#i know they just care for me and are curious but i find it so funny how in 70% of our interactions they just begin to study me

[kateschi]

two heroes, one marriage

synopsis: having stolen the hearts of fans with your teamwork and marraige, you and katsuki are called in for a joint interview.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the magazine spread featuring you and katsuki as top pro heroes has the fanbase buzzing for weeks.

power couples aren’t uncommon, but the combination of your joint success and explosive chemistry—both literally and figuratively—makes you stand out.

when you both get asked to sit down for a joint interview, it’s hard to say no, especially when the public can’t seem to get enough of the dynamic between you and your husband.

sitting side by side on a plush sofa in the brightly lit studio, katsuki bristles with impatience, his jaw clenched as the interviewer introduces the segment.

it’s a familiar scene—his fiery personality on display for everyone to see—but you can feel the underlying tension, the way his body leans subtly closer to yours for grounding.

“so, the two of you are recognized as two of the top heroes of the year, and fans are really curious to know how you manage your lives as heroes and as a married couple,” the interviewer begins with a polite smile, clearly trying to ease into the conversation.

before you can respond, katsuki’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“what the hell kinda question is that?” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he crosses his arms. “we do our damn jobs, and we go home. simple as that.”

you stifle a laugh, used to his bluntness by now. gently placing a hand on his arm, you intervene.

“what he means,” you say, casting a glance at katsuki that makes him grumble, “is that it’s about finding a rhythm. we both understand each other’s work, so we don’t get in each other’s way.”

katsuki grunts, his fiery gaze fixed on the interviewer. “she knows how to handle herself; doesn’t need me micromanaging her every move.”

despite his words, his hand finds its way to your lower back, fingers pressing into the fabric of your suit.

his touch is subtle, a quiet reassurance in the midst of his usual tough demeanor, but you know it means he’s keeping you close, watching out for you in his own way.

the interviewer picks up on the moment, nodding enthusiastically.

“it sounds like you both have a lot of trust in each other. how do you support one another with the high demands of your careers?”

katsuki clicks his tongue, clearly irritated. “support? we’re pros. we know what we’re doin’ out there.”

but just as you’re about to add something, he turns his head slightly to you, his voice dropping just enough for you to hear the change in tone.

“that doesn’t mean I won’t blow the ass off anyone who even thinks about messin’ with her,” he mutters.

you chuckle softly, nudging him with your elbow. “and here I thought I didn’t need you hovering around.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite in his tone.

his hand stays on your back, thumb brushing up and down in a way only you notice. “just ‘cause you’re strong doesn’t mean I’m not gonna make sure you’re alright.”

the interviewer, sensing an opportunity, leans in. “mister dynamight, you seem pretty protective of your wife. would you say that’s how you balance work and home life?”

katsuki’s eyes flash, his scowl deepening. “of course, I’m protective. you think I’d let her get caught up in any shit without me there to take care of it?”

his voice is sharp, but the way his arm shifts slightly to pull you closer is anything but harsh. “we don’t even need to talk about this crap.”

you smile to yourself, knowing this is as close to an open display of affection as katsuki will get in public.

his explosive personality never wavers, but there are cracks in his tough exterior that only you can see—moments where his concern for you bleeds through.

when the interviewer pushes on, asking about how your relationship works in the field, katsuki scoffs again.

“are you gonna keep asking this?” he snaps, before glancing at you, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

he sighs, trying to compose himself. “we work together ‘cause we’re a team, a hella good one at that.”

his little proud smirk makes your heart flutter. you decide to tease him a little. “oh, so you’re saying you can’t live without me on the battlefield, huh?”

his glare is immediate, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “don’t twist my words! I just—”

he cuts himself off, grumbling under his breath.

“you’re the one who keeps me in check, alright? so yeah, maybe i do rely on you. you’re my wife, and I am your husband. that’s natural! don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your husband huffs and looks away, which makes you giggle.

meanwhile, the interviewer chuckles nervously, clearly amused by the exchange. “it seems like you two have a really solid partnership.”

katsuki rolls his eyes. “damn right we do. we’ve got each other’s backs. that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

as the interview wraps up, you feel katsuki’s hand slip from your waist, but his presence lingers, as solid and steady as ever.

once you’re off-camera and away from the prying eyes of the public, katsuki turns to you, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “this interview crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “let's hope they don't cut you out like they did in highschool.”

“shut the hell up.” but despite his grumbling, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the studio.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[im-so-normal-iswear]

HELLO!

May I request a Yandere Sonic, Shadow and Silver (seperate) with a fem reader where comes from a different reality where they are fictional and somehow the hedgehogs became attached and obsessed with reader, reader is very much aware of their behavior and is also one of the reasons why she wants to go home to her own reality fast.

Sending loves to youu!!🫶🏻🤍

A/n: poll on, so now I'm putting images, I couldn't find any good ones

Yandere triple s x reader

Sonic:

At first, you couldnct believe it, you were in Sonics world.

The rolling green hills, the endless loops, the vibrant colors of the world, it was surreal. And meeting Sonic? That was the best part.

He was exactly like you imagined. Charismatic, funny, energetic. You geeked out about meeting him, and he was amused by how much you already knew about him. Sonic took an immediate liking to you, eager to show you around and let you experience the world firsthand.

The first few days were a dream come true. Running through Green Hill Zone, meeting Tails, going toe-to-toe with Eggman (it was actually more like watching Sonic handle it while you stood on the sidelines). Everything felt like a perfect adventure, straight out of a game.

Then, things started getting... off.

It began subtly. Sonic insisted on staying close to you all the time. You figured it was just him being protective. After all, you were just a human, and this world was full of dangers. But the more time passed, the more suffocating it became.

He started pulling you away from the others, cutting conversations short when you were with Tails or Amy. At first, he made excuses, "Hey, let’s get outta here! I've got something way cooler to show ya!" but you quickly realized he was isolating you.you started getting weird dreams.

