#but for something thus short i think its fine

[apricot-blossomss]

Hey. I LOVE what you've been writing for Apollo. Could I request something preferably gn but up to you?

Something about a devotee of Athena and Ares' lover? Like they were a wonderful fighter, got spotted and gained Athena's favour (I was kinka thinking like Odysseus). I just thought the idea of one of Athena's heroes loving her rival

☛ athena's devotee! gn! reader having a secret love affair with ares

☛ sfw, fluff & angst, first oneshot for ares!

Peace had never really been an option for you. From a young age, your life had been marked by chaos, violence and war- all things you were good at. Maybe that was the reason meditation or calmly going into yourself just didn't work for you. Thus, you were making the training puppets the victims of your pent up frustration.

Being a hero of Athena had its blessings and curses, and you walked on the fine balance between the two. Hacking at the props blindly, your mind wandered to one of the more ambiguous side effects of your position- though it was all but inherent. But if you hadn't been a chosen devotee of Athena, you would have certainly never caught the eye of another god who had all but holy intentions.

Suddenly, one of the figures you were attacking parried and you ripped your eyes open, just in time to dodge a hit by your opponent and get a closer look at him. The initial shock turned into excitement as you deflected a blow and evaded the sword of the mighty god of war himself. With a new rush of adrenaline in tow, you ducked and attacked his flank. Effortlessly, his sword arm shot down, and he took advantage of your short moment of hesitation and his physical superiority to disarm you and make you unable to retrieve your weapon- or steal his, your speciality- by pulling you into his chest and locking you in.

With a mirth in your eyes that made him crazy every time, you smiled up at him. "We have to stop meeting like this, or I'll win again."

"Ts," he made and his dark baritone vibrated against your body, since he still held you snugly against his broad chest. "Only because I let you win." He released you, and in complete contrast to the brutal swing of his sword, his touch was now very gentle as he set you down. You appreciated it, because it was rare that anyone had a little gentleness for you.

"Whatever you want to tell yourself," you grin and saw him mirror your expression. The god bent down to get your sword off the ground and wordlessly handed it back to you. You took it and wrapped your smaller hand around his as you walked over to the shed where you kept your weapons. He let you take him there without any resistance.

Even after all these months, holding your hand was still a strange feeling to the god. Not only that it was so much smaller, it was so soft, and yet had the same small cuts and bruises as his. Not that Ares had ever been good at reflecting on, much less expressing his feelings, but he did know that holding your hand felt good.

"Rough day?," you asked, and he wondered how your eyes could still be so kind, even when looking at him, even after what your life had become.

"Rough life," he said and you laughed at his poor attempt of a joke. He resorted to what he could do best, aside from fighting: he frowned in response. Because he didn't want to let you see how your little laugh had his chest swell with- something. Something warm, something good.

"So, what do we do about that?" you asked and your peppy optimism made him chuckle. He did know one thing: life was hell for the both of you. Only he frowned, and you enthusiastically pulled him away from the fighting grounds to savor the little time you two had with each other at a more peaceful place- and yes, you were aware of the irony of that.

At a secluded spot on the beach, you rested in the shadow of a tree and put a head on his shoulder. With him, you were always the one to make the first move. In touching and kissing because Ares was very unsure of himself when it came to affection, in fighting because he was too sure of himself. You snuggled closer to him and he got the message and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "Ares?"

A low hum was all you got in response. "Did you... did you tell Lady Athena about us?"

"No," he said curtly and looked down at you. His fiery eyes were somehow more calming than the quiet sea, or the soft wind. There had to be something wrong with you, that you could lie in the hands of destruction and feel more content than you would any other place. "Why?"

Chewing on your bottom lip, you looked back out onto the ocean, with its gentle, rippling waves, and wished you could parve a way through them to make them feel like you felt. Divided. "She asked me whether there was someone- someone more important to me than her."

"Am I?"

Shocked, you turned around and slapped him across the neck which only made him smile in amusement. "Gods, you're just as bad as her! Why does it always have to be a 'more' or a 'most' with you both?"

Ares gave you an apologetical smile and caught your hand, just to guide it into his locks, a rare show of initiating contact. "It always is with us. I'm sorry you're caught in between that."

"I love you both," you said stubbornly and caressed his scalp, making him groan in delight and rest his head on your shoulder. "Why can't I just love you both?" He didn't answer that question, and you were glad he didn't. Because the topic had turned awfully negative, you smiled down at him cheerily. "Well, at least it's exciting, all that sneaking around and hiding. Like a stealth mission with an unusually lovable partner."

"I'm not," he said, eyes closed and savoring your warm touch. "I'm not lovable. You are." It wasn't flirting, but maybe as close to it as he could.

"If you aren't lovable, what am I doing here?" you asked, making him look at you and hovering just over his lips in a silent challenge for him to close the gap between you.

"No idea," he whispered, something he rarely did, and leaned up to kiss you. Weirdly enough, Ares kisses were shy in the beginning, and as soon as you made them more, he exploded into a fervor of spit and passion and clashing teeth as if he had been constraining himself for too long. You knew why, he didn't have to tell you. Or rather: he did tell you, in the way he held your hands, your body, the back of your neck as he responded to you deepening the kiss with a series of passionate kisses, capturing your lips as if in a haze of fury.

It was you who broke away- never him, always you. Looking up into his restless eyes, in your own little world with him, breathing each other's breaths, you let your smile be, and he his frown. Just looking, just feeling, just thinking about each other and not sharing your thoughts because you trusted und knew each other enough.

"Being divided isn't so bad, you know?" you said and brushed his raven black hair out of his eyes, one of which being adorned by a vertical scar. "I'd be less whole, if I was- whole, you know?"

"I'm not good with your philosophical monologues," he said gently and pulled you closer, but you knew he understood, even if he didn't know he did.

🗡️

"Brother."

The last thing Ares wanted to talk to as he was drowning in the oh so sweet memories of last night was his tight-lipped sister and rival Athena. Still, he took notice of her by looking up from the attack he was overseeing on earth. He was surprised to find her not decked in her usual armor but dressed in a simple, functional tunic.

"May I sit?"

Grumbling under his breath and nodding, the god redirected his eyes to the battle down on earth. He had a good idea what she wanted from him, but he wasn't going to give it up. That she was the goddess of strategy didn't change the fact that Ares, too, understood the subtext here. The tunic meant a deal, a draw, that, if Athena had her wish, would result in her making him leave you.

He knew how she would do it, because he knew her. She wouldn't outright say it, she would break him down bit by bit, telling him he was not fit, he was going to cause you harm, that you deserved better. But it wouldn't work. Not because he knew it was wrong- it wasn't. But because, at heart, he was a selfish man. He loved you unconditionally, but as long as you didn't strike against him with the attempt to do harm, he would not leave you. And even then, he would never stop loving you, not ever. That he knew.

"They are not going to win, you know?" Athena said quietly as she seated herself beside him, nodding down to the battlefield.

"I know." Silence. "They will wreck unrepairable damage to their enemy, though." He felt Athena's grey eyes on him, but he didn't return their frown. His gaze had wandered- it had never been wholly focused on the fight in the first place. There you were. He spotted you, cooking dinner in your cabin for yourself. Always a bit more than necessary, in case he would come. He had been planning to.

"Is that what you're trying to do to me?" his sister asked him sharply and Ares' head shot around at the remark.

"This isn't about you"

"Of course it's about me." Athena let out a short, dry laugh. "It's about me and your pride. But they don't have anything to do with this. Leave them out of this fight, do not use them against me."

Ares had been wrong, and it felt like a gut punch. His sister didn't even allow him the grace to assume he could love you. Of course. He was just a bloodthirsty monster after all, unable to love, only lust and kill. Because he didn't know how else to say it, and because the heat bubbling in his chest threatened to explode into violent rage, he told her. "I love them."

"No, you don't," Athena hissed. "If you would, you would leave them alone. You are selfish and lustful, and you want to corner me, but it won't work."

"Are you trying to lecture me about love?" Ares scoffed, having a hard time containing his anger. "About selfishness? You are so self-centered, you can't even see- you can't-" He was raging now, which was always a bad move against Athena.

"They deserve better than you," she said coldly. "They deserve a gentle, loving spouse who will grow old with them and be there for them."

"Yes," the god confirmed. "But they chose me. Respect that, sister," he growled as his troops retreated and rose to his feet, uninterested in continuing the conversation. Athena was uncharacteristically quiet when he stormed off.

🗡️

The door slammed so hard against the wall that you jumped, even though you instinctively knew who it was. Not even a second later, strong arms closed around you from behind as you felt his chest heave against your back. His raspy voice next to your ear. "Kiss me or I'm gonna break something."

"What's wrong?" you breathed as you turned around in his arms and found yourself face to face with pure, unfiltered rage. His grip on you only tightened as if he was barely holding himself together. For a moment you were unable to breathe at all as you looked into his eyes.

With a long groan, his lips clashed with yours. In the heated kiss, you could feel all his pent up frustration, all his anger and fury. It was amazing. You kissed him back, standing on your toes for better access, and he hoisted you up onto the counter effortlessly. "Don't- fuck- don't look at me," he mumbled in between kisses.

Instead of an answer, you brought your hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His wandered to your waist as his lips travelled down your neck, biting and marking like a man possessed. Moaning out a curse, you reluctantly pulled away from him. "Ares- if she sees the marks-"

"She knows," he muttered darkly, continuing his ministrations as you felt your lungs constrict. Unable to think about the consequences of this as he was covering your neck and collarbone in marks and bruises, you let his rough hands slip under your shirt, kneading your waist. Ares cursed when you pulled at the roots of his hair and you could feel his hot breath caressing your ear. "You're mine, right? You love me?"

"Y-yeah," you chocked out as he nibbled at the base of your throat. "I'm yours, I love you." The only answer you got was a guttural groan. Suddenly, you felt the tension leave his body as he slumped into you, hiding his face in the marked up crook of your neck. His arms encircled you as he caught his breath slowly. How fast had he sprinted to get to you?

You released your grip on his dark locks and opted to brushing through them gently. With a low hum, you let him catch his breath and cool his anger, curling into your body, as you caressed his hair and shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes"

The answer surprised you. As he looked up from your neck, you could see that the fiery storm in his eyes had calmed slightly. For a second, he looked really tired, before his signature frown adorned his face once more. "But not here. Not now."

You nodded and pecked the tip of his nose. "I'll draw you a bath, alright?" Only reluctantly, he let you go and when you slipped through the door, he propped up his head on his hands, rubbing his temples. They deserve better than you. Yes, you did. But he knew he couldn't give this up: your kisses, your hands caressing his hair, your understanding eyes and soothing voice that called out for him from the bath.

