#if he used object pronouns he would use sword/swords

[silverskye13]

DEADNAME! as a hk song? both referring to wels and previous champions? not a perfect fit but it kinda matches his vibe

You are absolutely correct DEADNAME! Is a great song for him, however I cannot put that song on his playlist because it is also on my Nonbinary Jams playlist, and he WILL become nonbinary if I do that, and I cannot switch pronouns mid plot--

[bumblesimagines]

Longing

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Old feelings are ignited when a childhood friend arrives at Kings Landing to help the war cause.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, references to vizzy t and Alicent's marriage, Alicent trying to justify what happened to her, free my girl from the clutches of the show writers who seem to think she has no trauma from being married to Viserys

This had been sitting in my drafts for a whileeee

~~~

With each quiet inhale and exhale, the strong scent of incense and smoke filled her senses, soothing and familiar. It filled her head with fading memories of all the times she prayed beside her mother back as a little girl when the Keep seemed so big and intimidating and she'd yet to find a friend in Princess Rhaenyra. Her mother always reminded her to trust in the Faith, in the Seven, for they were always listening. And perhaps they were, seeing as she'd prayed almost daily for the safe return of their soldiers and they'd only returned wounded. 

Her eyes parted and she swallowed thickly, her hands clutching the skirts of her dark green dress as she rose onto unsteady feet, thoughts about the Gods and their opinions of her consuming her mind. It would hardly count as sin, she hoped, to pray for the return of a man whose face she's scarcely recognized.

Her husband was dead, thus leaving her a widow meaning she could think of others without the guilt of being tempted. But a part of her still couldn't help but be consumed by that sinful guilt; after all, there'd been many a time she'd silently wished ill upon her husband so the dashing knight she thought of so often may save her. 

The knight of her dreams seemingly consumed her every waking moment, even then as she strolled out of Baelor's Sept and descended the stairs toward the awaiting carriage. She remembered him vividly from the times she accompanied her father on visits to Oldtown, eager to see her family and the place she would've called home if her father had been anyone else but Hand.

In those times, Gwayne's hair was longer and rested over his forehead in curls that resembled her own but what she remembered most of her brother was his closest companion: (Y/N) (L/N), one of her uncle's many wards who'd quickly become Gwayne's partner in crime. 

She'd been fairly young then and with her mind alight with tales of knights and damsels, her imagination and hopes ran wild once her cheeks lit ablaze and her typical shyness heightened around him. He'd still been a boy, merely a lord's son with dreams of being a warrior, but he learned the way of the sword swiftly and Alicent oft' thought of the many ways he'd use the sword to save her.

Part of her had hoped he'd object at her wedding, that he'd rise and declare his love for her but instead, she watched him laugh with Gwayne and the other knights and dance with different ladies throughout the feast. 

It'd surprised her when a wave of giddiness and anxious anticipation washed over her when she heard the news he'd be amongst the soldiers riding for the Keep to serve under Criston Cole's command. She'd been relieved to see her brother after so many years, of course, but to know he'd be there too and she'd finally see him in all his dashing glory compared to little else. Her presence in the courtyard that day had been brushed off as a sister waiting for her brother but her eyes had remained locked on him when he entered on his horse, his head held high and his expression calm. 

It'd saddened her when they'd hardly had more than two days to speak before Criston led them off to their first small battle, and the sickening news he'd been injured in battle reached her through a letter from Gwayne. Despite herself, she'd managed to keep her distance and only politely ask about him as any good queen would but her worry and need to see him bested her. 

Upon returning to the safe walls of the Keep, Alicent dismissed her handmaidens to return to other duties before she began the walk to the temporary bedchambers he'd been given whilst he fought for her son's claim. She knocked twice with her knuckles and twisted the handle to step inside, her eyes sweeping over the room before they focused on him and the young maester unwrapping the bandages around his waist. The maester dipped his head in greeting and resumed his task. 

"Your Grace," (Y/N)'s voice rumbled and sent a chill down her spine. He regarded her with a polite yet warm smile that made her head feel fuzzy. "Are you in need of something?" 

