the film and all its nuances.

Now, in the stony fandom, it’s clear that Tony is the fan favorite. Overall, actually. And I don’t mind that for two reasons: I’m used to liking characters that are somewhat controversial (for the wrong reasons), and I adore Tony. I actually love that man in ways words can’t express. The English language hasn’t evolved with enough intricacies that would allow me to tell you how much I am enamored with him. So seeing that other people love him too? Instant joy. BUT, this runs into the problem when Steve is paired with him because well, we see it.

My irritation comes from people either outright ignoring, mischaracterizing or not understanding Steve in CW. So many huge misconceptions were being spread around like wildfire to the point where some people think that Steve not reading the Accords is canon. They think that it’s canon that Steve only opposes the Accords for Bucky. They think that Steve was being unreasonable or purposely uncommunicative or outright egotistical in CACW for refusing to sign the Accords. They think that Steve is against all oversight and wants to be a loose cannon. They think Steve is being immature and wants to avoid accountability for anything. They think that Steve was trying to lie to Tony when he first answered that he didn’t know about his parents, instead of it being deeper than that.

Y’know, so many of these same people accuse Steve of being boring and flat, without realizing that they are the ones stripping the nuances and complexities of his characters away from him and then turning around and whining about how one dimensional Steve is. It pisses me off, truly. It especially pisses me off in the stony fandom cause I expected better. If people still actively ship them, you’d think that they would make the effort to understand Steve instead of screeching loudly about how he’s evil AND being wrong about the reasons why he’s evil.

And the thing is, Steve’s motivations aren’t even confusing. They just aren’t. I've had Steve fans tell me it's confusing so I should ease up, but it isn't and I won't. Do I sound like a bitch here? Perhaps, but I don't care rn. Maybe they’re more subtle, especially considering that CW took the time to spell out all of Tony’s pain and past and guilt and internal conflict to the audience while Steve’s mindset was more so hinted at in his own movie. But let me rant about that later. Steve is the only one shown on screen to be reading the Accords, and then he elaborates a bit on why he’s against them. Despite this, the audience seems to take literally everyone else's word on Steve as law (Rhodey saying Steve’s mindset is a sign of arrogance and fandom parroting about how arrogant Steve is for example) instead of just…paying attention to what Steve says and what Steve does. He actually almost signs before Tony tells Steve about Wanda. And this scene is very important to me. Because Steve was about to decide to just trust Tony, and go all in with him until Tony just told him that his objections to the Accords were already being enacted. So yeah, he reacts the way he did. It’s a shock how close he was to signing away to a document he KNOWS is evil because he read it—

Let me stop before this turns into a CW meta. But, in short, I just hate the bashing of Steve. He of all characters doesn't deserve it. The way people bend backwards to twist his every action into some malicious intention. I’m surprised people haven’t pulled muscles by the way they reach to demonize him. In his own goddamn ship. And y’know what, it’s not even just the Steve mischaracterization that causes this. So many Tony fans willingly mischaracterize Tony just to demonize Steve. But that’s a convo for a different post.

This post was gonna be much, much longer. I had a shit ton I suddenly wanted to speak on, but I decided to stop here lol. I was getting off topic when all you did was express sympathy. Thank you again!

#me my mine #CACW #pro steve rogers #steve rogers defense squad #steve rogers #got hit up #thank you anon #anti sokovia accords

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amoebaforce · 1 year ago

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Mayhaps you could do something with the scions' reactions to finding out the WoL is an ex-imperial soldier?

