#he made a blorbo he knew you would like....

[pinkpastels113]

Tell us how you feel about arcane. Use your emotion words! Use a visual aid if you must, too lol.

you want some visual aid? i'll give you some visual aid:

that describes perfectly ab how i am feeling rn

first of all the LESBIAN SEX SCENE????!! I-??!! i knew that something was bound to happen (esp after meljay and the rated for sex warning in season 2) and i celebrated when they (finally) kissed but oh my god?? an actual lesbian sex scene? in a prison?? in vi's sister's prison?? after a parallel about how cait is always finding her in a prison and expected her to be there?? (with dramatic music and banter and soft giggling and the ANGLES and HAND PLACEMENTS??) I AM NOT OKAY

just that scene alone is enough to nudge me off a cliff. but moving on

how is JAYVIK more homoerotic than now-100%-canon caitvi?? that's all i have to say. (what do you MEAN that love conquers all?? that he loved and admired viktor for all his imperfections and that was what made him special and beautiful?? GET OUTTA HERE)

i did not know that i needed timebomb until this season but HOLY FUCKING SHIT why must you make ekko fall (surprisingly, even to himself) in love with jinx/older powder and have that ripped away from him not like two days later?? WHYYYYY (the dance. the "can we pretend it's like the first time?" the "oh and he's got lines." the nervous wave after he fucked up in that scene with dead vi and powder was like hmp and he goes :(. the mural. im sent. im gone. nobody speak to me.)

ISHA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (she was just trying to be like jinx and copy everything that she does and is and looked up to her as a hero STOP WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME. also the song?? IM CHINESE BRO AND I WAS SOOOO EMOTIONAL OVER THE LYRICS like hit me where it fucking hurts why dont you)

i cried at how vander suffered a fate worse than death. @becasbelt can attest to that

caitlyn adfshjk i knew she would come around and she was and always has been my blorbo (even if she stayed evil) MWAH my female rage filled, slightly wild, grief clouded, confident, "im an excellent shot," sexy, " i am a decorated officer, leader of house kiramman, address me with respect, or keep your mouth shut." dictator, vampire, badass, mofo. YES

the way she said "no amount of good deeds can undo our crimes" hit me bc she's acknowledging that she went off the rails and did some pretty bad things to justify and achieve (which she didn't. not really) her goals

i LOVED jinx in this season. she single-handedly made it a comedy show and was the sole focus of a lot of the emotional damage the storytellers and animators wanted to convey

the way jesus came to be and then quickly became evil SDFHSDKJ i was legit like WEEO WEEO ABORT ABORT JESUS HAS TURNED EVIL (also want to point out the "no you wont" sky dialogue bc DAMN she really called you out huh viktor)

that alternate universe timebomb episode had me gasping so much (like SILCO?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?? WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?? what do you mean everyone is well and happy but at the cost of vi's death???) i think i had asthma for a split second there

MELLLL MY GODDESS MVP PLAYER you saved cait's ass so many times it's not even funny and ugh the way you finally stood up to your mom (very cleverly too, i might add) ugh i applaud

EKKO MY KINGGG the way he hurts himself so bad turning back time and specifically saving jinx from offing herself BYE

HEIMERDINGER MY TINY ANNOYING/affectionate FURBALL WHYY

no but yea i am ruined and my emotions have faded away into numbness and i hope this post was relatable to the people in the arcane fandom and i also agree that this season was way too condensed and rushed and the last episodes in particular needed at least a couple more to drag out the events and character development bc at times when i am supposed to be cheering i am crying and at times i am supposed to be crying i am screaming and at times i am supposed to be screaming i am Horny and at times i am supposed to be Horny my heart is wrenching but only a few tears slip out bc IT IS CUT TO THE NEXT SCENE AGAIN??? does that make sense??

(also do we think jinx is actually dead or no. im still not sure but obv i would hope/am hoping that she is lmao)

[sangre]

*wakes up in a cold sweat* obviously the guardian is an echo of the emperor's claim to being an adventurer bearing the burden of saving a wicked world..... (a pretense/a performance/an experiment to a means to an end)

but i can't stop laughing bc like. Tha. That's the emperor's OC. the dream visitor is his OC that he's shipping with tav. and let me tell you the fic is 300k

[crossbackpoke-check]

find a blorbo (nhl tag game)

RULES: Go through the roster of each NHL team and find at least one player that you can root for.

tagged by @bondedpairs!! when i say too many teams to count and here for the narrative um. i may not have lied. this is not an extensive list of my blorbos but in order to make it not ten thousand years long i made up the rule that i had to do it straight from memory :)

anaheim ducks: as evidenced by recent events i DO like mason mctavish and trevor zegras but i have to honor laura and mention troy terry and beloved goalie gibbie*

boston bruins: oh for sure brad marchand… can i say patrice? one of the charlies got traded but i think mcavoy is still there because gryz is gone, brandon carlo is there still i think

buffalo sabres: cozens & thompson, owen power, rasmus dahlin, ukko pekka luukkonen

calgary flames: is chris tanev still here? is markstrom still here?? noah hanifin?? as a last resort i’ll say blasty

carolina hurricanes: aho & jarvy & teuvo teravainen & brent burns is still playing maybe? i know sepe got traded

chicago hockey: the bedsy narrative is compelling but ANDREAS ATHANASIOU MY BELOVED reunited with tyler bertuzzi… that’s the real story. also i like foligno

colorado avalanche: gabe landeskog, whatever ross colton & miles wood have going on, natemac + jo, mikko

columbus blue jackets: have long been on the merzlikins train, have been swayed to the darkside of umich boys (brindley, kent johnson, fantilli, blankenburg who is now on nsh)

dallas stars: seggy! mush! roope + miro and otter and robo and wyjo (rip ty dellandrea) and harls! etc.

detroit red wings: MOST players. dilly larks, moritz seider, jv, raymond, rasmussen, kitty, lyon, etc except for k*ne

edmonton oilers: mcdrai, ofc. nugent-hopkins, nursey, rip vinny & skinny

florida panthers: tkachuk, reinhardt, sasha barkov, verhaeghe (is there still?)

los angeles kings: adrian kempe… kevin fiala… danault… quinton byfield & alex turcotte

minnesota wild: kirill, marat, fleury, brodes, fabes, boldy, moose, middsy, spurge… god’s perfect idiots

montreal canadiens: going out on a limb here to say martin st. louis but also xhekaj (both), slafkovský, suzuki, my austrian reinbacher, yes fine cole caufield

nashville predators: MOST BEAUTIFUL D PAIR IN THE WORLD GRADY SKJEI AND ROMAN JOSI!! juuse, evangelista, isn’t stamkos there and also someone else who absolutely should not be

new jersey devils: nico… tuna (tatar), dawson mercer, siegenthaler, dougie hamilton, yes the hugheses whatever

new york islanders: barzy, zeeker & marty, anders lee, noah dobson lol

new york rangers: mika & chris, lafrenière & k’andre, shesterkin

philadelphia flyers: frosty & beezer and tk and sanny and the new baby michkov and coots and scooty loots and foerster etc etc. you know the Guys

pittsburgh penguins: the two headed monster but also compelled by rutger mcgroarty, and kevin hayes was there!!!

ottawa senators: timmy stü & brady! josh norris! the evolution of shane pinto! ullmark now and brännström and claude giroux and chabot

san jose sharks: ekky, thrun, mario, borde, logan couture, shakir, that other vaguely blond rookie

seattle kraken: brandon tanev, andre burakovsky! grubauer & d’accord also

st. louis blues: jordan kyrou, nathan walker (is still there?), rob thomas? is parayako still there?

tampa bay lightning: hedman, point, they dumped so many guys after the cup run… is kucherov still there or is he in nashville?? anthony cirelli (notable for being made out with by pat maroon)

toronto maple leafs: mitch, jt, willy, alex nylander, kniesy, dewar, et

utah hockey: crouse, keller, tuba

vancouver canucks: quinn, brock, petey, jt, garly, höggy, i want to say dakota johnson, elias lindholm?

vegas golden knights: brandon montour is here now… alex pietrangelo, so sorry to one i can’t remember who loves the lions it will come back to me

washington capitals: full of love and stupidity. oshie, nicke/ovi, pierre-luc dubois, dowd, vrána, milano

winnipeg jets: adam lowry!! josh morissey and kc and morgan barron, also vladdy my beloved

tagging @stillfertile + @colap1nto + @songsandswords + @moregraceful if they haven’t done it yet, i know they follow at least a couple teams. if anybody else wants to play i love adopting blorbos!!

[darabeatha]

/ I've noticed that at this point I'm not even writing on any blog anymore, I just come and yell about some blorbo and leave. Rinse and repeat my lieges

[featherglum]

Trucius or something. I don't like him and neither should you.

[chaotictomtom]

NEED to go to sleep rn but ive finished my bcs rewatch earlier today and started to rewatch brba and.....seething by how much i despise big baby bastard man. hoping to punch him in my dreams.

[evilminji]

You know what would be both Cool(tm) AND Pants Shittingly Terrifying? Eldritch Space Whale Danny!

Except NOT! Because he's not a whale! Just snoozing and Giganto-Fuck-Off HUGE!

Imagine it! Danny. Joint Custody Child of The Ancients Of Time And Space. Space is SALTY AF because their BITCH OF AN EX has used his FUCKING POWERS, AGAIN, to CHEAT. Clockwork how DARE YOU.

You knew he'd be our Son in advance!

YOU SNUCK IN AND STARTING BONDING WITH OUR CHILD BEHIND MY BACK!

YOU [REDACTED]!

