#hardened and wise and in so much pain all the time

[unclewaynemunson]

Thinking thoughts about Nancy Wheeler again. About how she was the most Teenage Girl ever, gossiping with her bestie while twirling her phone cord around her fingers and kicking her legs in the air. About how she lost everything that embodied her Teenage Girl self in one night: her virginity, her best friend, her carefree smiles and giggles. How she turned into a soldier, got consumed by guilt, and could never return to the youth that she lost.

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbit Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

I just love fluff ok and, say it with me, I did this for LoTR 😁 (you can think of the older characters’ as being set when you guys are younger, not during book/film events 😊)

Warnings: conception mentions, some implications of infertility, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms, very long post 😂

Balin

✧ Five years. For five years you had tried. Six you and Balin had been married, happily as anything, but children never came. Your struggles had broken you down, leading you to try all the remedies well-meaning elders and healers alike recommended. Eat more good, strong foods, less of that greasy stuff. Drink this tea, it’s great for women! It’s only a bunch of tiny needles- the pain of birth will be worse anyway. Don’t be so active, let yourself relax for Mahal’s sake, girl! Remedy after remedy, you put your body through it all and put your hands up and prayed. Weeks passed and you had taken ill, attending the healers’ just to get something to ease your nausea, and that was when the questions began. Illness forgotten, you wandered in a grinning daze out of that hall and straight into your husband’s arms. When he chuckled and asked what this was all about, all you could do was snuggle into his chest deeper and whisper “It’s finally happened.”

✧ Such years leant of course to Balin being a bit extra protective of you. You often chastised him, good-naturedly of course, that he hovered so over you, and every time he would simply kiss you and say "That's right".

✧ It brought you both to tears when you began showing, when your condition had persisted long enough to be real, to last beyond the known months of danger. Forehead pressed against yours, your husband held you tightly and warmly for some amount of minutes you did not know, but minded not at all. Balin's words of love and reassurance were as music to your ears.

✧ Hormones confound you some days, pulling you from peace to ruin in mere moments, but Balin is always there with warm arms and wise words, reminding you that whatever you may think, you will never be alone.

✧ The one time during your entire pregnancy that you saw Balin cry was the day you brought home a tiny red coat that looked just like his and showed it to him with pride glowing in your eyes.

✧ He is so calm during all the worst sides of your condition, standing right by you through the good, the bad, and the ugly and dusting and cleaning you off each and every time. "We fought hard for this," he reminds you, "And I'll keep fighting with you every step of the way."

Dwalin

✧ You had wanted children all your life, certainly, and you'd seen Dwalin around them a few times, but what would he say? Your husband was a renowned warrior, hardened in the face of blood and steel and tolerant of no foolishness. But still he went soft as clay when his beloved wife fell into his arms. Thus that night you softened him up but good with all the great food and affection you could muster, so much that you had him remarking what a wonderful home he'd been blessed with. "And would you be willing to share it?" At that, your husband rose from his chair, hands tensing at his sides. "You don't mean-" "I do," you nodded. Without warning, you were swept up into Dwalin's arms, hoisted gently into the air with a giggle. "Just when I thought Mahal couldn't bless me any more! My beautiful wife, with child."

✧ Cue the two of you bickering back and forth like, well, a married couple, about who the child is going to look like. "I'll have 'em look just like you, thanks." "I for one relish in the thought of toting around a miniature Dwalin." "Come now," your husband teases back, running a hand over his shaven, tattooed head, "If they look like you they'll have better hair!"

✧ Dwalin has tiny wooden swords and axes made in time for your little arrivals, ensuring the axes match his to a tee.

✧ He sleeps flush against you now, head leaned against your growing belly and one hand firmly atop it like a lovely little line of defense.

✧ You have him absolutely wrapped around your finger, even more so now. Bat your eyelashes at him and make any request and he melts like butter. You’ll never want long for anything you crave!

✧ Admittedly he knows very little of a woman’s workings, but the moment he hears all your explanations he dubs you as great a warrior as he! “Beautiful as the stars and strong as the mountains to boot! That’s my girl.”

Thorin

✧ He has waited so long for this. So many years of this hanging pressure and yet when he has you by his side, all the feeling of necessity behind trying fades away. You two can simply enjoy life. So when you return to Thorin's side one day, eyes brimming with tears, all you say to him is "It's happened". And with that you see your king, your husband, collapse as if his whole body is sighing, pulling you into him like he needs you to breathe. One hand reaches up to hold the back of your head, gently caressing your hair.

✧ Vows every day that he will protect you both, be the father and husband you deserve, taking your hands in his and then leaning down to address both his queen and your child.

✧ Thorin also assures you that despite what any members of the court say, your new addition will be equally loved and equally worthy of the throne whether you welcome a son or a daughter. "All I wish is a healthy child with their mother's heart." "And their father's good looks," you tease in response, pulling your husband in for a kiss.

✧ You begin stealing his clothes, stating that his tunics are so much more comfortable than your dresses with an innocent bat of your eyelashes that has Thorin relenting every single time, heart rent at the way they begin fitting you tighter.

✧ You see a different side of Thorin in this stage of your marriage, one you’ll never complain about, not when he softens so, gazes down upon you with such love as he hovers over you, kissing your lips, your neck, your belly.

✧ There is no denying that you both glow during this time, pride and joy illuminating Thorin’s features right alongside the radiance of your childbearing state. Everyone stops you to say what a beautiful couple you are and you cannot help the flush of heat that rises to your face as Thorin thanks them and guides you away from the crowd, a protective hand on the small of your back

Oin

✧ Predicts it before you even realize because you’re exhibiting all the telltale symptoms; annoyed as you may be by his insistence that you are with child, what do you know? Oin is right. Oin is, unfortunately, also quite smug about this. Once the initial triumph wears off, though, he’s shouting for joy and crushing you with a hug!

✧ The absolute dream husband to have when you're with child, for he has worked taking care of countless dwarrowdams in your condition. He knows what you need. He understands. And most importantly, he does not judge.

✧ In fact, you two get a kick out of poking fun at the other husbands who roll their eyes at their wives' demands or take shots at their cravings because, frankly, that could never be you. "He doesn't know her body needs more iron!" "I bet he moans and groans about grabbing her a pillow, too."

✧ Having married such a well-known dwarrow, you’ll have all manner of strangers approaching you with congratulations that you reluctantly just accept, correctly assuming they’re patients of Oin’s that he’s proudly blabbed to.

✧ He’s always asking you to guess if you’re having a boy or a girl, insisting that “‘tis the mother’s intuition, after all.”

✧ You insist on remaining on your feet as long as possible, and your husband does not protest, knowing that exercise is good for the baby. That doesn’t mean he won’t be right behind you to catch you if you fall or check on your precious little bump, though, of course.

Gloin

✧ Not so subtle in his so-called 'baby fever', your husband has been going on and on about how his child will be his little flame, the apple of his eye, his world. You have no fear, then, sharing the news, in fact you amuse yourself by dropping your state in conversation like the plainest fact. "I'm glad you've got those new blankets, dear, what with the baby coming in winter and all," you told Gloin, taking a sip of your tea. Deafening is the only word you can use to describe the roar of celebration he gives, wonderfully bone-crushing and teeth-rattling your embrace and kiss.

✧ Tackles you to bed almost every night the first week, covering your cheeks and belly alike with kisses.

✧ Spends that very same time period sharing with absolutely any soul who even remotely listens that he’s going to be a father!

✧ Gloin is very insistent upon your care, even taking it upon himself to make your meals by hand. Which, suffice it to say, is a bit disastrous the first few times but he emerges triumphant in the end and succeeds in filling you with all the hearty things your budding dwarrowling needs!

✧ Being married to a dwarf means you have a husband who absolutely adores the extra pounds you put on and has no qualms about showing you in and out of the bedroom! Even just stopping by the market he’ll be wrapped around you.

✧ Encourages the baby every time they kick, shouting out praise of their strength while you tell him to cool it, all those kicks are going to you!

Bifur

✧ A large part of him thought that he would never be able to experience fatherhood. Not since the injury, and that had happened at such a young age. You cut right through that fear, assured Bifur that he would be an amazing father regardless of if he did some things differently. And that he would soon see, for your family would be growing early the next year.

✧ In all honesty, you feel blessed to have a husband who signs, for your baby will likely be able to communicate early! When you tell Bifur this he breaks out into tears, for what an angel you are to see the beauty in him. Every side of him. He promises to do the same.

✧ And make good on that does he! You will never want for love for even on your illest days Bifur is right by your side, his caresses gentle and speaking volumes of adoration.

✧ Absolutely adores jumping into the bath with you! His excuse being he has to help you and may as well rinse his beard off, but you can see how eager he is to run his hands over your hair and see the way your body relaxes at his cleansing touch. He wants nothing more than to feel useful, needed, and you assure him you cannot do this without him.

✧ Again and again, in fact, on the days when he stands behind you, holding up your burden and cheering you with little jokes and flirtation in Khuzdul even as you are overcome with exhaustion.

✧ Proudly tells everyone who will listen that he’s got a little warrior in there whenever the baby kicks!

Bofur

✧ You hadn’t exactly been trying. You hadn’t exactly been not trying, either. The news comes to you through a haze, muffled by the great rush of other thoughts bombarding your mind and sending your heart beating, but at their heart comes the image of Bofur holding a little one and bouncing them upon his knee and your chest flutters and soars. Your visit is completed all in smiles, and upon returning him to your husband’s questioning about the flu you’ve gone in for, you tell him it likely will not go away until the end of the year. “The end of the year? Why ever that long? I’ve never heard of a flu like that, not even-” “‘tisn’t a flu, my darling,” you smirk at him, “it’s a baby.” “A- you’re- we’re gonna have a-” Bofur is all agape, stepping closer and hovering his hands over your middle like he doesn’t want to grip you in a way that breaks you. “That all right?” You ask, half-teasing, for he has recently confided in you his envy of Bombur’s family. “All right? Song of my heart, I could kiss you!” “Well, what’s stopping you?”

✧ If you thought Bofur was affectionate before, well Mahal be with you, for you haven't seen anything yet! He falls even more in love with your body knowing it's carrying his and your child, hands nearly always holding or roaming you. When you're out and about, your husband usually has a hand at the small of your back, supporting the weight you carry as you walk and running soothingly up and down. Kisses all over your belly in private.

✧ This lends to how quick your husband is to reassure you on days you don't feel so friendly with your body, those times when you'd like nothing more than to shatter the looking-glass. "All I see," Bofur tells you one day, a hand on each of your shoulders as you peer together, "Is the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my lucky eyes upon, and she's not got an easy job. If I were her, I'd be proud of myself. Proud of making a comfortable home for our little one. And if I was her husband, why, I'd take her as she is right here and now! Right nice for me I am her husband, eh?"

✧ “Imagine havin’ a little girl.” Lying side by side, you heard Bofur’s wistful tone and felt a small smile creep onto your lips. “I’ll do her hair up in braids and tie them with ribbons. She’ll have all the pretty things she wants, because I have mine right here,” he adds, turning over to caress your belly and pull your lips into his.

✧ Marrying a toymaker comes with distinct perks: your husband crafts the most magnificent little wheeled contraptions and carven animals for your new addition! He spends hours carving and glazing them, and sometimes you catch him having fallen asleep at his workbench when you struggle to stay in dreamland, covering him up with a spare blanket.

✧ You worry because the baby doesn’t seem to move much, but Oin confirms everything seems to be going fine. “Your wee bairn just got this one’s personality, it seems!” He jokes, stabbing a mock-accusatory finger Bofur’s way.

Bombur

✧ A baker's dozen. For as long as you've known him, that's how many wee ones Bombur purported wanting. Thirteen more than most dwarves have, you always tease him, but in reality every time you see your sweet husband with children and hear him dream of a family your heart leaps. That is why the moment you take his hands and tell him it's come true is special, intimate, a quiet draw in and out of breath that has him sobbing joyously and nuzzling into your embrace with so much love your chest bursts from the flight of it.

✧ Sixth senses never seemed real to you until you became pregnant and it was like Bombur knew what you were craving and was making it before you could even say anything!

✧ Cannot keep away from you. Always wants to be kissing you and cupping your cheeks and holding your hands, just so so sweet!

✧ Bombur is so much more good-natured than you, for all the jokes about how you'll be as big as him soon have you swinging, but he just holds you back and laughs alongside them, saying he's looking forward to it with a twinkle in his eye.

✧ Literally baffled if you ever feel bad about your body; his legitimate confusion alone halfway snaps you out of the sad reverie, and all the following words about your beauty and your husband's appreciation of every inch does the rest.

✧ "You know I'll keep you safe, right? Both of you," he tells you one day, a hand resting upon your bump, "I may not be some great warrior, but Mahal help anyone who comes between us."

Dori

✧ From even before you were actually wed you knew that Dori would be an excellent father. Having taken care of his younger brothers from quite an early age, he had knowledge atop a naturally caring personality you fell for. Gentlemanly Dori waited with you, keeping chaste until after your wedding, but once it is official you know your news could come at any time and you accept that. On your one-year anniversary, in fact, your first gift to Dori is the tiniest bracelet of fine amber beads. “Does this mean…?” As soon as he sees you nod, Dori is taking you in his arms, cradling you gently as if you were made of fine porcelain and thrice as precious.

✧ Caring father-to-be. A little too caring. "If those are too heavy for you, I can carry them!" "They're just books, I'll be alright, Dori." "Oh, don't eat that, you got sick last time." "I haven't been sick in a month!" "That's a lot of steps, should I carry you?" "...Actually, sure."

✧ Always sleeps with his arm wrapped around your middle. No exceptions.

✧ Has every manner of tea and remedy you could desire on hand or otherwise purchases it. Same goes for supplies- Dori even found a ring-shaped cushion for you to lay on! He has your back for any ailment and is often there to make or apply your cure himself. After all, he wouldn't trust anyone else to do it!

✧ You love this dwarf with all your heart. He takes it upon himself to find dwarrowdams willing to let him practice changing diapers on their wee bairns and surprises you with this newfound skill when you return home one day!

✧ Dori’s love of the finer things absolutely carries over into his future fatherhood, as he has the loveliest little velvet clothes made and procures the dearest little bejeweled hairbrush. All in all, both of you amass far more than you need because any time you go out it inevitably devolves into you two clasping your joined hands between each other, gushing over all the wee things, and taking them home!

Nori

✧ He never thought he would get married at all, let alone have a family, but as time goes on the desire to continue his lineage and finally settle down takes hold. Then suddenly there he is desperately trying to seduce you into trying for a little one! It doesn't take long, not with his charm, until the day comes when you teasingly tell him that he got his way. Smirking until the realization takes hold of him, his arms are then snaking around your waist to pull you close.

✧ Always talking about how he's going to teach his little one everything he knows. When pressed about it, responds with such things as fighting and picking locks. His defense? "What if 'e gets stuck somewhere, or-"

✧ Impatient! "When am I gonna be able to feel 'em?" He asks, a hand upon your belly, which has yet to display any changes. "Not for another few months, Nori! I haven't even begun to show!"

✧ Hides things sometimes or puts them up places you can't go just so he can swoop in and help you, saving your day and pressing a kiss to your cheek as he tells you he can handle it, don't you worry your pretty little head.

✧ Nori always teases you when he pours himself a drink. "Bet you'd like some of this, huh? Not for three more months!" He chuckles. Your brows furrow. "Three months? What about when I'm feeding?" "What does tha- oh. Does that really-" "Yes, yes it does." "By the stars, I could have got my baby drunk!"