The tub was still a little too hot, but that was exactly what he needed. Laying down in the warm water, he looked up at you with your shining eyes and breathtaking smile. How could he be the god? You were divine.

Running a sponge over his shoulders softly, your hands traced his many scars and he felt himself grow self-conscious under your observant eyes. "I'm not... beautiful," he said into the silence, in lack of a better term. Surprised, you looked up at him and frowned. "Yes you are. Have you seen yourself?"

He didn't answer, so you leaned down, put your arms around his soaked, naked shoulders and ran your lips up and down his scars. Your hair grew moist as you rested your head on his shoulder, intertwining your hands with his. "You are the most beautiful man I know. Inside and out."

Ares couldn't believe you, but the words still felt nice, as did your touch, so he only leaned into it, sighing into the relief you offered his restless soul.

They deserve better than you.

He tried to drown out the words and only concentrate on you. If he could, he would write you elaborate declarations, but that wasn't his thing, so he only kissed your temple softly and closed his eyes, knowing he was safe with you now, for however long that may be.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[unamusedyams]

hey guys did y'all know that

[mrfoox]

Once I learn the difference between me having a crush and me being (hyper)fixated on a person, it's all over

[pomefioredove]

HIII I SAW THE FLIRTY PROMPTS EVENTS AND RAN HAHA

Can I please get "You're a shy little thing, aren't you?" with Rook please???? 🙏🙏🫠🫠🤍

anon this one is PERFECT omg screaming...

summary: "you're a shy little thing, aren't you?" type of post: short fic characters: rook additional info: romantic(?), reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, Rook being a little freak, shamelessly flirty, not proofread a part of this event

There's that feeling again.

Your heart rate picking up, muscles tensing, adrenaline urging you to find somewhere to run, a quiet corner to lurk until those eyes you feel on the back of your neck have turned away...

You're surrounded by people, but even the crowd isn't enough to hide you.

For so many years, you hadn't been noticed at all. An unsaved seat, a forgotten name, a dull, drooping wallflower with nowhere to root. Ignored and undesired, nothing more than a piece of furniture in everyone else's lives.

You had long come to accept that it's just how things are, even here.

And, so, the feeling of being watched is wholly unfamiliar.

You slip out of the midday crowd and into a quiet corridor. Your worst fear, really, is that whoever's keeping their eye on you is picking you apart at the seams, analyzing your every flaw...

As if being quiet didn't make you enough of a target...

"Ah, there you are! I thought I lost you,"

You nearly jump. For a moment, you're tempted to look around the vacant corridor for someone hiding in the shadows, because, surely, that voice isn't addressing you.

The boy at the other end of the hall tilts his head. "Ah, do not be frightened! I was only worried you had been swallowed by the crowd,"

You blink.

"...Me?"

"Oui," he responds, putting his hands on his hips. "You are such a tiny thing, I could not let any harm befall you under my watch."

There's something rather unsettling about his gaze. Familiar, even.

"Tiny?" you scoff at the description. "...Who are you, anyway?"

His smile is just as uneasy. Too eager, you think. "Je suis désolée, how rude, I have not introduced myself yet. Where are my manners?" he scolds himself, taking a step forward.

"Rook Hunt."

No, not familiar at all. You've never seen this man in your life, even if there's something about his gaze that strikes a chord with you.

You give your name in return, to which he hums.

"You are quite the interesting creature, you know."

Creature? You give him a sour look, and he chuckles.

"I mean it in the loveliest way. Like a flower which takes a century to bloom, or a comet one might see but once in their lifetime,"

He speaks enthusiastically, and thus fast, leaving you dizzy with metaphors and imagery.

"...Is that a compliment?"

A small smile graces his lips, and he leans forward. "Would you like it to be?"

Full of surprises. You instinctively lean back, further away from those piercing eyes.

He hums again, eyes shining with amusement. "Ah, ah, have I embarrassed you? My apologies,"

"I'm fine," you lie, and leave it at that. You can't seem to come up with a good excuse, and your face feels warm.

Rook tuts, circling around you like a predator surveying its prey.

"...There is no shame in being flattered, chérie. Though I would gladly embarrass you all day just to see that lovely look on your face again,"

You watch him carefully, though avoid eye contact as he stops, eventually, standing in front of you again with a little smile.

"It is a shame you hide yourself, even now. Your beauty should be appreciated," he says. "...Though, I admit, I find the idea of keeping it all to myself rather tempting."

He's going to give you a heart attack, you think. You can feel the embarrassment swelling in your chest, making your heart beat a little faster and averting your gaze to the ground.

He chuckles. "You're a shy little thing, aren't you?"

"I..." you cough awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor tiles. "...Don't get complimented often."

Rook places a hand over his heart, as if offended by the very thought. "Non? What a cruel world we live in, where such beauty goes unnoticed! The very notion wounds me!"

"Well, then..." he says, getting down on one knee and taking your hand in his, kissing each of your knuckles.

"...Let me make up for it, chérie."

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡The Morning After｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Ghost was a big man, he loomed over everyone in the squad but you never dared to imagine how big he was everywhere until you accidentally walk in on him in the shower

Warnings: nudity, Ghost is fucking massive, horny thoughts, reader’s callsign is Pyro, implied smut, size difference WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You couldn’t look your LT in the eye, not that you could before but now it was even worse. You knew that he knew something was wrong but you were too damn stubborn and too damn embarrassed to clear it up. You could feel those striking brown eyes staring at the back of your head as you poured yourself a coffee from the ancient coffee machine. His gaze followed you as you bypassed your usual seat next to him and instead sat beside Soap, expertly positioning your body beside the Scott as to not see your superior.

“You’re next to me today then lass?” Soap threw an arm over your shoulders, shaking you with his excitement. 

“Regrettably, yes.” You snapped back, your exhausted state only adding to the annoyance you felt around the man you called your friend. He smirked, dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What’s up yer ass today?” He asked right as you took a sip of the shitty coffee causing you to choke on the dark liquid, drawing the attention of the whole table to you. Soap beamed as you coughed and for a brief moment, your focus was not on the piercing gaze of Ghost.

“Nothing! Nothing, just didn’t sleep well.” You forced your attention to the front of the room where Captain Price was beginning his morning debrief.

Getting lost in the monotonous tones of the Brit, your mind began to wander to the events of last night.

Your entire body was covered in a layer of grime and sweat, a consequence of having to test out the new training course for the recruits coming in next week. You had been chosen ‘at random’ but knew that it was because you were the youngest of the 141 and thus at the bottom of the pecking order.

All you could think about after being in the cold mud and rain for a solid three hours (you had to run through it multiple times of course to make sure it was sound) was a steaming hot shower and maybe a quick version of your skin care routine. 

Your feet dragged as you made your way to the showers, confident that you would be able to enjoy the room to yourself considering that it was nearing 1 in the morning, not hearing the gentle cascade of water already running over the sound of your own self-pity.

You beelined for your favourite stall but froze when you finally noticed the man standing under the steam. There was no question of who stood before you, the sheer size of him pointed to only one person on your squad.

Water rolled down his broad back like a river, snaking its way over scar tissue and muscle, reddening his skin with its heat. His shoulders rolled as his hands worked through his short dirty blonde hair, washing away the standard issues shampoo that clung to his locks.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes drift lower, settling on the pert cheeks of his ass and his strong, thick legs. Heat crawled up your neck and it was only partially because of the warm temperature of the shower. You held your breath as he turned to reach for the bar of soap sitting on the shelf beside him, exposing his profile to you.

Your eyes went wide and wetness pooled between your plump thighs. Good lord he was so-

“Pyro, we need you to run through the training course again. Ghost will help you out.” You were physically shaken from your daydream by your captain’s voice with the accompanying laugh from the man next to you. Your eyes flicked back up to your commanding officer.

“I must’ve run that thing 50 times sir. It works fine!” The older man raised an eyebrow at you before crossing his arms over his chest and levelling a disappointed look your way.

“Fine is not good enough. You’ll run it until Ghost thinks it’s enough.”

Soap, obviously finding amusement in your torment, said. “You’ll be runnin that course blindfolded if Riley has anything to do with it.” You groaned in annoyance and let your head fall to the table with a thud, ignoring the jeers of your teammates. 

The rest of the day’s tasks were dolled out and the team was quickly dismissed, leaving only you and Simon in the room. He cleared his throat but before he could speak, you shot up. “I’ll meet you down there, I gotta hit the head.”

You scrambled from the room, leaving the giant alone smirking under his balaclava. 

——————

“Faster!” Ghost barked, his voice booming between the obstacles. You growled in frustration, redoubling your efforts as you scaled the 12 ft wall in the centre of the course. You had already beaten your record three times over, yet this seemed to not be enough for your LT.

You reached for the rope at the top, your fingertips just grazing the braided fibres but right as you were about to grab for it, your other arm finally gave out after hours of work and you began to fall backwards. 

Before the scream could escape your lips, your body was cradled in something warm and comfortable. When you were sure that you hadn’t just slammed into the ground, you opened one of your eyes and came face-to-mask with Ghost.

You could tell he was smiling behind that caricature of a skull by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. You huffed and attempted to wriggle out of his arms, desperately forcing yourself not to think about how warm and fucking massive they were. “Now where ya goin there Pyro. That was a big fall, I’d hate to see ya hurt.” His voice was even deeper than normal, husky and raw. It made your cunt clench around nothing.

“I um-“ You started to say but you were quickly cut off by a tut from your superior officer.

“I think we’re done for the day Sergeant, you’ve obviously proved your… endurance.” He said the last word like it was dirty, his brown eyes growing even darker as his biceps flexed, keeping you pinned to his chest. Something in your stomach fluttered. Even holding you up to him, Ghost was still looming over you, the shadow of his bulk blocking out the sunlight that licked at his broad shoulders.

Your gaze flicked to where the black of his mask clung to his lips before you caught yourself and forced your eyes elsewhere. “Yes lieutenant.” Simon chuckled and lowered you, more gently than you would’ve thought him capable, to the dusty ground of the training area. 

“Good girl.” He purred and for a second, you thought that maybe you had actually bashed your head and now you were hallucinating. Ghost kept a paw-like hand wrapped around your elbow, preventing you from sprinting off.

“S-sir?” 

“Ya know ye aren’t as sneaky as ya think ya are Pyro. If ya wanted ta join me for a shower, ya coulda. Don’t cha deny it, could feel those pretty eyes of yours searing inta me from 50 paces.” Your heart dropped.

“Oh god sir, ‘m so sorry, it was a total accident. It’ll never happen again.” His grip tightened, making your mouth snap shut with an audible click.

“Now when did I say tha I didn’t want tha?” His head tilted, the deep brown of his eyes glinting mischievously as he lowered himself closer to your face. “How ‘bout I show ya what ya missed out on a give ya a proper reward for bein such a good little girl?” 