"I simply wished to check you were recovering swiftly," Alicent responded and gave the maester a small nod, her feet guiding her closer to him until the subtle smell of soap still clinging to him reached her nose. The maester stood and bent at the waist, offering her the fresh roll of bandages before taking his leave. "I hear it was an unexpected attack."

"Yes, it was," He nodded, watching her brush her palm over the back of her dress as she sat down beside him on the couch. His arm lifted and rested along the back of the couch, drawing her eyes to his shirtless upper body. "But we fought well, even if Cole is rather... inexperienced in commanding an army. I suppose I wouldn't be any different if I were in his position." 

Alicent gave a quiet hum and peeled back the bandages, almost wincing at the fleshy pink scar across his skin. She set the old bandages aside to be disposed of later and carefully ran her fingers around the skin surrounding the injury. "I hear you gave Gwayne quite the fright," Alicent murmured, her attention drifting from the scar to study the rest of him. "He nearly struck Cole, or so rumors say." 

(Y/N) laughed and then winced, his lips twisting into a brief frustrated pout before tugging into that familiar smile. "He apologized if it matters; It almost sounded sincere. I'm certain Cole learned why nobody enjoys being on the bad side of a Hightower." His amusement appeared to be infectious and a smile spread across Alicent's face. 

"I'm glad you have each other." She told him and dipped her fingers into an ointment before gingerly spreading it over the injury. "I'm thankful Daeron has been raised by the both of you."

"He's a good lad, perhaps the best of the young lot we have." (Y/N) told her warmly. "He does not use what he knows against others, as is common with boys of his age who have such skills, and he's.. gentle.. kind. He is young but with time he would make an ideal Hand, and I'm certain once he is man-grown, you will receive many pleas from ladies desiring to be his wife. He makes a fine soldier but he'd make an even finer husband and father, I'm sure of it." 

Alicent exhaled shakily and busied herself with unraveling the roll of fresh bandages to wrap around his waist. "That- That is good, I'm glad. He- I'm-... I'm truly thankful he's had the chance of having a fatherly figure in his life. I'm afraid his brothers lacked that warmth and love in their youth and now suffer the bitterness that comes with being deprived of it." 

(Y/N) stared at her silently, his lips pursing slightly as he shifted to help her wrap the bandages. "Were you happy as Queen Consort, Alicent?" He asked quietly and her hands stilled, her breath catching in her chest and constricting inside her. He grimaced at her silence and carefully wrapped his hands around hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry you were unable to find happiness. Perhaps it would have been better if you'd remained in Oldtown with Gwayne."

"What was it like?" She asked quietly, studying their intertwined hands. "Growing up in our beautiful city?"

"We spent much of our youth training under Ser Frederick and Lord Hightower's watchful eyes to ensure we were the best knights Oldtown could offer. We had our fun, though. When the city grows damp, the coddled streets grow slippery. Gwayne and I and a few of the other boys would place bets on which unlucky Oldtowner would wind up falling after rainfall." (Y/N) recounted with a breathy chuckle. "There's a dog whom we named Melon. He's as free as the wind and as naughty as a jester. Ser Frederick gave up on trapping him, so he still roams the streets and training yard hoping to steal a wooden sword or meal right out of an unsuspecting lad's hands."

Alicent gave a quiet laugh, blissfully envisioning the older man rushing after a raggedy old dog who viewed it as a game. She envisioned herself there, as well, standing on the sidelines with the other ladies who watched the young knights train and giggled over which knight they desired for themselves. "It must've been something to grow up alongside Gwayne. He's as dutiful as is expected of a knight but he's always loved a bit of trouble." 

"Ah, yes," (Y/N) grinned. "He's left a trail of broken hearts in Oldtown. The ladies swoon over him but he's fully committed to his vows and duties. He doesn't refrain from some flirting, though."