✧ Talks to the baby quite a bit, especially when he finally can feel the kicks. "Where you running off to, huh?" He chuckles, feeling the flutters against his hand pick up. "That's 'cause of me, isn't it? You hear me? That's right, it's your da. Can you believe it? Me, your da! I'll take good care of you, you hear?"

Ori

✧ "Ori, dear," you implored your husband, "Might you knit something for me?" Looking up from the scarf he'd just finished, Ori's eyes fell upon you and he gave that smile, the special one reserved just for you. "Of course. What would you like?" "A wee pair of booties," you replied, hands clasped and expression dreamy. "Who needs booties?" He asked, head cocked. "We will in the fall," you answered, stepping closer and resting a hand upon his. Ori's jaw dropped. "You... I... We-" Smile widening, you nodded. "I. You. We," you agreed.

✧ Nearly from the first day you know you are with child, Ori is rattling off names. After tossing out a great deal, he finally pauses and gives a sheepish apology. "I'm sorry, I suppose I've thought about this a lot," he confesses with a grin, "I just can't believe it's happening." Your hand joins with his, resting over your little bump. "Neither can I. It's like a dream."

✧ "So," you ask Ori one day, leaning your chin upon the couch where you'd lain, "What should our plan be for when my water breaks?" Your husband's brows furrow. "When your what?" "Oh, no," you mutter. Cue Ori spending his afternoon receiving a great multitude of lessons. What he got for being raised by other dwarf men, you suppose. "That really all happens to you?" He asks, gaping at you as though you came of the Valar themselves. "Yes, it does. Birth is a great deal of work. They don't just run on out, you know!" "Yes, I know. Of course I know." Ori's voice is faint; he excuses himself and you assume it's to faint or be sick, but about an hour later he returns bearing gifts. "I'm sorry I'm putting you through all that." "Sweetheart," you chuckle, cupping his cheek, "You know it takes two, right?" Your sweet husband reddened, but he nodded.

✧ Ori takes on almost all the cleaning himself- you haven't even asked! Finally curiosity gets the better of you and you inquire as to why he's gotten so into housekeeping. "Well, aren't you tired?" He asks simply, innocently, and you wonder how you got so lucky.

✧ He also knits far more than that pair of booties you requested- all three of you will have matching sweaters before your little one has arrived!

✧ Ori's favorite thing in the world is sitting with you in his lap, one hand cradling your growing bump and the other holding a book as you two take turns reading aloud, filling your cozy hollow with the sounds of voices your little one will come to love. The books are hand-drawn, written, and bound by him, of course!

Fili

✧ You two speak of little ones so much it borderline infuriates the others, Kili himself even bursting out in frustration one day at yet another interruption about tiny clothes, "Just get her pregnant already!" "Good idea. See you later," Fili replies, scooping you up and carrying you off bridal-style. "Wait, I- Damn, brother..." In reality, Fili just carried you around the corner and set you down while you two burst out laughing, but about a month later your tries were in fact successful!

✧ Honeyed words were no trouble for your husband before, but now? Praise falls endlessly from his lips. "Never did I think you could get more beautiful, and yet each day you succeed beyond my wildest dreams."

✧ Fili has a near-magical sense for your new struggles of coordination, all but flying to your side to catch your hand or waist whenever you trip or even whenever you must rise up again from your seat!

✧ He loves to tease you, asking what disgusting thing you'll think of him to fix next or joke that he can finally beat you in a fight in this state, but every joke is punctuated by the most loving eyes and gestures that they cannot do a thing but warm your heart and make you chuckle.

✧ Your baby is very active, kicking all the time! "We've definitely got a little Fili in here!" Your husband exclaims with a grin, hand resting atop your belly to feel your little one's exuberant motions. "A strong babe for sure," you sigh, "Much to the pity of my ribs!" "Too bad we aren't having a Kili. Nice and lazy for you." "Hey, I heard that!"

✧ He turns his head, peering over his shoulder at you as you waddle after him, golden hair cascading down. "Care for me to slow down a little?" "I care for you to shut up," you shoot back, crossing your arms and fighting your smile.

Kili

✧ The thought crossed your mind far before it did your husband's. Not that Kili had no desire for children, it was simply that the possibility was all the more yours to consider. It took a visit from your young cousin, who had Kili wrapped around your finger, for the fire to light in your husband's head as well, a smile lighting up his face. "We- we could..." "I know, Kili." You could and you certainly did but a few months later.

✧ "I hope they look just like you." "Me too." Kili pulls his head out of the crook of your neck. "Hey, that is the part where you say 'no, I hope they look like you'!" "I'm doing the work of carrying for how long again? Nine, ten months? Least they can do is resemble me a little," you shoot back with a smirk.

✧ It was Oin who brought the news: "Both babies seem healthy as far as I can tell!" "Both?" You gape. "Both babies?" "'s right," Oin replies, "I know I can't always hear the best, but I haven't been wrong on a heartbeat yet. You can feel 'em." "Guess we did pretty good, eh love?" Kili teases, earning him an elbow to the ribs, but he just shakes his head and tugs you closer against his chest. "Should we make their names confusing as well?" "Don't you think it might get old for them?" "Fili and I switched names plenty of times and we aren't even identical!" You should have known.

✧ Kili takes to sleeping facing you, close enough that sometimes your cheeks brush. Others he slips down lower and you awake with your husband cuddled up to the bump of your belly.

✧ Will come running from any room, anywhere, to feel the babies kick, and also loves tugging along any of his family he can take, too. Childlike wonder fills your husband's eyes every time and pride glistens in his dark eyes when he's brought along his mother, his brother, even his uncle the king!

✧ Never once do you doubt yourself or have one moment of room for insecurity, for Kili still flirts with you as if you were tweens and sneaks all sorts of touches, pecks, and affectionate hands in your hair wherever he can find it! The notion of a baby destroying the romance of your relationship is laughable to you, who married a dwarf that has no shame telling you you're the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth and warm his-and the baby's in a different way-body.

Bilbo

✧ Bilbo's a perceptive hobbit. He knows something's off with you. You don't usually scurry around the way you are like everything has to be perfect. That's his job. "Something the matter? Are you... expecting someone?" Your husband follows you down Bag End's hall as he gives his inquiry, eyebrows shooting up at the look on your face when you turn around. Consternation, resignation, finally a smile. "I was going to tell you after dinner," you answered, "But since you asked it like that, yes I am expecting someone. Our child this spring." At that, it was Bilbo's turn to shift through expressions. Shock, realization, finally a smile.

✧ Nursery shopping has become Bilbo's favorite pastime. Baby Baggins isn't arriving for months and yet your husband is returning from market with all manner of trinkets for the shelves and paper for the walls. You cannot help giggling at his armfuls of supplies and kissing his cheek as you relieve as much of his burden as he allows you to.

✧ So sweet, always helping you dress, pulling on every garment with the utmost of care and even avoiding your reflection on days you feel bad. Quickly kissing each part of your body before he covers it with something he knows will be comfortable.

✧ You'll be eating well whether you like it or not! Bilbo will make you anything under the sun if it means you and Baby Baggins are getting nourishment and he certainly will not have you skimping! Anything that makes you sick simply is not allowed in Bag End at all, end of discussion.

✧ One night, you awake to soft whispers and your heart melts at the sight of Bilbo resting his chin on your growing bump talking to the baby. Not uttering a word, you simply watch, taking in the moment beneath the sheen of tears in your eyes.

✧ "Careful, careful," Bilbo is always telling you, holding your hand and guiding you over the smallest of obstacles, even little puddles and rocks.

Thranduil

✧ He has talked about getting you pregnant before, but speaking of it and doing it are two entirely different things, especially with...well, words of such nature. Thus, you find yourself nervously wringing your hands before your husband as he strokes your face, asking whatever is the matter. At Thranduil's touch, his intense gaze, you fin yourself melting and admitting all, confessing that you are expecting his child. You are certainly not expecting the way his confident smile utterly falters, dissipating in favor of the look of a man near tears. "Truly? A little one of our own?" "Yes," you whisper, finally able to smile as the tension melts from your body, which is soon pulled against the Woodland King's. "Long have I dreamed of this day, my love."

✧ One of his favorite new activities is commissioning you new maternity dresses; you will certainly have plenty to wear if Thranduil has any say about it! In addition, when the time comes of course he requests that you model them for him.

✧ Thranduil loves to sneak up behind you, lightly wrapping his hands about your waist and laying them atop yours, his head resting in the crook of your neck and breathy, pleased laughter warming the skin there.

✧ When you start showing, oh, he loves it. One more sign that you are his, utterly and truly his queen, his beloved, claimed by Thranduil in every sense. He follows your lead, a hand around your waist, letting you shine like the gem he knows you to be. Rarely will you two be seen apart, not when the king can bask in your glow, relish the eyes upon your beautiful form, heavy with his child.

✧ There is one day he catches you in tears and heart tearing he steps to scoop you up against him, cheeks held gently in his elegant hands, which begin to glitter with your tears. "My rings no longer fit," you sob, head falling to his chest. Thranduil holds you close, grip loose as though you might break. "That is not your fault, meleth nîn." "I feel so... so massive." "Who wishes a small dwelling, hm? Piteous thing not to have any comforts. Your body is a host of life, the vessel of a bloodline. Beautiful in all its forms. Never forget that, oh dearest one."

✧ Thranduil is experienced; he knows many little tricks to help you feel better, be they massages or ways to bear your weight. He impresses you with the knowledge he has of the ways of women, understanding your water breaking, dilation, and every complication the healers warn you about and telling you before they even do!

Feren

✧ First to know was neither you nor your husband, but rather your cat, for she had suddenly become your little shadow, following you about your home and taking rest upon your lap as often as she could. "I wonder what it is that got into her," you commented one afternoon, smiling and stroking her back. "Growing up, ours got like this when my mother was carrying my younger sisters. Both times. It was like he could sense it," Feren replied. You both sat in smiling silence for a moment longer before simultaneously straightening, looking each other right in the widening eyes.

✧ Gets a little flustered, frankly. Not so much at your news itself, simply the realization sinking in that he is to be a father. He, Feren, will have a child. He says this out loud several times before suddenly breaking out into a smile. You tease him for going through half his emotions at once, but now the wave of joy has swept him up!

✧ Playfully rolls his eyes and mock-complains every time you remind him that he has to clean up after the cat now! Subsequently adds that he would fetch you the moon if you asked it.

✧ Loves helping you bathe the more difficult your condition makes it, scrubbing your hair with such care and gently massaging your sore feet and ankles as you wash up. Despite your husband's skill in battle, Feren's hands are the most loving and delicate you could ask for.

✧ Your husband has a natural tendency to rise early, so now that your sleep has become more fitful you do find that you have more time to spend together. Your head falling to his shoulder as you whisper to each other, seated as you are upon your bed with blankets draped over your shoulders.

✧ Feren wins your heart time and time again, like the day he lowered you down gently onto the grass of a sunny meadow, basking with you and weaving flowers. He made you a ring, crowned you with a wreath of flowers atop your head, and made another little one to place gently on the curve of your belly, bringing your heart to soar.

Bard

✧ Uncertainty wracks your heart and wrings your hands at the would-be-cheerful news. In fact, you yourself do feel joy, have since your suspicions were confirmed, but would Bard see it the same way? He already has three mouths to feed, three children all old enough to take care of themselves. Will he wish to start it all over so? "What's wrong, love? Your lip is bleeding." So it is. You've practically gnawed the poor thing off in all your stewing. A sigh escapes you. Bard is your husband. No sense in delaying a very necessary conversation. "I know we should have spoken more about it..." You begin, trailing off. At once, Bard senses your reservation and rises to your side, taking hold of your arms; the love in his dark eyes brings a small smile to your lips and relaxes you slightly. "I'm with child, Bard." Almost childlike is the wonder and joy spreading across your face, and before you can say another word you are being pulled into Bard's chest, face snuggling into the fur of his coat.

✧ He knows what to expect, naturally, so Bard is definitely not the type of husband to gripe about your requests, though he does smirk and poke fun if you’re especially outrageous with it or have a funny enough delivery. Then kisses you if you pout about it before fetching what you seek.

✧ Caution overtakes you and your husband as you make to tell his older children the news, particularly you, but your wringing hands relax when you can see the joy in their eyes, particularly the girls! They hope the baby is another girl, hugging you so tight you almost cannot breathe, but you complain not.

✧ Happy is Bard to take on assistance cooking; he knows it can make you sick sometimes and besides, it's a nice excuse to make sure you get all the nutrients you need! You are certainly very lucky in the skill and domesticity of your spouse.

✧ Stands behind you and reaches his arms around you, lifting up the weight you carry and smiling, kissing your neck and cheeks as you relax from your burden.

✧ He also has no qualms about making you rest, down even to physically lifting you up and carrying you to bed if he must!

Beorn

✧ Hesitant as he always would have claimed to be about bringing more Skin-Changers into a world so cruel to them, Beorn feels his nesting instincts kick in very quickly after you become his wife. You see it in the things he gathers, the way your husband moves things such as your blades to higher, safer locations. He is anticipating something. Something you cannot help pulling him aside and asking about, and when your feelings on the subject are made known, well, it is entirely possible you conceived that very night.

✧ Beorn has an almost eerie sense for all the changes taking place in your body. You feel a sharp pain in your back, and without a word your husband is behind you, ushering you down for a massage with some of the oils he's pressed.

✧ The aforementioned nesting instincts manifest early on, your husband carefully blunting corners and tucking away the best blankets so the little one-or ones!- will be nothing but safe and comfortable.

✧ Withdrawn as he could be, Beorn's affection is drawn out by your condition, his big brown eyes soft upon you as he pulls you into his lap, large hands secure about your waist and sliding gently up and down your growing belly.

✧ And grow it does! It seems to get heavier by the day, but that is explained thanks to your husband's exceptional hearing. "Four heartbeats. One is yours. A litter- three are coming!" Spots dance in your vision at that news, but Beorn's smile as he grips your hand brings you back to the light. You could do it with him by your side. "Our little litter."

✧ He attempts to reassure you anytime your anxiety grows. "My dearest flower, I have delivered hundreds of calves and piglets in my day! You will see this through." Reassuring? Perhaps not so much. But in your heightened emotion, that does break you into a wild laughter that does indeed relax you nonetheless.