It was all you could do to nod your head and not collapse to the ground with a pathetic whimper. The edge of his mask shifted as he smirked down at you. 

——————

“Sorry I’m late Captain, won’t happen again.” You limped into the briefing room, dark bags marring your cheeks. Price nodded at you and continued his debrief for the day. You winced as you plopped down in the only open seat, ending up right next to Soap for the second day in a row.

“Ye look li shite.” He leaned over to you. You jabbed your index and middle fingers into his ribs, making Johnny jump slightly and earning him a glare from Price. “Jausus, Ghost musta really battered ya ta make ya so bitchy today.” 

You smirked and caught said lieutenant’s eye. “He really fucking did.” 

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[tess-talks-inc]

On the Topic of Telemachus’s age:

First off preface lmao I’m a stranger on the internet if you want to see this and be like “I don’t care” more power to you this isn’t to condemn it’s more like my explanation? I guess? Of why Telemachus being represented as an adult is important to the context of the story and also to me.

Like obviously once again I acknowledge artistic interpretation, and Telemachus being young is important to the story as well and is part of the role he serves as a comparison to Odysseus, but like sometimes the way some artists draw him makes him look pre-pubescent and like… I understand what you’re doing, and honestly I respect it and I hope you are having fun, but I am holding your hands when I say that him being a young adult with that attitude is so so so important to his character and his relatability.

Adulthood isn’t something that magically appears one day, taking all of your dreams, immaturity, and weakness away. Telemachus embodies that- at twenty years old, he should be inheriting a portion of his father’s house and assisting in its running. He should, for all intents and purposes, have been a full and functional independent adult looking at purely his age. However, he is both literally and mentally stuck in limbo- his father is lost, so he cannot inherit in the case of his father’s death because Odysseus’ status is MIA, and internally he knows (literally mentioned book 1 of the odyssey and in Legendary) that if he reaches for that authority as an adult, the suitors will kill him. He doesn’t feel like he can, or that he is even on equal standing to the suitors as an adult man, he cannot see himself as one like they are, and it’s why he imagines his dad doing it instead. He wants to be saved, a childlike desire, even though he has advanced to a point where he himself can do something physically. That’s why, in the odyssey, Athena tells him explicitly that he can do something about the suitors, and lays out a plan for him. She says that he is no longer a child to his face, and the Telemacheia thus begins to be a coming of age story in which he matures, and later is registered as a threat of the suitors. He is a young adult yes, and he still has aspects of his young self (idealization of his father, daydreaming, him being quick to frustration), but him being an adult who realizes that he can do something and can understand the way he is childish is important and central to his character arc.

His arc is him growing into his skin, adulthood no longer being something that fits him like loose clothes and only a description of his physical state, but something that now is tailored to him, something that feels close to right.

Honestly, I think this aspect of him being an adult while still holding onto these aspects of childishness is where Legendary and We’ll be fine falls short in adapting his character. I understand why, because while he is introduced he is not the true central character of the Saga- it’s Athena and how he affects her, that’s what’s most important. Also, once again, he was just introduced. He’s not matured yet, but he’s realizing he needs to. I still love the songs and the saga, because it’s a good adaptation that poses interesting questions, but yeah. Telemachus is v clearly a young adult and that hasn’t translated over sound yet, which I think is why this whole age debacle is happening alongside the uwu-ifying of the man.

TLDR: Telemachus is a young adult and he acts like it due to his blend of childishness and slowly gained maturity. You can draw him and see him as a child if you want, have fun with it, but at least internally understand how his 20 years of age plays into his arc a of him maturing into manhood outside of your own interpretation of him :D

[a-dragons-journal]

Draconic Beauty Standards

Dragon Brain is really picky about other dragons sometimes. It’s vain and judgemental and thinks there are two ideal draconic body types: its own, and what I have named the Draconic Chad, a dragon with similar proportions to myself but a thick, strong neck and barrel chest, powerful forelimbs, and a Roman nose.

It is also, unfortunately, very mean sometimes about dragons who don’t fit its ideas of what a dragon “should” look like. There comes a point at which a given dragon is so different from it that it stops registering as my kind of dragon at all and thus abruptly snaps back to “that’s fine,” but if a dragon is similar but Not Quite Right, my draconic instincts don’t like it at all. Too thin a neck, too short a tail, too small of wings (this is a big one), too small of horns, too long or short of limbs, and my instinctive reaction is a haughty little huff of I’m prettier than you and I know it.

This is, of course, fundamentally insane of me. Which I recognize, consciously, and it takes only a split second to break up the instinctive judgement and shut it down. But here we are. It’s something that needs to be managed and shut down because it’s fucking rude to think that way about other people, especially other dragons in the community. And consciously I don’t even agree - I love seeing the variations between dragons, it’s really cool! I love seeing all the different things that "dragon" can mean! But my instincts have opinions, presumably born of survival instincts that drive my kind to find traits that speak to survival skills attractive and/or beautiful.

On the flipside, occasionally I come across a dragon clearly not of my species that Dragon Brain adores. Bright, saturated colors, large crests and wings, and confident posture are all big hits with my draconic instincts. (Hell, the color and luster of certain cars, anything that’s got a nice subsurface shimmer, happens to be very similar to my species’ scales, meaning sometimes I see a particularly nice paint job and my head snaps around for a second to admire it and imagine what that would look like on a dragon.)

It’s the weirdest thing. And I can’t decide what’s odder - the fact that Dragon Brain is so mean sometimes about dragons that are similar to me, or the fact that once another species gets a certain amount of removed from my own, it snaps back to being totally fine with it. Realistically it’s uncanny valley effect, but it’s just… odd. I never know quite what to make of it.

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 18 - post-war evening dresses

I feel like all the dresses I personally find beautiful are the ones that are not allowed to come back for another season. Unfortunately, this applies to a large part of Cora’s early wardrobe.

Interestingly, while I’m pretty sure she wears this champagne evening gown at least twice, I think she never wears it without the dark brown velvet robe. At least I don’t remember having seen the sleeves of the dress. The colors are a nice enough match, but nothing on either piece points to them having been made as a set. The dress is embroidered in crystal or glass beads, the coat apparently in pearls. But anyway, this dress is lovely!

More velvet, this time in plum over a pink silk base layer. Plus a little white lace trim. So far, so nice, although I don’t know why they made the sleeves of yet another fabric instead of working out something similar to the deep cowl collar. But fine, the beige works as a nice backdrop to a little flower embroidery.

Cora can’t keep off the velvet this season – time for some black. It’s fashionable black, not mourning black, so Cora can afford to pretty it up with netting on sleeves and shoulders, tassels on the sleeve hems, a big brooch in the front, and some gorgeous lace gloves that I desire with a vengeance. Despite this being a quite heavily decorated dress, I think the neckline would invite a discreet little necklace. Ah well.

*sigh* This red silk work is quite an iconic look, and one that stays into season 3. I’m gonna level with you: I think it outstays its welcome. I don’t like this one. Oh, it’s a fine dress in theory; the embroidery is lovely, the red shades coordinate well with the golden shoulder straps, I’m a fan of the fluttery sleeves. But the cut of this bodice isn’t doing Cora’s figure any favors. Is there any reason to make her waist look so disproportionately short without really hitting the Edwardian empire waistline?

Much better. This goes a lot more into 1920s styles with the drapey chiffon top, and I think the hip overlay (sash?) looks very pretty. It’s the only heavily embroidered piece, which seems unusual for the muted coloring of the dress, but it merges very nicely into the wide sleeve cutouts with the jewel trim.

Yay, black dresses with embroidery are keepers for season 3. Okay, this is not the worst of them; the gold thread with beads makes for a pretty cute look, but why does Cora wear a sleeveless dress for Christmas? Or is this a shirt? The skirt is greyer, so it might be separate.

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

There’s something with this season and brown dresses. It doesn’t always work in the wearer’s favor. I mean, I like this pleated wrap style, but the head scarf really washes out Rosamund’s beautiful ginger hair and the dress doesn’t give any other color pop either.

Hey, look, it’s a black dress with golden beading. You know what this means: It’s spectacular enough to stay into season 3! I’m getting very tired of this, but I can’t just bitch. The chiffon sleeves are cute, and there’s this style of little grape bundle earrings that pops up here and there across the show.

A black dress I find remotely interesting? Can only be here for one season. See, this one pulls off the empire waist Cora’s red silk dress didn’t want to commit to. And the top is basically just one big stretch of gold brocade (plus or minus some black chiffon for the sleeves). Damaged brocade, by the look of that second image. Is this an original? Is that why they couldn’t keep it around?

One of the subtler favorites of mine: The use of these black scallops is just delicious, how they open to diamond shapes on the arms (over barely visible chiffon that has exactly the color of Rosamund’s skin) and are held together with actual diamonds. I love it, it’s wonderful despite not having made a spectacle out of it.

These shots are not great, but this is rather a lovely dress, albeit one that is in Edwardian style and is thus beginning to look out of fashion. The skirt is some silverish blue velvet that pairs nicely with the paler-colored top, all crepe-work wrapped in a V over a simple light blue base layer. Also, behold the trim. It sparkles!

[budd-ie]

I’ve seen people complain before that hualian doesn’t need sexual themes in it and that it would be fine (or better) without it, and this opinion is completely valid to have and it’s completely fine to ignore the sexual themes to better your own enjoyment if it adds to the individual experience, though I also think it’s important to acknowledge sometimes that hualian does have a sexual relationship and that those sexual themes are prevalent throughout the novel and it’s okay for this to be the case. My personal opinion is that I think these themes are really cool and actually help us gauge character growth in a plot relevant way, especially for Xie Lian.

(Some book 7/8 spoilers ahead)

Along these lines, I’ve also seen people question why Jun Wu is so fixated on Xie Lian’s virginity. It’s true that it feels like a weird and specific thing to fixate on, though I’m sure the plot relevant answer to that has to do with Xie Lian’s cultivation. His cultivation style requires a pure mind and body, and maintaining cultivation rewards one with more spiritual energy. The short and simple answer is that by ruining his cultivation Xie Lian will be weakened in both power and mind, and attacking his virginity is the fastest route to achieve this (such as in the land of the tenders). As true as this is though, it really isn’t everything. Remember that Xie Lian begged to join the temple before he was of age because he was so determined to start cultivation. Not only did he take it extremely seriously, but his commitment to cultivation was one of the reasons (besides hating his dad) that he basically lived at the temple and wouldn’t come home for months at a time. Otherwise, he never found interest in consorts or getting married and starts chanting Dao De Jing if he even suspects something has the potential to start messing with him in order to maintain his steady heart and pure soul. Thus, cultivation is fun and rewarding to him.