"And yourself? I'm certain the ladies swoon over you, as well." She'd already heard plenty of whispers from eligible courtiers in the Keep, certainly it was no different in Oldtown where the ladies had watched him grow and mature. Alicnet dragged the pad of her thumb over the skin of his hand, her insides twisting at the idea of hearing his interest in another. "There are.. many eligible ladies here in Court. A wedding would do wonders for the atmosphere of the Keep." 

(Y/N) lips quirked and he tilted his head back along the top of the couch. "I've been approached by plenty of lords and knights wishing to bring forth a wedding but being chosen for Ser Frederick's position as master-at-arms and taking care of Daeron has allowed me to give plenty of excuses. I suppose it may be the time to begin eyeing the marriage mart." 

Alicent hummed forcibly and freed her hands from his loose hold, rising from the couch and walking around it toward the pitcher with wine. "Lady Alysia Westerling has recently come of age, although you may find her too young for your tastes. Her sister, Lady Eleana, was widowed a few years ago and is searching for a new husband." Her ears picked up the quiet grunt that slipped from his lip when he stood up. "Lady Ellyn Baratheon has been betrothed to Aemond but the rest of the Four Storms remain eligible. The Lady-"

"The idea of arranging a marriage for me upsets you," He mused, sounding closer than she expected. "Your brother used to say you'd beg your parents to allow us to marry. He claimed by the age of seven, you knew precisely how you wished the wedding to go."

The horror of having an older brother, Alicent almost sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. Her skin flushed with the soft laugh that left him and she raised the chilled wine to her lips, flooding her mouth with the taste and hoping it'd flush away the swirling feelings in her chest. "Gwanye's always had the habit of overstepping when it comes to family." She murmured, running her thumb over the rim of the cup and tilting her head toward him. 

His eyes flickered over her face and her breath hitched in her throat when his hand touched the back of her neck, his fingers calloused from years of working with them yet they felt far gentler than the touch of her late husband. Her lips parted to release a shaky exhale, her hold on the cup tightening and imprinting the designs into her palm. Her eyes fluttered shut when he neared her, their lips pressing upon each other, mixing the taste of wine and herbal tea when he pressed further against her mouth.

Goosebumps rose along her skin and she clumsily set the cup down, some of the liquid spilling over with her movements. He moved, his front pressing against her back and lips pulling away to press against the dewy skin of her cheek. His arms wrapped around her, caging her in a warm embrace that made her believe for a fleeting moment that everything would be fine, even with the prospect of a bigger battle at Rook's Nest. His fluttered kisses down to her jawline and then the side of her neck, his breath fanning against her shoulder. 

"You are a widow, a woman no longer bound to a man and his house." He reminded her, his finger tracing the start of her off-shoulder sleeve. Her hands slipped toward her back and her fingers fiddled with the laces of her dress, pulling them free and loosening it enough for him to begin peeling the dress off her arms. "You've always spoken too lowly of yourself when you've always been the most eligible lady of the Crownlands."

She shakily exhaled when her dress slipped down and slumped around her ankles, her heart beginning to race and skip as it once had when she'd been a young girl. His fleeting and peppered kisses along her collarbone felt foreign, his warm tough new. Her late husband had always been rushed and clumsy, focusing on himself and muttering his late wife's name under his breath each time. It'd been her duty, something ladies did for the sake of their husbands and so few little enjoyed. But something old and forgotten ignited in her, a fire she'd long thought had been smothered. 

Her eyes stung with salty, warm tears. Was this how it felt to be cared for by a lover? Was this the addictive feeling that had Rhaenyra returning to Ser Harwin Strong all those years? She longed for what could've been, for the years wasted away solemnly tied to a man whose heart remained with another and who offered her the minimum of care.

She'd told herself so often that she was one of the lucky few, one of those ladies whose husbands were kind but standing in the arms of someone she'd longed for so often, she wished she'd been left behind in Oldtown.

"Would you have married me?" She asked softly.

(Y/N) kisses the back of her head, his fingers kneading and massaging her hips. "I still could." He murmured into her hair, leaning back when she turned around to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Her doe eyes were widened, hopeful and pleading. 