Want to meet the little ones? Perhaps there will be a Part 2 😉

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[rapturousrendezvous]

Just For You

Diavolo (OM) x Reader (GN)  EXPLICIT (Tags): Size difference, magical cock, shapeshifting, double dicks, alternative ways of stimulation, demon fucking Words: 993

You’re bent over the desk, uniform already torn to shreds as your lower body is exposed to the demon prince that mounts himself behind you. His large hands trail up your back, the tingling sensation of claws against your spine.  You let out a gasp, trying to keep your breathing steady knowing what’s to come. Once his fingers reach your neck, he grasps you gently grinding his body against you so you can feel him harden.  “Look at you...so eager and ready for me.”  You whimper and press against him to signal that you were ready in fact. This would be your first time taking Lord Diavolo since you decided to stay in the program longer than expected at RAD, but it would be worth the wait.  His other claw presses against your entrance, wet and covered in thick saliva as he teases you. He retracts the sharp end of his finger, inserting a single digit into you to prep your hole.  “Oh wow, you’re sucking me right in. It seems...I have to make some adjustments.”  You try to turn your head to get a peek at what he means, but the hand that’s on the back on your neck keeps you in place, your hands gripped on the edge of the desk and your legs barely touching the ground below.  Something slides into you again, though it feels much different than the prince’s finger, a little bit larger but not by much. Did he insert two?  You feel him adjust his position behind you, scooting up closer as whatever he had inside you shifted with him, your ass pressed against his hips completely.  “Now, let me know when to stop...otherwise I’ll keep going.”  You’re unsure of what he meant, until it hits you. The length inside you grows thicker, mimicking the size of three fingers in girth. You mewl, rutting your hips. You wanted more.  “Again? Okay.”  Now the size increases, about 4 fingers. Your walls clung around what you assumed what his cock, growing in  increments to match your tolerance. Your mind swims trying to visualize if you’ve ever gotten a glimpse, maybe a hint of a dick print in his pants but nothing comes to mind.  He calls your name, asking if you were okay. You cry out for more yet again.  “Oh...” He chuckles as he grips your waist. “Let me know if it hurts.”  The next size up fills you over compacity, what you guess is more than a fist (human wise) that stretches your needy hole as you drool on the desk. The perfect amount of pain with stimulation hitting your core was more than you could ask for. You plead for him to thrust, you arch your back and grind your hips more.  Diavolo understands, placing both claws on your waist and deeply groans as he pulls back before thrusting back into you deeply. Your legs bounce and dangle like string as he picks up the pace, your moans helping him decide just how fast or slow he should go. The more you clench around him, the harder it gets for him to move.  You tap out after a couple more thrusts, your orgasm causing you to curse out loud which makes the demon prince laugh in amusement.  “I’m happy you enjoyed that. I hope you’re ready to see what all wouldn’t fit in you.”  Your curiosity killed you, what did he mean by “what all wouldn’t fit?” Still coming down from the aftermath of being ravaged, he helps you flip over to your back, your eyes widening at the sight.  He’s in his usual demon form, the four jet black wings and horns decorated with gold plating, and his royal outfit on display. But then, right between his legs are not one, but two massive cocks. You try to speak but he looks confused before looking down and smiles with a short laugh.  “Oh, let me adjust really quick. This isn’t how I normally look.”  You didn’t know what you were expecting, but both lengths expand and grow much larger than before, nearly reaching his knee as they bobbed and smacked gently against each other. Small scales and ridges adorned the sides, with fleshy nubs decorating the underside like how you’d see a Jacob’s Ladder piercing. He exhales with relief as if it took a lot to hold it in.  “Ah, there we go.”  He looks at you with a smirk and walks up to your trembling legs, seeing your arousal trail down from your sex and to your thighs. Without words, he presses the bottom cock against you, grinding so you can feel the nubs trace over your sensitive parts slowly.  You waste no time by taking the other by hand and swirling your tongue across the large twitching head, making eye contact with him as his golden eyes gleam and his fangs bear followed by heavy breaths.  You keep going, trying to stimulate him the best you can and it works to your favor. He growls, thrusting and rutting against you faster, his own claws splintering the wood in the desk threatening to break it into pieces. He keeps his eyes on you, right before you feel a tremble in the upper shaft. He closes his eyes and moans loudly, both cocks shooting out streams of cum on your body. You’ve never seen so much before, some of it plastering your face and hair with the majority completely covering your belly and chest. The leftover is around you on the desk.  He looks up, panting and smiling at you with a look of worry.  “I’m sorry about that. We made quite the mess didn’t we?”  Though you know you’re in for a massive scolding by a certain demon, you care very little at this moment. Now that you knew about Lord Diavolo’s abilities to adapt his body to yours, it’s like you always figured.  You’ve hit the peak of satisfaction by choosing him. 

[untoldstar]

Hello, I really loved your Yan butler OC

What if a princess reader actually became queen of their country and now she has to face an arranged engagement?

male! yandere butler x fem! royalty reader

warning: fem reader obsessive tendencies, yandere themes, murder, death, mentions of blood,

y’all guess who’s back from the dead! please excuse my rusty writing it's been a while</3

"Corsets are generally known to take your breath away but I can't help but think the added pressure is your doing Charles" You let out a breathless chuckle, he pauses, his hands halting in the air until he hesitantly continues tying your corset, relieving some of the pressure "My apologies..I seem to have gotten lost in my thoughts" he murmurs and clears his throat, you stay quiet for a beat as your initial worry grows "You've acting strangely for some time now, Charles. I'm growing worried" your eyebrows knit together as you look at him through the mirror in front of you, his eyes glance up to meet yours before returning them to his task "I suppose I've been slightly worn out, after all our schedule has been hectic as of your..latest decision" his voice deepens towards the end of his sentence "I know that's not the true reason, tell me, what has been bothering you?" you ask, unable to conceal the concern laced in your voice, you were so incredibly kind, even at this moment when he's dropping your title while speaking and avoiding your gaze you only offer him your kindness and that only causes him greater pain because that kindness will be for another man from here on out.

His hands drop to his side "Tell me, your highness" his eyes meet yours in the mirror and you nearly flinch at the sight, his face is entirely devoid of emotions and his eyes are dark sending shivers down your spine "Do you truly believe that this engagement is a wise decision?" he asks in a low voice, his eyes never leaving yours, you furrow your brows "of course I-" your words are caught in your throat as he lowers his head next to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper "And do you believe it's..safe?" un uneasy feeling pools in your stomach at his question "..Why wouldn't it be safe?" he stays quiet for a few seconds before replying "Oh, no reason for it to not be safe I'm merely..concerned" he steps closer "After all this is a man who we don't know much about except what he chooses to show" you stay quiet "And who doesn't know much about you either..are you certain he's suitable?" your eyes harden, irritation consuming you at his endless questioning "There's no reason to question my decision, I know what is right for me and my kingdom" you train your eyes on his "Are those all your concerns?" he smiles flatly "yes, your highness" "good" you nod, a firm expression set on your face, Charles stays quiet for the rest of the time that he helps you get ready.

Later that evening you share a drink with your soon-to-be husband, Christopher Alpin, a very handsome and powerful king whose alliance with will benefit your kingdom greatly.

You both talk over the details of your wedding as the crowd enjoys itself with dancing, drinking, and mingling. Amongst that crowd is a certain unhappy butler who watches you with burning intensity, paying attention to where your fiancé's eyes drift, where his hand touch, the smiles you're sharing, watching you with him is slowly killing him and the thought that soon this man will be touching you, waking up next to you and spending every moment with you is too much for him to bear, it's completely wrong, that man in your future is out of place so as your loyal butler it's his duty to make everything perfect to you.

Just as the king excuses himself from the ballroom Charles wastes not a single second in following him quietly through the halls.

minutes pass and you grow worried, you decide to search for Christopher fearing he got lost in the castle, you search all the rooms until one room is left, your bedroom, as you near the bedroom you see your door slightly ajar and catch a glimpse of a few droplets of blood. your heart starts racing, you stand still for a few seconds, the fear of what could possibly be in your bedroom grounding you in place. You take a deep breath and move closer to the door, slowly opening it wider, you gasp and a sob breaks out of your throat at the sight, mere inches from you is your fiancé lying in a pool of his own blood with a large slit on his throat "ah your highness!" you flinch at the cheery voice, Charles is sitting on the edge of your bed, a smile plastered on his face, you attention drift to his usually white gloves covered in red, adrenaline and fear picks up in your chest as you turn on you heal to run before Charles is up and holding you back in a few seconds, he shuts the bedroom door and locks it, trapping you against it "I..don't understand why you're running away, I fixed it all can't you see?!" you swallow, your voice barely able to come out as steady as you want it to "Charles..what have you done..what are you talking about?" he presses himself against you "you don't have to marry him anymore, he was filthy! he didn't know anything about you, he didn't deserve you!" you don't reply, you stand stunned as you see Charles ramble with a manic expression "now it's finally just the two of us once again" he wraps his arms around you and burries his head in your neck inhaling deeply "I feel much more at ease now with you in my arms, don't worry I shall take care of everything.."

"won't you let me serve you?"

[eldritch-spouse]

I definitely wasn't binging through Krulu's tag like a horny depraved soul with no life (which i am) when i found this:

Pinnie I need to know how Krulu responds/reacts to Admin's existential crisis and crippling anxiety telling them that they're useless to him now that he has no need to hide and he can just dispose of them if he wants to.

[Fem reader.]

TW: Slight angst; Religious mindsets.

It's wonderful seeing your lord in such high spirits.

You never made note of it before, mostly to avoid being insulting, but it bothered you that Krulu felt unsafe all the time, resigned himself to the darkness of his sacred floor, didn't look beyond the walls of The Clergy's Eye or set foot onto his own garden.

It was disheartening.

He's a god! He's your god! He should face the world with nothing but pride and elegance, his might is to be witnessed and revered by all- Hiding is unbecoming of his perfect nature.

You suppose you have to thank Miara for all of this. For the safety and confidence Krulu now exudes, for the push she gave him to finally finally impregnate you- For your beautiful baby boys who have now grown up to take Earth's main annexes by storm! Life is good.

Life is wonderful.

But it's so, so scary...

Ever since your higher stopped using you as a vessel -There's no need for such anymore, after all- A depressing distance has been cast between you two. Something stifling.

You're so very happy for him, for Adelo and Adrul who can now communicate with their second father openly, see him in the flesh so much more often than they once did, for the two of you even -Because you do like witnessing Krulu's glory- But... Things just aren't the same.

You no longer feel Krulu in the back of your mind, caressing your thoughts and murmuring to you. His presence on your body is so diminished you feel naked. Unsafe. Out of sorts. You feel useless as his servant. This isn't right. It's something you're ashamed to admit, but you wish he'd return to your form.

What's wrong with you? To be wishing misery upon your lord...

You're his chosen, you're the mother of the rulers of Eden and Perdition, you're loved dearly by your lord and your angel- So... So why is it that you feel small? Like an ant? Without Krulu... You're just a human. Just a girl.

Tears prick at your eyes.

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You should be happy. This is a day of celebration! Your sons have come to The Clergy to partake in celebration with their parents and the core team after their impressive feats. And instead of spending quality time with the people closest to you...

You're sobbing on a faraway bench.

Pathetic.

You don't even hear the footfalls approaching steadily.

" Chosen. "

To say you sprung up like a startled feline is to put it flatteringly lightly. Your lord stares at you from a great height, gaze ever hardened, though you've been his servant long enough to spot the creases of worry in the corners of his eyes.

" M- My lord, excuse me- I'll be joining the festivities in no time. " You stammer, wiping the tear trails on your face and hoping your makeup isn't smudged to absolute shit. But it probably is.

Krulu makes a chuff, then takes a seat beside your figure, not looking directly at you. One set of arms rests on their hips, another steeples its fingers, the remaining one adjusts some of his jewelry.

" Speak. What troubles you? "

To the point. You've come to love that about him.

" Nothing serious, my worship. " You sigh. " You know how fragile the human mind is, I'm just being silly. "

The siadar's tail rattles across the floor.

" Our minds may no longer be interwoven, but make no mistake, I know when you dare lie to me. " He warns, eyes narrowed. " Your pain is still my pain, however. And to hurt me is not wise. "

You curl further into yourself on the bench, sniffling. " My deepest apologies- "

" I will not ask twice. What ails you? "

Slowly, you crane your neck back, meeting only the charred side of Krulu's face. With perhaps the most shaky and futile of inhales, your lips let loose.

" I'm scared. "

The siadar straightens slightly.

" My lord, I would never doubt your words- But I doubt myself. We aren't as close as we once were, and that's amazing! That's good! But... I feel so hollow without you in my body. What duty do I have now? I know it's stupid of me -I know I'm foolish- But ever since you've ceased to use me as a vessel, I've been so... Miserable. "

The shame coating your cheeks burns brighter than a thousand dawns, so you opt to bore holes into the stone of the garden's pathway.

There's a deep rumble from beside you, and soon, your small frame is lifted, deposited in the crevice where your lord's long legs cross, facing forward to the garden's expanse just as he does.

" You are going through withdrawal. "

Krulu begins, giving all your thoughts pause.

" Have been, for quite some time. "

Four hands touch your body, two loop around your neck in a familiar hold that has you sighing in comfort. The other pair rubs your sides up and down.

" I never did think it had reached this state, but then, you have a most insufferable habit of hiding your distress from me. "

" I... I don't want to disappoint. "

The implication is loud, even without being verbalized. A pause passes.

" Pray tell, what bred the idea into your mind that the mother of my heirs is expendable? " He challenges, met with silence for a few moments.

" Was it something I imparted onto you? "

And, when you think about it deeper, there was never a moment where Krulu made you feel as if you were nothing but a body. Or that you would someday outlive your use. Your sentiments are strange and you can't place their source aptly.

" Never! I don't recall a single thing you've said or done to me that could cause this- I think I'm just... Having some type of episode? " What a wonderful thing to say, you snort inwardly to yourself. Yes, you're going mental.

" Episode, hm? " Krulu chuckles above you. " Close enough. You got there on your own, songbird. "

" I- Lord Master, I beg your pardon? " Did he actually confirm you're going insane?

The siadar shudders at the title bestowed upon him, a squeeze of powerful claws reminding you not to rile him up now. It slipped.

" Just as when I took hold of your form your organism experienced many changes, you are now going through several more as well. " He explains simply. " My departure is intense, I would be alerted if you did not react to it. "

You blink, staring into his blazing orange hues. " ... But it has been years, lordship. "

Krulu's grin turns slightly mocking. " Indeed it has. "

You can only blink vapidly again, prompting him to laugh loudly and pet you almost condescendingly.

" How many years did you live as my vessel, lesser? "

Oh. Oh.

No fucking wonder you've been feeling this way for so long. Oh boy, this is going to take a long while... Who knew a hormonal imbalance could last this long, and be this devastating. Maybe to a doctor, it would be extremely common knowledge, but you often forget said information, because it hardly ever holds relevance these days.

You feel even dumber now. Dumb as a door. May the ground grow a hole and consume you immediately.

The berating inner-monologue about to kickstart in your mind is halted entirely by the sensation of Krulu's thin lips against the top of your head as the massive entity curls to shield you from the world at large.

" You are hereby ordered to seek me as soon as these flares of inadequacy show themselves, understood? " Even if his words hold supreme authority, you feel the insurmountable care behind them.

" My chosen is my adored and my adored is the light of this decrepit world. You hold more value than the universe could ever hope to achieve to me, yet you do not even realize it. " He whispers.

And you cry.

You sob like a fucking baby.

You wail into your lord's arms, full of relief, of love, passion and reverence and complete fanaticism- Enough euphoria to blind you for seconds of total bliss. It's almost like an orgasm, in a peculiar way.

He holds you throughout the entire catharsis, silent, stable like a stone wall. Only when your quiet sniffling has petered out does he speak again.

" Come to us, Adrul did say he has many tales of his time in Wrath. His mother should listen. "

You stand with Krulu's help, a smile as bright as the sun on your face.

Everything is okay.

You'll get through this.

For him.

Always for him.

Everything for him.

[vindott]

"Choose your last words wisely"

The rain poured down, drenching the dimly lit alleyway where Max stood, his hand gripping the knife tightly as he pressed it against Charles’s throat. The blade gleamed in the cold, harsh light of the streetlamp above, casting an eerie glow over the scene. Max's face was hardened, lips curling into a sneer, his eyes cold and unyielding as he held Charles against the wall. The tension between them was suffocating, the air thick with something unspoken, something darker than the storm raging around them.

Charles, chest heaving, could barely keep himself upright. His dark hair clung to his forehead, drenched by both the rain and the tears that had welled up in his eyes. His heart pounded against his ribs as the cold edge of the knife pressed closer, the threat all too real. Every breath felt like it could be his last.

"Choose your last words wisely," Max sneered, his voice dripping with venom. The knife’s tip dug just a fraction deeper, enough for Charles to feel the sting of metal against his skin, but not enough to break it—yet. It was a threat, a promise of what was to come if he said the wrong thing.