This was before and during ascension, but what about after? After his second banishment, I honestly can’t imagine he’s actually trying to ascend again, so why cultivate?

Isn’t the answer there just because wants to?

At its heart, Xie Lian’s cultivation is something that seems to help ground him; it makes him feel comfortable and gives him something to focus on. Furthermore, it’s one of the last things Xie Lian actually has control over, isn’t it? Especially after falling so far into despair during his first banishment, cultivating is his way of rebuilding and holding on to himself, like a way of healing.

Thus, as it coincides with his cultivation, virginity is also extremely important to Xie Lian, simply because he chooses for it to be. Maintaining these principles is one of the main things that makes him feel like he’s still doing okay and is still in control.

All that being said, why did Jun Wu have a virginity detecting sword? If we really want to speculate a Xie Lian-centric answer to this, let’s establish that Jun Wu knows enough about Xie Lian to understand his individual relationship to cultivation. If Xie Lian is not a virgin during the Lan Chang in heaven scene, that means he has broken his cultivation. If Xie Lian’s cultivation is broken and he is genuinely unbothered by it, that means that Xie Lian has grown into a different, much stronger person than Jun Wu anticipated. It also means that controlling him by targeting his cultivation/virginity specifically isn’t going to be as effective as it might have been in the past. That’s what I think makes it matter so much to Jun Wu strictly from a plot perspective.

Following this logic can take us further too, because everybody who read extra chapters knows that Xie Lian does NOT leave this plot a virgin, but he’s very okay about it, which is also not at all where he starts. Xie Lian’s relationship with his own sexual nature is something that is constantly evolving throughout the novel, and it’s something that he struggles with tremendously that causes him a lot of torment whenever it’s challenged. Impurity isn’t just bad to him, it starts off as nearly catastrophic. As he learns to accept his feelings for Hua Cheng though, he starts to come to terms with that side of himself, as hard as it is for him to accept it.

Suddenly this scene (from the clearnoodle translation of the revised) comes to mind:

The whole alcohol scene is easy to play off as a mix of silly virginity joke and desperate need for a diversion, but there’s a lot of good stuff here. The first part clearly shows his stance about cultivation and where his priorities lie (in which absolute celibacy is more important than absolute sobriety). The second part, Hua Cheng’s response, is something like foreshadowing, isn’t it?

“Okay. However, I think that the Tao follows nature, and precepts and abstinences are inconsistent with Taoists’ free nature. What do you think, gege?”

If breaking his cultivation would be like losing a pillar of support, then his ability to rely on Hua Cheng is like adding another impenetrable, immovable, unbreakable pillar of infinite support. If he doesn’t have to worry about losing himself through indulgence becuase of this new immovable pillar….then what’s there to be afraid of? Isn’t he free to explore how he pleases?

If Xie Lian can break his cultivation without breaking his spirit, this symbolizes the ultimate growth and reclamation of power over himself. That’s why Xie Lian’s sexuality is something I think is extremely significant to both him and the story overall. He spends so much time tied down to the expectations he has of himself, but by the end of the novel he really does get literally and figuratively freed from this. Who knew it could all tie back to his virginity! Regardless, let’s take this as a psa that sexual stories are good and deserve to be told just as much as non sexual ones. Xie Lian DESERVES his freaky ghost sex and is in fact an icon of healing and growth for it!

[hell-heron]

Show VS books - Theon's choice

So, I was hoping to post this for show VS books day and also to have time to rewatch the show to factcheck my impressions, which was not possible as my streaming service failed me, so I welcome any corrections about what I am writing. (Please no insults or like. Objections to the general concept of comparing an adaptation to its source material or of sharing critical thoughts about things you don't like. I think these are fine and fun things to do, if you disagree, just do not read this lenghty tome).

Still, I wanted to talk about the way Theon's choice between fighting with his family and remaining loyal to Robb is framed in the show, even before taking a very obvious Stark-goggles view the way it did in the following seasons. In my opinion, the show handled the ACOk storyline very movingly with great acting and some great writing, but still fell into the trap of conveying a certain amount of "shouldn't it be a no brainer to pick friend who values you over bio family that hates you?" in ways that in many cases weren't the writing's fault as it was impossible for a TV show to convey the same nuances as the book, but in some other cases might have been avoided. Here's how imho:

Theon swearing fealty to Robb explicitely, everyone's favorite bugbear. Not one I am particularly attached to, because really I think Theon's situation of being sent, while technically a hostage, to negotiate an alliance with his father and being refused remains legally ambiguous and kind of unprecedented whether or not he swears specific words of fealty. If he didn't swear it in the books, did he not effectively do it by arranging an alliance with Robb anyway, even though he couldn't know whether that alliance would really work out, meaning it was always a conditional loyalty? If he did, is it really binding/something he had a choice about? Still, it gives a very different impression to the casual viewer.

General less established worldbuilding on the taboo of kinslaying and taking arms against family which is just inherent to the medium of short-season TV show VS enciclopaedic saga and couldn't really be helped

Not seeing Theon's inner thoughts on the matter of family, another thing which can't be helped, which show his attitude as more nuanced as he's very aware and critical of the toxicity of his father and brothers but still has an expectation of being welcomed. Thus the hint that he remembers being loved and valued as a child even in a broken dysfunctional way and so reasonably expects to be again on his return

Ditto re: Theon's thoughts on the political situation of the islands which he does have an understanding of and feels a sense of duty to improve, mixed with the desire for glory and being a hero to his people

Starting with some things that can be helped: absolutely 0 sense of the Islands as being in a crisis, destroyed, in poverty, or being damaged by Robert and Ned's host or having somewhat substantiated desires of revenge, besides the deaths of Rodrik and Maron.

Actually expanding on this point bc the show chose to not get to any extent into what the relationship between Theon and his brothers was like. In the books, Theon remembers being abused by them and only expresses a desire of revenge when it helps justify himself to his family, developing a frequent theme in the books that vengeance is often very much not a simple and natural feeling but selfish and weaponized. The show understandably doesn't get into this sort of thematic/psychological analysis, so why not use the deaths of Theon's brothers as something that has a bit more weight in his choice? It was not difficult or time consuming to add some comment about their childhood or about mourning them etc, not as difficult as doing some of the other stuff I mention on this list lmao. It would have built more sympathy for him.

Theon is apparently getting no official welcome besides his sister's initiative to seduce him (Its possible Balon sent Yara and Yara independently decided to seduce him, but it meshes kind of weirdly with the way she lets Theon in on his own and then makes her cinematic entrance in the middle of the conversation) in the book, while Theon is unhappy with Aeron due to his desire to have his parents welcome him instead and Aeron's change and attitude to him, he's objectively a perfectly good person to send to fetch the heir, as a close family member and a priest with great authority and respect.

Theon has no one who loves him on the islands, no mother, no Dagmer, no childhood friends he finds he can't quite connect with again, no Wex, no men who choose to remain loyal to him at Winterfell. Wex is particularly interesting because, while some interpret the offering of a disabled bastard squire as a sign of the ironborn noble families's disdain for Theon, I think it's actually a fairly normal feudalistic exchange of favors. After all Theon is asked to take Wex on as a squire as payment for his horse, so certainly with the understanding he's doing the Botleys a solid by giving an opportunity to a boy who would otherwise not be allowed many, and Lord Botley later champions Theon's claim against Euron. So this little detail could have been a helpful shorthand for Theon succeeding in developing some kind of relationships and loyalty on the islands which he could think he might have developed if he had time and proved himself

Theon in the show is given a ship for his diversion raids while Yara gets 30 ships that appear to be the entire deployed force (??), which is a lot more extreme than "Victarion gets the whole fleet, Asha gets 30 ships, Theon gets 8". The book arrangement feels like an insult to Theon but is reasonable for someone who was never a captain before and who's unknown to his father. The show arrangement is a lot more of an open insult that doesn't really allow us to understand Theon's hope to improve his standing.

Probably couldn't have been helped, given the tight timeline of the show, but: book Theon gets a shining military success, though one of modest proportions in his victory against Benfred Tallart's sortie, before he undertakes the mission to Winterfell, which makes the plan seem somewhat less dumb. Also taking Winterfell being his own idea rather than it being pushed by show!Dagmer shouldn't have huge weight in this but it does make his choice seem more motivated (by his own rage and revenge, for his own political aims) and less pathetic

Moving the pivotal execution of ser Rodrik so early after Theon's taking of Winterfell undercuts the slow descent into despair and violence that Theon experiences in the books. We're supposed to think Theon made an irremediably wrong choice when he burned the letter to Robb, rather than having several chances to stop himself on the path to becoming a child murderer which he for various reasons doesn't take.

While Alfie and for once imho the writing as well do a great job of conveying Theon's pain and trauma for what he went through at Winterfell, it was evidently chosen not to focus or even explicitely mention outside the worldbuilding videos (iirc) how Ned would have been expected to execute him and his fear of that. Skipping the Beth parley is obviously a factor in this (which I will never understand, btw, it seems so perfectly made for TV...) , but even the very beautiful emotional moments that were scripted to replace it just focus on other things. The dialogue with Master Luwin for example has Theon associate fear with the walls of Winterfell, in a line so good I frequently forget it wasn't in the books, but still there's a writing choice to center a fear that comes from a sense of intimidation and inferiority towards the people who defeated his family rather than the material reality of being constantly up for execution. That completely recontextualises the situation and his relationship to house Stark

The matter of Theon's men loyalty to him deserves some expansion in general because like... GRRM, for all that we tease him for the "what was Aragorn's tax policy" line, does invest much time and attention in portraying in detail the choices of all his leader characters, their popularity and relationships with their followers. So even Theon whose leadership skills are not very important gets the sketch of a nuanced political situation. We know that Theon leads his men into several missions before Winterfell, that he's able to convince Dagmer to support his plan to take Winterfell and that his men follow him in this high-risk mission, that he punishes them for fighting over plunder and for committing rape, that he has some of them killed and that he executes Northmen to give them a semblance of justice and is haunted by both, that he doesn't feel like they would keep the secret of the murdered boys' identity, that they grow restless and ambivalent during their time in Winterfell but still do their duty, that one of them specifically takes issue morally with him using Beth against her father and wishes they could just have an open battle, that he offers them the chance to surrender rather than die with him and they are reluctant to refuse it but most do it. There was never going to be anything like that in the brief plotline of a minor character, obviously, but needing to simplify, was really "they knock him out and hand him over to the enemy" the best simplification? It was for the theme they wanted to convey, which is that there was a right and a wrong choice obvious from the start and that poor Theon, understandably and tragically, chose wrong.

[blessed-pizza]

This is pretty big post (for my standards at least), so if you're not interested in reading a schizophrenic ramble about time travel, then keep scrolling.