You dreamed of your real home, your reality, the place you desperately wanted to return to. But every time you woke up, Sonic was already there, sitting beside you with an unreadable expression.

"Another bad dream?" he asked, his voice casual.

When you admitted what it was about, his expression darkened.

"You really wanna go back, huh?" He leaned closer, his smile strained. "I don't get it. You've got me here. What's better than that?"

The moment you realized something was deeply wrong was when you tried asking Tails about ways to return home.

Sonic snapped.

One second, he was his usual self, the next, he had grabbed your wrist, his grip too tight.

"Why do you keep talking about that?" His voice wavered, his usual confident tone slipping into something more desperate. "Aren't you happy here? With me?"

You tried to reason with him, but his grip only tightened. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, had a wildness to them.

"You belong here now" he murmured, more to himself than to you.

From then on, he never left your side. Your freedom was a distant memory. Anytime you tried sneaking off to talk to Tails, Sonic was there. If you attempted to run, he caught you within seconds, always smiling, always acting like it was a game.

"Aw, c'mon, Y/N, you know you can't outrun me."

Every time you tried to bring up leaving, his mood shifted. His smiles became forced, his voice strained.

"Look." he eventually said one night, his voice eerily soft as he trapped you in his arms. "I don't care what reality you came from. This is where you stay."

No matter how fast you tried to run, Sonic would always be faster.

And he wasn't letting you go.

Shadow:

Unlike Sonic, Shadow wasn't immediately friendly.

He kept his distance when you first arrived in the world, observing you with narrowed, calculating eyes. He didn't trust you, not at first. You were an anomaly, something that shouldn't exist in his reality.

But as time passed, Shadow became curious about you. How did you know so much about him? Why did you seem so comfortable around him when most people feared him?

You intrigued him.

Slowly, he started spending more time around you. He was never openly affectionate, but he showed his care in small ways, keeping you close when woth others, ensuring you never strayed too far, glaring at anyone who got too friendly with you.

And then, one day, you mentioned wanting to go home.

Shadow froze.

"You want to leave?" His voice was cold, unreadable.

You explained everything, the fact that he and his world were fictional in your reality, that you had a life to return to. You expected him to be logical about it.

Instead, his expression darkened.

"No."

You turned back to him. "...No?"

Shadow stepped closer, his eyes burning into yours.

"You belong here. With me."

It wasn't a request. It was a statement.

That was when your nightmare truly began.

Shadow started following you everywhere, wether you were aware or not. Always watching, always near. If you ever tried to leave his sight, he'd appear within seconds, his expression always unreadable.

He sabotaged any attempt you made to leave. If you tried to seek help from Tails or Eggman, their machines mysteriously malfunctioned. If you ran, Shadow found you instantly, his Chaos Control ensuring you never got far.

He never hurt you, but his presence was suffocating. Every conversation ended the same way.

"You can't leave."

There was no reasoning with him.

Shadow wasn't keeping you here out of malice.

He was keeping you here because, to him, you were the only thing left worth protecting.

Even if it meant stealing your freedom.

Silver:

Silver was the sweetest at first.

He was kind, gentle, and eager to help you. When you arrived in his world, he was fascinated, your knowledge, your personality, your very existence intrigued him.

And for a while, everything was perfect.

Silver went out of his way to make you comfortable, ensuring you had everything you needed. He was protective, but not overbearing, at least, not at first.

But then, you mentioned going home.

Silver's expression fell, his ears flattening. "What...? You want to leave?"

You tried to explain, but his hands trembled as he grasped your shoulders.

"You can't leave." His voice wavered, his usual optimism crumbling. "I need you here."

From that moment on, Silver changed.

He became more desperate, always clinging to you one way or another, never being more than three feet from you.

Whenever you tried to argue, he just shook his head, pleading. "Please don't talk like that. I love you, Y/N."

He would do anything to keep you.

And if that meant trapping you in his world forever...

Then so be it.

[lucygraysboy]

“yeah? thank you! i mean, that’s a very useful skill, you know? if you know how to knit, you can always knit yourself a sweater or a scarf or a blanket, and stay warm throughout winter and out on the prairie when the nights get cold,” the cowboy muses, not even trying to hide his excitement and straight up beaming at the kind songstress. he already knows she’s a great student, highly intelligent and curious, but he wonders what kind of teacher she is — patient and kind, is his bet, but it will be fun to swap places and see. “you’re bein’ way too sweet, lucy gray. that means a lot, comin’ from a girl as smart as yourself.” blushing when he realizes she remembers little details about him, his heart skipping a beat. how adorable is that? means she truly cares about him and listens to what he has to say. “you think so, too?” his features light up all at once, feeling as though they’re connected by some invisible string, sharing thoughts. not many people are fascinated by poems. not everyone can read to begin with, let alone understand the meaning of poetry. lucy gray is just so extraordinary. “oh, right! resistin’ arrest! one of my many talents. changin’ names, that’s another one,” he laughs, nodding in agreement, amusement brimming in his eyes. “well, first of all, i prefer the word strong-willed, sounds more like a compliment than an insult. but i was a very stubborn child, wouldn’t listen to no one but my ma. always bossed my little brother around, but that was just ‘cause i wanted to take care of him best i could.” mr. antrim couldn’t even dream of telling him what to do, stopped trying after a few attempts. “kind of, yeah. i like to get things done my own way, but… i would never try to boss you, lucy gray. you’re my partner, a lot smarter than me. i’ll listen to you.” god, he despises men who try to rule over women and vows to never become one of them. 