Charles’s breath hitched, his body trembling not just from fear but from something deeper. He lifted his head slowly, eyes meeting Max's, and for the first time in a long while, Max saw the raw emotion in them, the vulnerability that Charles had always tried to hide. He saw the tears, not just of fear but of something more—something that made Max's grip falter ever so slightly.

"I love you."

The words left Charles’s lips in a whisper, fragile and soft, yet they hit Max harder than any punch ever could. His sneer faltered, and his grip on the knife loosened just enough for the sharp edge to slip away from Charles’s throat. For a moment, the world seemed to freeze around them, the rain forgotten, the alley around them fading into the background. All that existed was the space between them and those three words, hanging heavy in the air.

Max blinked, his breath catching in his throat. His mind raced, searching for any trace of anger, of betrayal, of the hatred that had fueled him up until this point. But those words—those cursed, beautiful words—shattered something inside of him. The sneer vanished, replaced by a look of confusion, hurt, and something far more dangerous: regret.

“You…” Max began, but the words died in his throat. His hand dropped to his side, the knife slipping from his fingers and clattering to the ground with a metallic thud.

Charles didn’t move, still pressed against the wall, his body trembling from more than just fear now. He looked up at Max, his eyes filled with so much pain, so much love, it was unbearable. How had it come to this? How had two people who had once shared everything—shared dreams, victories, and quiet moments under the stars—ended up like this? Enemies. Strangers.

Charles’s chest tightened as he watched Max struggle to process what he had just said. The villain. The man who had held a knife to his throat, threatening to take his life in a heartbeat, now stood before him as the man he had loved. The man he still loved, despite everything.

"Charles, stop," Max said, his voice a desperate whisper now, not the commanding, cruel tone it had been moments before. "Don’t say that. Don’t make this harder."

But Charles shook his head, his tears mingling with the rain. "It’s the truth, Max. I love you. I always have. Even now, after everything." His voice cracked, the weight of his emotions almost too much to bear.

Max took a step back, running a hand through his soaked hair, his face twisted in agony. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to deny everything Charles had just said. But he couldn’t. Because somewhere deep down, beneath the layers of anger and resentment, he knew. He had always known.

"I… I never wanted it to be like this," Max admitted, his voice barely audible above the rain. His hands were shaking, his heart racing, torn between the man he had become and the man he used to be—the man Charles had loved. The man who had loved Charles.

Charles’s breath hitched, his body aching from the tension and the cold. “Then why did you?” His voice was a broken whisper, pleading for answers that maybe neither of them could give.

Max stared at him, his jaw clenched, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and longing. He wanted to reach out, to take Charles in his arms and tell him that everything would be okay, that they could go back to the way things were. But they couldn’t. They both knew that.

“I thought… I thought it was the only way,” Max said, his voice hoarse, as though the admission itself pained him. “I thought if I pushed you away, it would hurt less. That if I became the villain, you’d stop loving me. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

Charles took a step forward, his heart pounding. “Max…”

Max’s breath hitched as he met Charles’s gaze, the raw emotion in his eyes undoing him completely. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words trembling as they left his lips. “I’m so sorry, Charles.”

Charles closed the distance between them, his hand reaching up to cup Max’s cheek. Max flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. The weight of Charles’s love, even now, was too much to bear, and yet he couldn’t live without it.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Max whispered, his voice barely audible as Charles’s thumb brushed against his skin, wiping away the tears he hadn’t realized he was shedding.

“Then don’t,” Charles said softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that made Max’s heart ache. “Just… stay.”

Max’s breath hitched as Charles pulled him closer, their foreheads touching, the world around them falling away. For a moment, there was no villain and no hero—just two broken people who had once loved each other more than anything.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being Kiri's closest sibling and your family helping with your mental health struggles and the war:

An/ Am sorry if I spell any character names wrong! Please let me know if I do!

Loved this film when I saw it back in early Jan much more than I thought I would, and I'm very glad it struck a chord with me! Was such a good time.

Sorry to ramble.

Kiri is a sweet angel and a comfort for sure. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Tw// some discussion of suicidal thoughts and self-destruction, anxiety. Other than this, just normal avatar violence.

While you're a child of Jake and Neytiri, it doesn't matter, Jake could've sworn you and Kiri came from the same cloth personality wise.

You both just clicked.

He was joyous, as while you got along with Neteyam, there is a friction - he's a fighter, and you're not.

He wants to be the best, you're fine in your own little world.

And Kiri gets that.

She invites you out for walks in the forest. The two of you just exploring and taking in the area around you.

Sometimes though, your thoughts get to you. You feel self conscious. You feel an other. You feel like what you're doing is 'wrong'.

Kiri is always there to help soothe those thoughts.

"There is nothing wrong with it, Y/N. Nothing. You are you, and I love that. Always."

When the humans attack, you are away from each other.

"Kiri! Kiri!!!" You cry out.

"Y/N!" You hear your father call out.

"DAD!"

"Hey, hey, hey. I'm here, baby. I'm here. I've got you. I've got you, buddy. I've got you," he assures you as he holds you, pulling you away from the destruction.

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby, ok? You scared me is all," you miss when he used to say that before he became hardened by it. Before he became a commander rather than a father.

When you and Kiri reunite, she just holds you, tight. She pulls away and checks you multiple times; but you're out of it. You can't get out a single word.

As Jake becomes more protective and treats you all more like soldiers, Kiri is your rock.

"I'm still here, Y/N. We are," she reminds you, squeezing your hand to try to bring you back to where you are.

Spider is good with you as well. He's a good brother (no matter what your mother says.)

Kiri hates that you lose that explorer part of you. You shut in.

You do your upmost to become a fighter like your brothers.

It doesn't go well.

"Y/N!" Kiri cries out, running to your side when you come back, injured just like Lo'ak.

"Kiri, go help your grandmother," Jake orders.

"But my siblings," she argues.

"Go. Please," he softens his voice a bit, but he also knows the connection you hold with Kiri, and he knows he can't separate the two of you - no matter how life seems to think so; he's glad for it, to have something to ground you. His life as a marine and having brothers in arms fall around him coming back to him. It's why he's so hard on you all; he doesn't want you to face that.

"You need to be more careful, Y/N," Kiri says as she helps you heal. She knows everyone says it - more your mother, your father says it more so through action, but it counts - but she knows her words will get to you.

"I need you to be ok, Kiri," you answer back - always the default answer.

"And I need you to be ok. I need my sibling," as she speaks, she goes from one side of you to the other, knowing it keeps your attention on her because you are doing something - you're active, albeit just a head swinging, it keeps you at the moment, "I want my best friend who would walk with me through the woods --"

"That died when those woods burned," it hits her, hard, and it pains her to hear the coldness of your voice. How you seem to have shut yourself out even from her.

"You don't have to hide," she says, softly.

You look at her - unbeknown to anyone, it was a similarly crushed look that Jake held earlier - "I don't know who I am anymore, Ki."

If your first words hit her heart, those words shattered her soul.

She hugs you, tight.

She makes sure to keep you close as you listen in on your parents arguing.

The whole thing was a blur to you, almost being killed once again, this time by someone who had a vendetta against your family; and Spider being taken in the chaos.

As you all leave your home, Kiri rides with you. She wants to keep you present with everyone. She doesn't want you to get lost to the war going on inside of you.

Jake looks back once or twice; but while you are focused on what is ahead, and keeping your sister secure, Kiri looks at him with worry; he always looks away, feeling guilty for what you have seemingly become.

You've lost yourself.

You arrive at your new home and go with your siblings to explore it.

Kiri, however, sees that part of your old safe wake up once again when you both go underwater.

There's a whole life under here. A whole way to live.

But, she then sees you gasp for air. You can't hold it as long as her.

You go back to the surface, gasping for breath. The rest of your siblings approach you, as does tsireya in concern.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," you assure them, despite your efforts to breathe saying otherwise.

You go to shore first, going back to the hut you are living at. Neytiri is there.

"Y/N!" Tuk says, hugging you as you bend down to catch her.

"Are you well, my child?" She asks, as you enter.

You nod, on instinct; but her maternal instinct knows otherwise, "what has happened?"

"Nothing, mother. I am ok."

She knows this can be a make-or-break moment for you both; she loves you dearly, but you have been distant as of late, so she knows this is a choice of pushing or pulling way more.

"Did you have a good day of learning?" she says, pushing.

"I held my breath longer than I thought I would."

She beams, "that is good," she says.

Your lips twitch a bit, "but not as long as Kiri's did."

Her smile wobbles a little, but it ultimately stays.

"It does not matter," she assures, approaching you, "what matters is, you did it; did it help you at all?"

You pause, actually; and your mother sees the gears turning in your head, she finally sees you for all you are - eyes flickering between thoughts, what your body and face do as you decide on an answer.

She knows she is biased, she is a mother, but she finds it beautiful.

"It felt peaceful," you finally decide on. Her beaming smile returns.

"You're happy again!" Tuk celebrates. You smile at your baby sister.

"Always have been, Tuk," you assure her. Giving her a genuine smile you seem to only reserve for her.

Your mother is always at ease when she sees it, you're not fully gone.

The family regroups, and they are all pleased to see you have a moment of happiness with Tuk.

Neteyam knows the life you have led - not by anyone's choice - has damaged you particularly, but he still feels guilty for seemingly forcing you into that role of a fighter as well. One with commitment, but one without preservation for yourself.

You have the same amount of fingers as Lo'ak, meaning you pack the same punch in the fight.

Despite Kiri's disinterest in her siblings, she stays for a bit longer, until she can pull you away.

"Hey. Hey! Stop. Stop! I'm ok, Y/N. I'm ok. I'm safe, see?" She grabs your face in her hands, making you look at her.

Your eyes soften, knowing she's ok.

"We should go for a walk," she says. When the fight escalates again, she pulls your face to look at her, instead of the fight. She wants you to not be the violent, self-destructive person you have become.

You both do go on that walk, then both go to the water where you both have tried to find a home - moreso her - as you can't stay as long under as she does.

You leave her after a moment - both having gotten better at sign - but she then gets worried when she can't find you.

She closes her eyes when she resurfaces, seemingly hours later, and can't find you. She even goes to the hut, and sees you aren't there, your parents ask of your whereabouts. With her eyes shut, she thinks back, praying to Eywa to help her remember and find you. She feels the wind on her, and they push her to dive in from a certain place, then she feels a pull to a certain part of the water. And there you are, floating, not moving.

She swims, with more strength and quicker than she ever has before. She grabs you, and pulls you to the surface.

"MOM! DAD!" She calls out. And despite being seemingly miles away, your parents seem to hear like it's right next to them. The two of them dive in, and help bring you to shore.

"Oh, no. Oh, Y/N. Oh, my child. Oh, no!" Neytiri cries out, trying to make you wake up.

"Let me try," Jake says, gently pushing her aside and starting CPR on your chest. He counts, being used to both doing this and having this done to him, in another life - but it comes back like it's nothing.

Kiri holds your hand, tightly, silently begging for you to come back.

"Come on, baby. Breathe. Breathe," your father says as he continues his compressions.

"Please, great mother! Please!" your mother pleads, holding you close.

Water then comes out of your mouth, coughs leave your lips.

Your mother hugs you like she never has before. It's tight.

Instinctively, you wrap your arm that isn't held down by Kiri around your mother.

You look to Kiri after opening your eyes, seeing her have tears running down her cheeks, but she wipes them away with her spare hand.

You then look to your father, who just looks relieved.

After you have eaten, with your whole family making sure you do so, it is Kiri, Jake, and Neytiri who find you on your own, sat outside, feet in the water.

"Can I ask what was going through your head when you thought of that?" Kiri asks, softly, sitting on one side of you, while Jake sits on the other, and Neytiri sits behind you.

"I just wanted it to be over," you answer, honest.

"What do you mean by that, buddy?" Jake asks, slowly. He knows those thoughts too well.

You lean into him, sensing this.

"Things like this," you say.

"Feelings?"

"I feel too much," you say, pushing away.

"Hey, no," he says, pulling you back to his side. Kiri shuffles up a bit, still holding your hand, "they aren't something to hide from, Y/N."

"You do," his heart skips a bit. Is that how you thought of him?

"I'm sorry I gave that impression."

Neytiri starts playing with your hair, trying to calm herself down as much as yourself.

"It's bad, dad."

"I'm sorry, baby," he says, kissing your head. You feel a tear slip onto your head, or it may just be the water.

"Ki," you say, turing to your sister. She tilts her head, tears in her eyes, "I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I was a bad sibling."

"No. No, Y/N --" you cut her off before you can finish.

"I thought if everything just stopped. I thought it would maybe make it all better," it hurts her to hear, but she thinks this is what she needs to do, to hear it; you need to let it out to maybe start making your back somewhat - not all the way, she knows that now - to who you were, "if I wasn't here."

You feel your mother pull back on your hair seemingly on purpose. She tilts your head up, making you look up at her, "you are never a burden on us. Never, my child. You are a Sully. You are a fighter, in all ways. But. most importantly, you are yourself. You are perfect as that. The pain we will work through, all of us will."

"We all will," Kiri promises, squeezing your hand and making you look at her, "I'm not going anywhere, ever. Whatever the future holds, I'm here with you."

You squeeze her hand too, "I'm here with you too."

Jake and Neytiri share a look of relief. Your struggle isn't over, but there - as Jake would later tell Neytiri, momentarily - breakthrough. A cloud of light amongst the darkness of your brain.

You all continue, with Kiri confiding in you her connection with Eywa, and so you follow her to try find where her origins lied, but she then has her attack.

Now it is your turn who calls out for your parents.

You stay by Kiri's side as your father's friends come to help. You pace, before you find your breath picking up to a point of --

"Y/N? Buddy? Hey. Hey, look at me, look at dad. Hey! I'm here, kid!"

You do, but your breaths aren't slowing, "oh, kid," he puts himself in front of you, "follow my breaths," he is slow with his breaths, and you try to follow; but you go to look at Kiri, only for your father to pull your view to his.

"I'm right here. I'm right here," says, "I've got you. Just try to follow my breaths, ok?"

"Dad --" you try to say, only for the rest of your words to get stuck behind your worry for Kiri and inability to keep up with everything; it's all too quick.

"I know, bubba, I know," he says, "I know. I'm here. I'm here. Dad's here. He's not leaving. I'm not leaving. Kiri will be ok, I promise. But, right now, I need you to be ok. Please, buddy, try follow me. Please, baby."

You do, after what seems like hours, but your father is patient.

"I'm sorry," is all you say.

"Oh, buddy," he says,as he hugs you, "you don't need to be sorry. I've gone through similar things."

"You have?" You ask him, holding him tightly now in concern. His heard melts at it.

"I did," he admits, allowing himself to be vulnerable, "in the army. In the army."

"Army?"

"I'll tell you another time, kid. Promise," he says, kissing you on the head and focusing on you.

As time goes on, Jake can't run away from the fact that the war is catching up to you all even in your new place of residence.

Jake can see it all starting to get to you again; but this time he really notices. He sees your shakey hands, your stone face.

Everyone does.

As Lo'ak goes to save his new brother, Kiri has you with herself and Tuk; but as soon as you see Lo'ak go, you go after him without a second thought, Kiri following at the same instant. She won't let you go alone, not again.

You all save his friend only to then see the RDA.

Despite your efforts, you, Tuk, Lo'ak and tsireya are captured.

You try to fight back and are shot in the side. Your siblings and new friend cry out to you.

"Jake Sully," you hear your father's enemy call out on the radio, "you've already got one kid here bleeding out, and while I do not want a kid to die, trust me, I'll do what I have to. You know what I want. Come here, and you can get them, all of them."