If you do however, well then sit tight and let me introduce you to:

Blessed Pizza's Schizophrenic Guide to Time Travel Shenanigans

(and how to not completely destroy the space-time continuum)

or BPSGtTTS for short.

So I've seen a lot of different styles and flavours of time travel and and I really wanted to somehow be able to sort them up in separate categories, that way I could make it easier to understand them. So I came up with a couple that i think contain most of the shenanigans I've seen.

alternate timelines/universes (AT)

changeable singular timeline (CST)

defined singular timeline (DST)

time loop (TL)

(if you know any more, please let me know. I'd love to hear about more wacky ways to do time travelling) (also, im not gonna refer to these with their full name, because that would be way to much typing, so I've put some abbreviations behind them)

The Alternate timelines/universes (aka the cowards way out)

The AT way of time travel is probably the simplest and the second most consequence free (I'll get back to that later) way to do time travel (and therefore also the most boring one in my opinion).

It's rather simple: Every time you travel in time and change something, it creates a new timeline. The changes made will effect everything in the time line you are currently in, but won't effect other timelines. This means that if you were to go back in time and kill your grandfather (or anyone anyone which you are a descendent of), you will not be effected! This, however, does mean that alternate-you won't be born in this timeline, buttt.... once again, that's not a problem for timetraveler-you, because timetraveler-you isn't from this timeline; so no paradoxes :) yet... With every travel through time you create a new branching timeline. This will eventually create a exponential tree like structure of alternate timelines. have fun keeping track of all of them :)

Let me just draw a quick time line so it's a bit easier to understand.

A possible way you could spice it up, is by allowing for the travel between these different timelines. What ever the implications for that are though... well, I think you'd kind of end up with weird hybrid of AT and CST, which could then result in some timelines effecting other timelines; possibly even destroying entire timelines and their off-chutes, what could in turn cause paradoxes to occur similar to those of CST and Oh! Hey, talking about CST; lets get into:

Changeable Singular Timelines (aka the one you probably think of first when thinking of time travel)

Unlike AT, whenever you time travel in CST, you stay in the same timeline. Meaning that any changes you make will effect you; possibly leading to paradoxes! Yippee!! A great example of a possible paradox that could occur, is the grandfather paradox. If we take same example from AT, the one where you go back in time and kill your grandfather, and apply it SCT, the change does effect you. So when you kill your grandfather, it means you couldn't have been born; thus being unable to travel back in time, which means you couldn't have killed your grandfather and thus will be born like normal. Though this then means that you can go back in time and kill your grandfather... aannd it results in a infinite loop; a paradox (now you also see why its called the grandfather paradox if you didn't know already).

Here's another quick sketch of the timeline.

(note: THESE ARE BOTH THE SAME TIMELINE, it just keeps changing into the other)

One way you could solve the paradox is by having the timeline "adapt" to the problem. So when you kill your grandpa and disappear, instead of creating a paradox, your grandpa stays dead. How did he die? Natural causes probably, some kind of disease or maybe even hit by a car. It doesn't matter, as long as he's dead, time will be fine again. Want a great example; look at this amazing post from @sincerely-sofie (it's also where I got the idea from)

There is another paradox that I've found, but I don't know if it has a name yet. So I'm just gonna call it the cotton-eye-joe paradox, because it makes me ask two things: one; where did it come from and two; where does it go. OK lets say you're in front of a locked door, but you don't have the key. So you search for it for a while and when you find it, you unlock the door. Then you decide to go back in time to give past-you the key to save them some time. Because it's a single timeline, it means that now you actually got your key from future-you. Great! You just created a never ending and never loop for that key. Where did that key come from? It can't be where it originally was, because you got it from future-you. Where did they get it? Well, from future-future-you of course! You see the problem? It's another paradox.

So just avoid these paradoxes right and then every thing will be fine, right? Yeahh, good luck with that. Ever heard of the butterfly effect? Even tiny, seemingly insignificantly small changes, can cause massive ones later in time, which in turn could lead to paradoxes, which are bad. So unless you somehow have the mental capacity and foresight to somehow oversee what all these changes will eventually even lead to without making them, you're gonna end up ruining time! My advise? DO NOT GO BACK IN TIME!!! unless you do want completely ruin the word as we know it, for some reason

Sooo..... how do you fix it make it less likely to break? Easy: just remove free will!

Defined Singular Timeline (aka the illusion of choice)

I wasn't sure if I should split CST and DST, because they are very similar. The one difference being that the timeline doesn't change when time travelling, because it was always about to happen. (I know this probably doesn't make any sense just bare with me for a bit. This is probably the most confusing of out of all of them) DST prevents the grandfather paradox from happening by making sure that changing the timeline isn't possible. That doesn't that your grandpa is immortal or something no no no, it just mean that if you would have killed your grandpa, it should have already happend. But you exist, so that means you're not going to kill your grandpa. I swear it's all gonna make sense, just uuhh... hold on let me get another example real quick. OK so imagine you're in a room and you get to the floor above through a hole, but you just can't reach the side of the hole to pull yourself up. Actually, you don't need to imagine, I'll draw it for you!

The good thing is; you can travel back in time, so you get the idea to go back and help yourself get up! Then suddenly a future-you shows up and tells you that you need to help him up. You help them up and then you travel back to past-you. You ask past-you to help you up and they do, allowing you to leave. (visual aid below)

What makes this different from CST? The fact that future you already showed up before you even went back in time. So you helping you was always gonna happen. Every version of you has experienced and will experience the exact same events. Everyone must experience the same events, otherwise its a not DST, but CST. Hold on, let me just quickly draw another timeline for you so its easier to see. hold on where did I put my markers... dammit... uhhhh... I guess this red pen will do...

As you can see it's all just you. This works just fine, no alternate timelines, no paradox, it just works, right? Well... Kind of? Its kind of complicated. The cotton-eye-joe paradox can still ocour, though it is less likely. The key example from CST could still be possible, but it has just always been in circulation; you always got the key from future-you. If you need a good example, there is this short film made by corridor that displays it really well.

Though all of these paradoxes and problems are annoying. What if we just had something without any of that? What if we had a form of time travel without any consequences? what if we could just try again if something goes wrong? That's right! IT'S TIME FOR

Time Loops (aka the road to insanity)

Remember when i said AT was the second most consequence free?Yup, TL's are why. In a time loop, time keeps resetting back to a certain point, but you remember everything. (and maybe a couple of other people) Every time you reach a certain point in time you get yanked back in time to do it aallll over again. Sounds nifty right! Messed something up last time? Try again this time! Didn't like the outcome of one of your actions? WHO CARES! Just go back! Didn't manage to break the cycle last time? Doesn't matter. You can try something else next time. And the loop after that. And the loop after that. And the loop after that. And the loop after that... You're stuck here for eternity... or at least what feels like a eternity. Time has no more context, the cycle has become all you know. How do you stay sane in these scenarios? Depends on how much mental fortitude you have, but you'll probably break eventually.

As for problems, there isn't really a lot to say. paradoxes don't really happen because time resets every time anyway. There are literally no consequences to your actions (until the cycle breaks). I don't even think i need to draw a timeline for this one. (it would literally be just a loop) However despite its seeming simplicity, I personally find it one of the most fun scenarios for time travel. I guess i just really like watching character reach their breaking point and see them go completely insane.

Anyway, this has been quite a long post. By far the longest I've ever made. Again, if you know of any more time shenanigans, please share them . I love to overthink these things. And thanks, once again, to @sincerely-sofie for encouraging me down this path of madness in the first place (and providing me with countless examples. like genuinely, you have made a post about like 90% of the stuff i rambled about)

[casual-praxis]

May I present the post-canon vidow in my genderbent au?

They've been through character development, but at least they still have each other! :)

I think about them a lot. I have more ramblings about them below the cut if anyone is interested in that.

The genderbent au is something I cobbled together originally because I have an easier time drawing women, but I didn't do anything with it since it was mostly just the Four Swords manga with girls instead.

Now that I have had time to think about it though, I've made a few more adjustments so it's not just a carbon copy. The bulk of changes happen with Red and Blue, but Vio and Shadow definitely have the most going on post-canon, which you can somewhat see here.

After Shadow dies, Vio spends a year or two without much purpose. She didn't have any goals or aspirations like the others. She barely knew how to process feelings beyond the basics. So now that they'd defeated the big bad, returned the sword, and miraculously not disappeared, what was left for her?

All the others seemed to pick up loose ends left behind by the original Link; Green became the personal guard of Zelda, Blue was working her way towards captain of the royal guard, and Red was pursuing blacksmithing (something Link had found interesting but had no time to dabble with). There wasn't much else left for Vio, and so she simply kept on as she had before. Learning emotions from the others, absorbing information regardless of utility, and waiting.

It wasn't until Zelda approached her with the request to investigate some ruins that she began to find a calling for herself. None of the others could be pulled away for this task, and that was fine. They were all busy with their own lives. She could read between the lines.

The dark and ancient air of the underground passages was oddly comforting to her anyway, and she found her time never wasted when transcribing olden words near faded to parchment. It felt refreshing, in a way, to be so enraptured by the secrets carved in stone.

Had she ever felt such a way before? She must have. Recognizing how she was feeling was something Red had been most thorough in teaching her. So when had she... Oh.

Vio hadn't thought of Shadow in a while. She tried not to, really. Her death had been the first time she'd truly had to grapple with the notion that someday, you'll have your last conversation with someone.

No matter how much you enjoy that person's company, or how much you wish you'd said something different. Someday, you'll say your last words to someone, and that will be that.

It was sad.

She wished she could cry. She wished she could grieve properly. The belief she couldn't feel these emotions was what got her in that mess to begin with. She did feel sad. She just couldn't express it.

More than anything, she wished she'd told Shadow that.

If only she had told her with those stupid words Vio touted so proudly above emotion. Maybe then Shadow wouldn't have died staring up into Vio's cold dry eyes and blank expression. Maybe then she would have known how Vio felt.

But she didn't.

And there was nothing in the world of light that could change that.

So she'd turned to the dark.

One more conversation is all she wanted, and then one more conversation after that. Call it selfish if you would, but she didn't care, she was selfishness embodied after all. She'd trade her listless life for the one who'd had hers cut tragically short if that's what it took.

Even if she can't emote well, or speak the way she feels, she'll show Shadow how much her friendship meant to her, no matter what.

And thus, Vio's dark magic arc began.

While already attund to earth magic, dark magic was a difficult secondary type to pick up. It was finicky and liable to kill its caster with litte warning, so much of the early process was spent learning theory over practice.