“no, not yet.” the cowboy shakes his head, frowning briefly but the sound of lucy gray’s laugh is enough to have him smiling again. “but she could have, alright? bet she wanted to, just didn’t want to get on your bad side.” he explains awkwardly, looking over his shoulder and finding the goat still glaring at him menacingly. she hates him. maybe no amount of dandelions will change it. “i ain’t ever milkin’ her.” he’ll shovel horse shit for hours, but he won’t get anywhere near that grass-munching demon. his fingers curling around lucy gray’s, feeling safe enough to triumphantly stick his tongue out at shamus. “thank you for savin’ me.” running to the safety of the porch, billy can’t refrain from laughing, squeezing his friend’s hand and letting her be the hero while he’s clearly the damsel in distress. jesse would be laughing his ass off if he could see him now. “alright, that’s a lot of taters.” he picks up a small kitchen knife before taking the potatoes from her, he’s just waiting for her to grab some carrots, lingering in the threshold.

“oh, i’d love to.” that comes as a sweet, endearing little surprise that he wants to learn how to knit. voice chipper because she’d love to be his teacher in showing him how to knit, that’d be fun and he’d learn something knowledgeable. “i remember you sayin’ you liked poetry. people who like to read, are always people who are smart. and that proves it.” smiling widely, going around with a sense of pride for him for some reasoning. above getting in all this trouble, he seems to have his head on right. she’s always proud of people who seem down to earth and smart— mentally and emotionally. especially young fellows, since tender-hearted and smart ones doesn’t come often. “and that’s right, poems are a lot like that. i find it fascinatin’ you’ve pointed that out.” brunette tells him, endearment staying etched softly across her olive visage. “i can tell you’re stubborn in resistin’ arrest,” words amusingly spoken, “but i don’t know in what else.” he’s been pretty lenient with her, but she has only known him for two days now. “you’re sayin’ you’re bossy? well, you met your match, you won’t boss me. i’m bossi-er.” lucy gray playfully adds, clearly— with her deep stubbornness.

turning to check his reaction, it doesn’t fail to have her belly laughing, giggles pouring out of her. never going to get this image of what she sees out of her head now, the way he looks so panicked and then takes off so quick from the barn to come to her for safety. “what is it, darlin’? did she already get you on the rear end?” more laughter spilling over, hand reaching out to take hold of his. “i’ll save you, don’t worry.“ pulling him the rest of the way to the porch, running them to it like shamus is so terrifying. she’s just a tender soul, even though she could bite him— but lucy gray’s sure she’d have to feel provoked. laughing all the way into the house, she lets his hand go once she pushes open the screen door and leads them to the potato box in the kitchen. opening the lid, digging in, scooping out a few and placing some into his hands while her face still hurts with amusement after playing little goat tricks on him.

[synthetickitsune]

S.Coups (SVT) | Manifestation crack | 0.7k | gn!reader warnings: dick size discussion A/N: never let me talk to @hanniedream this isn't what i thought i'd be writing today. also why did this turn out so angsty

“What did you do?” Seungcheol’s quiet growling, his no-nonsense tone, doesn’t carry too far in the silent cafe.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sipping the drink you paid for, and slide his own cup closer to him. He’s so enraged that he almost crushes the cup with his grip.

“You know what I mean,” he snarls.

You hum and look out of the window. Perhaps you do, but you want to hear him say it loud and clear. Although maybe not that loud, you don’t need people to start turning your way. It’s revenge but it’s not part of your plan to publicly humiliate him. At least for now. So you clear your throat before he can slam his fist on the table.

“I mean it, Cheol,” you sigh and blink up at him, the picture of innocence, “Whatever do you think I’ve done?”

He sets his jaw, his fists clench and unclench. There’s a fire in his eyes that you know too well. That same fire once was the beginning of your undoing.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he looks like he’s about to hit you but you know he wouldn’t. 

“No, I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” you pout your lips only slightly. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes scan the cafe but you’re sitting in a pretty secluded corner - again, a mercy he doesn’t deserve. He leans closer, gritting his teeth. His muscles bulge with the way his body gets tense. And suddenly despite everything, you find yourself drawn to him. Desiring him.

“My dick is shrinking,” he says, point-blank and without beating around the bush. You almost spit out your drink. He narrows his eyes at you.

“So I guess it’s working,” you snicker and the look in his eyes is priceless.

“You little-” 

He never gets to call you whatever he was about to call you, silenced by a curious look from a guy sitting a few tables over. There’s something very satisfying about watching Cheol withdraw back into his seat with fury still ablaze in his gaze.

“How and why?” he growls.

“Art of manifestation,” you shrug and chuckle at the confusion written all over his face, “I know, right? I guess not all of it is a scam.”

“As to why, do I really need to explain?” you quirk a brow at him. He just gives you a very straightforward nod. You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible, Cheol. You’re so annoying, walking around like you own the world. Like everyone needs to bend to you will just because you have a massive dick - oh wait, had a massive dick.”

“What?” he looks ready to pounce at you, and not in the way he usually does, “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” you huff incredulously, “Have you ever heard yourself talking? Cheol, you’re lucky nobody’s fucking done this before.”

“You’re so petty!” he spits and buries his face in his hands.

“And you’re so infuriating. Sorry but you need to be humbled, I’m basically doing this for you,” you take another long sip of your drink and feel yourself relax. What’s he gonna do? Only you can help solve his little problem. And he looks sort of adorable being helpless like this.

“What can I do?” he finally whispers. You’d be lying if you said it doesn’t hurt just a little bit that he never spoke this softly to you before, not even in the early hours of the morning when you were both sweaty and breathing heavily after your nightly escapades. No, instead he’d be boasting about how good he made you feel. He deserves this lesson.

“Be a good person. Be nice, be kind, the usual stuff,” you look away but you feel his eyes burning holes through you anyway.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I am nice, just not to you?” he bites back.

“Careful,” you smirk through the hint of hurt, “As you said, I’m very petty and you wouldn’t want your situation to get worse.”

You get into a silent staring contest that you end up winning. But still, somehow, despite it all, you feel like all you did today was prove his point.

You end up getting asked out on a date, as if something inside of Seungcheol broke and he accepted his fate. Not what you expected but sure, why not if he’s on his best behavior. Let’s see where this goes.