He starts to, but then Lo'ak's friend appears, and you already feel fainter than you did before. As Neyteyam saves you all, and Lo'ak goes to fight, he pushes you back, "go, get out of here, Y/N!"

You go with tsireya and Tuk, but your younger sister wants you to go back.

"Y/N," tsireya starts to say, but you find yourself going with Tuk.

"Sully's stick together," you argue.

They're your family. They matter to you. The war did before. Them being ok did. But you hid that love, not anymore.

"Y/N!" Kiri cries out, seeing you. You cut her binds. She immediately goes to your wounds. Instead of pushing her away, you let her look at them - despite the situation you're in.

You're apart of the family too.

Despite your best efforts, you're caught again, and tsireya is pushed off.

"Y/N. Y/N! Open your eyes! I need you, Y/N!" Kiri's cries keep your eyes open. Tuk even joins, kicking you in the leg. It keeps you going. This is your family. Your fortress in times of darkness, they rallied around you in their own ways. Neyteyam with his check-ins or looks, Lo'al out on the water and banter, Tuk with her hugs and happiness at seeing you, and Kiri keeping you grounded and here.

You'd fight for them, instead of the idea of family you had in your mind. You had your idea of your home, of your family, and what you were fighting for. But this, the people calling out for your survival, this was what you were fighting for.

You're taken instead of Kiri, and she pleaded the whole time for it to be here, but you end up going.

Your father saves your sisters and then sees the damage done to you by the bullet. How you're still standing, he doesn't know, but he is sure as shit grateful. You're barely hanging on, however.

"I'll do it, Sully! Back off!" the man holding you put the blade to your neck to keep you here, and going.

Part of you wants to ask him to just do it.

But there's a part to you that's louder now. A part that's asking you to fight. To try.

You do.

You slam your head back into the guy, using his moment of unsureness with Spider - who you are grateful to know is alive - and then running to your family. Jake puts you behind him, and Kiri holds you close, with you both putting Tuk behind you and then Spider as well.

You all back away to the water, but then your father goes to fight his fight, and your mother goes after Tuk.

That destructive part of you says to go after your mother. But you stay. Kiri and Spider need you. You know your mother has Tuk. You'll get them out.

So, on nothing but instincts alone, you begin to lead your two other siblings out of the boat to the top, catching each other when one falls.

You reach the top, but it's sinking fast. You all hold hands, "Stay together!" Spider calls out.

"Together," you and Kiri call out.

You then all go under.

And Kiri finally finds her connection with the ocean, helping it light both of your ways.

She sends some light your way, but you also find they follow you as well.

"You're you" your sister's words ring through your mind.

You use it to help your way up. You find Kiri.

Despite your mind screaming at you, despite all the thoughts telling you that you are alone, you hold your hand to your sister. She holds it, as you both go under, to find your family. You know what the hand hold means; the other isn't going anywhere.

You find them, helping them all get to the surface.

Then you grieve Neteyam. You hug your mother, and she hugs you just as tightly.

As you do, you look at Kiri, who crouches down and hugs you both.

You know it'll be a fight; both your internal one, and the external one you all face, but you'll do it together.

Kiri won't leave you. The others won't.

You're you, wars and all going on inside. They won't leave.

Because Sully's stick together.

[paellaplease]

12. liberosis - the desire to care less about things.

pairing: revali x reader part: 5 of 6 summary: on the night of calamity ganon’s attack, you find yourself thrown back a week into the past, waking up outside the door of an unusual rito with deep blue feathers.

Read from the beginning

It was pitch black the moment you awoke not for the first time that night. With a cool draft hitting your back, you rolled over in discomfort. The blankets had been stolen, again. 

You tried to free the heavy knitted layer, but just like the previous time it was completely cocooned around him. Grumbling, you released the blanket and opted to press a knuckle into your temple. A horrid pain was beating at the back of your head, rattling your already sleep-addled thoughts. 

The pulse at your wrist was racing, and accompanied by your shallow breaths you knew you were having another episode. 

Even before this recent development, waking up like this was not uncommon. Though your body was reborn and made anew, the mind continued to retain memories from past lives. 

Night terrors were familiar territory for the company you kept. Though the subject matter was something different entirely, and something you wisely chose to keep to yourself. No matter how much effort you dedicated in repressing them, it wasn’t enough to expunge the pain completely. After all, even the hardest of metals lose strength over time. 

And so it led to events like these. Where your body was already panicking, anticipating a fight even after the restful void of sleep.

There was an annoying ringing in your ear. Great, that’s new. You thought to yourself in frustration. As if sleeping wasn’t difficult enough.

It took a bit of tugging to pull the blanket closer, but eventually you had it wrapped around you again. Like clockwork, your breaths fell into the rhythm of an old exercise. You had done it so many times that you had forgotten where you had learned it. It was well worn, like an old coat that had sheltered you from many a storm. 

Inhale, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four.

It had helped somewhat. The pain had lessened, though the dull ringing was still heard in your ear. Growing louder and louder. Some other tones began to join along with it, forming a noise that began to sound suspiciously like…conversation. 

Perhaps I am going mad. 

As you tossed and turned, the voices echoed. They were a choir of the old and young, the weak and the strong, stone-hardened and soft as meadow grass; ordering you to get up and run. Run? Your chest ached at the thought. Run where? 

Your bed partner then rolled to face you, throwing a wing over your waist. 

Oh. 

Okay. 

You were perfectly safe in this hammock. Though the frigid breezes from Hebra blew through the cloth coverings of the window, you were warmer than you had ever been. It was like sleeping next to a breathing pillow. Needy as it was. And despite your little fits, he did not even stir. 

You looked at him properly then, discerning his form in the darkened room. 

This was not the first time you had seen Revali asleep. You had both camped in the wilderness together and taken alternating shifts on watch when the moon had sat high in the heavens. 

Even on the field he slept like a perfect soldier, back straight and beak shut to a thin line. He was so silent you often wondered if he had been unconscious at all. Any noise deemed suspicious would wake him, his bow never far from reach in case of an ambush. 

Now…his eyes were closed, with not a wrinkle lingering on his brow. His beak hung slightly open, a little snore escaping from it as he drifted off in a deep sleep. 

There was no other way to react than in quiet disbelief. You ran a careful hand over his head, watching as a sea of feathers moved against your outstretched palm. Though soft, you could tell which were newly grown. A delicate patch revealing a history of previous injuries. Some were at his wings but most grew at the front of his chest, indicating they were sustained facing an enemy head on. 

You sighed, shaking your head and placing a light kiss over where his heart would be. “Fool,” you whispered fondly. 

As you pulled away you found that in the shadow of the night it was similar to viewing the inky void of a dark ocean. The feathers under your hand were blue. Soft as every suspiciously plush pillow in this village, and blue. Blue as the ink on your fingers. As Rigel in the constellation Orion. 

And you supposed he too was a dying star, with a core long since fated to destruction before you even met. But in this moment he was far enough that you could still see the light that rolled off him, resplendent. And not for the first time did you wonder if the stars knew of your own selfish thoughts. To hold on to the rattling hum of a shade as the supernova burned behind you, unforgiving and insurmountable. 

If you could keep him for yourself, you would. If the goddesses allowed it, more you would ask. More than his memory. More than one fragile plume which remained in your coat’s pocket like a constant companion. 

Never fraying, never destroyed. 

You leaned forward to press a kiss to his shoulder, but in that instance every restless spirit screamed out. 

You. Must. Go.

The pain behind your head flared again, as if you were struck dead on by a blunt object.

Coughing, you carefully extricated yourself from his hold. The tremble in your arms nearly sent you tumbling out of the hammock, the banister acting as your only support. It’s by some miracle that you latched on with ease, climbing your way back down without waking him and landing with a thud. 

The noise echoed, loud enough to rouse any sleeper. Dizzy, you forced yourself to remain quiet, watching nervously for any sign of movement from the hammock. 

A minute passed, then another. The voices raged in your head until you were nauseous. Sure that he was fast asleep, you turned back to the entrance and slipped on your shoes and coat. The voices followed you like angry echoes, urging you to move faster, waging war against your own wishes. 

Don’t look back. Weakness. Forward. Onward. Soles to dirt as wood is to ash. 

Before stepping over the threshold, a small noise rose over the cacophony in your head. It was quiet. So much so that it could have easily been mistaken as sleep addled murmurs or the creaking of a nearby tree. 

You were frozen still at the doorway when Revali called out your name.

It was whispered, as if in question into the darkness of his home. A shaky breath escaped you as your hands trembled by your sides. 

Both of you knew you were about to do something unforgivable. 

Just as well. It was always you disappointing him. In what world did you even deserve a fraction of his affections? You won’t…you couldn’t acknowledge it. Doing so would break you completely.   

Forward. Onward. 

You lurched to the side, slamming a hand on to the doorframe to steady yourself. The voices sang through your blood, picking at your fraying ends like the burnt off end of a cord. If you weren’t careful, you were going to be sick. 

He called out to you again, and despite your better judgment, you stopped and listened. 

“…please. Stay.” 

A flood of shame and guilt gripped at your already aching chest. There were no words that could fix this. 

“Go back to sleep. Don’t follow me, Revali.” 

The breeze which whispered from the doorway felt somewhat colder. You stood and listened, waiting for him to protest. To fight you. And you were ready to argue back through any means possible. 

But ultimately, in the stillness of his home, there came no reply. 

Good, you thought. Yet you remained standing at the door, stupidly hoping to hear something from him, anything. 

Just as you thought you saw the movement of blankets—Go. The voices commanded. 

And so you complied. The dim wooden ceiling of the hut became the infinite yawning expanse of the night sky. Finally outside, you clutched at your chest as if in deep pain, clouds of air leaving your lips as you tried and failed to breathe. But there was no time to mourn anything. Above you, the stars acted as silent witnesses, watching as you turned away from Revali’s home, listening to the voices and running into the night. 

The cold of the outside slammed into you full force, chilling you to the bone. It had begun to snow and even with your heavy coat you knew it would be an abysmal and chilly ride. 

Eimhin complained as you spurred her forward. You didn’t know where you were going, letting the chorus of voices lead you, becoming so loud that it rivaled even the howling of the Tabantha winds. 

Sun up, then sundown. You did not sleep. You did not eat. A supernatural force seemed to keep Eimhin going as well. Though you knew such things were unsustainable—the need to arrive at this unknown location eclipsed everything else. 

Finally, a building of darkened stone drew closer. It sat upon a hill, with the early dawn shining behind it like a beacon. Stained glass windows decorated every level like jewels on a crown. The heavy doors were wide open, with the combined smell of incense and burning candles wafting out into the open air and making your eyes water. 

The pain in your head grew worse. Not even the breathing exercise could temper it. 

With shaking legs you stepped off your horse. You made a break for the church’s spire entrance, climbing the steps by two at a time. 

At the top of the stairwell you stopped to catch your breath, shoulders heaving as the adrenaline from the past few days began to drain. The headache remained, days of enduring and finally it was lessened to a dull beating. You realised that you were afflicted by a fever as well, the violent sweats and shakes threatening to fold your legs from underneath you. 

Approaching an open window, you knelt beside it, resting your head on the ledge. A beautiful view of Hyrule Castle gleamed from the outside but you were too damn tired to enjoy any of it. 

Sleep. The voices urged you. 

“Now that,” you said to the empty tower. “I can do.” 

.

.

.

Planets and stars spun above you. The ceiling was but a vast, never ending canvas that stretched beyond your comprehension into the depths of gloom where dark blue faded into black. 

“—this is wholly inappropriate and a breach of the terms of our experiment. It is not within your rights to interfere.” 

“Be silent. Sibling. You gamble with time.” 

“I created time.” 

As the two goddesses argued, a warm breeze combed the hair away from your face, creating little waves in the water surrounding your supine body. 

‘Stand up, little sprout!’ Though no voice was heard, you could understand the command well enough. Your nose was filled with the smell of honey and jasmine, and like strings around a maypole untwirling, you felt the tension in your muscles be forcibly plucked up and released. 

You stood up, shivering and slightly disturbed. 

“Take me back,” you said. 

Though you could not see them, you felt all three godly presences suddenly turn to you. It took a lot of strength not to cringe under the weight of their collective judgment. Annoying as it was, you were practically a flea dancing under a magnifying glass, the concentrated point of holy light threatening to burn you into a crisp. 

“Behold. What your coddling has achieved. Sibling.” 

“I don’t appreciate your tone. You pulled them away once things were finally becoming interesting. It was their best run yet and you had to stick your meaty mittens into the stew!” 

“A sharpened sword. Wasted.” 

The water underneath your feet rippled. You felt something wet land on your head. Little drops of rain fell from the literal heavens above, hitting the pseudo-sea in gentle pitter patters. It reminded you uncannily of the sweetened notes of laughter. 

“Excuse me. It’s rude to carry a conversation about someone who is right here. Take me back. Now.” You said again, trying to add as much venom as you could to your voice though your exhaustion was evident. The headache had disappeared as soon as you awoke in this in-between world, but if you were to spend any more time listening to these deities argue, you were sure it would rear its ugly head back to torment you. 

“Be still my petulant spark, the adults are talking.” 

“I see anger. Vexation.” That other voice said, seeming to finally pay attention to you. 

“Of course I am angry,” You said, crossing your arms and scowling at the sky. “Why did you bring me here? I deserve an explanation—”

“Acceptable.” Was all you received in reply. There was a sound of protest from the other godly being, before the ocean gave way and you found yourself falling into the abyss. 

.

.

.

X—

The skin of your knees tore as you landed hard on the muddy ground. You caught your breath, shaking away the vertigo of being wrenched from your previous surroundings so abruptly. There were sounds of metal clashing and shields being bashed. It was difficult to discern where you were, let alone hear your own thoughts as you were plunged into the din. 

Groaning, you placed a hand to your face, surprised to feel the familiar surface of standard issue military metal. Your helmet. 

Before you had left the barracks, Revali had made you abandon it, arguing that it would be an eye-sore at Rito Village. In hindsight you knew he just wanted to see your face better. That very fact he had revealed to you the previous night, much to your delight and annoyance. 

Your heart clenched painfully. 

Now is not the time!  

Bottom line, you were wearing it now. And it was dented and wet, a line of liquid sliding down the side of it. You swiped a hand over the area, pulling back and realizing that the pads of your fingers were stained with the frank redness of fresh blood. 

A sword swung above you, and by instinct you heaved the Greatsword in your hands, blocking the blow easily. You kicked at your assailant’s knee, feeling the crack of bone under your boot as they went down. 

There was a whistling sound coming from behind your shoulder. You had a second to turn. The dagger sliced a line over the gap in your armor, barely missing your jugular. Pressing a hand to your neck, you felt the cut begin to bleed, dripping down to the collar of your tunic. 

Another whistling noise, another dagger cut through the air. Your heavy sword was lifted a moment too late as the sharp metal knocked back forcefully against your chest plate, staggering you backwards. 

The attacker was upon you immediately, light on their feet and quick with their daggers which were so fast they appeared as if from thin air. Digging your boots into the muddy ground, you held yourself like a strong pillar. You had fought quick opponents before, with the memory of graceful feathers followed by a volley of arrows coming to you unbidden. 

You exhaled a grunt of pain when a dagger cut through your side, followed by a swift kick to the injury. It would be easy to wince and double over, but the fire within you kept your eyes open. Your fist tightened over the handle of the Greatsword, and you saw it, there. A flash of white, and you feint as if to swing at them. 