Danny? Sitting off to the Side as a Sentient Everything and Nothing made of galaxies and starlight, howls expletives at their Ex, who is being... REALLY snippy back? WOW, Clockwork. I mean, JESUS, man. Danny's from "oh bless their heart" Nowhere, Midwest. And even HE thinks that last one was both backhanded and cold af.

......he should take notes. *continues to eat his popcorn*

Anyway! APPARENTLY, Space Parent has taken him in the divorce. With much huffing. Tucked under their arm Like The Football(tm). And honestly? This is kinda hilarious, so he's cool with it. Byyyyyy~ Clock Dad! See you on weekends~☆!

*Exasperated Time Noises*

It's pretty cool! He learns a lot. Learns he's probably? Gonna be SOME variation of Space Ghost. Might even take over Space's... well, EVERYTHING, should the unforeseeable occur. So obviously, gonna have to learn The Family Business, as it were!

Which?

UNSPEAKABLY HYPED, YES PLEASE.

SPACE AND STAR STUFF! HECK YEAH!

Unfortunately? Still a Halfa. Bleh, squishy need to eat and sleep. Why they get in the way of Hyperfixation? Why no more space dust? Nooooo, don't drag him away from the controls! He can still learn! Sleep is for quitters! Cowards! *whining in Give Me Back My Blorbos, You Monsters*

But, no. He apparently has to "take care of his body" and "not burn out". Eat "real food". A protein bar counts! He probably ate one of those! Give him back his STARS! He doesn't CARE if he sounds like a toddler! That's DIRECT ACCESS TO THE SECRETS OF SPACE ITSELF! He'll BITE, so HELP HIM-! *Is scruffed like a cranky infant being carried off to beddy bye*

Injustice! D:<

But, none the less, body's require sleep. He shovles down his food, washes up, and flops down in his bed. In the nice lil cozy "Safe For My Half Apprentice Who Is Also My Adopted Son" corner. He passes out in that corner. Starts to float, as he has done countless times before, when agitated before bed. Floats OUT of that corner.

That Safe Little Corner.

IN THE CENTER, THE BEATING HEART OF SPACE.

You know... the place ALL OF SPACE connects too. Where Universe Form and Die. The Grand Recycler. Dust to Dust, from the ashes of old, to the creation of new. Where PORTALS are randomly assigned. So that the Omniversal Ectoplasmic Levels may always be balanced at near to perfect levels, allowing free flow of Souls through the various Reincarnation cycles.

Space, of course, doesn't MANAGE the Ectoplasm itself. Nor the Souls! Different Ancient for THAT, but they DO manage the PORTALS. We live in a SYSTEM after all. Everyone has their "departments" as it were. So really, it's quiet... Danny? Honey? Awful quiet back there! You, uh, fallen asleep, Starlight?

*empty room*

(O.O)

*inhale* AAAAAAAAAAA-!!!!!!!

Meanwhile! He be Snoozin'! And Ghostin'! Ghost Snoozin'! Is extra comfy, cause he weightless and got not booooones~☆!

But! He? Is not a child anymore! Has learned to... for lack of a better term, Let Go. To finally ACCEPT his Death. His inhumanity. His Amortality. Death no longer holds him, can no longer let him go. He is... not immortal. He is disowned, by his own doing and his own choice, at his timeless moment of Ending.

When Life let go of his hand and Death kindly offered theirs, he did not take it.

And that's okay.

It took awhile. Talking to older ghosts. Most vague and vast, near formless. Because it's... it's scary. And it's all you know. All, really, you've EVER known. Inherent to your identity, even after you leave that part you behind.

You are "human". "Martian" or "Xy'xeruian", something else, and you never question it. Even when you've left behind everything ELSE. Your name, your eyes, your history and skin. Yet you fly around and pretend. Still alive, still human.

But is that YOU?

Or just the form you found your start in?

And like? It's okay if it IS! Sometimes, yeah, you ARE. You look down deep and find a "don't know what you were expecting, buddy" sign stapled to a mirror. But more often? It's that last hurdle. The final step in Letting Go.

Everyone mourns at their own pace.

And they are the ghosts of who they were.

It helped. Mourning for the kid he was. Who was fourteen and wanted to be an astronaut. Who died and will never have a grave. The longer he exsists, for he can't technically be called Alive, the more painfully young that child seems.

It was okay.

To cry for Danny Fenton.

Then? To let him go. Let his memory, be memory. And his Past be the grave that child rests in. Loved dearly and remembered, but no longer binding his soul.

He doesn't have to wear that face anymore.

No tributes to the Dead.

He got? Kinda... BIG. Like REALLY big. Spiraling, serpentine, cracking ice, and burning galaxies. Like a fourth dimensional dragon, of ice and stars, somehow forcing its way into a three dimensional space. Atop it all, between two vast, impossible horns? Made of glacial ice coating the warping hearts of black holes, who's shape themselves seem to shift in unknowable ways? There burns, like comet trails, with super novas, compressed to decorative gems beneath glittering morning frost, a Terrible Crown.

He? Thinks? He MIGHT have wings.

He can't tell.

Because APPARENTLY he's a fuckin tesseract! Oh, no, sorry. He might me a Zone DAMNED PENTERACT!!! Is THIS what he gets for hanging out with Clockwork all the time? He just liked the quiet! Now his "true form" is PHYSICALLY PAINFUL for most people to look at!

Clock Dad WHAT THE HELL?!

(You see, now, why Space broke up with him? An ASSHOLE)

So! Danny stays, usually at least, in his "Hi, yes, I am Normal Human Man" Ghost form. But NOW? Now it PINCHS. Because it's TOO SMALL. But hey, that's fine! It's not like he has an ingrained habit of transforming when super tired and stressed! To float sleep for Maximum Restfulness(tm).

Ha ha!

Why does that feel like foreshadowing?

BECAUSE IT IS!

Danny? Snoozing! Space? Has LOST THE BABY! Portals? Have done a Jood Gob in Portalling, something they are vaguely sure they are supposed to be doing! Yay them! They have no brain cells but still enjoy helping! They moved a thing! That's helpful right? Yay! Probably!

And on DC's planet Earth?

They? Just choked on their fuckin coffee. One moment? La dee daa~ oooh~ look! Stars! Deep space! Oh, hiiii~ Watchtower! The NEXT? *every alarm in the building starts LOSING ITS SHIT* Giant World OBLITERATING SHAPE completely takes up the screen.

From near PLUTO.

There are NO WORDS TO DISCRIBE HOW FUCK OFF BIG THIS THING IS, MR. PRESIDENT. It will eat our nukes and LAUGH. Call! EVERYBODY!!!

Obviously? Superman. I mean really, OF COURSE Superman. Frankly, all the Supers. Because we would like to KEEP having a planet, thanks. Only? The more reports that come in? The more everyone is getting "oh fuck. This is a Workd Eater" vibes.

A massive, massive, Sleeping Titan of a Planet Destroying World Eater.

That MIGHT BE MAGIC.

*highly stressed Everyone noises*

And WORSE? Superman? Can't TOUCH it! Oh sure, at FIRST he could! But then he apparently pushed too hard in just one spot! And it felt POKED AT. So now, after flicking superman HALFWAY BACK TO EARTH to make him stop? No one can physically touch it!

But! There is hope!

Because? The creature is GREEN. Bright, luminous, Lantern Green! And Earth's Lanterns have already sent for back up. Combined? The were able to move a... hand? Paw? Something. But! With the combine forces of several nearby sectors of Lanterns? They promise the power to either relocate the creature or at least hold it in orbit until FURTHER forces can be deployed!

They refuse to harm the creature until it proves actively hostile, as it could have been seeking a place to nap and chosen one inconvenient to established planetary life. Frankly? Earth doesn't CARE where you relocate the giant Eldritch Space Dragon. Just NOT IN OUR BACKYARD, PLEASE.

....YES WE ARE SURE! We don't CARE if the scientific community of our planet is begging you to set up an area for them to place an "observation satellite"! No giant Eldritch Space Dragons in our solar system! It might WAKE UP!

Naturally, about half way THROUGH this Highly Delicate Operation?

Danny Wakes Up.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation

[ilions-end]

i finished statius' ACHILLEID. thoughts thoughts thoughts:

i knew going in it was a VERY short unfinished epic, but i didn't know it would be FUN?? if i ever get that time machine, FIRST THING i go back and find one publius papinius statius, i lock him in a room, and i'm NOT letting him out until he's finished the achilleid!

achilles is statius' BLORBO in a way neither homer, quintus nor virgil have blorbos. statius likes achilles to be strong and pretty and graceful, but most of all ENDEARING even when he fails. and he fails a lot, because this is him still figuring out how to be an adult, not to mention a prophesied legend literally everyone is waiting for to step up

the one thing that gets tiring is just how many prophecies permeate the achilleid. nothing's left to chance, there are so few unknowns. even ODYSSEUS was aware that from peleus' wedding there would come a child destined to be a central warrior in an upcoming gigantic war.

as it stands, the achilleid is more of a... thetisiad? she is very centered in the narrative (we spend more time looking at things from her point of view than achilles') and there is SO MUCH SYMPATHY for her, oh my gosh!! she loves ONE person, her son, the only worthwhile thing she got out of a traumatizing marriage, and she despairs that he's fated to die young in a silly human war.

also i'm a deidamia defender forever now. so three-dimensional, so clever!

aughhh i love how much characterization statius puts in, even in the small scenes! my favourite example is odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' place (literally just moving characters from A to B). diomedes teases odysseus, and odysseus is delighted to be teased. that night we're told odysseus CAN'T SLEEP because he's too excited about showing off his plan the next morning!