The others thought little of it at first, simply figuring it was more miscellaneous research tied to Vio's sudden interest in forgotten ruins and text. It wasn't until Green stumbled across Vio casually casting it did they start to ask more questions about why she was looking into forbidden magic. Surely this wasn't actually her hobby, right?

Well, yes and no. Her magic studies were begining to branch out into less devious arts (much to Red's delight, "magic besties!!"), but ultimatly it served a purpose to her outside being a fun challange. She was going to resurect Shadow.

Green and Blue, as expected, were incredibly hesitant about the idea. Meanwhile Red was more optimistically on the fence. None of them wanted to outright discourage Vio, but none of them had really known Shadow the way Vio had. Who's to say she wouldn't just go right back to being evil? One sacrifice in the grand scheme of things didn't suddenly vouch for a life on the straight and narrow.

In the end, it was Zelda's call to let Vio continue her studies (with Zelda's assistance) to bring Shadow back. Should she turn out to still be evil, they'd just shoot her with a light arrow or something. Zelda really wasn't that worried about it, she knew Shadow could be convinced to see reason.

This all culminated in a few years of study, a giant mirror, blood rituals, and Vio literally dragging Shadow out of said giant mirror.

Vio's arm, which she'd used to pull Shadow out, was irrevocably stained by the dark magic, and will presumably remain this way until she dies. Small sacrifices, in her opinion. She's able to cast way stronger spells with it now.

Shadow, meanwhile, was coated completely in the dark magic of the ritual mirror, and bares the stains all over her body. She'd remained in somewhat of a limbo state after death, floating in eternal darkness up until Vio reached in to pull her out.

She was actually feeling a little petty when she noticed Vio attempting to reach her and intentionally didn't take her hand right away. This quickly changed however once she realized Vio was going to keep leaning further into the mirror until she either fell in or found Shadow, hence why the dark stains go so far up Vio's arm.

Though technically dead, Shadow did remain aging along with the others, on account of being their shadow. She was thrown for a loop initially by being brought back by an older-looking Vio with a wider range of emotions, but she bounced back quick.

After a year or so in the light world, she managed to adjust to life amongst the colors and Zelda. She's unofficially officially Zelda's "fun advisor", and makes her and Green take breaks whenever it seems like they need enrichment and time away from work. She spars with Blue to keep both their skills up, while also just hanging out and intimidating new recruits for the hell of it. She and Red gossip about town drama and only occasionally commit arson with Red's newest projects at the time. Lots of fun.

Shadow and Vio start off as just friends, trying to rebuild their relationship in a less back-stabby way, but quickly realize their feelings run a lot deeper than that. They travel together a lot, but Shadow's role as Zelda's advisor always brings them back to town after too long. Shadow's still getting used to Vio's more obvious shows of affection, as it was never something Vio did before, but she's found the change to be exhilarating. They are sickly sweet together.

I have more notes on these two but I didn't mean for this post to get this long and the sun has risen in the time I spent writing it all out why am I like this. If anyone has stuck around and read all this, thank you! I love to ramble about my fixations and it makes me happy when people listen! I appreciate it.

Bonus: Isolated Shadow and Vio.

[fairy-heart-magic]

Dragon Slayer Head-Cannons

All of the dragon slayers are extremely creepy, they unnerve the hell out of other people just by being around them. Part of it is their appearance with pointed ears, dragon like eyes, the nails which seem more like claws and strange marks upon their skin but there’s more to it than that. The way they hold your stare, the way their pupils sharpen in the light, the way they hold their fingers-claws ready to slash-, the smiles they hold with razor sharp teeth. Nobody ever knows what it specifically is, just that there is something not quite human about them.

Dragon Slayer biology is completely wild and so different from human biology that they’re a lot closer to dragons than they are to humans.

They can see completely in the dark

They also have scales on the rough of their mouth and in the back of there throat to protect them from their roar’s.

They also have marks which came to be called dragon slayer marks as it allows both dragons and other dragon slayers to identify them, different elements produce different marks. Gajeel for example has black marks which look like welded seems across his body, Natsu has flame like patterns, Wendy has cloud like patterns, Laxus lightning like patterns, Sting has round circles like halo’s of light, Rogue has black patterns like shadows, Erik has what looks like small tear drops under his eyes but are obviously poison.

They have four sets of lungs to power their roar’s and employ a system of air sac’s (Air sac’s ensure oxygen rich air flows through the body when breathing in and out and is used by birds and they think dinosaurs used it to) however this can produce somewhat of a weakness as the second set of lungs are located behind the first and thus are towards the back of the ribcage making their back sensitive to impact. One good hit to the back and they’ll be completely stunned for a short period.

Their claws are razor sharp and can cause serious injury. Though the sharpness of the claw depends on the dragon slayer, Gajeel’s are strong enough to cut through iron and out of all the dragon slayers his are the thickest with Wendy’s being the weakest.

They instinctively fear whatever element they are weakest too. To explain Natsu is afraid of water though he can swim just fine he absolutely hates being in the water more than anything. Gajeel fears magma and extremely high temperature fire as they can melt through his iron (Though the fire has to be well over 2,500 Degrees Celsius as his iron is twice as strong as normal iron and twice the melting point). Wendy dislikes being low to the ground and prefers to be up in the air, she also fears polluted area’s or poisonous gases though she can use her magic to purify the air doing so is dangerous to her. Laxus similarly to Natsu dislikes water along with Earth magic as solid ground doesn’t conduct lightning and is one of the few things that stops lightning dead in its tracks. Sting is afraid of dark and black as they can smother his white-light. Rogue on the other hand is afraid of bright light and powerful sources of energy as they can erase his shadows. Erik is afraid of purifying magic as it can obviously cancel out his poison.

They’re all extremely flexible and agile, with it varying from dragon slayer to dragon slayer. From most flexible to least the list goest as follows. Natsu, Wendy, Sting, Rogue, Laxus, Gajeel.

That’s all I can think of for now though I’ll probably post another one of these at a later date focusing on each dragon slayer individually. As well as specific posts for Irene, Achnologia and maybe God Serena if I get around to it.

Feel free to reblog or use them if you want to.

[changedmyminditsnicehere]

I finally wrote and posted the rugby smut on AO3 and then was promptly so busy I did not have the time to sit down and put it on tumblr, even though I wrote it for tumblr. Anyway, I have successfully written 3k of mostly meandering about the logistics of post-team-sports showers and a little bit of sex. It's my first ever time trying to write something smutty so please be gentle with me

Inspired by @softest-punk and @janimoon, and their genius thinking on rugby shorts and Hob's thighs, thank you and I hope you don't mind me tagging you!

EDIT: Here's the AO3 link as well!

====

People assumed that, given his fashion and career choices, Morpheus was a chaotically artistic person. The opposite could not have been more true. At all times, Morpheus was meticulously considering and planning how he might respond to any potential situations that might arise. That these situations and his responses might not be what the average person planned for was not his problem. 

However, Gods alone knew how, he had neglected to prepare for his current position. As situations went, it was far from the most complex he had ever considered; nothing quite so difficult as the corners he had written himself out, or dilemmas he had put down on the page which had made many of his readers take to social media to yell at him directly.  It was not that it was even that unusual a situation. If he was being honest with himself, Morpheus had fantasised, repeatedly, about this exact moment for approximately five years, so in truth he could blame nobody but himself for failing to come up with a concrete plan of action.

The situation was thus: Hob had returned from rugby practice. Had returned, having forsaken the communal showers in the club building in favour of his own private shower.

This was not a new state of affairs. It had in fact happened nearly every week for their entire acquaintance. This was, however, the first week that such an event had taken place and Morpheus had had permission, nay, even encouragement to look. And not just to look, but to touch. There was indeed such a wealth of possible actions that Morpheus found himself instead frozen, unable to run through any single plan and its potential pathways before Hob’s continued presence in front of him wiped it from his mind.

Hob was still flushed from exertion, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. He was breathing heavily from the training and the speed of his walk home. The park was barely two minutes away from their flat. It was the whole reason they had taken the place, though combining a trainee teacher salary and a book deal to cover the rent had been a difficult decision. At the time, Morpheus had struggled over whether the pleasance of the accommodation, and the chance to make Hob happy, was worth the extra money. He was now considering every penny of it considerably well spent. Hob bent to take off his trainers, shirt rising up as he crouched, and a droplet of sweat ran down the narrow of his back. Morpheus was now convinced he had never spent money better.

Hob loved rugby, its focus on strength and speed and physicality, in comparison to the ‘tricksy’ footwork Hob stated was required in football. A blunt force object, he always called himself laughing. Morpheus, having not participated in a team sport since it was no longer a GCSE requirement, could not possibly have commented. 

Morpheus loved rugby for another reason. A reason he was currently looking at. Rugby shorts are… short. Very short. And Hob's arse was breath-taking. It needed no real assistance to be so. Hob looked good in even the most unflattering trousers he refused to throw out because they were not yet utterly inappropriate in public and thus ‘perfectly fine, don’t be precious’. Clad in tight, white shorts, well, Morpheus could write odes to Hob's arse, to its roundness, the way he could see his muscles shifting as Hob moved from unlacing one shoe to the other, how the fabric seemed to cup his arse cheeks in a way that made Morpheus’ palms itch to do the same.

As Hob moved to stand, spinning back towards Morpheus, Morpheus encountered a new problem. Though seeing Hob’s lovely smiling face, flushed with pleasure from a good training session would have been enough to sustain him for decades at any other moment, he was now discovering that the shorts were not only tight but also clearly made of an inferior fabric. In other words, slightly see through. Even once the fabric should have cut in, preventing Morpheus from ogling his flatmate (now boyfriend)’s crotch, the shorts left nothing to the imagination. Morpheus could count the individual hairs on Hob’s thighs.

Hob’s thighs have always been wider than his own. Though they were of a height, sharing trousers could only ever result in Morpheus looking like a toddler in baggy trousers, no matter how well they fit on Hob. Hob wasn't muscular in the permanently dehydrated way Hollywood movies seemed to think people ought to be, and Morpheus was eternally grateful. Rippling six-packs and full body waxing could never achieve the same level of delicious tactility that Morpheus had discovered during their occasional evenings of necking on the couch. Hob’s thighs were warm, plush, with enough weight for Morpheus to really sink his fingers into, to curve his hands around and pull them closer, could feel the roughness of his hair, wind his fingers into it, anchor himself closer and closer to Hob. That thick, dark hair was currently plastered with sweat into swirling patterns which Morpheus wanted to follow with his tongue. 

It slowly dawned on Morpheus that he had not yet greeted his boyfriend. That he had in fact been standing in complete silence, a mug of cooling tea in hand, gawking. He dragged his eyes up from Hob's thighs to his face, saw the laughter in his eyes and felt himself flush. 