[hxrtnett]

pasture child – luke castellan

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ luke castellan falls in love with his town’s church girl before he’s sent off to camp half-blood, he thinks of her with every return. he tries to find her years later after he never returned. inspired by pasture child by dominic fike.

warnings/mentions. swearing, religion mention (following lyrics of song), kissing, luke grows up and never dies in this timeline, talking of female assets (teenage boy antics but not terrible), mental heath & cps (luke’s mother), i also delayed his full time or age to his admission to camp half-blood so they’re 15/16 ish in the scenes before he’s gone forever, praying to mother mary, atheist luke

pairing. luke castellan x mortal!fem!reader

at a young age, luke always found himself in the church near home. the door was always open in the spring time, and always unlocked in the colder weather. he was always allowed some shelter or quiet when his mother had her times.

luke wasn’t quite unknown in the town, everyone knew of his mother’s mental health, how it fluctuated frequently and sometimes he’d be watched over as she was hospitalized. luke had ran away from home and cps many times. so, his name was known in the town.

luke’s only enjoyment in his younger years and young teenage years was camp half-blood, and when he went to the church and saw you; the pastor’s daughter of the church he escaped to.

every time he ran away or returned home from summer camp, luke found his way to you. as he grew up and you did too, you both talked about childish things that led to normal teenager topics. you were more than the pastor’s child.

luke slowly grew a heavy crush on you, now as a teenager he watched you grow older and more rebellious to your father’s rules or restrictions. you always wore long skirts and modern shirts or dresses, sometimes pants and a fitting top that your father grimaced at, despite you respecting his modesty rule. you hated it though, luke always heard you complain about it, especially in the start of the summer.

“it’s getting warm out, i now,” you looked around to make sure your father wasn’t near, “sneak clothes in my bag, dad lets me drive the truck now so i change when im gone.” you confessed to luke. he was surprised, you were good and never disobeyed your father or your church, but he was wrong. “what do you wear?” luke asked, curious and looking around also.

“i’ll wear tank tops out without a sweater, skirts that are above my knees, or shorts. my dad doesn’t know i have em, my mama does but it’s just a secret. can you keep a secret?” you asked, informing him on a vision he was missing out on in the summer. he could picture you in shorts, your legs on display and the jean curved to your bottom perfectly, matching it with a tank top that showed your cleavage or a bit of your stomach, alongside that your gold cross pressed against your chest. the thought made his teenage mind run wild. he nodded at the words, “i can keep a secret.” he spoke, looking at you with wide eyes.

your smile blossomed and he felt his heart beat harder, he always had feelings for you, but he knew that this was the last time he’d be with you; his mother had died. he had no where to stay once he left. your father opened the door and you both split apart before smiling at your father. “hi dad.” you greeted him softly, crossing your legs and clasping your hands together. “we were talking about summertime.” you said softly, pushing your hair out of your face.

your father nodded and his eyes flickered between you both, a bit suspicious. he brushed it off and fully looked at the demi-god, “luke, do you want to have a funeral for your mother? i know you both aren’t a member truly, but you’re here a lot. we respect you and care for you and your loss. we can honor her.” your father offered.

luke looked between you and your father, seeing the striking similarity in your faces but difference in the way you presented yourselves. your father composed, you more relaxed. “yes sir, thank you father.” luke agreed, hating the words he spoke but he did it out of respect. he loved his mother, he missed her truly. the three of you spoke the plan and you placed your hand on luke’s arm gently, making his face burn and look sheepish under your father’s stare.

you two were soon dismissed by him, walking through the church. “where do you go in the summer? i wish you could be here.” you said softly, bumping shoulders with him. “oh, summer camp. the one cps lady found it for me and takes me away as a break from it all.” luke informed. it was true actually, the cps lady was actually a camp half-blood counselor who was set to find him, it explained his mother’s insanity and the weird things he saw. “when are you leaving?” you asked, fingers finding his and intertwining your hands, looking around to see if your father was around. he forbid the action with boys, only dismissing it when you had your hand on top of luke’s, not interlaced.

“i leave this weekend.” he informed, keeping hold of your hand, “i’ll call you before i go” he added, both of you standing in a vacant hallway. you leaned against the wall, “you will?” you asked, hopeful. “yeah, always. one of our night calls before i go.” he assured, hand still holding yours. throughout the years, you both called one another at night around ten, though your parents rule was lights out at nine. you both talked amongst one another quietly, luke and you both going silent every now and then if you thought you heard a noise in the night. sometimes you fell asleep on the line, making him laugh and have to hang up.

the next and new idea you presented surprised him, “can i see you tomorrow night?” you asked, curious. tomorrow was friday, he left sunday night. luke thought about it, “sneaking out?” he asked you, taken aback slightly at your change. typically he saw you in the daytime, this was different. “yeah! cmon we can go for a walk under the stars, wouldn’t that be lovely?” you spoke, bribing him before hearing a door close nearby. you both stood up straight and you put your hands behind your back, acting like nothing different was going on.

you smiled at your dad who walked to the office, it instantly dropped once he left, luke could feel your nerves; you weren’t the only one with a shitty parent. “we can.” luke said softly.

so luke did as told, standing under the streetlight at 10pm down your street, waiting for you.

meanwhile you climbed out your window, a stone under the sill and your door closed per usual. you had a fence to climb up and down by your window, so it was easy to leave.

luke expected to see you meet him in your normal attire, but it took him by surprise when you ran down the street in your tennis shoes, shorts, a tank top, and a zip up hoodie you didn’t even zip up. you stopped in front of him, smiling as you breathed heavily, “hi.” you spoke, making him smile in return, “hi.” he said back, cupping your face to kiss you.