the unveiling of achilles is completely different from the chagrined defeat/"achilles is a fucking idiot" ways i've heard it retold! i love that it's collaborative, it's a mutual triumph. it's just as much achilles (who's been suffering in gender dysphoria hell for a year) longing to be exposed as it is odysseus LIVING for showing everyone (especially diomedes?) how clever he is. it's not just the shield and the spear and the bugle, it's odysseus playing the part of the siren, whispering in achilles' ear that he knows who he is and describing how glorious he will be on the trojan battlefield. it's achilles' grateful relief at being ALLOWED not to pretend anymore as he rips off his own dress even before the bugle calls

also it's very important to me that the moment he's no longer hunching over trying to make himself look small and inoffensive, we're told achilles is taller than both odysseus and diomedes

i KEEP IMAGINING how good statius would have made the rest!! especially because as book ii ends, achilles regards odysseus as a cool uncle; he's the guy who rescued him! i want to think statius would have put in the big mystery quarrel achilles and odysseus are said to have had early in the war, something to drastically change that affection. i want to know how statius would have handled troilus, and the gods. augh statius you roman BLUEBALLER

an assortment of story beats still revolving in my head:

chiron is such a sweetheart!! he's SO gallant with thetis, he's so affectionate with achilles. he HIDES HIS TEARS when achilles leaves, awww

statius writes out phoinix completely. as a phoinix stan i object. sure chiron can raise young achilles, but i NEED phoinix to tend to him as a baby

i enjoy how achilles EXPLODES into a mess of teenagerly hormones when he first sees deidaima. it's so funny that thetis is looking on (and we get my favourite simile of the achilleid, of a herdsman delighting in a young bull snorting and foaming at a beautiful heifer) like "aaaaand there's my son's sexual awakening. i see! well, we can use that" and THAT explains why achilles is so willing to commit to the female disguise

(listen. listen. few things mean more to me than the love between achilles and patroclus. but achilles is a teenage boy at the age when a fucking breeze will give him a boner, and deidamia is the most beautiful and the cleverest of her sisters. i really enjoy a story where achilles and deidamia are neither "fated eternal true love" or one's a sneaky opportunist. it's much more compelling that they're both knots of budding emotions and bodily feedback)

i notice that statius never uses the name pyrrha, he doesn't seem to have a fake name at all, just "achilles' sister"

lycomedes is SO honoured and proud that thetis is entrusting her daughter to him. i feel sorry for lycomedes, he seems so earnest and hasn't done anything to get tricked

the one thing i can't forgive statius for is that after spending SO much time establishing that achilles and deidamia (who knows he's a guy) are genuinely into each other, it feels like statius goes OUT OF HIS WAY assuring us that their first sexual encounter is rape. sure they talk right after, deidamia forgives him, AND i understand there are social rules that makes deidamia more "honourable" and "worthy" when she resists, but like. sigh.

aLONG with the previously mentioned interplay between odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' court, there's a simile where they're both starving wolves on the hunt. so sexy it's almost illegal

the feast scene is SO FUNNY omg. all of achilles' careful feminine training dissolving because odysseus and diomedes are there with their boundless masculinity for him to feed off of. deidamia practically WRESTLING achilles back down on the couch every time he forgets himself and behaves too much like a man. odysseus chatting with lycomedes SPECIFICALLY trying to rile up achilles, and then after the women have left (achilles dragging his feet and looking back, YEARNING for their male company) odysseus specifically praises the maiden's "almost masculine" beauty (because ohh he suspects. he just needs to prove it in the morning. he can't SLEEP for it)

when they depart, achilles earnestly swears to deidamia that no other women shall ever bear his children. i find it interesting as a reminder of the social rules of its era. neither of them expect achilles to be sexually exclusive, just not fathering potential heirs. which again makes me wonder about the contraceptives in ancient greece

on the ship towards aulis, diomedes begs achilles to tell them all about his feats and training with chiron, and achilles is so shy about it! who can blame him! diomedes has a WAY more impressive track record

odysseus is SO good at firing up achilles' outrage at paris even as he's just catching him up on what the war's about. and he's so pleased at how easily achilles' outrage can be directed! you KNOW that would have developed in such an interesting way AUGH THE REST WOULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD.

[teamatsumu]

gentle. (aone takanobu x reader)

summary: he’s not the same with you as he is with everyone else

word count: 1,399

warnings: swearing, but pretty fluffy otherwise, fem!reader, high school setting

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

this is written for @honeybleed’s Underrated Character event! I had so much fun writing this because it’s the perfect opportunity to give love to our blorbo aone (he deserves the world).

After Date Tech's loss to Seijoh at the Inter High preliminaries, you didn't know what exactly to do with yourself.

You had been managing the team since your first year. The previous manager hadn't really stayed to show you the ropes, and you had to learn everything from scratch. You had often felt lost and disoriented, and it felt like you were drowning as the novice team built themselves slowly but surely.

You truly felt that this time around, Date Tech's Iron Wall would be strong enough to get you all to Nationals. Now, not only did you have to stomach that loss, you had to deal with the fact that your precious third years were leaving.

You felt like you were drowning all over again, like you had back in your very first week with the team. Like you had no clue what to do. As you sat on the steps outside the volleyball gym on campus, you contemplated your next move. How the team would operate with Futakuchi as the new Captain. How you all had to somehow hone the talent in your inexperienced new setter, Koganegawa. It all seemed like too much work. How were you supposed to manage it all?

You nearly jumped out of your skin when something moved in your peripheral vision and you realized it was Aone, sitting on the steps next to you. When had he gotten here?

"You scared me!" You breathed, laughing a bit. It was almost comical how someone as huge and imposing as Aone could somehow make himself so invisible. But considering how quiet he was, it wasn't surprising to you.

Aone didn't react to your words, but his stare was intense on your face, eyeing you closely before he reached a finger out to poke at the skin under your eyes. Oh.

You felt your face heat a little at his touch, but you gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Aone. Just a little tired."

It seemed like he didn't believe you, the scowl between his eyebrows only deepening. You fidgeted a bit.

From your very first day managing Date Tech's volleyball club, you had had a soft spot for Aone Takanobu. He was, by all means, a scary looking dude. Taller than any boy you knew, and built like a brick wall. Despite his massive size, he was agile too, a very scary combination. Silver hair, a deep scowl that always seemed to twist his face (you later realized that he wasn't scowling, it was just the lack of eyebrows that made it appear so). It was no wonder people tiptoed around him.

But two years on the same team, spending every day together, meant that you knew Aone in ways that his audience did not. His personality was anything but scary. He was as docile as they came, and slowly but surely, you felt yourself drawn to his quiet disposition. In the storm that came with Futakuchi constantly butting heads with your third years, Aone was the silent bubble you found comfort in. He knew you inside out, and he was perceptive. Like right now, pointing out the dark circles under your eyes with an uncharacteristically gentle touch.

No wonder you had an embarrassing crush on him.

He kept an intense stare on you, his way of insisting there was something wrong. You shook your head again, sighing. You knew he wouldn't let this go. So you let yourself vent, letting out every dark and uncertain emotion inside you.

You ranted about everything that was plaguing your mind, body turned towards Aone but curled into yourself. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them to curl into yourself as you spoke, looking up at the boy next to you every now and then.

Aone did not interrupt. He never interrupted. He let you go on and on about how you didn't think Futakuchi was mature enough to lead a team, or how Koganegawa was nowhere near ready to stand on a court. All your doubts were spilled out into the air surrounding you, welcomed by Aone as he sat and listened to everything you had to say. His eyes did not leave you once, but he didn’t react in any other way.

"Sometimes I think you are the only thing holding the Iron Wall together." You gave him a little smile. "And I don't know how you do it."

When you finally finished, silence stretched between the two of you, as if everything around you was absorbing your words. You watched Aone, waiting for him to lean towards you and nod encouragingly, like he did whenever you had one of these ranting sessions.

"I do it because of you."

Your eyes widened, not expecting that he would speak. You knew Aone, and you knew he wasn’t a talker. He loathed having to voice anything because he felt like he didn’t have anything to say which wasn’t already understood. His voice was hoarse and deep, making your breath catch.

"Do what?" You asked, not understanding his words.

"You said I hold the Iron Wall together." He continued, and you basked in the sound of his voice. It was so rare for him to say anything. You wanted to savor it while it lasted.

"I do it because of you. I see how hard you work for this team. And it makes me work hard too. For you."

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, trying to catch up to his words and process them. You felt like your entire face was on fire, your breath stuttering. Aone did not look at you, instead staring at the ground before him. Your eyes caught his porcelain pale skin, eyeing how the back of his neck flushed red. The sight made you giddy.

"Aone…." You breathed, feeling truly speechless. Which wasn't like you at all. Between the two of you, you talked and Aone listened. For the first time, the roles were reversed.

Aone shifted a bit, still not looking at you. "Don't worry too much. You will figure it out like you always do. And I'll be here for you."

His sentences were simple. Yet to you, it felt like he was waxing poetic. You couldn't help your wide smile, shuffling closer to Aone and placing your head on his shoulder. You felt infinitely lighter, like all of what you were worried about didn’t matter at all when Aone was right there with you.

"Thank you." You whispered.

You felt Aone nudge at you gently, his way of saying 'you're welcome'. You let yourself bask in his touch, cheek pressed to his bicep, feeling how your heart pounded in your chest.

Multiple steps sounded on the ground, and then a sharp voice broke through the silence.

"You lovebirds done? Come on, let's get pork buns and then head home. I'm hungry!"

You sighed and rolled your eyes, pulling away from Aone to glare at Futakuchi, who was standing a few feet away while the team lingered behind him. They had all changed out of their sweaty practice clothes, bags slung over their shoulders and ready to leave. You saw Koganegawa peek at you from behind him, his mouth open comically wide.

"Eh? I didn't know our manager and Aone-san were dating!"