Maybe after they had fallen into a form of depressed state after killing (I forgot his name but big fucking shield dude from ARR).

ahh yes, our old friend Rhitahtyn! or as my fiancé and I call him, Ritalin.

this was a very good ask, anon! due to the time period requested, i decided to include Yda and Papalymo for your reading pleasure. enjoy! :D

characters featured: Thancred Waters, Y'shtola Rhul, Urianger Augerelt, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Yda Hext, Papalymo Totolymo tags: angst, canon war and violence, poor mental health, PTSD symptoms, ARR spoilers, gn!WoL

Thancred

He’s noticed the WoL withdrawing since Cape Westwind fell. Noticed how their eyes glaze when anyone brings up the Legion. It was a bigger, deeper sadness than Thancred had ever seen in their face. Closer to guilt, really. But why?

The answer evades Thancred, until he catches the WoL crying in the back room of a tavern. Only then does he finally hear the truth. Thancred wishes he could say he’s surprised, but unfortunately, he isn’t. He’s suspected that the WoL was ex-Imperial for a few months now.

The signs are all there — their unerring discipline, how fast they eat, even the way they make their bed. It’s all military. The kind of training that breaks you down and rebuilds you in a different shape. The kind that leaves a mark.

He keeps their secret if they want him to, of course. Thancred isn’t known for his loose lips. What he offers the WoL is discretion; a quiet place to cry, an open ear to talk to, a silent understanding when all is too loud.

“You did the right thing,” he tells them one night, after a bout of panic drove them screaming from their bed. “I know it doesn’t feel like it. You feel selfish for leaving, selfish for living. But if the option is being selfish or being dead… well, then, I’m glad you chose the former.”

Y’shtola

When the Warrior of Light comes to her quarters in the dead of night, with eyes full of tears and a heart full of secrets, Y’shtola can do nothing but let them in. They talk for hours, until the sun’s rays began to peek from under the horizon.

Y’shtola is more horrified than shocked. She’d gathered through weeks of close contact that the WoL had a history with the Empire, but knowing it was that of a defected soldier casts all her experiences with them in a new light.

The news also demystifies the Warrior for Y’shtola, if only a little. Suddenly, their uncanny efficiency and knack for tactics make perfect sense… and so does the Warrior’s ferocity against the Empire. It isn’t just politics — it’s personal.

From that night on, Y’shtola brews the WoL a special herbal tea, one meant to induce a dreamless sleep. It works most of the time. When it doesn’t, Y’shtola wakes to a timid knock on the door, so faint she almost misses it.

Without fail, Y’shtola ties her dressing gown, welcomes them inside. She might joke about the lateness of the hour, but in truth, she’d never think of turning them away. Not after all they lost to be here.

Urianger

Urianger first learns of the Warrior’s past by accident. They were alone in the Sands together, combing through some scrolls about primals, when Urianger’s curious nature got the better of him. He asked one too many questions about their health, a conversation spiraled out of control, and suddenly the WoL was confessing to the crime of defecting from the Imperial Legion.

He feels incredibly guilty about this, seeing how much the admission upsets the Warrior, and swears he won’t tell another soul. He knows just how terrifying it is to be on the Empire’s hitlist, having been branded a heretic himself in the past.

Urianger then spends several weeks trying to make up for the incident by any means he deems necessary. Mostly by expediting every research request the WoL gives him — but every few nights, an “anonymous” gift appears on the WoL’s door.

Sometimes it’s food. Bowls of soup manifesting in their room, sweets delivered to inn rooms via courier. Other times, it’s a piece of equipment they’ve been meaning to purchase, or a vial of medicine. Always something useful; always lacking attribution.But the WoL doesn’t need something as base as a note to know their benefactor’s identity.

The truth is written in the gifts’ timing. They only appear after the WoL spends a long day dealing with the Empire: spying behind enemy lines, putting down war machina, setting traps for Imperial scouts. All the tasks that reawaken bloody memories in the Warrior’s head. It’s the kind of quiet acknowledgement that could only come from one who knows.

Alphinaud

It had never occurred to Alphinaud that the WoL had been a soldier before. Not until Cape Westwind. He wasn’t there — he didn’t see the fracture happen. But when the Warrior returned, it was clear that something on that battlefield broke them.