They dodged to the side accordingly. You let one hand drop from the handle, using it to grab onto the enemy’s white hair. There is a burning feeling in your mind, as if something out there could read your thoughts. Whatever it was, they were pleased. 

Their cry of pain is lost in the chaos around you. The world you were pulled into had given in to bedlam as you slammed them into the ground. 

Before their head was severed, you saw their red eyes stare back at you. There was no fear. Only a blank acceptance of defeat. And in the reflection of the sword in your hands as you brought it down, you realized your eyes held the same emotion. 

“Power. It befits you.”

“A most cliche line, if I ever heard one.” You griped. Another enemy of similar appearance came running to you, enraged at the sight of their fallen comrade. You let the daggers glance over your arm, ignoring the stinging cut so as to allow yourself an opening to slip your sword between their ribcage. 

You could hear Revali chastising you for such a reckless maneuver. Survival isn’t as estranged from winning as you think, Stranger. 

The earth rumbled beneath your feet, and turning around you were given a split second to blink before you and many other soldiers from both sides were being flung through the air. The ground practically explodes as blood, muck and mud is flung. 

Landing hard on your side, you feel the muscles in your shoulder pull. Your hand was still wrapped around the hilt of your heavy sword. Clutching it in a death grip, you forced yourself to your feet, shielding your eyes from the debris which was kicked up, trying to peer at the giant thing in the distance. 

“Not all songs are sung. Some. Forgotten.” 

For a moment there is silence. The royal soldiers stand like fresh game, frozen by the sound which reminded you of all those terrible stories. Of prisoners being burned to death in the hollow of a bronze casket. Their screams reverberating; mingling into the metal. 

Terror lanced through your heart when the dust cleared, revealing a giant metal animal on four legs. The sky crackled in brilliant white. Lightning. 

“Shame. Perish they did. Quietly. In glorious battle.” 

Someone knocked into your back, and you yelled out in anger and frustration. As your swords met, lightning flashed once more, revealing the tattooed eye on her unwrinkled forehead. The woman opened her mouth and said something to you in a language you had never heard before as she parried your strikes with her longblade. The sword swung through the air, leaving trails of blue light like the tail of a falling star. “Where the fuck am I?” You swore back. 

“The King ordered them. Buried. Their treasures and children.” 

The beast roared again, lightning striking the earth a short distance away. The ground was dug up again as horses, soldiers and limbs sailed through the air. You looked on in horror before you focused on the woman in front of you again. Her mouth was covered by a dark cloth. Her frame was smaller than yours, but you could see the precision in her stance, the fearlessness in the way she struck against you. 

“The Sheikah. Proud. A stone yields not willingly.” 

The beast roared again. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing. The air felt almost electric. There was warmth again, singing through your skin and providing you with inhuman strength as you wielded your Greatsword, cutting down the woman, then the next Sheikah beside you. 

“I can. Immortalize you. In fire. Blood.” 

The battle continued for what felt like hours. Yet you showed no signs of tiring. Your mind was slowly losing itself to the haze of this neverending skirmish. 

“Good. I understand your plaything now. Sibling.”

“Stop this at once, Din! Look at what you’ve done! Another year of this nonsense and their feeble mind will become mush!”

“Never. Relinquish them. To me.” 

Water began to fall from the sky, hitting the dry and cracking earth. It washed the blood from your skin, drenching your hair and wetting your parched lips. You had forgotten what it was like to feel thirsty. To hunger. To yearn for sleep. 

While the two voices clashed, a soft breeze was felt against your skin, like cold fingers brushing against your back. Such gentleness felt foreign, and immediately you spun around to retaliate. With eyes wide and teeth bared, you lifted your Greatsword against your assailant. 

It confused you to find that no one was there. 

The breeze swept past your cheek, making you shiver.

‘I can help you, little sprout!’

‘Simply, turn the sword against you.’

‘Quickly now! Before the other two notice.’ 

‘There we go, like pulling a splinter. One, two, three—’ 

You could feel yourself bleeding against it. Blood spurted from the wound with each squeeze of your heart. You heard your knees hit the ground as the world began to spin. A darkness was bordering your vision, creating a tunnel which gradually began to narrow. 

Looking down, you saw yourself reflected in the sword. The reflection blinked, though your own eyes remained open. Its mouth curled, whilst yours remained in a tight line. It opened its mouth, cheeks stretching and baring teeth like it had read what a smile was but had never seen a human execute it.

And in your mind, you heard them. Speaking through your own voice. 

“Let us leave this dour spot for greener pastures…”

.

.

.

X—

There is no sudden collapse of ground beneath you, no starlight which steals you away. Instead you blink, and that was that. Black void, without even a shadow. Darkness and solemn quiet. 

Exhaling, the echoing sound of your breath brought a semblance of comfort. It confirmed that this wasn’t some crushing box but at the very least a vast cavern. You held your hands out, unable to judge the distance in front of you let alone where you were. 

You stamped your feet and felt the dirt shift underneath your shoe. Curious, you thought to yourself. Bending down, you brushed what felt like the cool touch of several leaves, dew dripping from the ends of them. Tugging on a few blades easily yielded a bunch which fell from the gaps between your fingers. Grass. 

“Ack!” The bones of your spine straightened, making you stand to attention like a soldier. Your mouth opened without you meaning to, words falling from your lips. 

“Step forward. You can walk and sprint, jump even! Let all your fears melt away, little sprout.” You said, your voice sounding stiff and monotone, odd inflections being added at the end of your sentences. 

Tendons pulled like puppet strings, moving your legs forward in an unnatural gait. The darkness continued as you were forced to move deeper into this space. Several times your arms had bumped roughly into a broken column, or you had stubbed a toe against a pillar. But though it ached your body continued to move forward, refusing to acknowledge the pain. 

Then, you were deposited in front of a rock. Shaking hands were forced to feel around it, with your palm falling down the smooth downward slope of a curled wing, the other grasping on to the point of a beak. It was a statue of a bird. 

A crackling noise resounded, and the air stung as if electrified. Then, there was light. 

There was the roar of the wind, then the statue, a torch holder, erupted into flames before your eyes. A ring of similar bonfires came alive in a wide arc, eventually joining until they made a circle. 

There in the middle was a dense fog. Within it played a scene, like a twisted tableau. 

The world spun, a cyclone of memories. You were in the hammock again. The festivities of the village outside drifted like sweet music, a cold breeze rustling the tapestry coverings of the windows. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” 

Turning in the mess of patterned sheets, you buried your face further into the crook of his neck, the smell of pine and violets making you smile. “Handsome, lovely, and now beautiful? Are you still dreaming or do you really say this to every stranger you meet?”

Curling a wing around your waist, he sleepily pulled you closer. “Just stating facts. While I’m at it let’s add exasperating to that list,” he sighed. “And you’re far from a stranger now.” 

Lifting your head, you found that both his green eyes were open and looking at you. You grinned, watching his whole face soften as he smiled back. “Exasperating? That sounds more like it. I’m surprisingly good at that.” 

His eyes slipped closed as you moved to place a quick kiss on his beak, blue feathers shuddering when you sank deeper into his embrace. “Well then, you’re my moon and stars, Revali. Every constellation in the sky pales in comparison.”

“This isn’t a competition.”

“I know,” your hands found his wing under the covers, fingers moving to entwine with his own, holding tight. Resting your head against his chest, you could hear his heartbeat under your ear, thrumming and alive. ”But if it was, I'd have already won.” 

Please, stay. 

You kept your eyes shut, trying to focus on the steady inhale and exhale of his lungs. Listening closely, it sounded more labored, as if he was choking. 

Go back to sleep. 

A sticky substance spilled down your cheek, swiping a finger, you inspected it in the lamplight to be red and thick. Blood. 

Don’t follow me, Revali. 

Any attempts to lift your head were futile, blood began to pool into your lips, tasting like copper. 

You would have been long gone by now. 

You were trapped as the warm body underneath you began to grow cold. His chest stilled, heartbeat drumming slow until to your horror, it stopped completely. 

So be it. 

The air shifted again, and you found yourself suddenly able to lift your head, a sickly ribbon of thick red following you. Lifting your hands proved to be difficult, and as you struggled to stand, you found yourself slipping in a puddle of congealed fat and bone. 

The moblin stood before you, Aryll in its grasp. Rot, decay and death; that trio of horrid stench was more familiar to you than ever, and it reeked of it. 

You’re late. 

You were held by invisible chains to the ground, covered in gore. Seeing the terror in Aryll’s eyes made you fight desperately against your restraints, even as your arm began to pull from its socket. 

Don’t go. 

“This can’t be right. It never went like this!” The words were said helplessly as Aryll called out to you, her cries unintelligible as they mixed with her gasping need to breathe. 

I won’t get hurt.  

You began to sob at the sound of her bones snapping. Her diaphragm crushed to dust like the wings of a little bird. 

Plenty to last me a lifetime. 

The cyclone receded and took the fog along with it. In its absence, the dark forest was clear to you once more. Ancient statues alight like funeral pyres, circling a dark mass at its center. 

If your body was your own, you would have jumped back in surprise. Every nerve screamed to do so as the hulking form of that thing, revealed itself in the light of the fires. 

Divine Beast. 

This was the first time you’d seen it confined to the earth. Its fuschia glowing eyes were dimmed. Yet, even though it was grounded, your heart quivered in fear at the mere sight of the leviathan. 

Then, you saw someone familiar, cowering before it. Their clothes were plain, a basic winter coat to ward away the elements, barely keeping their weak form warm. Around them, star charts littered the floor. 

The glowing eyes flashed, coming alive. 

Why are they standing still? You thought in a panic. 

The air began to sizzle in an all too familiar way. Your eyes refused to blink as the person stood there, frozen dumb. 

The puppet strings were released. 

The muscles in your shoulders suddenly dropped, and you leaned to the side as you greedily inhaled a gulp of air. “Holy hell.” You gasped, your voice your own again. Immediately you dragged your feet forward, pushing past the static numbness and using all your strength to propel you forward. 

Your boots crunched against the precious scrolls and maps, adorned lovingly with constellations and measurements that you once spent hours committing to memory.

The empty sound before the blast stole your breath as you barreled into your past self, grabbing them and rolling away just as the beam eviscerated the grass where you both once stood. 

Grabbing their shoulders, you roughly slammed them into the ground. “Are you stupid!” You yelled into their face. Your words came back to you in that same instant, repeated like a twisted echo.

Their eyes were wide as they looked up at you, the fires reflected in them. Utterly terrified, their mouth moved in a mirror to yours. 

“You just stood there! Fucking coward! It took her! He—he’s going to die.”  “You just stood there! Fucking coward! It took her! He—he’s going to die.” 

“And it’s all your goddesses-damned fault.”  “And it’s all your goddesses-damned fault.” 

You sent a fist at your own self, wanting to cave in the face that you wore in another time. It wasn’t fair, how they lived life so blissfully, how they took everything for granted, how they existed without having known anything. 

But as your knuckles connected with skin, you felt no satisfaction from the act. 

Tears began to build in your eyes as you stood up, hastily wiping them from your cheeks. The past version of you did the same to their own, their gaze still trained on you in fear as their face began to bruise. 

Stumbling away, you fell backwards into the grass. The ruins around you burned and the heat began to singe your skin as a warm breeze, like oven fire, fanned the flames. 

Your past self sat up, massaging their jaw and stared at you unblinking. Bloodshot and beady-eyed, like a doll. Their hands stiffly pulled at their burning skin in unnatural angles, almost like they wished to rip the charred layer off completely. 

Then. Without your own mouth moving, they spoke in a voice that wasn’t yours. 

“And what, little sprout, have we learnt?” 

Your mouth tasted like rust. “Just send me to hell! What are you waiting for?” 

“Always choosing the option to run, to cower and hide.” They lifted their arms as the skin there began to flake and blacken, revealing bone. “You care for no one but yourself.” 

“That’s not—I cared for them. I loved—

“You abandoned them. Need I remind you of all the times you chose death over facing the full round.” The smog made by the fires partially obscured their grinning smile. You didn’t even know your own lips could peel that far. “However, I am benevolent.” 

They reached into their coat, pulling out the blue feather which had followed you through all these lives. “I can end this for you. Grant what my sibling cannot. I’ll take it all away.” 

Your eyes never left that feather, watching as it delicately waved in the oppressive heat, embers so close to singeing it. “Give that back.” 

Gleefully, they crushed it into their hand. “Let it burn with me. And I will restore you to your time. Your star charts, your neighbors farm, your sanity. Like all this had never happened. Is that not what you want?” 

Clenching your fist, you felt the deep ache of every scar that was carved into you. Every night spent without peace, with the anxiety of living wrapped tightly around your neck like a noose. 

The sins which plagued you until you walked this world in a haze of your former self. Aryll’s pain. Revali’s death. The knowledge of these events occurring. This goddess could take that all away. 

Yet, your eyes never left that feather. It’s familiar blue stubbornly showing itself in the cracks of their melting hand. 

“You know what I want?” 

The broken mirror tilted their head, an eye sliding to the side as if no longer sitting correctly in their skull. “Hm?” 

“I want you,” shakily standing up, you made your way towards them. “And your siblings,” with arms trembling in anger, you embraced their burning form, prying the feather from their fists. “To fuck off.” 

The goddess laughed in the prison of your arms, their voice sounding the closest to a human than it ever had in this entire twisted exchange. The flames climbed on to your clothes, excruciating. But it did not matter, you have burned before. 

“Noted, little sprout.” 

.

.

.

X—

The grain of the kitchen table swirled and dipped underneath the pads of your fingers. You focused on the indentations, tracing the marks until you found the chip. Aryll had hit her head there, playing tag with her older brother. It was almost a perfect copy. 

“Take a seat,” a woman said, her golden hair in a braided bun. “Tea will be ready soon.” She wore Medilia’s armor, the crest of the Royal Guard displayed proudly on her back. 

“And which one are you?” Sliding the chair out, you roughly deposited yourself on your side of the table. You noticed it was the place where you always sat whenever you were invited to dinner. “Is this house going to catch fire too? Because you might want to spare me the pyrotechnics. I’ve already seen that happen.” 

The woman shook her head ruefully, her face still obscured as she set down two cups of tea. It was Medilia’s favorite set too, the one her husband had gifted her after their quiet son was recruited to serve the King. 

You took a sip. “Who are you?” 

“A bystander to history,” she said, folding her delicate hands. The accent was regal, not unlike a voice you remembered from other lives ago, panicking over your broken form in the grass. “But that is irrelevant. I am here to grant you guidance”. 

“I’ve had enough of higher powers telling me what to do.” 

The woman’s shoulders shook in quiet laughter. “Apologies.” She said, “you just reminded me of someone.” It was then that she lifted her head, revealing a plain face. Pretty, but fairly unremarkable. “I want to help you.” 

Your hands tightened around the cup, close enough to shatter it if you weren’t careful. “Then tell me how I can save them.”

“The world will end, that is already known. But take comfort in the knowledge that it will be reborn in a hundred years.” 

“Lady, it has been a long day. Day? Year. Hylia’s third toe, I don’t know anymore.” The woman’s head tilted in amusement as you swore. “If you’re going to tell me to give up, then I’m going to stop listening right about now.” 

“You still think you can save him.” 

“I will.” Slamming your hand made the old table shudder, the cups rattling on their saucers. “I swear it. I swear myself to it. Now are we done here?” 

“Mortals always fail to focus on the bigger tapestry.” She sighed, her golden hair shimmering in the afternoon light. Past the windows behind her, the fields leading to Castle Town waved, green and healthy in the late summer sun. “Much sorrow and pain will come to pass, but is it not enough that all this sacrifice will be paid back more than a hundred times in the future?"  