Before you could protest, Aone was lumbering onto his feet and grabbing your hand, pulling you up with him. His giant hand enveloped yours completely (you were giddy as you observed this fact), and he didn't let go as he walked past Futakuchi, who had an annoyingly smug grin on his face. You knew you wouldn't hear the end of this.

"Yeah, stay away from her, Kogane!" He called, being obnoxiously loud on purpose. He was definitely trying to goad you two, as was his nature. "You don't wanna know how pissy Aone gets when other guys flirt with her."

Your eyes widened, looking up at the boy in question. Aone pointedly looked away from you, but his grip on your hand tightened, and you could see the same blush creep up his neck and to his ears.

You grinned all the way to the convenience store, and then all the way home too, basking in the new information Futakuchi had spilled, as well as the tight grip Aone had on your hand.

He didn't let go even once.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a person in possession of a good blorbo must be in want of art of that blorbo. And on this front, I have suffered because there is really no Háma art out there despite the fact that he’s rad. (I won’t bore you all again with all of the reasons why he’s the best, but you can find that here.) So I asked @rinthecap to draw me a lovely and handsome Háma, and they delivered in the best possible way!!! Here’s my guy, with a lot on his mind as he watches his king slowly lose his grip on reality, but always at the ready to jump into the fray and help.

I love ALL of Rincap’s art, which you should definitely all go check out if you haven’t, and am extremely grateful for this beautiful and necessary contribution to a world that was severely lacking in Háma representation! ♥️♥️♥️ His face, his armor, his hair, it’s all aces!

And here, for good measure, is my Háma headcanon:

His father was the royal armorer in Edoras, and his mother worked alongside him; he did the metal work, and she handled leather. Little Háma grew up around their workshop, playing quietly in the back or listening to his mother tell stories while she stitched together vambraces or gloves. As he got older, he helped his parents with simple tasks, like linking rings for chainmail. When a mailcoat he worked on saved Théoden from a Dunlendish arrow and the king himself came by to thank young Háma, he nearly burst with pride. He knew right then that he wanted to dedicate his life to protecting the king and made it his goal to be captain of his guard someday.

Háma’s father was severely injured in a workshop accident not long after, and everyone marveled at how quickly he apparently recovered and was able to keep turning out work. What they didn’t know is that Háma’s mother took over most of the business, having learned metal crafting over the many years of work alongside her husband. They didn’t tell anyone who was actually making the pieces because they weren’t sure anyone would wear armor made entirely by a woman, but Háma knew, of course, and it filled him with both pride and frustration to hear people heap praise on his mother’s work while attributing it all to his father.

While he was working his way up through the ranks of the guards, Háma met and fell in love with Bryttalif, a midwife in Edoras. Brytta was herself pregnant and unmarried when they met, so she was viewed as a little scandalous. But they hit it off right away and he really didn’t care about town gossip or what other people had to say because she was just the sort of kind and gentle-hearted person that he was. The scandal was eventually forgotten because Háma and Brytta got married, which gave the whole situation a sheen of acceptability. He adopted her daughter Halwinë as his own and was absolutely crazy about her–Middle Earth’s truest Girl Dad. Brytta was pregnant with their second child when Háma was killed at Helm’s Deep. It was a boy she named Wilspell (“welcome news”).

Háma’s sword was recovered from outside the gate of the Hornburg after his death and was thereafter always used by the captain of the king’s guard, being transferred from person to person as part of a little ceremony whenever a new captain was appointed.

He was buried in armor his mother made.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

I'm up way later than I need to be and listening to music while I draw and this song gives me SUCH Sabo feelings and I would love to hear your opinions!! (Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives)

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=Y07xArvIvjw&si=ffMbMHTWuHHnxY2C

You dare bring. The Crane Wives. Into this peaceful household.

Never Love an Anchor no less.

RELATING THE SONG TO THE BLORBO FROM MY SHOW NO LESS

The audacity.

Anyway.

Yeah it makes me think about how Sabo left Ace and Luffy on his own accord at the end. Of course it was a last resort but he left them because he knew that this was the only way for them all to be free.

He left knowing that he would probably not see him until they were 17. Or maybe even never again.

He left them so that they could be safe. Because as long as long as he was with him, as far as he could see, hands would still try to claim him, resulting in the ones he loves getting hurt.

There was no winning for Sabo or any of them. As long as he tried delaying the inevitable, it just never would have happened.

He had to give up what he loved so he could keep it.

And then after he regains his memories, him thinking how much he’s changed. His claws might hurt the one he loves so dearly, even though at this point he doesnt even know him anymore. What if when Luffy finds out that he was alive, it only hurts him deeper. Knowing that there was someone who would have made a difference that day wasnt there. Reliving not only that day in the moment of reuniting, but the say he lost Sabo, too.

I dont find it strange that Sabo didnt try to reunite with Luffy until dressrosa. And in fact i think that reuniting with luffy is something he did as an absolute last resort. I think he truly didnt want to meet him that day at all.

In the anime alone, it doesnt much show it, but in the manga and the Episode of Sabo his hesitance and nerves are really clear to me. He takes a second before he starts walking to talk to luffy. His hand is clutched and shaking. He walks as slowly as he can. And also he only does it after he knows that Luffy cant get the fruit.

They both need that fruit safe. An heirloom of their precious brother, the only thing they have left that can life on from him.

If Luffy could’ve finished that tournament, im fairly certain Sabo would’ve never revealed himself.

I think he feels like he might hurt luffy if he did, but i also think that he didnt feel he deserved it. To reunite with Luffy after all that time. After all that happened.

Going back to the song, the lyrics

“So, I did the only thing that i could And severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbor.”

Even though it was Sabo who went sailing from the harbor, what he was doing was sever the rope from his connections with luffy and Ace so that they could grow and be free without worrying about being held back by him and the weight of his life keeping him suffocating at the bottom of the harbor he’s being drowned in.

If sabo had successfully left Goa that day, and he had reunited with Ace or Luffy somewhere down the line, i think he would act the same way he did in dressrosa that day. I think he would feel his baggage is too much, someone could be after him. And he wouldnt want to reunite. Especially after how he left them.

To me, that letter didnt read as a “i hope i see you again”, but a “goodbye forever”. Which i mean,,,, it was one, at least in Ace’s case, so … 🤷‍♀️ kill me

Anyway, the sentencing of your crimes of Crane Wives-ing me will be capital punishment, i hope you understand.

Thanks for the ask!

[uzurimisery]

like real people do. / kageyama tobio / nsfw

wc: 5.5k

Warnings: Kageyama is autistic, smut, fingering, reader has nipple piercings, reader works in A&R for music, reader used to live in brazil, friends to lovers, awkward sex

A/N: experimenting with more awkward/realistic smut and I love my autistic blorbo Kageyama

thank you to @peachyminx and @dervngedgf for beta reading

Kageyama never did understand the way that conversations worked, or were supposed to work. They were winding, circuitous, jumping from place to place. Unstable like a fault line, bursting from tension. The older he got the more he began to have a loose grasp on them. One so faint it slipped from his fingers if there was too much deviation. It hadn’t been easy to get to this point. It took years of failed attempts at making friends, three failed relationships, and a PR manager to get here. 

Hardly a gentle climb into social know-how. 

There was a script that worked in most situations. The gym, interviews, the grocery store, casuals and quick conversations weren’t altering his normal routine in any major way.  He liked things being the normal way.

So why the hell was he in a club? A place that went so far against the normal?

It had been Hirugami’s idea, he said that the team needed to bond more. Kageyama knew it was just a thinly veiled excuse to get drunk on the team’s card.

 It was awful— the drinking.

Conversations were bad enough while sober, small talk, social cues being a forge in language, and alcohol just made him feel worse about them. The script was thrown across the room and given to an AI generator that made something worse for him to spit back out. 

The pounding music, early 2000s rap, split his head with each drum beat feeling like it was played against his skull. He could smell everything, the foreigners easily able to be picked out from the crowd. The buttons on his navy blue dress shirt had started choking him early so it was now half undone, which he hated. Shirts were meant to have only one, or two, buttons undone depending on the level of formality of the event attending. How many were appropriate for a club? At four buttons down the curve of the underside of his pecs could be seen. 

He felt out of place, out of his element, and like a child sitting at the grown-ups' table for the first time and trying to seem mature. 

“Tobio!” Nicolas shouted at him from across the booth. “When are you going to bring them around again?” 

His face scrunched up. “Why?” 

“Because if you’re not going to make a move I am!” Nicolas’ laugh was grating and sharp. “They used to live not far from my parents. A shame it took until now to meet.”

“I thought you were working things out with Maria?” Kageyama had stopped bringing you around after one too many comments on how he was in love with you and afraid to make a move. Something Nicolas harped on him for and took every opportunity to flirt with you in front of him. 

“Por que não ambos? Maria doesn’t have to know.” Kageyama hated the smirk that spread across the Brazilian's face. He knew that Nicolas was teasing him, just like he knew Nicolas wasn’t interested in you in the slightest, but it always drove him up the wall.

Wakatoshi cut in, voice steady and flat, as always. As much as Kageyama struggled with conversations he knew Wakatoshi would be right there with him. “I believe we have discussed many times that Kageyama-san has stated he is waiting for a better opportunity to discuss his feelings with them.” 

“That’s what he said last week and three months ago and then six months ago.” Sokolov chimed into the conversation now, monkey-like as he usually was, followed by Heiwajima.

“You really should talk to them about it. Either way, you need closure to get past your emotional constipation.” 

Kageyama wanted to crawl into a hole. It was bad enough having to figure out his feelings but having them discussed in front of him made him want to jump off the side of Tokyo Tower. His feelings were complicated. Tangled and messy, blending into each other. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to separate them let alone tell you about them.