"I have prayed to the Gods since I was a girl for this." She told him, her hand resting against his cheek. "They have finally proven merciful, and have answered my prayers for the first time in years. Do not leave my side again, (Y/N). I do not wish to be betrothed to anyone but you."

[dominos-palast]

Lessons on flirting

Fandom: XMen

Pairing:   Kurt Wagner x fem!reader

Characters mentioned: Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Peter Maximoff

Used Pronouns: (she/her)

Warnings: none

Request: yes

Part: 1/3

A/N: I made an exception and did a fem!reader one since it was requested like that. I will eventually upload a gn!reader version

P.S.: I decided to split the request into 3 because I wanted to post something since it’s taking longer than promised :’)

Summary: Kurt has a crush on one of the best fighters in the institute, but doesn’t know how to approach the situation. Thank goodness that Peter and his friends are there to support him.

Word Count: 1k

“I did not get my ass whooped.” Scott walked between Jean and Kurt, trying to defend himself from Jean’s accusations.

“Of course not. How could you ever? We all know how strong the great Scott Summers is.” Scott would have felt flattered by such a response if it weren’t for the sarcasm behind her words.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep making fun of me. As if you had done it better,” he said eyeing the ice pack Jean pressed to her shoulder, only gaining a slight strong nudge on his bruised arm.

Kurt couldn’t help but snicker at their bickering. They had been on it since their last class. The topic had been self-defence. The catch: The use of powers was strictly prohibited. This type of class had become more frequent since the rumours of a new power suppressant circulating in the black market started. The professor wanted all students to be able to defend themselves, with and without powers.

“You sure can laugh,” Scott glanced at Kurt. “We aren’t allowed to use our powers, but you still can use your tail to fight.”

Kurt smiled proudly and swung his tail from side to side, mocking him even further.

“These classes are stupid. I have literal lasers for eyes. I can fry anyone even miles away from me. Why should I train in close combat if no one can get close to me anyway?” Scott let himself fall on the couch, resting his feet on the table in front of him. Jean already knew it was his frustration talking. They all had been lectured enough to understand why such classes were necessary.

Jean followed Scott’s lead and made herself comfortable beside him. Kurt leaned against the armrest of the couch.

“He indeed has an advantage, but I wasn’t expecting him to be that good.” She directed her eyes toward Kurt “You put up a pretty good fight against her, considering she is top of the class,” said Jean approvingly.

Kurt’s eyes suddenly lit up, and he turned toward them.

It was clear to him who she was talking about.

You hadn’t been in the institute for long but you managed to make a name for yourself right away. You hadn’t lost a spar in the self-defence class until now, making you one of the strongest fighters in the class.

“But how come she’s so strong? Does she have enhanced strength or something?” asked Scott raising an eyebrow.

“No. Her power is to transform drawings into solid objects,” Kurt responded.

Jean nodded and added, “I saw one of the spars she had with an older student. She pulled out a literal sword from the tattoo on her arm and beat his ass right in front of everyone. But do you know why she really is so strong?” Scott looked up at Jean’s questions with expectancy. “It’s because she is not a couch potato. Unlike you, Scott”

Scott threw a pillow at her, which she quickly stopped with her telekinetic powers.

The conversation went on with more complaints and remarks about the self-defence classes.

Kurt's mind drifted away, thinking of today’s class. More specifically the spar you had with him.

The first time he met you was in the self-defence class where he has been witness to your many wins. He has seen how graciously you can move and how powerful every single punch of yours is.

His admiration for you grew further and further from that day on. Not only because of your abilities but also because you remained humble and kind instead of letting your accomplishments get to your head. You were someone Kurt looked up to because you didn’t simply knock your opponent down. You gave hints and advice on what the correct stance is, how to throw a proper punch and so on. After every spar, you helped your opponent up and cheered them up like a football team’s coach would do. And you did exactly the same thing with Kurt after sparring with him.