this wasn’t the first time he did this, you two had met in private many times in the church, kissing a bit. even in public you two found your ways to be romantic, but not enough for the church ladies to spread gossip. and you weren’t terribly rebellious, so they couldn’t say anything, you just had a secret romance your father didn’t know of. your mother knew, she knew everything, and she didn’t dare tell your father because she once was like you. there had been arguments between you both over it, so she picked her battles and you picked yours.

you loved luke, you hoped to marry him. a lovesick teenager you were, but he was perfect to you. you kissed him again before pulling him in the direction of the playground, planning to lay on the playscape and look at the stars.

you both spoke amongst one another, luke’s hand in yours while you laid beside each other. “i prayed for the first time.” he admitted, making you look at him in shock, “wow! really?” you asked, “the quiet atheist prayed, how surprising.” you teased, making him laugh. you obviously didn’t know the demi-god fully, he knew gods were real. he wasn’t truly an atheist, though he didn’t like his father and the other gods that ignored him. he just had some resentment towards any form of god presented towards him, but for once he did pray to the god you looked towards. your laughter died down, “who? and what did you ask?” you pried, looking at him.

he noticed the sparkle in your eyes, the moon illuminating your features, if you were a demi-god like him he knew you’d be aphrodite’s daughter. but, you were a mortal, and he couldn’t love you like you wanted. you both had two different worlds, two different lives, he only was immersed in yours when you were beside him. he also knew he’d live longer than you, and it’d pain him to see you pass when he’d still be alive. but he savored the moments with you because somehow, the monsters didn’t bother him when you were near, and the demi-god curses paused when you were with him.

“i asked mary to watch over my mother, since you constantly say how comforting it is to pray to her.” luke spoke, telling you the full truth. he also asked his father to show up instead of being a deadbeat. but that wouldn’t be answered. you smiled again, “holy shit luke castellan, you asked a higher power for something.” you said in surprise. he rolled his eyes, “shut up.” he spoke, nudging you as you laughed. you sat up and looked down at him, “i don’t expect you to be a child of god,” how ironic, “but it’s cool you tried out something new cause of me.” you finished, leaning down to kiss him. luke met you halfway and sat up slowly, kissing you, his hands finding your figure he knew and now fully saw, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

you both stopped eventually, knowing it was too risky to be out as the sun was starting to rise. luke knew you would fall asleep beside him laying under the stars, you needed the rest he could easily miss. luke laced his hand with yours, walking back to your home for the last time. luke watched as you climbed up towards your window, eyes watching your backside a bit too much, then leaving back to his house that was slowly emptying.

you called for the last time saturday night after the funeral, not knowing it was the last time you’d see one another and speak before his return. the call was longer, luke tried to get every ounce of words from you, getting to hear your soft laugh and voice. he knew it would be the last time he heard it until he returned, and he didn’t know when that was. luke had some responsibilities and figures to return to at camp half-blood, and he had no other home. he didn’t plan to return to your state, return to the town. though you were there, he couldn’t stay in a foster house just to see you. he couldn’t risk the monsters making him seem insane in public.

“goodnight luke.” you said softly, making tears form in his eyes softly, he smiled and his breath hitched. “goodnight y/n, sleep well, i love you.” he admitted, taking the jump. you were silent on the other end, “i love you too. be safe.” you said softly, soon he could hear you hang up.

finding you was difficult. luke returned to your hometown, scarred and much older, twenty-three now. he had battled, went to war, betrayed others, got his monsters under control, found his father, was possessed by kronos, killed kronos and nearly himself, and all he wanted was you in the end.

he knew he betrayed you, and how it was hard for a mortal and demi-god to live and love. but finding you and making it up to you was what he survived for.

he found your father, who was surprised at his return, and asked for your location. he learned that you moved states and resented your family. he also learned that you became a well known author, writing books for those who dared to break out of their forced norms. the books had striking characters, all fictional. but, you released an autobiography the year he returned. luke bought it instantly, as your father refused to promote it.

luke struggled with reading the mortal language, though it wasn’t as difficult as he last remembered. luke managed to read through your book, reading about your life and learning your traumas and resentment you dared to share. in none of the pages luke existed, he thought maybe you alluded to him as one of the guys you talked about, but the timeline didn’t add up in his mind.

luke felt a bit hurt, how he returned to you so dearly and saw how dead he was to you by not reading anything about him.

however, when luke opened the book for the final time, he managed to finally catch the dedication.

dedicated to: luke castellan, wherever you are, if you’re even alive. i still think of our last call.

luke read it, slightly appalled. his thumb brushed over the words as if he could bring them to life and bring you into his arms again, holding you against him. luke knew he could navigate through your world easily, he could blend in as a mortal and find you.

so, he did.

luke rented a car and read the back of the book where it stated where you resided in. he wanted to find you and tell you everything he lived through and tell you the truth, despite knowing the dangers it could bring to both of you. he just wanted you in his arms again.

part two?

[kreayshawni]

Hello! I just read your Bill Dickey x reader, and I loved it!

I’m curious what would he be like if he was a yandere? Keep up the great work <3

heyy so i literally love you for this req!! （づ￣3￣）づ╭❤～

being in a relationship with yandere! bill dickey would include...

cw ; possessive & overall yandere behaviour, threats, blackmail, suicide but it's really not much,

he always needs to know where you're at, who you're with, what you're wearing during it, and god forbid you take a while to respond or you're with someone he doesn't like, he'll drag you back to him, himself.

he's jealous of literally everyone. he can't stand it when you're focused on someone else. the only time he'll ever give you physical affection in public is to stake his claim on you.

if you're not already dating, he's absolutely feral during the crush stages. he doesn't know whether to push you away cause these feelings are too much, or pull you in closer.

if you try breaking up with him, he'd threaten to kill himself, and even you when you start to not believe him or care.

he needs constant reassurance.

some parts of his obsessive nature stem from seeing his parents failed relationship, he'll be damned if he lets the same thing happen to you two.