“Guuys chill, chill,” Hirugami was back with another round of drinks. “Tobio will get to it when pigs fly.” The team busted out laughing. It was humiliating no matter how many times they all poked at him about it. The only way that he’d ever get them to stop was to confess to you.

“Fuck you guys.” He was grumpy now, grumbling into his drink as he took a swig. 

The chorus all said they just wanted the best for him, that there was no way you didn’t feel the same way, that it was all in good faith, all stuff to make them feel better about teasing him. He hated being teased. 

Maybe if he just told you they’d finally leave him alone about it. You might get distant for a bit but he had faith that you could be friends again down the road. 

“If I tell them tonight will you guys leave me alone about it?”

Nicolas’ sly look managed to get worse. “You tell them tonight and I’ll give you ten thousand yen.” 

“Deal.” 

Slipping his phone out of his front pocket and pulling up your contact information had never felt so stressful. He didn’t need the money, he just wanted to be left alone about this. 

To: Best Brazilian

Can you meet me outside Playa Del Sol? 

From: Best Brazilian

You’re at a club?

To: Best Brazilian

I wasn’t my idrea 

Typing was hard. The heat of all the bodies in the room made his hand slippery. 

From: Best Brazilian

Lucky you, I’m just down the street at a gig

>You think you’d be fine to hang out for that? Local band

To: Best Brazilian 

As long as it’s not Sean Paul 

From: Best Brazilian

Kk see you in 10 

Kageyama was, as usual, grateful for your friendship as he excused himself from the group and headed outside to wait for you. More often than not you served as a refuge for him. One of the few people in the world who truly understood him. You didn’t question his mannerisms and need for routine. 

Once he had asked if you thought he was weird, as flawed as he felt, and you had looked at him as if the question was stupid and gave a simple ‘no.’ 

Meeting you had been a deviation from the norm in the best way. Hinata had been visiting and when they were out they bumped into you, surprised since you had been a manager at one of Hinata’s favorite jazz clubs back in Brazil. 

Kageyama got lost in the conversation as Hinata and you bounced between English, Portuguese, and Japanese when speaking. You had corrected and steered the conversation to Japanese, seeing Kageyama’s confusion. 

Your Japanese was clunky back then, and your mouth still struggling with the syllables at times. More than that, your understanding of pitch accent back then was abysmal.

But that meeting had changed his world, shifted its axis. 

Eventually, Hinata’s two-month vacation ended and he left, and Kageyama expected you to leave his orbit too. But you didn’t, you stayed around. It’s been three years and you were still around. And it's been a year since he realised he loved you. 

When the night air had started to sink in, sweat from the club finally drying, he saw you round the corner. 

Every time he saw you he thought he’d get used to how beautiful you were but he never could. You were bright as the sun, warming him, the rays of your light brushing across his skin promised growth, comfort, and shelter. 

Your braids had been half pulled back in some sort of half-updo, two ponytails at the top of your head. He has watched you do them the other week. Or he had been watching before you made him help you since he was sitting there. He didn’t know how to braid at all, but you made him learn. Told him your continued friendship was dependent on it.

He was glad you made him learn though. It gave him an excuse to be in your space, close to you, for hours on end. To touch you without worrying if the amount of contact was normal or not. 

“Tobio!” His name always sounded so perfect coming from your glossed lips. There was a twinkle in your eyes. You had done your makeup for “special events” as you had once explained it to him. Instead of a normal cat eye, you had graphic black eyeliner. He never understood why you wore makeup but he knew that it was something you enjoyed doing. 

He stumbled a bit as he moved towards you, wetting his lips with his tongue as he said your name.

“Whoa careful there big guy! How much have you had to drink tonight?” 

Your arm grasped his bicep, his heart stuttering at the contact.

“Three double vodka cranberries and one beer.”

Your brows raised. “Rough time in there huh?”

“You have no idea.” Kageyama launched into recounting what had happened. 

One of his favourite things about you was how you didn’t press on topics he didn’t want to talk about. You left the conversation shift onto the gig you dragged him to and about the band. His second favourite thing about you was your willingness to unabashedly talk about your interests. Your job as an A&R at Sony meant you were always talking to him about a new band or artist. Before meeting you he wouldn’t consider himself someone who cared about music much. It was just something to help him keep pace while running. He didn’t understand why people liked it. But by watching you he started to dissect the reasons. 

It wasn’t a conscious decision, no grand realisation listening to a recommendation from you. It was a gradual shift. He started listening to more things, trying to pick out ones you’d like and he could send them to you. It was only after Wakatoshi had pointed out he was humming one day that he clocked the change went beyond just you.  

When you got to the venue, you flashed your Employee ID at security and pulled Kageyama in behind you.  It was just as dimly lit as the club but the smaller venue made it less obstructive. You had dragged him here before for a folk singer-songwriting you signed after the show. He had no idea what he was about to listen to but he knew if it was you, it’d be good. 

You led him to the middle of the standing-room area. You preferred a more central location so you could observe the artist’s dynamics and stage presence. While he would normally want to be on the outskirts, he didn’t mind being in the middle. It was crowded though so you were stood in front of him. Someone walked past and knocked you back against him. 

“Sorry!” You knew that he didn’t like physical contact much, so you created space as soon as you could. It pained him. 

“It’s okay. I don’t mind if it’s you.” When you smiled up at him, he felt like he was going to short-circuit. “Who are we discovering today?” 

Another person bumped you into him, shifting your balance and almost causing you to fall. He wrapped his arms around you to stabilise you before he even knew what he was doing.

You muttered under your breath something about expecting better from the crowd here. “You remember Hozier?” 

He knew who Hozier was. You had forced him to listen to Hozier’s entire discography one day. He liked Hozier. In another world maybe he would be as good with his words as the singer was. He could write you poems and sonnets, tell you all the little things about you that made him feel right. As much as he might try now, he couldn’t so he hoped that you wouldn’t hold it against him.

“Yes. You made me listen to his entire discography.” His throat felt dry. “I don’t believe I understood all the metaphors but he has a good voice.”

“Well, imagine Hozier if he was Japanese. And he blended traditional instruments, taiko drums and all that, with a raspy voice and great lyricism.” 

“I see.”  His gaze shifted, watching you adjust in his arms. He wondered if he should release you if he was supposed to have let go three seconds ago or held on longer. Now he was scared to move and make it weirder by moving.

“Sorry, should I let you go?” He was nervous, anxiety creeping, edging him out of the buzz he had from drinking earlier and into harsh sobriety. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m kinda cold and you’re really warm.” 

“Okay.”

The conversation between the two of you died down and Kageyama wanted to make a clone of himself and shake it around. What the hell was he doing? Under the dim lights, the first few chords starting to play, cradling you in his arms, he felt so nervous. 

The opening band started to fill the room with an instrumental. Their first two songs went by quickly enough at least. You would sway along, occasionally bobbing your head to the beat. Your eyes were focused on them as they performed. Someone might look over and think you were a long-time fan of the opening act, enraptured by their performance, but Kageyama knew you. You were appraising them, seeing if they had potential.

As their set drug on, he found himself watching you more than the band. Your brows would twitch, pulling together in the middle for a split second, every time they did something you considered to be a technical miss. You had told him that bands were like a team of volleyball players. 

When you explained it you said that singers were like aces. The powerhouse that made a team stand apart from their opponents. Drums were the setter. They set the tempo, and the flow, of the song Guitars were like hitters, driving down the point. Keys or synths were liberos, not always on the track but essential for making a good song, and basses were middle blockers, getting a perfect read and keeping the team grounded. So far it seemed like the band was winning their set. 

He liked watching you like this, seeing you the most in your element. It hurt his heart, made it tight in his chest from how your eyes darted across the stage. It felt like ripping off a bandage. Diving without a kneepad and your skin tearing on the polished floor of the court.  Like hand sanitiser in a superficial wound. Painful, but knowing that the pain was a sign of growth, of healing. 

The lighting changed, hues of pink and red, as the frontman started talking about their next and final song. He was telling the crowd to grab their lovers, pull them close, and sway along with the music. Kageyama nearly choked when you turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Well hello lover.” you giggle at the last word, joking about your relationship. While didn’t like the joking nature of it, he wanted it to be real, he liked you calling him it. Your fingernails scratched at the nape of his neck, tangling in the hairs there.

He had had too much to drink and feeling your chest against his own was making the blood rush from his head and straight to his groin. He felt like a teenage boy, unable to keep himself from growing hard. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he swore he could feel your nipples. 

His breath hitched as he went to respond, low and raspy in your ear. “Hello.” Kageyama wanted to say something better, more suave and flirtatious, wishing for a second that he could embody the same way with women Nicolas had. 

“How much did you have to drink?” 

“Not enough.” His cheeks were flush, he needed something in this moment. To pull you closer against himself or to push you away so you didn’t catch on to his growing hard-on. 

Your heartbeat against his own in the confined space, slower than his rapid one. The music drowned out, turning to background sounds as he stared into your eyes. Eye contact was normally so forced for him, constantly having to remind himself to make it. It felt so much more intense with you like you could see through him. He loved your eye colour and the way the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled. 

Your lips curled up into a smile as you gazed at him, coated in a shimmery gloss that smelt like vanilla. Your tongue poked out the wet your lips, something you always did when you needed to reapply the lip gloss. He wanted to know what it felt like against his own. If it was as sticky as it looked. If it’d pull into fine strands as you separated. 

“What are you staring at so intensely? I feel like you’re dissecting me.” 

He felt loose and sappy from the drinks earlier, more willing to take risks.

“You. I’m staring at you.” 

“Me?”

His eyes shifted up to meet yours again. “You.” You chuckled a little bit at him before replying. 

“Why?”