He had lasted longer than the majority of the students you had gone against, but you still managed to make him eat dust. He lay on the ground as you approached to lend a hand. Kurt noticed your hand and was about to accept your help, but then hesitated. He was sure you would feel uncomfortable, considering Kurt’s unusual handshape. But to his surprise, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto his feet. He felt his cheek burn when he noticed the short distance you had between each other, but you kept your grip on his hand. The words you said stuck to Kurt like glue: “That was amazing. Just as expected. We have to repeat this sometime soon”. That along with your beautiful, bright smile made his heart beat unusually fast.

“Earth to lover boy, are you listening?”

Kurt turned his head toward Scott and Jean. Both were staring at him with sneaky smiles on their faces.

“Entschuldigung?”, asked Kurt clearly confused.

Jean and Scott exchanged glances in amusement.

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot since we mentioned her”, Jean said raising her eyebrows.

Kurt felt his cheeks grow hotter. “Oh, I was thinking of- you know, class- I mean-”

“Dude, it’s so clear you have a crush on her. You drool every time she is near,” Scott said rolling his eyes.

“It’s not like-”

“You have a crush on her” Kurt yelped at the sudden presence behind him, teleporting onto the spot between Jean and Scott on the couch on reflex. “Like, totally obvious” Quicksilver took a long sip from his apple juice, only to look disgusted at it. “What’s the expiration date on this?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t realise.” Kurt looked worryingly at Peter. “Do you think she noticed? Oh no, what if I weirded her out?”

“Well, only one way to find out.”

Everyone stared at Peter expectantly as he sipped his juice with risen eyebrows.

------- Part 1/3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[mstormcloud]

SONIC OC!!! And Espilver fankid hehe!! People on insta helped me name her Mirai and she’s a marten! (She/her, though Espio and silver use “they” until they learn her preferred pronouns)

(The formatting on the comic part is a little scuffed it reads top left, bottom left, top center, bottom center, top right, bottom right. Sorry about that whoops)

Under the cut I’m gonna give her full lore dump which includes my headcanon on how Silvers time travel works but trust me you don’t need to read it all.

The TLDR is that Silver found her in a ruined future and in exchange for allowing her to exist outside timelines much like himself she now has time-bending powers (kinda!) She can adjust the time of any object (for example turning water into steam by sending it to its future where it evaporates.)

Ok so let’s start with Silvers time travel cuz it is actually relevant. The way I headcannon it working kinda combines all the ways we’ve seen it in canon.

I’m not gonna address 06 cause it didn’t happen in this timeline and also the method of time travel is similar to the own used in Rivals 1: using the power of the master or chaos emeralds.

So first off I headcanon that Silver being sent back to the past in rivals 1 was actually somewhat of an accident. He was on Onyx island when it was sent back. And then between Eggman Nega admitting he used the master emerald and (I have a rivals rewrite when this happens but that’s a post for another day oops) Shadow teaching Silver about the Chaos emeralds and how to harness their energy - Silver realizes he can use this power himself to send himself back in time Again but this time to stop the Ifirit from ever growing strong and therefore saving his future.

Doing this caused two things: one, now Silver himself was a living paradox where he both exists but can’t exist at once, and two: the timestones became aware of his determination to protect the world throughout all of time. The timestones then blessed Silver with the ability to exist outside the timelines and now he’s the only Silver throughout all time, but in return he now has the duty to Always save the future from destruction. The portals that appear to being Silver to the past or future when he’s needed is created by the timestones.

Now, to Mirai. Silver found Mirai in one of many ruined futures he had been called to prevent, and despite knowing that bringing anyone from the future back to the past could inadvertently cause a paradox (like he himself almost did) he knew he couldn’t just leave the child alone in a ruined future. They’d die. So he brings the child to the timestones and begs them to allow Mirai to be capable of existing outside time similar to himself so he could bring her home and she could live safely. The timestones really like Silver so they agree but also make it clear this cannot happen again.

When the time stones bless Mirai they also give her the ability to control the time of objects. She can turn water into steam, re-form broken relics, manipulates clay where she can create different weapons by sending the clay into alternate “futures” - one as a sword, one as a scythe, etc.

While this power can be very useful it’s also somewhat unreliable, so she also had Espio train her in Ninjitsu and with certain weapons.