he's honestly much more loving in private. but it's just so suffocating, his hugs feel like he's trying to intertwine your souls, and you can smell his sweat, and the feeling of him inhaling your scent when his heads buried in the crook of your neck is disgusting.

you have absolutely no time to yourself. he'll always find a way to weasel himself into whatever you're doing at the time, if he thinks its boring, then he'll just force you to do something else with him.

if you're on the more timid side, he's never been more elated. you can bend at his will anytime if he lets out enough whines of ''do you even love me?''

but if you don't take his shit, it'd be difficult to knock you down a couple of pegs, but he still manages to do so. this time, with more threats and blackmail.

during the early stages of your relationship, he lets you be a bit more comfortable with him, sharing secrets and insecurities just so he can use them against you in the future.

in his own twisted way, he does love you. you just have to accept the way he's showing it, good luck soldier

'' i wanna strangle you, till you stop breathing, and spend the rest of my life looking for air ''

[bigball-thefrog]

Greetings!! Just wanted to know if maybe you could do something with Law or Zoro on how they would be like with a Gyaru reader. I’m a Gyaru and i was just curious about how it would be like with them with my lifestyle lol

Hello hello! Thank you for the request❤️ I apologize in advance because I know basically nothing about the Gyaru style or subculture so I just went based on what I found on Google, so if there's anything wrong or potentially offensive, feel free to point it out.

Warnings/Tags:

None

______________________________

Law:

- It mostly depends on if you're with his crew or not.

- if you're on his crew then you're probably gonna have to follow a dress code since we see the rest of the crew wears the same jumpsuits.

- but like most rule books you could probably find loopholes to add some accessories or makeup to your uniform and it pisses him off each time you find a flaw in his rules.

- but if you're not on his crew then of course it's different.

- He seems like the type of person doesn't like the look of heavy makeup so the first time he sees that style of makeup he's definitely gonna stare

- If you're stereotypical with both the look and personality then he's gonna eternally sigh

- He doesn't need another social butterfly to talk his ears off along with Luffy.

- But overall he doesn't care other people's clothes don't affect him, it'll probably be something he's gonna have to get used to, and you'll probably catch him glaring from time to time, but he's not such an ass that he'd try and get you I change

Zoro:

- Zoro has seen all sorts of people so seeing your sort of style doesn't phase him

- I imagine if he sees you applying your makeup he'll just walk up to you confused and just peel off one of the false eyelashes and just stare at it confused and thinking it was your real eyelashes

-Zoro is definitely an underdresser and might see all your bright colour's, accessories as an eyesore

- But he's not gonna say anything about it because he knows he's gonna get his ass beat, whether it's from you, the other girls or Sanji for saying something mean.

- I think just like Law it would take some time to get used to it but he's respectful enough to keep his mouth shut because it's not his clothes so why should he care?

______________________________

Once again I apologize if it's not good and feel free to correct me for anything and I'll try and post tomorrow

Kelly🐸

[genderqueerdykes]

okay i’ve been wondering about this for a while. i’ve seen a lot of fandom discourse that headcanoning a character who’s commonly accepted as transfem in fandom as a genderweird trans in all directions nb person is transfem erasure. is this true? i haven’t really thought so‚ but i might just be biased as a nb transmasc myself. (common examples include john egbert)

hello there, thanks for stopping by!

i am definitely the wrong person to ask about this, i am very sorry. i do not participate in fandom at all, i don't engage with much fiction and when i do, i don't get into it that much. my brain doesn't really latch on to fiction like it did when i was a kid. i still play games and watch anime here and there but i don't interact with fandoms, so i apologize for that. i find them to be genuinely uncomfortable and unsafe environments to be in due to being intersex and biracial. fandom spaces unfortunately tend to be extremely racist & intersexist. i had friends who were heavily involved in fandom as a teenager and i felt very unsafe due to the sheer amount of fetishiziation of intersex bodies that goes on in fandom spaces.

this is simply an outsider's perspective, but i don't really see fandoms as "representation" that can be "erased" because it's all conjecture and everyone has such wildly different opinions on what a character is or is not. it's not representation if it's not confirmed. if it's just a headcanon it's not representation, as it was not confirmed and thus is conjecture and speculation. i might be wildly off base as an outsider, but i always kinda thought the point of fandom was for everyone to express how they interact with that piece of media uniquely, and spread and share their thoughts and opinions? why are people trying to control how other people interact with a piece of fiction that they did not make...?

that seems antithetical to the idea of fandom. i thought it was supposed to be a fun hobby? again maybe i just *don't* get it as an outsider, but it makes no sense to me to try to control someone else's internal opinion on something that quite literally is not real. like at the end of the day none of these people are real, you can't hurt their feelings you're not 'erasing' anyone here, they're literally not real, and if it's only a headcanon that that person is transfem... then you're not. erasing. a transfem character, it's just conjecture. it doesn't matter what gender or sexuality you see them as because you're free to think and feel those ways in your head. you're allowed to engage in those thought experiments because that person quite literally is not real so it's okay to speculate on their identity. it's not okay to do this to another live person but if they're fictional who... cares?

this may sound really harsh but i need to stress to people that fictional characters are not real human beings, and stressing out over their genders or sexuality does nothing to help you. you can't hurt their feelings. you can't erase a transfem that isn't confirmed to be transfem. a headcanon is just that: a personal opinion. it shouldn't come to the point where it causes distress and fighting. this is a hobby, it is not one's entire life. i would recommend just blocking and not engaging with people who try to police how you interact with leisure behaviors. i don't think there's one true way to be "Right" about these kinds of things because it's literally all conjecture

also sorry, i have no idea who that character is! i don't know very many fictional characters by name so i can't lend any input there, apologies. for the future, if anyone is curious about my feelings on these sorts of things about other characters, i unfortunately cannot help you as there's a near 100% chance i am not familiar with them and can't lend any input

how can an opinion be right or wrong ... ? that just doesn't make sense to me. it's all opinion. it's not worth hurting other people over or yelling at each other. i'm sorry that i can't give you a more informed opinion, but i thought maybe an outsider's perspective could help somewhat. i hope this is somewhat informative or helpful to you at all- i honestly don't think it's right for people to try to control each others' headcanons because that is quite literally thought policing and i am not here for that. anyway, take care of yourself! thanks for stopping by :)

[mythalism]

Now I’m curious. What do you think Mythal/Flemythal was plotting?? I go back & forth personally on whether she wanted the Veil to come down (with or without releasing Elgar’nan & Ghilan’nain). Do you think she knew Solas’ plans at all?