“I want to kiss you.” The words slipped out of him before he could stop them, once again putting his foot in his mouth. You were going to reject him, tell him off for violating your boundaries. He’d have to text Hinata tomorrow that he fucked up with you and that everything went wrong. 

“Kiss me.” The first time you said the words it didn’t compute in his brain. 

“Tobio, kiss me.” He stood frozen, short-circuiting, he had been so set on an outcome that a change in path threw him off.

The trance was broken when he felt your lips against his, sticky from the lip gloss as he imagined. You were soft, like a feather brushing across his kiss, gentle and tentative. When you pulled away from him it felt like he could breathe again. You tasted sweet, no doubt partially from the lip gloss but also just you. He wanted more.

Kageyama leaned in, one hand tentatively reaching up to the side of your face to cradle it. His lips met yours again it started with pecks, gentle like you had been, before building in intensity. It felt like Kageyama had been starving for years, the sensation unknown and accepted as just a part of living, but as your mouth opened and his tongue met yours he realised that his hunger, his craving, his desire, had been an aspect of himself so far removed from his understanding until this moment. He understood want and need now that he had tasted you.

The heat of your breath melting with his own made his nerves alight as you parted for air. 

“I’m in love with you.” Your forehead met his shoulder and you laughed. 

“Tobio I know,” it was like the lights in the room knew to shine down around you giving you a halo. “You’re not good at hiding it.”

“I’m sorry.”  You tucked your head under his chin and he let his hands slip down from your waist and into your back pockets, feeling emboldened by your actions.

You swayed with him to the beat of the song as the transition music into the main act’s set began. 

“If it’s any consolation I found it cute.” Your lips met the side of his neck and you tilted upwards to his ear. “I’m in love with you too.”

He joined you in shifting side to side, enjoying the moment as you murmured against his skin, voice warmth with honesty. He didn’t understand it all, but he understood you in this moment, the shared feeling of love between you. One old and ancient, but never weathered by time, still steadfast in its stature. Unending, unshifting. 

The “Japanese Hozier” stepped out onstage and Kageyama let you turn to face the stage, moving to take his hands off you only to find them being wrapped around your waist again, guided by your hands.  He wouldn’t remember the set list, or the singer's performance, too entangled in you and feeling you in all his senses to care about anything else. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You had brought him home after the show, still humming some of the songs as you puttered around. He had changed as you made a midnight snack for the two of you. His hair hung in clumped damp strands as he played sudoku on his phone waiting for you to finish up. You hated when he got in your way in the kitchen. 

With a plate full of mini pancakes you plopped down on the couch next to him, your makeup removed and hair up. He liked you the most like this, relaxed and human. Sometimes he worried you were an angel sent down from the heavens to make him believe in god but instead drove him to sin.

He took one off the plate when you moved it closer to him. Chewing on it slowly, watching you nibble on yours. 

“You wanna talk about it?” His eyes were peeled on your lips. 

“Only if you’re comfortable.” 

“I’m fine…” you moved and placed the plate on the coffee table. “Good, actually. Great even.”

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“I don’t know.” He felt so many things right now it was difficult to verbalise any of them.

You pulled your knees to your chest and faced him. A braid fell into your face and you tucked it behind your ear. Every time he looked at you he understood poetry and prose, songs of admiration, why men would go to war over their lovers. It was nonsensical, to think you could see stars in someone's eyes, but you reflected the lights of the room like a planetarium. He thought that he might die before he found the words to express his thoughts and feelings to you, to get his point across, but he knew with you he didn’t have to. He had never had to. 

His hand encompassed your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces, you the last piece needed to complete the puzzle. Simple connection, conjoining of spirits. 

Kageyama tugged on your hand, pulling you towards himself, making you come to rest on your shins in between his legs. He kissed the back of your hand, softly, tenderly, still afraid that there was something he was missing. But the ball never dropped, the tower never crumbled, and he led you further forward, your free hand resting at his chest before slithering up the back of his neck. 

He couldn’t tell if it was you or him who moved first, closing the distance between you, your lips meeting again. It felt more tentative than the first ones had. Careful and measured, aware of the space, the boundaries, the dynamic you had had. Of how that was shifting, changing, as the pretences you had were changed. 

Kageyama dropped your hand in favour of wrapping his around your waist, guiding you to manoeuvre into his lap. Your ass rested against his groin. The longer he kissed you, the more he felt himself growing hard, aided by your hips grinding down on him. Once on a night out with the team, you had danced with him and it was then that he learned of how fluid you were. Tonight you were water, dripping down on him, swirling around him, wetting his skin. 

He palmed at the waistband of the sleep shorts you had changed into, desperately wanting to remove them but unwilling to force you into something. You pulled away from kissing him to remove your shorts, left in just your underwear and oversized shirt. Kageyama quickly stripped off his shirt before kissing you again, this time letting it evolve into making out with you.

One of your hands moved to his lower abdomen, brushing against his happy trail, making him shiver. He felt you palm at his length through his sweats, slow and sensually. His dick was bigger than you thought it’d be. Average girth but one or two inches longer than expected.  

“Can I touch you?” 

“Yes.” His response was quick, jumping the gun, eager to have you take him in your hand. 

When your skin met his Kageyama swore he might cum from it. His emotions were high-strung, making him more sensitive. He whimpered as your thumb crossed over the tip. 

Your hands felt like velvet against him, smooth and soft, your touch gentle but firm, supplying the perfect amount of pressure as you began sliding it up and down his shaft. His stomach muscles tightened as you went along, pulling him in on himself. It should be criminal that you made him feel such a way from something so simple, reducing him into a schoolboy being touched for the first time. 

He wrapped a hand around your wrist to stop your movements, separating from kissing you to speak. 

“I’m going to cum if you do that too much.”

“That’s the goal Tobio.” 

“Yes, I know, but I would like to make you cum before I do.” 

You gave a small smile, butterflies flitting around in his stomach as you did. “Well, who am I to stop you?”

You crossed your arms as you took off your shirt. When you changed earlier you must not have put on a bra. The curve of your waist he knew already to be temptation incarnate, but the swell of your chest would turn any many into a sinner. 

Your nipples were hard as they were exposed to the cool air of your apartment, small silver balls catching the overhead light. 

“You have your nipples pierced?” 

You cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples. Tobio’s eyes were locked in, focused on the way the silver complimented you. “Yeah, I’ve had them for ages.”

“Can I touch them?” He wanted to pinch at your nipples and feel the cool metal beside them. Your nod was all he needed to do so. 

His touch was hesitant at first, afraid of damaging the piercing somehow. When he squeezed down harder on them he could feel the bars going through your nipples. It was interesting to him, the modification, he wondered what made you get them in the first place. 

As he pinched and twisted your nipples slightly, a soft whimper snuck out the back of your throat, going straight to his already painfully hard erection. 

If you were sensitive to this he wanted to know what it would do to you if he took them into his mouth. It was in the name of science that he did so, leaning forward and wrapping his mouth around your left nipple. 

The metal met his tongue, cold and sharp, constructing against the warmth of your chest. He was cautious not to use his teeth as he played with your nipple in his mouth. You gave out small moans and gasps, hips stuttering against his own, as you threw your head back. Ever since you had gotten them pierced your nipples were more sensitive than ever. 

Kagayema stared up at you. He wondered how he got so lucky in life. He’d have to go to the shrine on New Year with his mother to thank the gods for letting him have you like this. 

He wanted to make you feel more, to know his touch in ways you never had before. 

His free hand not ding at your waist trailed down your side, tracing the outline, as he dragged it down to your core. When he met your underwear, the fabric a simple micro-fibre, and slipped past it he was certain that he’d need to go to the shrine every holiday. You were wet, drenched even, allowing his fingers to slip through you easily. 

Kageyama was not a virgin, he’d had sex before and he was thorough with it. His thumb met your clot, going over it in slow circles, while his pointer and ring finger started to tease your hole. 

When he was able the press both fingers into you and pump them in and out of you, he released your nipple that he had ever so diligently been sucking on to swap for the other one. He bit down it ever so slightly making a shocked gasp and whimper of his name escape you. 

“Be gentle jackass!” Your speech airy, escaping as an exhale. 

It was cruel the way how you said his name made his dick jerk as if he was going to cum, the muscle in his abdomen flexing tight. He’d be dammed if he came before you though, his teeth grazing over your nipple again, tongue swiping over the bar. 

His fingers picked up in speed, pressing against a spot that made you squeak almost. High-pitched and short. Like you hadn’t expected him to hit it. 

The pressure building kept building as he did so, making you get lightheaded as it went on. He was so close to making you cum. Like an itch, you scratch just next to it, the edge. 

His thumb kept toying with your clit as he kept his pace steady, matching the tempo. You could feel yourself tightening up as he worked your body. The noises in the room turned pornographic as more liquid gushed out of you, lubricating his hand, making it easier for him to thrust his fingers in and out and in again. 

Kageyama detached himself from your chest and moved to kiss along the side of your neck and ear.

“You’re so pretty…” he trailed off before biting your neck and sucking hard to leave a hickey. 

You came with a start, the orgasm rolling through you as he bit down, his name coming out a broken moan. Your muscle winding right before snapping under the pressure, eyes screwing shut. It made your head spin, feeling your heartbeat in your skull and down to your toes. The force of it made you clamp down so hard on Kageyama’s fingers that as he tried to pull them out, he couldn’t. 

A minute passed before he was finally able to slip them out of you as you whined for him to keep them inside. When you finally opened your eyes you were met with Kageyams face being entirely red.

“You okay?”  You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

He licked his lips before speaking, trying to wet them. “I just came.” 

“Oh.”

Things were still for a second. 

“Is there, uh, anything I can do to help?” 

“No. Just give me a minute.” This was the most embarrassment he had felt in a long time 

“Okay.” You cupped his face with one hand. He turned a kissed your palm “We can stop here if you want.”