Their face goes stony, eyes emptied as if glimpsing the future through an orb. The lines around their mouth become permanent. That’s when Alphinaud gets to thinking. Maybe it isn’t the future they see before them. Maybe it’s the past.

After a few weeks of watching the Warrior endure this silent torment, Alphinaud can’t stand it any longer. One night, he corners them after dinner and asks a very simple, very pointed question. “Were you an Imperial soldier?”

The Warrior flinches as if slapped. They can’t lie to the boy, though, especially not while he gives them that earnest look of his. The WoL nods cautiously, and over the next few days, they slowly begin to divulge their story. Why they joined, the things they saw, how they managed to get away. Alphinaud absorbs the information slowly, taking his time to mull over what they say, before concluding that it changes very little about his relationship to the Warrior.

If anything, he feels even more respect toward them now that he knows. After all, they risked everything to leave the Empire. Once they got away, all logic dictates that they’d spend the rest of their life hiding from it. Instead, they’d put their life on the line again and again in the interest of destroying the selfsame power that indentured them.

Yda

The WoL and Yda are doing reconnaissance on Imperial movements in the Twelveswood when all hells break loose. They’re getting ready to leave when a scouting party bursts out of the trees behind them, trapping them on a cliff near Sylph territory.

Things are dicey for the briefest moment, but between the two of them, the soldiers go down with relative ease. And yet, when Yda’s fist finds the last Imperial’s jaw and sends them tumbling, she turns to find the Warrior of Light frozen in place. Their eyes are fixed on the bare face of a fallen scout, wide and brimming with a kind of fear Yda has never seen on their face. They’ve been jumpy lately, quieter than usual, but this sort of terror is decidedly unprecedented.

“Hey,” she says gently, recognizing the jagged heave of their chest. “What’s got you so upset? Did you know that guy?” Yda’s jaw drops when they nod. The story comes out in broken snippets as she leads the WoL to safety, and every detail makes Yda feel sicker.

Immediately, conflict rings through her head. She hates the Empire, hates what it did to her family, hates everyone associated with it. She wants more than anything to watch it all burn. But in that moment, no matter how hard she might try to, might want to, Yda can’t bring herself to hate the Warrior. Especially not while they’re still wiping their eyes.

She doesn’t know what that says about her. Doesn’t want to think about it. She presses her mouth flat, face sullen below her mask. “We all have a past,” Yda says. “I guess it’s the future that matters.”

Papalymo

From the moment they met, Papalymo knew the Warrior was hiding something. There was just a certain look in their eye — a veil of mystery that hardly ever slipped an inch. It wasn’t the facade of a charlatan. Nothing so malicious; more like the carefully curated mask of one who may fall apart at any minute.

He said nothing of it, merely watched carefully, until after Operation Archon. That’s when the mask began to slip. The WoL’s under-eyes were suddenly streaked with purple, their mind far away. Papalymo made it his business to know why, but he could do nothing so tactless as ask them outright.

Instead, the thaumaturge consorts with the rest of the Scions, compiling data and comparing information, until he is able to reasonably hypothesize that the WoL’s past included some kind of military service.

The rest of the pieces click into place when he overhears the Warrior talking in their sleep. Papalymo is roused from his bedroll by the sound of their mumbling, louder than the rustling of the Twelveswood overhead. “No, Legatus,” they whimper. “Don’t wanna… can’t make me.”

Papalymo’s heart sinks. So this was it — their deep, dark secret. He ruminates until dawn, wondering about every little detail of the story. Were they conscripted? Did they enlist? Where were they from, really? What sort of tragedies compelled them to disobey, to flee? He will never ask. He isn’t sure he wants to know.

#my writing #writing request #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfic #wol ffxiv #warrior of light #garlean empire #garlemald #thancred waters #urianger augerelt #alphinaud leveilleur #y'shtola rhul #yda hext #papalymo totolymo #ex garlean wol #ff14

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