(feel free to ignore VG/use just bits & pieces of the lore)

god... what a question. i used to love that i had no idea what she was plotting because i always felt like she was smarter than me, as she should be. what does she say to rook, something like "you are a thousand years from knowing the proper words" ooougughghghghoghghgoghgh thats how i feel. i thought the way she was written in the first three games was so well done because you could FEEL her playing chess with your warden and hawke and inky and no matter how hard you tried to see the rest of the board you could never have the same birds-eye view that she had. im not sure we ever really even got enough information to fully understand what she had been plotting. "vengeance" and "retribution" can take so many forms and i do think that fucking elgar'nan over was probably a big part of it. but veilguard muddled so much of the lore so much that i find it hard to even extrapolate. id like to think it was more complex than just "kill elgar'nan back" because i find that so boring. her desire for an old god baby is also so intriguing to me because... why? what would she have done with it? had she collected all the others in the previous blights? how would she have used them? i think something evil and destructive was just as likely as something restorative. "reckoning that shakes the heavens" does feel like the veil coming down to me, and i cannot think of any reason that she would care about keeping it up. but i also cant help but think that the titans and forgotten ones were going to play a larger role that might have been relevant, especially due to the role they played in the war that was the catalyst for her murder. and ough thats not even getting to the blight. i honestly have no clue. im not sure we ever got enough puzzle pieces to put something together. but i am sad we will never find out.

[hy6erion]

Hi! How are u doing?

May I request a Mel Medarda x female reader who has a natural kind of deep voice and is kinda insecure about it (cit me) and Mel likes it and if possible add a suggestive end?

Of course you don't have do this if you don't want to.

Remember to drink enough water and take care of yourself.

PS: It's my first time requesting something lol 🫠

𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 - 𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰-𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞!! 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 (≧◡≦)

𝟏.𝟔𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

The first time Mel hears your voice, truly hears it, is at a gala in Piltover’s upper district—an event meant to soothe fraying alliances between merchants and the Council. She’s always been attentive, always noticing the small things about people before they ever realize she’s watching.

But your voice—your voice makes her pause.

Not because it’s loud or demanding, but because it’s the opposite. Smooth like the finest aged whiskey, a resonance that hums more than it speaks, deep enough to settle low in the bones. It’s the kind of voice that should belong to a ruler, a deity, someone carved into history.

Instead, you keep your head lowered when you speak, as if ashamed of the sound that drips from your lips.

Mel watches. She listens. And when the opportunity presents itself, she seizes it.

“You hesitate before you speak,” she remarks, wine glass in hand, golden adornments catching the candlelight.

You’re taken off guard—Mel Medarda is speaking to you. Not in passing, not in politeness, but to you. Directly.

“I—” Your voice betrays you, that same deep, rich tone curling around the single syllable.

Mel smiles, indulgent. “You hesitate because you think your voice does not belong in these halls.”

You stiffen, fingers tightening around the stem of your own glass. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“No?” She tilts her head, watching you carefully. “Then tell me—why do you let others speak over you when you have a voice that could command the room?”

You feel exposed, as if she’s peeled away the layers of careful restraint you’ve built over the years. “It’s just… different.”

“Different?” Mel echoes, amused. “Is that all?”

Your throat tightens. You don’t answer.

Mel hums, thoughtful. “It’s a shame, really. You hold back something so devastatingly beautiful.”

You almost laugh at that—almost. It’s the kind of effortless flattery Mel Medarda is known for, the kind that twists people around her finger. And yet, there’s something in her tone, something honest.

“You don’t have to humor me,” you murmur, sipping your wine.

Mel leans in, her presence deliberate, warm. “Who said I was humoring you?”

Your pulse betrays you, quickening beneath your skin. She notices. She always notices.

She doesn’t press further. Not yet. But that knowing smile of hers lingers long after the gala ends.

The Second Time

You don’t see her for weeks.

Not until a late evening at her estate, where political dealings and shifting allegiances have made the night long and tiresome. You’re not supposed to be here, not really—but the invitation was extended, and you were too curious (too drawn) to refuse.

She finds you on the terrace, watching the city below, wrapped in the quiet hum of the night.

“You disappeared on me,” she says, voice smooth as silk, stepping beside you.

You huff a soft laugh. “Didn’t know I was expected to stay.”

Mel turns, leaning against the railing, eyes studying you in that way that makes you feel entirely too seen. “Tell me something,” she muses, tracing a finger along the rim of her wine glass. “Do you hate your voice?”

You tense. The question is too direct, too knowing. “I don’t hate it.”

Mel watches you, and for a moment, the only sound between you is the gentle breeze rolling in from the cliffs.

“Then why do you flinch when you speak?”

Your fingers tighten against the railing. “It’s not like that.”

“It is,” she counters, tilting her head. “You hold back. You swallow words that should be spoken.”

You exhale slowly, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t know. It’s just—people notice. People expect something different when they see me.”

Mel’s eyes flicker with something unreadable. “And you hate that they notice?”

You hesitate. “I hate that it sets me apart.”

For a moment, Mel says nothing. Then, she steps closer, her warmth pressing into your space, her fingers skimming along your wrist in a barely-there touch.

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” she murmurs, voice low, intimate. “Your voice doesn’t set you apart. It sets you above.”

Your breath catches.