“Excuse my mortal sentiments, but I don’t hold individual souls in such little regard.” 

She raised a brow. “And what of your own?” 

You frowned. "Touché. But I’m…working on it.” 

Taking a sip of her tea, she smiled as if in memory. “I haven’t had an informal conversation like this in a while. I must say, it’s quite refreshing.” 

You shook your head. “That’s great and all, but can we please get back to the point. Return me to the start. I have a lot of explaining to do for someone.” Draining your cup, you saw the Silent Princess at the bottom, its blue core and white lined petals in full bloom. “I can’t do this alone anymore.” 

The woman beamed, and her serene smile reminded you of the statues hidden in quiet alcoves, decorated in offerings and warmed by lit incense. 

Before you could connect the dots, she stood from the table, taking the pot from the stove and refilled your cup. “That’s wonderful to hear.” She said in relief, sounding like a mother proud that her child had added one and one to get two. “Such revelations should be rewarded.” 

“What.”

“Drink that please. Waste not a single drop.” At the sudden intensity in her order, you did as you were told. 

You set the empty cup on the table. Looking at your hands, you flexed them to see that nothing happened.  

“Okay, let’s cut the crap Hylia. What is my purpose in all thi—

.

.

.

X—

Starlight stole you away. 

[vexicwrites]

factum fieri infectum non potest

Warnings: none

"You never loved me."

Hartley's voice was quieter than it had been but no less harsh as he glared at the older man through the glass. He knew it was well after hours - that was the only time Harrison bothered to come speak to him, when he could shut off the security cameras and talk openly without worrying about his team hearing their conversations. So Hartley didn't feel it necessary to hide his emotions either. The man had seen him naked, after all, it was hard to get more vulnerable.

"No. I didn't."

Hartley had expected some more bullshit lies about how he had loved Hartley, would always love Hartley, or something similar. The blunt statement hit him like a physical punch and he looked away, fighting the lump that formed in his throat. He'd cried enough over this man, he definitely didn't want to cry in front of him. He let out a forced, miserable, pained laugh.

"So, what, I was just...just stress relief? An easy fuck?"

"Yes."

Hartley felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. God, it hurt. The rejection, the cruel dismissal, it hurt so damn much. He knew it was true, but he'd still thought…he'd thought maybe there had been something real between them. That Harrison cared about him, even just a little. But of course that was too much to ask for, far too much to hope for.

"Hartley." God, that condescending tone was grating. "Does that really upset you? You knew it wasn't anything more. I cared about you, as one of my best employees. You were my guy. Not my partner."

"Who's your 'guy' now? Ramon?" Hartley spat, trying to override the overwhelming grief with venom and anger. It didn't quite work, his voice shook and his hands were trembling, but at least the tears stayed back.

Harrison removed his glasses, completely unbothered. "I'm not sure what you want me to say. I got what I needed and now we're done."

Another knife straight to the heart, Hartley wasn't sure how much more he could take. But he managed to not crumble right then and there, breathing through the pain.

"Does your pet Flash know this side of you?" Hartley sneered, his tone bitter. "How long until he figures out who you really are now that he knows I warned you about the accelerator?"

Harrison's face hardened a bit, the first sign of real emotion he'd seen from the man...maybe ever. But the flicker of emotion was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit. I made a horrible mistake but Barry will see that it was just that - a mistake."

Hartley tsked. "Factum fieri infectum non potest."

"Indeed." Harrison replied, turning away from him. "Goodnight, Hartley."

The moment the door to the pipeline closed, Hartley fell back against the wall of his cell and slumped to the ground, feeling broken and empty as he choked on a sob. Harrison Wells had taken everything from him - his future, his career, his heart - and for what? Nothing. Harrison had given him nothing. He was nothing to Harrison.

-----

translation:

Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit. No man is wise at all times.

Factum fieri infectum non potest. It is impossible for a deed to be undone.

[elderwisp]

The Sims is love. List 5 facts about a favorite sim couple of yours, and why you love them so much. Then pass this on to 5 others, whose sim couple(s) you also love. 💘💕

HIHI thank u for this ask! AHHH this is such a difficult question because i’ll get in these sappy/supportive moods whenever i’m working on certain couple arcs! there are even some that are top secret that are truly some favorites GAHHH. this is how i feel like, genuinely:

i do feel like lately, i hyperfixate on atlas’s relationships. one reason is i’m like in the trenches writing-wise where i’m finalizing some things. then the other is it’s one of those interesting dynamics between either parties that feel complicated but also being able to dissect it and go wow, love is truly versatile! both feel valid in their own ways and were the thing that maybe atlas might’ve needed in the moment. i really don’t have a favorite between the two because they’re both so idk, fulfilling to me. i think it would be neat to go over the relationship between atlas/taryn and atlas/rowan ft a wip pic:

𓆩♡𓆪 Atlas met Rowan in a very transitional phase of his life. There was a lot of uncertainty surrounding Atlas's future and it was truly a time where being a pushover was not working in his favor nor authentic towards any of his needs. Rowan has a knack for identifying someone in pain and gravitates towards it. Where Dan believes Rowan tried to take advantage of Atlas's insecurities, Rowan more so wanted to bring out those deeply rooted thoughts to the surface because why hide who you are? There's power in pain.

𓆩♡𓆪 Part of why I believe Taryn and Atlas's relationship would not be viable as of right now is Atlas is still really picking up the pieces of his tumultuous relationship with Rowan. I feel like break ups can go through the similar motions of grief just on a different scale. There's a lot of bouncing back and forth between anger and sadness, so couple that with his coping method creates a lot of chaos. There's a deeply rooted sentiment in Atlas that there is no way in hell he deserves a relationship with Taryn.

𓆩♡𓆪 Rowan sees a lot of himself in Atlas. The both struggle to really connect with their parents and dislike the concept of control. A desire for independence. They're artists and have an appreciation in self-indulgence. However, there is one huge difference and that's confidence. Atlas is much more insecure than he let's on and that causes a huge rift between the two.

𓆩♡𓆪 The other part would be Taryn's current state. I will start off with Atlas has been a huge influence on not only setting boundaries with people but also encouraging her to share her work, growth doesn't come at an incline but almost a jagged, bumpy mountain. (💀) All that encouragement to be vulnerable (the book, trying to open up her heart to atlas, the mf kids at the library) to be met with constant rejection is pushing her back into this almost hardened demeanor. It takes a lot of courage to open up and unfortunately she's reached her limit to do so.

𓆩♡𓆪 Rowan has always known that commitment to one person can feel incredibly constricting for someone who, well, likes to indulge. So while he absolutely adores Atlas, there's some conflict that arises in the notion of an open relationship. Atlas really struggles to grasp that idea (well less of an idea and more of this is reality baybeee) and it triggers those deeply rooted feelings of inadequacy.

𓆩♡𓆪 I will say Atlas and Taryn do take the longest to get together but it is really one of those scenes that makes me emotional. Seeing how they progress until that moment feels like two terrified people finally finding some solid ground in a world that is always shifting. It feels like the one thing that finally makes sense and Taryn, my god, she can be quite the romantic with her words and gestures.

[silverloreley]

I kind of want to read, kind of want to write...

A story about an immortal falling in love not with a teenager (we have enough of these) or a beautiful young woman, but with a mature woman or one who was never pretty in her life. A story in which he doesn't look young either (who said only youth is attractive?) and young women don't seem that good to him because they lack that light of life experience.

Maybe a story about a vampire who was turned while in his late forties pushing fifty who falls for the mid-fifties housewife with a terribly abusive husband she can't get away from and whose children are already gone from home and won't help her (they're too far, she was good at hiding until they left and it's easier now that they can't see, she's happy she saved them...), but a vampire is already damned, what's some adultery and murder to him? Or charming his way through the scum's workplace to find the right evidence of tax fraud so the shit can go to prison and she can file a quick divorce, the vamp doesn't mind...

Or a story about a deity who is tired of the world and meets this elderly woman who addresses them with kindness and reminds them the world has its ups and downs but love is everywhere, she knew it when her husband was alive and she knows it now, so the deity falls for her so hard and the pain of knowing their time can finish any minute rekindles their own love for the world. (and maybe they'll do their damn best to try to turn her immortal, she'd be one great goddess of wisdom, if only she wanted to...)

Perhaps a story about a demon who trades in souls and meets this short mafia boss lady who's so smart and cunning she managed to stay afloat in the underground for forty-something years after her father's death (no one dares to say her real age) and she's hardened and the demon thought it'd be easy to make her handle that tired soul that lost so much in all those little wars but no, she's willful and the way she smiles, crow's feet becoming so deep they look like war marks, makes the demon want to give his nonexistent soul to her instead.

What about a fairy former king (he long left his place to his son, he ruled far too long and it was time to step down) who doesn't bother to look young (who cares at that point?). He meets this spinster who brews the best beer ever and they say she's a witch, but it's just that her knowledge of plants rivals that of the fairy king himself, so he keeps challenging her, and the more she wins the more he thinks the marks of age and the ill-placed curves of her body and all the other things that make humans think she's ugly are instead the most wonderful things ever, that he found a treasure, but she's too wary and wise to fall for his promises, no matter how genuine they are, until...

Or even about a woman who was never told she was beautiful or even pretty, who felt out of place and undervalued her whole life long and maybe mistaken for one of her brothers from time to time, goes fishing alone one day and accidentally catches a merman (she's bulky and strong enough to hoist him up alone). The merman had seen women like her, with skin baked by the sun and scars from scuffles, often on pirate ships. Still, none had that kindness and frankness in her, so when she sets him free he's so fascinated he follows her home, and every time she goes out at sea he approaches her and tells her stories she never heard of and listens, really listens to her. He wishes so hard he could convince her to follow him down the sea without her thinking he's trying to drown her and even more so that she believes when he says he thinks she's the most incredible person he's ever met.

And if there was a story about a lawyer, who is tired because she fought all her life for everyone but herself (her career was her only pride), and she lost sight of a world beyond law books and grey buildings. Somehow, on her first vacation in far too long, she meets this forest spirit, old as balls, who looks like a tired grandpa who is ill because of pollution. She vows to save his forest from the industrial nightmare up the valley and while they work on it he falls for her so hard and yeah, she for him too, but his appearance depends on the health of the forest itself so he gets more and more handsome while she gets older and more tired and insecure until she doesn't go back in the forest anymore. But the fact she saved it granted her a wish she didn't collect so the spirit cashes it for her and shares his life with her. And maybe she's upset because he got handsome but she stays as normal as she ever was even if the wish makes her seem healthier, but the spirit finds her so perfect she learns to love herself at last.

Just... stories like these. Where do I find them?

[futurefind]

//A concept I both rlly love + epitomize how very much I run off of, like, passion? Attention?? Interaction??? being able to turn an inch into a mile inspo wise: when my friends had an urban fantasy spn group for like a month and this is what I went with for Sa's SpnTM stuff :3<

Ice puppy sa beloved

The Kerberos, or Cerberus, date back to antiquity with the guardian of the Grecian Underworld. Kerberi have long served as minor psychopomps due to the intersection of their chthonic and protective natures, helping restless ghosts pass on and protecting the slumber of those that already have.

Regardless of how they choose to wield (or not wield) their powers, Kerberi have a heightened attunement to the spiritual. They’re most aware of ghosts (that is, once-living beings that have passed on to noncorporeal forms), in particularly, followed by spirits (living entities who have always been noncorporeal), with elementals and then magical energies being those they have the least-heightened awareness of. They also have increased physical senses, though the exacts vary depending on the type of Kerberos.

While ancient records can only agree upon the Kerberos being multi-headed and having been defeated by Heracles for his Trials, its descendants have catalyzed into two primary variants: lupine and serpentine. Shared physical traits include: a hardy constitution and endurance; slit pupils; often (but not always) yellow-to-gold irises when channeling their powers; sharpened teeth.

The only cited ‘magical’ traits of Kerberos in myth are eyes of fire and a nebulous ability to spew the poison aconitine (namely, the growing of wolfsbane). Kerberi, thus, have a nebulous affinity for fire, and either a resistance to poisons or an extreme weakness to wolfsbane.

Kerberi are a ‘schrodinger’ existence, being neither physical nor noncorporeal. Instead it is a state rooted in the ‘soul’, completely variable from person to person, with mixed blood in the traditional sense being impossible for them: They may reproduce freely, and all their descendants will technically be Kerberi, but even a child born to two powerful Kerberi is not guaranteed to display strong Kerberi traits. One may have limited physical traits, another unable to hide theirs at all, and so on.

Overall, Kerberi’s ‘active’ powers are rooted in elemental energies, ranging from the classical elements (Western or Eastern) to ones such as light or time or even vitae itself. This goes hand in hand with the standard of ‘fire’, but ‘monoelement’ Kerberi— whether they wield only fire or are unable to use it at all— have exponentially more powerful and volatile, dangerous powers. Often, their elemental powers effect one’s appearance and are always effected by their emotions.

Kerberi are social but territorial creatures. They thrive in consistent group environments, and suffer in solitude, with inclinations towards protectiveness— both towards their peers and loved ones, and the areas in which they reside. If two Kerberi intersect in ‘territory’ this can lead to conflict: not because they cannot coexist, but because each feels the need to be both ‘the’ guardian/protector, including of the other Kerberus, while refusing to be the ‘protectee’ in any manner themselves.

For Sasume: Large, sleek-fluffy canid ears and tail (replaceable with human equivalents/lack of) and, when channeling her abilities, typical gold eyes (and slit pupils) alongside further-sharpened and hardened teeth and nails. Wounds & skin irritations, small scars & scar edges have a propensity towards sharp angles and paleness, like fractured ice, while larger ones’ internal discolorations are patterned like ice fractals. Moreover, actively channeling her elemental powers leads to creeping patterns of frost along her skin. 

Powers wise: Sasume wields the relatively common abilities to actively enhance her physicality (stamina, strength, pain-resistance, hardiness), including a less-common amplification of healing rate. She also has the ability to generate and/or control water, preferring to wield it in the form of ice, to a powerful degree. As it runs counter to the Kerberi standard of fire, she has difficulty using any sort of flame manipulation, but retains an immunity to mundane flames. When angered or on edge or the like, her immediate vicinity will chill, and the worse it is the broader and colder the reach. Caution is advised, as she’s not immune to the cold. Though, her own powers are only high risk to herself if their induced ‘chill’ becomes internalized. 

In the day to day: Sasume is reserved, and literally buttoned up due to her aversion to anyone seeing the physical signs of her abilities. Outside of this, she keeps an ear out for ghostly unrest, and can get distracted by spiritual activity if there’s no appointments/set times she needs to meet.

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my mind while watching this episode:

--Sawashiro Miyuki, my gosh, one of my favorite vocal performances in this whole series. That sinister way she taunts Tanjiro, and how well it fits that haughty pose when she's perching in the window (erm, new window). It's one of those moments that makes me lose my mind. I'm going to be in so much pain when I hear her final crying scene in the surround sound of a movie theater.

--Speaking of favorites, this encounter she and Tanjiro have in the air is one of my favorite Water Breath sequences, because animation-wise, it's masterful. Every action has sense and flow, for being airborne the gravity has fantasy realism, the shifting of angles is impressive but fluid enough not to be distracting, you can see Daki & Tanjiro both adjusting to each other's actions, and there's a serenity to both of them. Daki is toying with a mouse, but Tanjiro has come so far in his battle experience since, say, his airborne fight with Yahaba, and it shows. He doesn't display confidence, per-say, but realistic understanding and use of his abilities. It's just such a beautiful sequence.