Hob clearly felt no such bashfulness. He grinned at Morpheus, before spinning into what he clearly considered a comical pin-up pose, hips swivelled and arse pushed out, fluttering his eyelashes over his shoulder. Morpheus did not have enough blood going north to find it funny. Gathering the wits to place his mug down on the entrance table first, he found himself striding towards Hob, almost slamming into him as he reached up to tangle his fingers in Hob’s hair and kissed him so forcefully they overbalanced. Hob just caught himself with his arms against the wall. Morpheus barely cared, except for the way the force of it made Hob gasp and open his mouth so Morpheus could lick his way inside. He could feel the heat still coming off Hob’s body and the sweat still sticking through his hair and he wanted more. He wanted Hob sweaty and hot because of him, he wanted to feel the heat of Hob's skin against his own.

Before Hob had the chance to recover and enfold his unexpectedly passionate boyfriend in an embrace, Morpheus was moving. He folded, knees hitting the floor and hands sliding down Hob's body. He looked up at Hob, at his open face, the way his breath was already coming more roughly and smiled. He couldn’t help kissing the backs of Hob’s hands where they hung, still reaching for him. This was all still new. Daily, Morpheus was honoured and overwhelmed by the ease with which Hob reached out to touch him, with which he showed how much he wanted to be near him, to make him feel good. Morpheus wanted to return the favour, to touch Hob with the same confidence Hob touched him. 

He ran his hands up and down Hob’s thighs, delighting in the feeling of hair beneath his hands. He found himself distracted by the sensation of Hob’s wiry hair. Leaning in slowly and deliberately, he breathed in the scent of sweat and grass and Hob. He pushed closer, rubbing his face into the crotch of Hob’s shorts. He could feel the sweat still on Hob’s shorts gathered in the soft join between Hob’s body and his thigh, and found himself rubbing his face in harder, coating himself in that warm, cedar scent that always surrounded Hob. Hob stuttered out “Fuck, Morpheus. That’s a hell of a welcome my love...” 

Hob’s hand came down, cupping Morpheus’ cheek softly. Morpheus looked up through his eyelashes, soft smile turning devilish as he stuck his tongue out just a tiny bit, just to lick  at the crease of his thigh and groin where the scent was the strongest. Absently, he reached a bit further, licking a broad stroke across the growing bulge in Hob’s shorts. Hob jerked at the action, inadvertently crushing Morpheus’ face into his hardening cock.

Mouth still open, Morpheus shocked himself with how loudly he moaned, unexpectedly close just from the strength in Hob’s hand holding him there, trapped in the overwhelming feeling of Hob all around him, his scent, his taste. “Fuck, Morpheus. You liked that, didn’t you baby?” Hob panted. He twisted his grip carefully, holding the back of Morpheus’ head, and used his leverage to push Morpheus more directly into his crotch, rubbing his face directly over his cock as it hardened fully. Hob was gentle at first, keeping his hold light enough that Morpheus could easily jerk out. As Morpheus only whined louder he tightened his grip, smearing his crotch over Morpheus’ face. Morpheus felt his hips jerk without any conscious thought on his part. Hob widened his stance, bending one knee up so he could wedge a beautiful, muscular leg between Morpheus’ knees. Morpheus could only groan, keeping his mouth open, tongue out to taste the sweat and the area where Hob’s sweat mingled with a new dampness. 

Morpheus brought his hands back up, cupping Hob’s cock in his shorts before creeping his fingers up to Hob’s waistband. He pulled his shorts down slowly, nuzzling into hot skin as it was exposed. He somehow hadn’t calculated for the moment when Hob was fully freed and his cock sprung up, nearly slapping him in the face. Morpheus couldn’t help but pull back slightly, eyes darting up to Hob in shock, who looked briefly horrified before his face scrunched up, trying unsuccessfully to hold back giggles. Morpheus glared.

“Oh, don’t look like that duck.”, Hob said, doing a bad job of hiding the laughter in his voice. He brought a hand to Morpheus’s face again, rubbing a thumb against his lower lip where it pouted out in annoyance at his boyfriend’s refusal to be serious in the face of his attempt at seduction. “You just look so affronted.” Hob kept rubbing against Morpheus’ lip, but the amusement was being overtaken by a deeper heat. “You have to tell me if I do anything you don’t like, okay?” Morpheus nodded, the action making Hob pull his lower lip down more, thumb slipping into his mouth. “Good boy.” Hob sounded very out of breath. “If your mouth is too full to talk, tap my thigh? Okay?” Morpheus nodded again, trying to take Hob’s thumb into his mouth so he could suck at it properly. Hob nodded jerkily in response, visibly gathering himself. Morpheus sucked hard on Hob’s thumb and Hob let out another murmured swear.

He didn’t pull Morpheus back into his crotch right away, instead sliding his thumb back out of Morpheus mouth and using the other hand to drag his cock across Morpheus’ lower lip. Morpheus peeked his tongue out as the head of Hob’s cock passed across his lips, mouth falling open as he tasted Hob, warm and salty and promising. Hob cursed as he jerked forwards. His cock slid across Morpheus’ face, as he pushed Morpheus properly into his crotch, grinding his face into the warmest part of himself, where he smelt most strongly of himself. Morpheus took the opportunity to gather mouthfuls of Hob, sucking desperately on the soft warm skin, lathing his tongue against the hair as Hob rutted on his face and he rutted against Hob’s leg. 

“Fuck, Morpheus. So distracting.” Hob wrapped his fingers around Morpheus’ hair just as Morpheus got a good mouthful of flesh and sucked hard. Hob groaned. “One day. One day I should just keep you down there. See if you can get off on my leg while I hold you down, get you really dirty, covered in my sweat, my come.” Morpheus was beginning to wonder why they didn’t just switch do that. If the way he could feel himself shaking was anything to go by, it would be a very successful plan.

But Hob pulled him away, and he obligingly let go of his mouthful and looked up to Hob in anticipation. He had sucked Hob off before, but it hadn’t been like this. They had been in bed, after a long and careful discussion, and Hob had let Morpheus have complete control, holding Hob down by his hips and carefully licking along his length, both still cautious in the newness of their relationship. That had been soft, gentle, adoring. As Morpheus stared up at Hob, feeling the arousal of anticipation make his hips shudder nearly as much as the feeling of Hob’s strong shin against his crotch, he felt no less adored. Looking at the heat in Hob’s eyes, even as his hands carefully wound into his hair, he felt more than that, he felt exalted. He dropped his mouth open, tongue sticking out in readiness. 

Hob clenched his hands and pulled him forwards, feeding his cock into his mouth ever so slowly. He didn’t stop until Morpheus couldn’t breath, couldn’t focus on anything other than the sensation of Hob’s prick pressing against the back of his throat, the way his mouth watered, the stretch of his lips around Hob’s cock. He looked up, pushing his tongue up, feeling the warm flesh pulse in response. Hob smiled down at him, somehow beautiful even as new droplets of sweat gathered at his hairline and Morpheus could only scrunch his eyes up in response. Hob took a deep breath, “Okay, darling, I’m going to fuck your mouth now. Remember the signal if you need me to stop.” 

He pulled his hips back and snapped in. It was all Morpheus could do to hold himself up, cradled between Hob’s palms, and suck the occasional breath in when Hob pulled back. Saliva dribbled down his chin and he could feel tears pricking at his eyes. Hob kept up a stream of dirty talk even as he panted, clearly nearing his own edge. “Fuck. Look at you. On your knees for me. Covered in my sweat. Going to cover you in my come too, dirty you up. So pristine, you are, all the time. So together. God, who would think it, looking at you now. Filthy, filthy little slut you are. My slut. My darling.” 

Morpheus groaned around Hob’s cock. He could feel heat zinging down his spine, along his ribs. He wasn’t going to last. Hob groaned in response, curving over Morpheus. He was no longer pushing into Morpheus’s throat in long, steady strokes. His hips stuttered as he reached his climax and Morpheus gathered what was left of his wits, pushing his tongue up into Hob’s flesh in an attempt to coax him on. “Oh fuck, Morpheus, I’m going to come. I wanna, fuck, I want to come on your face.” Morpheus let out a whine so desperate he shocked even himself, though Hob managed to interpret it as agreement.

Hob pushed Morpheus down onto his cock one last time before pulling out, holding Morpheus’ back by his hair with one hand as he came, wiping his cock across Morpheus’s face, getting come in his hair, over his eyelids, his nose, his lips. He pushed his still pulsing cock back into Morpheus’ mouth and Morpheus suckled desperately as it let out a last few jets of saltiness. Morpheus’ hands fluttered to his own crotch, desperate for more pressure, body too overwhelmed to rut against Hob’s leg with the coordination he so desperately needed to come. He groaned as he curved his hand around his cock, able to feel how wet he was even through his jeans. 

“Go on darling, get your beautiful cock out for me.” Hob encouraged. Morpheus didn’t have to be told twice. He scrabbled with his fly, pulling his cock out and stripping it desperately as Hob held him by the hair, wiping his face across his crotch, rubbing his come into Morpheus’ skin. “Oh fuck, Morpheus.” Hob dropped to his knees and Morpheus whined at the loss of his warm safe space, hidden in Hob’s crotch. Hob was quick to silence him, diving into a kiss, uncaring of the come and sweat on Morpheus’ face, pushing him down onto the floor and taking over from Morpheus’ uncoordinated hand, pulling his cock roughly. “Come on, my beautiful dream, I want to hear you scream when you come, I want you to get us both dirty.” He stroked Morpheus quickly, roughly and suddenly Morpheus was coming, breathy ahs becoming something like a scream, heat thundering through him as he came all over Hob’s hand and his own t-shirt.

Hob collapsed onto the floor next to him, rolling him on top of himself, uncaring of the come now dirtying both their shirts. Morpheus found the energy to tuck his nose into Hob’s neck, sniffling with the force of his orgasm. Hob stroked his back and murmured low, comforting things. “There you go, there you go dear, my darling.” Morpheus huffed deep breaths of Hob, slowly coming back to himself with the scent of Hob’s cologne and sweat, old and new. His body felt exhausted and his mouth felt used, stretched and salty with the taste of come and, he realised with embarrassment, tears. “Fuck, Morpheus”, Hob pulled him tighter into himself, holding his head into his neck and stroking his back more firmly as he shivered. He fought to control his breathing. "Are you okay? You'd let me know if I did anything you didn’t like, wouldn't you?"

“I am. Okay. That was… a lot.” He croaked, flushing as he realised how clearly his voice bore the marks of what they’ve just done, then flushing further at how ridiculous it feels to be embarrassed by that, as he lies there, cock out, on top of his boyfriend in their hallway, covered in come and sweat and tears. The sudden jolt of arousal was almost painful and only just ignominious.