She takes the wine glass from your hand, setting it aside.

“You want to hide it,” she continues, voice like velvet, tracing the underside of your wrist with the tips of her fingers. “I want to hear more of it.”

You swallow hard. “Mel—”

She lifts a brow, amused. “Don’t stop now.”

It’s deliberate, the way she says it, coaxing, teasing. As if daring you to keep speaking just so she can feel your voice in the space between you.

Your skin prickles with heat. “You—”

Mel hums. “There it is.”

Your breath stutters. “You like my voice.”

“I love it,” she corrects smoothly, fingers trailing up your arm. “And I’d like to hear what it sounds like when you stop holding back.”

Your stomach tightens.

Mel watches, waiting. She’s in no rush, her patience a slow, agonizing pull.

“You—” Your voice nearly fails you, low, rich, curling around the words like something sinful. “You play a dangerous game.”

Mel smiles, slow and knowing, like a lioness that has cornered her prey.

“And you’re the one who keeps walking into it.”

Mel has always been patient.

She understands the art of the slow game-the build-up, the tension, the anticipation. She thrives in it, lets it weave through her interactions, lets people stew in the possibility of what she might do.

And right now?

Right now, she's letting you stew.

Your pulse is quick, your breath uneven, and yet you don't pull away from her touch. She can feel the hesitation, the sharp contrast between want and restraint.

"Tell me something," she murmurs, fingers brushing the inside of your wrist, light enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Have you ever had someone worship your voice the way it deserves?"

Your lips part, but no words come out.

Mel watches you carefully, golden eyes half-lidded, full of knowing amusement. "No? Then I have the honor of being the first."

Your throat tightens, heat curling low in your stomach. "Mel-"

"Again," she says, leaning in, lips dangerously close to the corner of your jaw. "Say my name again."

You swallow hard, pulse hammering against your ribs. "Mel."

The way her breath catches is almost imperceptible, but you feel it, feel the way her fingers tighten against your skin for just a second before she exhales, slow and controlled.

"There it is," she whispers, lips grazing against your jaw, just enough to make you shiver. "I could listen to you say my name forever."

Your head tilts slightly, instinctual, exposing more of your throat to her.

She doesn't move just yet-just lets her fingers trace the line of your arm, a featherlight touch that leaves heat in its wake.

"You're cruel," you murmur, voice thick, rougher than usual.

Mel smiles. "Am I?"

She lifts her hand, brushing her knuckles against your jaw before dragging a finger along your bottom lip. Your breath stutters at the touch, the sheer intimacy of it making your skin burn.

"Would you like me to stop?" she asks, voice low, velvet-soft.

The answer is immediate. "No."

Mel hums, pleased. "Then tell me what you want."

You hesitate. Not because you don't know-but because saying it aloud, in that deep, sultry voice of yours, feels too much like giving yourself away.

Mel sees it. Sees the way you war with yourself, the way your throat works as you try to form the words.

She steps closer, pressing her body lightly against yours, letting you feel the heat of her. "Don't hide from me now," she whispers.

You exhale sharply, fingers gripping the railing behind you. "I want you."

Mel lets out a quiet sigh, as if savoring the sound of your confession.

"Say it again," she murmurs, hands sliding up your arms, slow, deliberate.

Your stomach clenches. "Mel-"

"Again."

You shudder, the demand slipping under your skin, curling around you. "I want you."

She exhales, fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your head just so before she leans in, brushing her lips over yours. It's not quite a kiss-just the promise of one, lingering in the air between you.

"Good," she murmurs, her breath warm against your mouth. "Because I want you too."

And then she kisses you.

It's slow at first, teasing, coaxing, like she's savoring every second of it. Her lips move against yours with careful precision, deepening just enough to make your knees weak.

Then she pulls away, just enough to let you chase her, let you murmur something low and needy against her lips.

The sound makes her hum, pleased, fingers tangling in your hair as she presses herself against you more firmly.

"You sound divine when you let go," she murmurs, dragging her lips along your jaw, down to the curve of your throat. "I wonder what else I can make you say."

You exhale sharply, fingers digging into her waist as she presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

Her hands move with purpose, slipping under the fabric of your clothes, fingertips grazing over bare skin, slow, unhurried. She's savoring this, savoring you, dragging out every little sound you make just to hear the way your voice trembles against her.

She likes it-likes the way your voice catches when she sucks lightly on the sensitive spot below your jaw, the way you murmur her name in that impossibly deep, honeyed tone that makes her stomach tighten.

"You should never hide this from me," she murmurs against your skin. "From anyone."

You tilt your head back, letting her mouth trail lower, your breath coming out in uneven, shuddering exhales.

Mel's lips curve into a satisfied smile.

She's only just begun.

[turtleblogatlast]

Don’t think I ever quite said what my LGBTQ+ headcanons are for the boys, so these are my current thoughts! Always changing of course but this is what I feel most strongly right now.

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[carnivalls]

.

See the thing is. I know I'm good at writing. Like I have my weak areas or things I need to improve in, but it's not a skill I otherwise spend a lot of time feeling insecure about because a) if I don't believe in my writing literally who will b) if I want to publish my writing I ought to at least feel a resting level of good about it because editors and agents likely will not be cradling my face like a prize cat and telling me how talented I am while asking for their edits c) I've always had an audience for my writing even at its worst– I started sharing my original works online when I was around 16 & that really helped sell to me the idea of 'there will always be someone out there who likes what you do' d) untalented men never think this hard about the quality of their works and they always end up published anyway and e) I don't have many other thoroughly developed skills so why not have one I feel good about. Having said this. Awkward feeling to realize you're one of the authorial weak links in your postgraduate creative writing degree's social circle

[icewindandboringhorror]

There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.

[bmpmp3]

yesterday in vocal synth news

[fragmentedblade]

I think I've become an official HI3 player. I check the HSR leaks hoping for iterations of HI3 characters now