He contemplated for a few moments in his head, his boxer briefs now feeling sticky. The sensation was grossing him out no matter how badly he wanted to continue.  

“Tobio,” you flicked his forehead “Get out of your head, you’ve got that scrunched-up look on your face.” 

He grumbled against your palm as he spoke. “I like you and I’m embarrassed.”

“Well, I love you and we can always go for a second round.” 

He stilled, humming under his breath. “Could we shower first?” 

“Of course.” 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Out of the shower, where a second round had happened, along with telling you about the bet, Kageyama felt unsure of what to do next. It reminded him of leaving a court at the end of a game, his adrenaline high and heart pumping. The adjustment to reality was strange and foreign. He was sure this must have been how you felt after a concert ended. Lost, unsure what to do after as he cuddled with you in your bed. 

“What happens next?” 

You laughed and it shook your body as you lay on top of him, tracing patterns on his chest.

“You buy me breakfast in the morning.” 

“And after that?” 

“What about after that?” 

“Well,” you started. “We keep doing what we’ve always done. But when we go out to eat we don’t call it hanging out, we call it a date. When we sleep at the other’s place, we sleep in the same bed. Only the little things change between us, the big things stay the same and we get to kiss now. When an interviewer asks if you’ve got a girlfriend, you get to say yes.” 

“You’re my girlfriend?” 

“Well, I thought that was the point of the confession, well along with winning a bet, unless you don't want me to be?” 

“No, I do.” 

“Good.” 

It was silent for a moment as he intertwined his free hand in your own, bringing it closer to his mouth so he could kiss it. You settled further into him, filling out the space where he was the most empty both physically and metaphorically, humming ‘Like Real People Do’.

A Venmo notification cut through the peace. 

Nicolas Romero sent you ¥10,000 

“Atta boy Tobio” 

©️ uzuzrimisery

[periprose]

Playstation Spidey is sooo blorbo- I love himmm. May I request something where Pete and Reader have been too preoccupied with studying and taking exams all week that when their date arrives on Saturday, they don't do anything but makeout instead cause they miss each other so much?🥲 (I just wish I had a Peter Parker to kiss😔)

I love him too and this idea is just 🤌🤌. I hope it's okay I made this a friends to lovers instead? :)

Your phone buzzes with a new message from Peter.

Peter: hey we still good for Saturday? the study date at the library?

Peter: sorry for not picking up earlier. Phys 403 is kicking my ass 🥹

You giggle to yourself. Peter had been so excited to see you this week- he was terribly busy with internships and FEAST and every single exam that was assigned this week.

You had half the workload he did, and you struggled to finish things, so you had no idea how he did it. It was quite irritating, not being able to catch up with Peter as often as you'd like, but you were hanging on for Saturday.

Even now- he strangely missed your calls and would usually pick up ASAP- and May's told you he's not at FEAST, so it's really confusing to you where he'd be. But you're not concerned, because you have exams to study for.

You: Yea we're still good pete

You: don't stress about it. worry about your exam

Peter: 🫡 will do ma'am

You laugh, picturing Peter saluting to himself.

/

The timer for your Shakespeare exam just rings as you hand it in to your professor, who gives you a firm, steely nod. You know how strict he is- he doesn't always allow for students to hand in things after the time's up, and even as you leave the classroom, you hear students pleading with him to let them hand in their exams.

You shrug to yourself, and turn the corner of one of the many hallways of Empire State University- bumping straight into Peter.

"Oh-!" You topple over, and although at your trajectory in the air you should've fallen over Peter, he somehow has enough strength to keep you upright in the air, holding you gently by the waist, and before you can think too much about his surprisingly strong capabilities, he's set you down again already.

"All good?" Peter asks, and you nod bashfully.

"Yeah. Just finished my Shakespeare exam. Not sure if I did all that well." You tell him, and Peter raises his eyebrows.

"With Strict Dr. Powell, huh?" Peter gives a wary glance past your shoulder, and then leans in extra close, seemingly not noticing how you fail to maintain eye contact. "Just between you and me, I'm pretty sure he's not actually tenured."

"What?" You stare up at him in surprise. "How else would he be qualified to teach a fourth year English course?"

"Well, let's just say I did a little sleuthing after getting a C- on my last essay. I know, I know what you're going to say-" Peter shushes you as you laugh, taunting him about an unusually low grade. "It was on Asimov, you know? Father of Science Fiction?"

"I think that was H.G. Wells, Pete."

"Right, whatever." But Peter's features bristle with that familiar fondness for you, and you smile softly at him as he continues. "I knew even if my essay wasn't perfect, a C- was really lowballing what it should've been. So I searched some of the school records, and he's actually named Powalski. ESU's letting him stay tenured even though he's only been a professor for five years. My guess is that they owe him some kind of favour."

"And that's why our poor student body has to worry about failing English classes this year, when they should be easy. Because of one crazy professor." You surmise, and Peter nods. "Still, I can't believe you went through the school records! How did you even access them?"

"Uhhhh..." Peter shrugs as he starts backing away, a slightly flustered look on his face. "Parker luck?"

"Peter, I thought that was supposed to mean bad luck." You retort, laughing over his antics.

"Yeah, I never said I wasn't in hot water for doing that." Peter jokes, and he flashes a peace sign at you. "I gotta head to my Physics exam. Talk to you later?"

Before you can respond, Peter suddenly squeezes your shoulder in a quick move, and he takes a moment, staring at your face, and your mouth, before dashing off. "I'm sure you did great on your exam, regardless!"

"Thanks." You're left with a sheepish smile that you shake off your face when Peter's far in the distance, unaware that he's got the same expression on his face.

/

Peter's kind of struggling a little bit with physics.

Sure, he's a total brainiac, and he's sure to ace it even with his current mood- he's just terribly distracted.

You smelt really good today. Like warm, vanilla-cinnamon goodness. Peter's heightened senses tell him you've got a new perfume.

But he's more focusing on your lips for some reason. Ugh, no. Peter knows why he focuses so much on your lips- you just happen to smile in the cutest, sweetest way.

And just now- you had laughed in the funniest way, your lips curling into a pout that Peter was sure was seared into his mind for good.

Oh, no. I'm a total goner. He gets back to his exam, ignoring this urge to kiss you.

/

There's a knock at your apartment door just as you're finishing tidying up. Your living room tends to be pretty ugly, and the last thing you want is for Peter to think you're a slob.

Peter calls your name through the door. "I'm not going to think you're anymore messy than I am. Stop cleaning! We gotta leave soon if we want to make it for our allotted study room time, and I just need to use the bathroom."

You shake your head, give yourself one last glance in the mirror, and then open the door.

"Finally. God, dude, you would think your apartment is a pigsty or something. I'm only going to be in here for five minutes." Peter jokes. "You would hate to see mine."

"Is that why you've never invited me there?"

"Uh, yeah. Otherwise you could crash whenever you wanted to there." Peter suddenly turns red. "I mean... you know, you're always tired after class and your apartment is further away from ESU than mine is."

"It's fine, Peter. No need for rambling." You reach forward, wanting to take the books out of his hands- you notice a slight scar on his palm. "Hey, what's that?"

"Ah, just an accident at Octavius' place. No big deal, it'll be gone before I know it." Peter randomly opens a door. "This the bathroom? No, it's a closet. Darn these misleading doors..."

"Down the hall, to the right, Peter."

He nods, and you suddenly feel a wave of giddy energy as he's gone. Yes, you've crushed on Peter for a while- you just don't think it's going to go anywhere since you're both so busy.

You're reapplying your lip balm when Peter wanders back to you a couple minutes later.

"Ah, should we go?" You say, slightly muffled as you continue reapplying. It's a delicious honeydew flavour- you can't help but eat your lip balm off your lips from time to time.

"Yeah..." Peter struggles to say something, anything, and you catch his eyes drifting from yours, to your lips.

"Is something wrong?" You look up at him uncertainly. "There wasn't enough toilet paper, was there?"

"Shoot. Might've used the last bit, sorry." Peter jokes, but he turns quiet, and he grows a little pink.

"Well, if that's all, let's get going." You put your lip balm back in your pocket, and move to get your coat out of the closet, but Peter grabs your arm with that too-quick motion he always seems to possess.

Peter wordlessly cradles your face- there's something echoing through his expression right now, affection, the kind, softness you've always known him to possess, but something else, too. Yearning.

You can't help but smile up slightly confused at him, not sure of his intentions, and while you're not stupid, you're not going to assume anything.

Peter doesn't hesitate and simply leans in and kisses you, a soft kiss that turns a lot more firm as you're pulled inwards by his hands, and you eagerly kiss him back, and you feel him grinning widely when he knows that you've wanted this as much as he had.

It's easy, it's always fun when it's with you, and he figures you both need stress relief anyways. Rather than studying chemistry in the library.

You reach upwards, and run your fingers through his brown, soft hair, and Peter groans ever so slightly against your mouth, which pleases you.

Suddenly he lets go, deeply red and looking a little woozy, but he still holds you close. "Sorry, I- I got a little carried away there."

"Don't be sorry. I wanted to do that too." You admit, a little shyly. "Are you okay with not studying?"

"Really? That's what's on your mind?" Peter looks genuinely a little aghast, even if he is joking. "I must've not kissed you hard enough."

Peter brings you to your couch, where you kiss him again, taking the lead in a way that makes his stomach flip-flop, not dissimilar to the way he feels when he free-falls off a building. You clamber onto his lap, trying to be gentle- and he pulls you down fully on him, wanting to feel every inch, every millimeter, even, against his body. There's an excited thump in his body for every squeeze he makes against you, and he feels his restraint leaving him when you suddenly sweep your tongue into his mouth.