“A good a lot?” Hob prompted, sounding more unsure than Morpheus thought he had any right to given Morpheus's aforementioned state.

"Mmm. Very good a lot."

"I'm glad. I hope I wasn't too rough. I just, god, the way you look on your knees Morpheus. Makes me want to dirty you up. Make you mine."

Morpheus could not possibly get hard again, and he focused on telling his cock this, firmly.

"I wanted that. Wanted to be covered in you. To make you dirty with me."

"Fuck, Morpheus. I cannot get it up again right now."

Hob sounded like he was in genuine pain. Morpheus snickered into his neck.

"When you came in from rugby, you were… very attractive to me."

"I was a sweaty mess my love."

"Yes.  You were. I liked it. I wanted you to be like that for me. Because of me. I wanted to feel your sweat on my skin, to hear you pant because of me. To know that I was the reason you were so well… exercised. I wanted to taste your sweat, to know what it would feel like to be surrounded by you."

"Fucking hell, you absolute menace." Hob thunked his head on the ground, hips jolting just once. They lay together in silence for a little while longer. 

Just as Morpheus was beginning to consider suggesting they moved, as much because of the feeling of the cooling kitchen air on his exposed cock as because of his consideration for Hob's joints, Hob perked his head up.

"You should come watch me play, next time. See me in action. I think I could put on a good show for you. And.. " he trailed off, eyes sparkling.

"And?" Morpheus prompted. Hob looked far too pleased with himself.

"And, I know where they keep the keys for the locker rooms after."

[moonartemisia]

A Thought of You || Tsukishima Kei × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Anniversary years, you and Kei are already in a 4th year relationship. For how many annoying years of teasing, loving, the arguments the two of you ever shared, and the lowest times the two of you ever needed each other's side. You thought of surprising him for your anniversary, but things have gotten a bigger, yet memorable feeling had happen.

tags: fluff, time-skip, college au, anniversaries, skinships

Note: In participating of @sugarbebenireo love language collab thank you so much for letting me join in this event! I had ideas already on where should I start writing once more. Please enjoy reading!

"Will this be enough?" You mumbled through your way, walking, carrying a box that has strawberry prints on the packaging. In a rush and worried state, you settled on your phone to check the time with a notification from the calendar; alarming the title "Happy Anniversary." It was today, so you were in a hurry.

I completely forgot about our anniversary, busy with requirements, exams, reviews... This and that, THIS and THAT—

Keeping your surprise for him has cut short due to time. You have other plans in mind. College seems to be a hectic hell for the both of you, but rest assured you and Tsukishima always plan a way to spend quality time over such a busy year. You awfully felt disappointed as this day was your last exam day. It ended after, eventually, and head off.

"A strawberry shortcake will be fine. Nothing beats up to a simple celebration."

However, you paused for a bit and noticed something.

Ah, right... the tall blonde has prefecture divisions today. Damn it.

Though, that doesn't stop you. After all, this is a perfect chance to think of an idea for your anniversary.

"Ah, better take my focus on preparing a small party for us. That won't hurt much, as long as when he gets home from the match."

Sadly, you haven't thought of coming there to watch and surprise him. Probably your absence will be at best. You're sure Tsukishima will understand. This is your opportunity to get busy with everything in your hands.

It didn't take you long enough to add decorations at your dorm that you and him shared. You thoughtfully recalled how you and Tsukishima wanted a dorm solely for the two of you. Amidst the enrolment, supposedly Tsukki was assigned into some other room at the dorm. Fortunately, things have settled with the arrangements with the landlord of the dorms. Eventually, it ended just as both of you wanted.

Everything has its memorable course, especially the best feeling of entering the same college as him. Thus, Tsukki now known volleyball players in the divisions. You were proud.

Those random thoughts of you and him together for long lingered as you blushed. You never expected how far your relationship with Tsukki exceeded. Sighing underneath your breath, you carefully placed the shortcake on top of a small coffee table; with a number 4 candle along with a stand saying "Happy Anniversary" behind it.

"That should do it!" You proudly chimed at your efforts, waiting for him to come home soon.

2 hours passed, and Tsukishima wasn't home. You began to worry, overthinking if he was in overtime. Picking up your phone again as you saw no messages from him. It really bothers you, Tsukishima may timely update you on important matters. So what happened?

Frankly, enough to overthink his late presence, you decided to call him on the way. You don't want to waste your efforts on this special day with him. Or maybe just to reassure you if there are things going on.

I knew he was on his division match today. Isn't he already overtime now? I'm not sure if he is... or did he forget our anniversary?

Although with so many ring calls, the blonde hasn't picked up the phone on your line. You decided not to give another call on his contact upon your frustrations. A sigh let out your breath, still waiting for him.

Until a soft ping notified you

Kei—?!

You saw his message. Quickly, you jolted from your seat seeing his response.

"Are you already home from uni? Come down, I'm already in front of our dorm's entrance. Sorry for not replying."

He ordered you to come down for a bit. That's odd?

Hurriedly so, you did. You can't wait to see him and give him a congratulatory surprise after his match, right? Carefully following down the stair aisle as you opened the door through the main gate in front of the dorm. You can already see Tsukishima as told.

He is all dressed up... casually formal in his usual apparel. The glasses skimmed the clear lenses with his signature smirking face that you fell for. It deemed your bashful reaction to his appearance.

"What— I mean... your game, is it finished?"

"Yeah, we won... so I came up quickly just to prepare."

He walked towards the gate, volunteering you opened it for him to get inside. Tsukishima's ears turned rose red as he stared at you.

"I saw your missed calls, but I'm aware of our anniversary. It just hits our day that we've been busy. Even if it means to... I managed to end the time just to spend it with you."

"Kei..."

"I've booked a reservation just near our block. I can already see you haven't changed your clothes from earlier."

It didn't mind about it, you were busy planning a small party for both of you inside. But, that's another surprise for now, nonetheless. Tsukishima actually planned the same thing for your anniversary. A simple planned date which you never expect.

"Surprise, surprise... I didn't know."

You answered, chuckling.

"Ah, well, there's nothing I can think of. Dates with you always have been the goofy times."

"I actually also planned the same thing as well. Maybe come inside?"

The tall middle blocker blinked, "You also prepared a surprise for me?"

"Well, come inside and I'll show you."

Entering the dorm with Tsukishima, slowly stepping onto your shared room — reaching a hand as you slowly opened the door. The lights were dimmed, yet flickered with led lights and a glowing moon ambiance of the room filled. There were strings of stars hanging quite up the ceiling. Lastly, showing the main area where the strawberry shortcake was placed on the coffee table you put.

"Here, it isn't much since I got from our uni while you were in your division match. Happy Anniversary, Kei."

Greeting your man a warm smile, and it gladly paid off your efforts in preparing this moment for the two of you. Tsukishima couldn't help but chuckled at this cute setup you idealised. Especially the moon, since he is your moon.

"My, my, pipsqueak has her surprise too. I'm speechless."

"Anything I can do for us, Kei... did you like it?"

"No, if it weren't, I would love it."

He teases you, bringing his arm stretching onto your waist, pulling it closer to his.

"What?"

"Thank you, I never thought I'd be this happy. I'm lucky to find someone who rides and handles this side of me."

Tsukishima said, grinning onto your special appreciation. Indirectly admitting he loves the surprise you made as he hugs you.

"You're the best... I love you."

With that said, he pulls away from the warm embrace. Tsukishima's hands were on your shoulders — face nearing to yours, giving a soft and tender kiss. The lovely feeling gives you butterflies like he has always done ever since the first time. Looking back at it now, everything has been perfect.

"I love you, too... Kei. Also congrats, my middle blocker. You've done it again."

A cunning remark after a kiss, Tsukishima smirked.

"Always, and will be. No one ever tries to pry over my blocks. Well, I won't be so sorry for being so cocky. So— "

"Okay, okay, but how about we start off with this before we head out to our date, hm? Love?"

"Heh, sure. Probably after dinner, I might enjoy two desserts for tonight."

"K-kei!?"

╰┈➤ @.moonartemisia 2023 || do not copy my works

[cambion-companion]

Stars and Midnight Blue

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Legolas is a character who has remained close to my heart since I was 7 years old. There's something so special about these Elves of Middle Earth and I hope in this series I can do them justice.

Legolas x human!reader | drabble | writing exercise

The music of the Bruinen flowed around you as its crystal waters reflected silver moonlight upon its rippling depths. A warm breeze brushed strands of hair back from your face as you leaned into the comforting figure perched beside you, his arm wrapped around your side.

"Thank you for bringing me here." You murmured softly, afraid your voice might break the spell of this midnight scene.

You felt Legolas shift against you as he smiled, his keen eyes still fixed on the glittering sky above. "I'm glad you deem the journey worth it after all. Despite your frequent protestations."

"I'll definitely feel it tomorrow." You nudged him reproachfully with your elbow and smiled as he laughed. "You neglected to mention how far we'd be walking."

Legolas met your gaze then. After all the time you'd known him, he still managed to make your breath catch in your throat. His hair was argent under the brilliant night sky, shining against his dark tunic. "You have my apologies, meleth. However, I believe such adventures will, how do you say it, 'build your character'."

"I think my character is doing just fine." You huffed, looking away toward the bubbling water framed by dark trees beyond.

Regardless of your mild embarrassment at your own human limitations, you melted into Legolas' embrace as he placed a gentle kiss to your temple, remaining with his nose in your hair as he breathed slowly.

You closed your own eyes, savoring the feeling of this moment, committing it to memory and storing it within your heart. The both of you knew your time together was short but had determined to make the most of what little grace was allowed.

The fate of Elves and Men were divergent, as Eru had foreordained, and thus the bonding of immortal with mortal lead only to ruin in the end.

You pushed such thoughts away and turned your face into him, your nose brushing his throat as you breathed in the familiar scent of pine and leather.

"Gi melin, elenath-nin." Your words came out hardly audible to your own ears, but you knew he heard.

Legolas pressed his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up as he studied your moonlit face pensively. "Cin gar-nin emel." His warm lips brushed over yours. "To whatever end."

The smile he bestowed upon you then matched the moon above his head in brilliance and hope renewed within your heart that your fates would remain intertwined until the sundering of the world and beyond. You leaned forward, kissing him once more before leaning your head on his shoulder, his strong arm holding you close as you enjoyed the peace of the night under the moon and stars, with the river's song mingling with the beating of your heart.

Cin gar-nin emel : you have my heart (sindarin)

Gi melin, elenath-nin : I love you, my stars (sindarin)

meleth: love (sindarin)

End notes:

this was my first fanfic attempt at bringing Legolas or anything Middle Earth to life and is sincerely a daunting task. Especially writing fic for Elves of Middle Earth because their culture is so incredibly singular. Hope you enjoyed that little scene.