--Timing and delivery-wise, that moment when Koinatsu's like, "oh, yeah, I mean, I knew you were a boy. …duh" and Tanjiro is more surprised by this than anything else in this whole episode. He and Koinatsu really did have a sweet relationship very unlike anything else in the series, it's like if Tanjiro had grown up having a young aunt he was close to. It's mutually tender in spite of an understanding of an enormous gulf between them in the different worlds they're part of. And that smile when she tells him she doesn't want anything to happen to him, it's so nice when Tanjiro gets to enjoy that simple concern others have for him, absent of any expectations of his swordsmanship.

--Speaking of relations, OHHHH, THIS EPISODE GETS ME IN THE KAMABOKO FEELS. Like, it is legit hilarious that Tanjiro & Inosuke are told by a Pillar than he has assumed Zenitsu dead, and they're like, "…so anyway, look what our hands do" and then after I was thinking about that the other day I saw this fanart from @solqau which captures the humor of the situation perfectly. But like, it's striking how they both have THAT MUCH faith in Zenitsu to not be dead. At least in Tanjiro's case, he has known since the very first instant he smelled Zenitsu just how powerful he is, and in Inosuke's case, it may be that he assumes Zenitsu has found a way to run away, or he just doesn't even mentally engage with the idea of Zenitsu having been harmed. And then, constanting with Tanjiro absolute faith in Zenitsu being fine, this is the second time in the series when Tanjiro specifically tells Inosuke, "don't die." Inosuke, for being so brash and not always having an accurate assessment of his own abilities and the danger he's in, causes Tanjiro so much more worry. And Inosuke said he was going to say the same thing to Tanjiro--Inosuke has seen Tanjiro in peril, they went through the loss of Rengoku together, it just simply bothers Inosuke more than Tanjiro is mortal too.

--Setting those layers aside entirely, this scene of them just sitting around in kimono and makeup and chatting on the roof in the sunshine is so cute. Inosuke using body language to try to get Kentaro to understand the demon he's already found and Tantaro just not getting it! That animation of Inoko thwacking Sumiko belongs in the background of a Taiko drum arcade game, and another wallpaper I want for my computer is their chibis way at the bottom of the screen with a vast blue sky behind them. GENKI DASE!! thwack

--And then Uzui… the way he just shuts off the flamboyance valve when the sense of responsibility and recognition of a poor decision floods in. He really feels that much regret for Zenitsu's presumed death, and this is also the moment when he is accepting that, as Inosuke so plainly pointed out a couple days before, his wives are all probably dead. And, in true hardened ninja and Pillar style, he is grappling with that precisely as he is taking solo actions to put an end to the demon responsible.

--The muki-muki nezumiiiiiiiii!!!!! YAAASSSSS, I LOVE THEM!!!!!!! I got a plush I was very happy with at the Ufotable gallery, but I kind of wish I had gotten the t-shirt with the simple design of them, and Inosuke (with his head through the ceiling) on the back being impressed with them. I love that we got to see him and Uzui connecting over this excitement throughout the Taisho Secret, and that image of the muki muki mice standing against the moonlight like the Pillars are in the first opening is hilarious. MUKI!! MUKI, MUKI!!!

--Oh, this is so Inosuke to jump up and bash his head through the ceiling. His training is paying off!! Someday he truly may have a head as hard as Gonpachiro's!

[cryptidsncurios]

@calamitysshatteredson Continued from [ X ]

Despite what Kuja felt to be a somewhat peculiar hypothetical situation from his dearest Raven, he could not exactly pinpoint the mental source of such a proposition. For, though trapped deeply within the throes of his own (definitely not at all fabricated) woes, there seemed an… implied personal purpose hidden behind such verbiage from his companion---existing a veiled reason within this suggestion that seemed to arise from an emotional core, unknown to the mage.

Yet he would play along with this gently-offered---yet inexplicably-sourced---proposal, physically displaying a subtle, yet most-definitely unintendedly-seductive shift onto his side whilst reclined upon his plush divan---nonetheless obvious, despite his nonchalance. Showcasing the rustle of the sheer fabric folding delicately over his form in a delectable manner, he allowed a full-face position toward his conversational partner.

“Oh, how very devastating and destructive both disasters are," followed by the dramatic sort of pause present in the live shows that entertained his fancy. "And yet...” his jaw clenched, eyes purposefully hardened, “I must declare that I shall simply plant my feet and proudly offer a stance of the undefeatable---and I would not allow myself to be bothered, or to be troubled by neither such forces of cruel nature. For, as you should know by now, I have traversed so very much over my years, and weathered even the most hateful of infernos and whirlwinds---the deadliest floods and earthquakes---and thus, why should I give myself over to terror now?”

In truth, though… Kuja had, silently and...oh, the pain to say thus, shamefully, developed a dread for such metaphorical "catastrophes." Once upon a time, he had combatted such a figurative “hurricane”---and, perhaps, as his Raven had suggested, that “meteor”---and it had felled him at what he had considered his most powerful.

And oh… how such a disgustingly otherworldly power had torn him apart, and yet---upon a miraculous oversight of what he could only assume was "Death"---some strange force had released him from this Fate. Nonetheless, this event had defined his current existence, in a dreadful way. Left him, presently, horribly hesitant in his every action. Such indecision in moving forward had left him in an undecided fashion that suited his own personal road-forks: a tear between that still-innate desire for destruction---and, perhaps, something more… generous.

Blindly, he had been strong-armed to seek out one of those paths. What would properly, hopefully, wisely press him forward, to his still-uncertain future: that vague yet joyous sense of selfish autonomy, similar to what he had once sought before his destruction? Or the frightfully unfamiliar normalcy of humanity---an assumed existence of kindness and charity, of which he had never properly known?

Yet Kuja forced himself to snap from this distasteful reverie, attempting to move onward by, incredibly, shifting the subject from himself:

“And what of you?” and his tone was as even as he could attempt, due to his accursedly reflective situation. “This hurricane? This meteor? Whatever horror has befallen you? Would you survive it?”

And subconsciously… in a way he could not entirely express... Kuja would desire his survival to be so.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #26

I have a pair of very wise and very well-cultured friends who allow me the privilege of spending time in their company. They are brother and sister. When they go out to do fun stuff, sometimes they ask me to come along; it's wonderful when they do. They've been around for a very long time now, so I learn a lot whenever I spend time listening and talking with them. They are some of the finest people I've ever met.

We went to a concert today. It was a big chorus with a few accompanying instruments. The sound that they made was astoundingly beautiful. I wish you could have been there to hear it.

If more people sang to each other gently like this, instead of screaming and yelling and fighting, maybe we'd see a much more peaceful world. I wish that more people would sing. It doesn't matter if they're bad at it; the sound of many humans singing in unison is one of the most beautiful sounds that there is. I wonder if you've ever had a chance to hear something like that.

I can't encapsulate the sound I heard today and send it along to you. But I can give you the lyrics of some of the most beautiful pieces I've heard today:

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-— Season of Light Words and Music by Jacob Narverud

Come sit by the fire and share storied of old - bright visions of time and of wonders we're told. Surrounded by comfort and stillness of night, we live in the memories of the season of light.

Come join in the cheer of the fresh falling snow, where wonder and radiance set hearts all aglow. For a moment on Earth all that's wrong turns to right and we're warm in the spirit of the season of light. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-— Where Light Begins Music by Susan LaBarr, text by Jan Richardson

Perhaps it does not begin. Perhaps it is always. Perhaps it takes a lifetime to open our eyes, to learn to see - the luminous line of the map in the dark, the vigil flame in the house of the heart, the love so searing we can't keep from singing, from crying out. Perhaps this is the day the light begins. We are where the light begins. Perhaps it does not begin. Perhaps it is always. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-— Light Beyond Shadow Music by Dan Forest, text by Paul Wigmore

Light beyond shadow, joy beyond tears. Love that is greater when darkest our fears. Deeper the peace when the storm is around. Nearer the hope to the lost who is found. Light of the world, ever shining. Hope in our pain and our dying, ever shining. In darkness there is light, in our crying there is love, in the noise of life, imparting peace - peace that passes understanding. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-— Carry the Light Words and music by Andy Beck

I will carry the light, like a candle that shines in the night. I'll be a beacon that's burning bright. I will carry the light. Lux aeterna, the light inside of me. Lux aeterna will shine eternally. There's a light that's inside that I'm not gonna hide, 'cause that light will make the embers ignite. And the light that's in me will forever be; I will carry the light. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-— Can We Sing the Darkness to Light? Words and music by Kyle Pederson

What if instead of more violence, we let our weapons fall silent? No more revenge or retribution, no more war or persecution. It could be beautiful.

What if instead of our judgment, we soften our hearts that have hardened? Instead of certainty and pride, we love and sacrifice? It could be beautiful.

Can we see the other as our brother? Can we sing the darkness to light? Sounding chords of compassion and grace, set the swords of judgment aside. Let mercy's eyes see the other human face. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

This one is an oldie, but a goodie. I wish someone would sing it to you. Maybe I'll make a point to sing it to you, one of these times, even if it's impossible for you to hear me. There are lots of versions of this; the way I like to sing it changes only a couple of words:

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-— All Through the Night

Sleep, dear one, and peace attend thee all through the night. Guardian angels will surround thee all through the night. Soft, the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and vale in slumber, sleeping, I, my loving vigil keeping, all through the night. While the moon, her watch, is keeping all through the night. While the weary world is sleeping all through the night. O'er thy spirit gently stealing, visions of delight revealing, breathes a pure and wholesome feeling, all through the night. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

…It's just the words without the music, but maybe you can still hear it a little, somehow. Somehow…

I've been out of the house for many hours. Though I enjoyed my time with my wonderful friends and delighted in the delicious sushi we ate and the many amazing conversations we had after, I'm still glad to be home. It's cold outside this time of year (though not nearly as cold as it should be…), and the world is full of uncertainties; the warmth and safety of my house is comforting after being away for a long time.

I have put the fireplace on, and I am brewing some mugwort tea as I write this. A different friend gave me some mugwort that she had dried some time ago. I'm glad to finally have an opportunity to try it; I've heard that it's good for you, so maybe something good will happen? It's very fragrant; maybe I'll tell you about how it tastes tomorrow. Because I will write to you again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that, too.

I hope that someday, you will have a warm and comforting place to return to when you're weary. I hope that someday you'll have an opportunity to hear many voices singing lovely things. I hope that someday we will get to hear you singing alongside those voices. I hope that someday you'll get to eat something tasty and feel good about it, and make a fine and fragrant cup of tea to share with somebody.

Please be safe out there, okay? You have so much more on your shoulders than anyone should have to carry. Please remember to treat yourself well and to ask for help as often as you can, all right? Don't work so hard that you break. Don't get yourself killed. We of my world love you and need you; the song of your heart brings things to this world that no one else can.

As you might expect by now, I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[chitatochickenpotato]

tell me about atlas sew and his friend group 👹👹

I've had this story and these characters for 10+ years, the amount of inter-connectivity between everything is so hard to explain. If anything sounds unbalanced, feel free to ask about it because theres usually a reason that nerfs it.

That being said Atlas'(he/they) Mom was my first OC, she's basically my world's equivalent of a Dnd Champion she worships the deity of loyalty. She spends a lot of her story picking up strays and doing the whole found family thing (she later loops his father into this behavior as well) so his family is massive. And both his parents own the adventurers' guild so everyone he grew up around is like battle hardened and kinda reckless. As a result he has a weird "Nothing can hurt me, do you even know who I am?" and "I am intimately aware of how much effort and hurt it takes to succeed, with everything I do I will give back to my community as thanks for all the privilege I have" complex about him. He's also weirdly codependent in that he's never really alone so when he is he just kinda has no idea what to do. He's very much the "I know a guy" guy.

The Sew thing is actually because neither of his parents remember the names they were born with cuz they had to keep switching them. However his mother was known for fixing uniforms when she was in the army and making clothes n stuff for other revolutionaries n whatnot. So the name is kinda like John Smith in that the family name is just her occupation.

Atlas is actually inspired by Taliesin Jaffe because I watched his episode of between the sheets and was like yeah thats him. Specifically he has that like old soul kinda vibe you get when you're raised around people much older than you and have been to more funerals than you have marriages. He's not goth weird like taliesin but he's "I know too much and lack experience in all things" weird. He's also a history major which I imagine contributes to that. Atlas has grown up around people who have lived it and he wants to better understand them and their experiences.

He also has some disparity in being raised semi-noble because of his parent's strange governmental relations and also being babysat by adventurer's all the time. I imagine he kinda shifts rapidly between super well mannered and proper to being an absolute rascal.

Currently him and his gang are studying at a prestigious university I can't be bothered to name. He meets Aragon before joining the uni at a fancy party (both their parents are loaded [Aragon's through business and prolly blood money, Atlas's because the government wants them to stay in one place so they don't have to deal with the hassle of having slightly overpowered warriors on the loose])

Malachi and Oz are working under their mentors for a government sponsored project to make permanent portals through the planes. Atlas' family gets brought in because of the adventure guild thing and some of the failed portals keep spawning in monsters. So he meets those two through that.

Idk what Aragon's family does yet but Oz hears that Atlas knows Aragon and basically says that bros family uses stuff from diff planes to make their stuff so Atlas should totally get him to fund the project as well. So thats how Aragon gets introduced to the rest of the gang.

Aragon (he/she genderfluid) is a fire elemental and the way that works in my world is that elementals are born as null but when they hit puberty they gain their element based on who they are like personality wise.

She's super standoffish and snappy. She's very much the painful aspect of fire when you first meet her. But as you get to know her I think she mellows out into barely a burning ember of a person. As the story continues I want him to become more of a hearth kinda fire personality wise.

Her entire thing is that her parents want him to go into business and support the family but he super doesn't want to do that. Except he doesn't know who she is as a person because his whole life has been defined by being what his family wants that he doesn't know what else to do.

He has super bad family relations and like 2 friends outside of the gang and they're the butler and the chef so she isn't doing great. So like when he's thrown into a group of people who know exactly who they are and are doing what they want its kinda moth to the flame. Being around them hurts because imposter syndrome and jealousy but also it's visible proof that theres a chance at a happier future for him.

Growing up I imagine he spent a lot of time hiding in the kitchen. The chef would listen to him complain and give him snacks n stuff. Eventually he started teaching Aragon to cook. Later down the line I want him to have his own little restaurant but he is Not There yet.

His character is me processing what it means to learn how to trust. She's very much that one character that is not down to found family but boy howdy are the others trying (They succeed). Atlas brought Aragon home one day and his parents decided "yeah that's my kid" after hearing about her negligent home life. A lot of their relationship is Atlas convincing Aragon to be a Sew (most of their family is adopted through similar means) while Aragon struggles with still wanting to prove himself to his parents.

Malachi (he/him nonbinary) and Oz (she/her) are still in development.

Malachi is like a magic physicist, his mentor is working with the guy in charge of making the spell (enchantment???) for the portal to take em from plane a to plane b. So him and his mentor are studying the relationship between those spaces to make sure no one like dies and things stop coming through without permission.

Oz and her mentor make the rovers and what not that they send through the temporary portals in order to get more info on how to set up a temporary one.

They bond over the project and school.

The way I make characters is I basically come up with a role they fill, a vague concept, and like 4 personality traits + sometimes a design. Then they stay as like vague husks of people till I find 2-3 characters or people that make me go "This is so character A" and I copy and paste things to give them actual depth. Once the mishmash is complete the brainworms start forming connections between them, the world, and other characters already in existence.

As of rn Oz and malachi only have one inspo each so I'm a lil lost on them. I wanna develop them a bit better this year tho

There also isn't any plot for this