Even when you leave room for air, Peter is insistent, reaching forward with more little kisses all over your cheek, and you reach back again for him, pressing your lips against his, feeling like there's no need to ruin this time with talking.

He really likes that. These are precious moments, few to be found considering how busy you both are, and Peter intends to make the most of it.

[edelgarfield]

daniel molloy feels like he was made for me personally but not in the usual blorbo brainrot way.

my dad had parkinson's since like 2013. it's a very long and complicated story and there's a lot i don't know because my dad deliberately kept me out of the loop when it came to his health.

but i watched him get worse and worse for a decade with no end in sight, always thinking one day far too soon i would need to learn how to care for him when i still needed him to take care of me.

but at the beginning of 2023 he got a brain implant (DBS it's a Thing for Parkinson's) and even after only a few months he felt great and he was so so excited to get to do all the things he'd had to stop because he physically couldn't do them anymore or he didn't want to be seen in public.

and then he got cancer. he died last november.

it was the most awful, cruelest, unfair twist of fate.

i watched iwtv at the beginning of this year. IMMEDIATELY in the first few minutes of daniel being onscreen I knew he had parkinson's. eric absolutely nailed the fear, & hopelessness that comes with being unable to control your own body. it was exactly like watching my dad again. it felt like a gut punch when the show confirmed it. louis offers to turn him and says "you'll be able to see your daughters get married." im ambivalent to marriage, but knowing if it ever happens my dad won't be there? why does this show have a line that feels like it's directed at ME?

you can count the number of major characters with parkinson's on your fingers & toes, so for daniel to show up NOW, in one of the most popular series in TV at the moment? i barely even WATCH media, iwtv is like the second show i've watched in the last 5 years.

the end of S2, seeing him "cured" and living again, getting to be youthful and independent. he spends the entirety of the show in a cage, under constant surveillance, the way my dad probably felt for so long, needing to have someone nearby to help him. we finally get to see daniel out in the world, free, living the life my dad nearly got before it was snatched away.

idk if it's cruel or cathartic but whenever i see daniel i think of my dad. in a small way, it's like having my dad with me for just a little bit longer.

[balkanradfem]

I know I just made a serious post and I'm about to post something silly but stay with me here. I've had an experience that was deeply unsettling and horrifying to me and my mental health, and now you have to hear about it.

So I was reading fanfiction, and you can judge me, it's fine, I don't feel guilty for my little thought crimes, but it was a m/m fanfiction of two fictional blorbos I will not name in this instance. And this fanfiction was absolutely beautifully written, the prose had me in the first sentence; it was sophisticated, detailed, words so unusual and interesting I had to consult a dictionary. It started off wonderfully too, my characters were bantering, they were having issues, then had to work together and be civil to each other, it's what puts a smile on my face.

However, one of these characters had been changed in the fanfiction, in a way that felt unsettling to me. First the author changed his hair to long – and it happens sometimes, I'm okay with it, why not, make him look like an elf. Then his outfits were color-coordinated, and described in detail (it was like reading my immortal). Then he started wearing his hair in a long braid, which is normal, but, then he changed it to two braids, which I felt, was taking it too far, like this would happen only if he lost a bet and was being made fun of. Then he lost all of his desire for banter and started acting very dainty and vulnerable. I was having a bad feeling about it, but I still hoped it would get better. Maybe they would still fight.

The fanfiction had some very detailed and unusual descriptions of food, and it was food I've never heard about, red onion marmelade? I had to stop reading to consider if that was real. The food was a big issue and every meal had several courses and multiple fancy deserts and we were getting information about ingredients and freshness level. Then the characters started a discussion about the food, and the character I'm describing understood in detail how food is made, from what ingredients, in what manner, and I've felt suspicious about that, how would he know about cooking. Unreasonable.

I've still been hanging onto hope until finally, I got to the part where this character was in the hospital, and here I found out that the author erased all of the scars on his body. Not only that, but the character was obsessed with having skin free of blemishes and flaws and from what I was seeing, probably had a skin care routine. This was deeply unsettling because the scars have been vital to the plot, a proof of what had happened to him, and to just erase all this to make him blemish free? There was no hope. I knew it then for sure. I understood what was happening. They had turned him into a tradwife.

The outfits, the braids, the blemish-free skin, the extensive cooking knowledge, the lack of banter, the dainty behaviour... they did that to a fanfiction character. A male character. Nobody is freaking safe. The trend is so strong it bled into my emotional-support fanfiction. I am stripped of one thing that usually comforts me, two fictional males having a female-written relationship.

And the other character, who was supposed to be pursuing him, was written like a sexual predator. Consistently turned on by all of the tradwife elements and pretty much only by that. I generally love this character but in this fanfic I hoped someone would kill him. It was disgusting and disturbing. By the time the characters got to intimacy I was grossed out and skipped it entirely because I was about to throw up.

This is a common issue for me, a big bulk of fanfiction has already been ruined by rape fantasies, by bdsm, ddlg, fetishes, pedophilia, power imbalances, and all other influences of patriarchal society but I can usually FILTER THOSE OUT. Nobody will tag a fic 'tradwife' after they do this to a character. I've never seen a fic ruined in this particular way before.

This is mormon church's fault. They did this to me. They need to be taken down for this bs. This is taking it too far. Give me my adorable fanfictions back.

[magicalmanhattanproject]

okay i have to talk about my obscure blorbo fíriel ondoheriel. literally no one cares about her except me. not even tolkien cares about her. she has Zero canon traits. no personality, no physical appearance, not even a death date. here's what we know about her

in 1940 TA, Arvedui, then-prince of Arthedain* marries Fíriel, daughter of King Ondoher of Gondor, uniting the two realms after a long estrangement

[loads up Tolkien Gateway to cross check dates] HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS

in 1938 TA, Aranarth, eldest son of Arvedui is born. Now, if we're being real with ourselves, Jirt made an oopsie here and no one caught it. But, no one caught it and the only numbers we have are Aranarth, son of Arvedui, is born in 1938 and Arvedui marries Fíriel in 1940.

So, like, what's up there? Did Arvedui and Fíriel meet before their wedding and elope? Was Aranarth born in Gondor and hidden to protect Fíriel's reputation? Or did Fíriel have to make an excuse to stay in Arthedain and hide her pregnancy and then abandon her child until a proper marriage could be arranged? Was Arvedui married to someone else first and a widower? Was Fíriel a second wife and a stepmother to the real heir? Was Aranarth a bastard and Fíriel brought in to produce the real heir? Had Fíriel ever left home before? Did she have any feelings about being sent away from her whole family to be a queen for a man who already had an heir? Did she have a child she had to travel with? That she was desperate to reunite with? That she wanted nothing to do with? Did she love travel? Hate it? How did she feel about Gondor? Arthedain? We don't know. Tolkien doesn't care.

Anyway, back to what I already knew about.

in 1944 TA, Ondoher and both his sons are killed in the invasion of the Wainriders.

How does Fíriel feel about this? What's her relationship with her father like? Her brothers? Presumably she has a mother in there somewhere too? We don't know. Tolkien doesn't care.

Now, the doozy.

later in 1944 TA, Arvedui sends messages to Gondor claiming the throne both as a descendant of Isildur and as the husband of Fíriel, who would have been ruling queen according to Númenorean law.**

How does Fíriel feel about that? How does Fíriel feel about claiming the throne of her father and her brothers and her homeland through her blood for himself? We don't know. Tolkien doesn't care.

This is the last mention of Fíriel in the text. We don't know what happens to her after this. Maybe she trips and falls down the stairs the very next day. Maybe she lives a long life and dies of old age in her sleep. We don't know. We know what happens to her family though and it's not pretty.

Arvedui ascends to the throne of Arthedain in 1964 with the realm already struggling under invasion from Angmar. In 1974, the Witch-King invades and captures the capital of Fornost. Arvedui escapes to the Ice Bay of Forochel where he is aided by the locals over the bitter winter. Aranarth, a young man at this point, gets word to Círdan that his father is stranded there and Círdan sends a ship to bring them aid. When the ship arrives, Arvedui wants to leave immediately, but the locals warn him against leaving, saying that the Witch-King's power wanes in the summer and the bay is too dangerous.

Let's backtrack a moment. The name Arvedui means "last-king" and was given to him at his birth by Malbeth the Seer. Though, the seer said, "a choice well come to the Dúnedain, and if they take the one that seems less hopeful, then your son will change his name and become ruler of a great realm."

Arvedui does not. He takes the ship Círdan sent, which is sunk in an ice storm. Arthedain falls. Aranarth becomes the first Chieftain of the Rangers.

There's one last piece to all this. Name meanings. Tolkien likes them. I was looking through canon name meanings for OC names and I decided to check Fíriel out and I got fucking flashbanged.

See, something you gotta remember about the descendants of Elros is that a lot of them resent his choice. It's said that the line of Gondor failed because the kings were too busy contemplating immortality and their ancestors to look to the future and have heirs of their own. That's maybe not fair to the kings whose lines failed, but it's certainly a trait they all share.

So, what does Fíriel mean?

Mortal Maid

Look at everything else about her and everything that happened to everyone she loved and realize that she was born to the name She Will Die

How did she feel about that? We don't know. But I want to.

*The northern kingdom of Arnor had long ago split into three kingdoms. Arthedain is the one from which the eldest and true line of descent from Elendil continued. The other two had already fallen by this point.

**For the record, Ondoher was the 31st king of Gondor and somehow the issue of a ruling queen has not been litigated before now. Not a single time in the past 30 generations has a daughter been the eldest child or only available heir. That... stretches plausibility. This is easily explained by Tolkien forgetting that women exist until they become immediately plot relevant, but it certainly gestures in the direction of things about Gondorian kings that are rather unflattering.