I’m undecided on if I want her connection to the timestones mean that like Silver she has to go through the portals when they open. I think it would be interesting but idk if I can handle that level of angst oops

If you read this all thank you!!

[seangelfish]

hii Hii this may sound strange but I would like to ask for TWC (separately) reaction headcanons when they see their mc getting what she wants in restaurants, stores, etc thanks to her "pretty privilege" a double edged sword that helped her survive working as a model but at the same time she was treated as an object when she was a minor unu .

thanks in advance and also thanks for opening requests /hugg

S/O WITH PRETTY PRIVILEGE

Featured characters: Naoakira Saimon, Yohei Kanbayashi, Ryu Natsume, Shiki Ando ♡ Tags: Headcanons, established relationships, casual romance, she/her pronouns, not proofread! ♡ Word count: 1,269 ♡ Synopsis: As stated in the request, you have pretty privilege. You could get anything you want for free! But there are limits, and not everyone sees what you see when using this to your leverage. ♡ A/N: I actually enjoyed writing this even though I wasn't really sure how to write it. It was an interesting request though, so I hope you like it~ (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Saimon tells you with sincerity that this is morally wrong. He doesn't condone this, lecturing you that this might backfire on you one day.

And for the first time in forever, you feel at ease at these words. You weren't sure why, but it was probably because when you usually get stuff given to you for free, the people around you encouraged it.

It was expected that people only befriended you for your beauty and the privileges it offers. Though, at one point, it was too much, too suffocating.

That's how you ended up with nobody.

Until Saimon, that is.

When you explained why this happens to you, Saimon isn't taken aback because he knows how beautiful you are and it does make sense that these people would offer you all these things for free.

"But do you truly like it when they do?" he asked.

"Well, I can't say I don't," you replied honestly. "I guess sometimes I do feel like I'm doing something wrong though..."

He nodded and smiled. "Then you know what to do," he stated, caressing your hand.

Therefore, the next time someone offered you something for free, you tried declining. However, it was hard, it felt odd to decline their offer after this being a part of your life for so long.

"You don't need to do that," stated Saimon. "I will be the one paying."

You looked up at him, relieved. The server quickly understood the situation and let Saimon pay.

"I guess this will take getting used to," Saimon said with a lighthearted chuckle. "But I will be here for you when you need me."

You thanked him with a warm smile. Over time, you learned how to reject these offers. It truly felt like you were a part of society now, not an object that needed to be worshipped, and Saimon supported you all the way.

When the bill for the meal you had with your boyfriend was completely discarded, Yohei gets extremely suspicious. But he lets it slide until the second time when you actively ask for a discount with the use of your beauty.

He tells you to stop it immediately, that he can pay for it. However, you don't give in since this was your normality for such a long time, it would be weird to finally pay something in full.

So to Yohei's dismay, you keep accepting the generous offers. Your beauty was your strong point and you were going to use it to its fullest extent. Shouldn't Yohei be happy about this? He didn't even need to use his money on you! You could get everything for free!

But Yohei hated it. He hated seeing men succumb to your charms, to offer you a meal on the house. He hated seeing their eyes fall on your pretty face, their fingers to their lips as they shush you not to tell anyone about this.

"(Y/N), stop this now," he repeated. "Stop doing this."

"But why? Isn't this great? We can get anything we want!"

"Argh, that's not the point. (Y/N), you may think you're taking advantage of your pretty privilege, but one day, you may have to repay that."

You didn't understand what he meant by that.

He sighed. "Listen, one day someone will want something out of you for providing you with free things, and it isn't going to be pretty. So stop it now."

You were quiet. Yohei was right, but what did that mean for you? This was your life leading up to now, and you were just going to stop all of that? Yet again, using your beauty to survive in this world had always made you uncomfortable especially when you were young.

"And anyways," Yohei continued, cutting you off from your flashback. "I want to provide for you... as a boyfriend should."

As expected, Ryu is going to indulge in this privilege of yours because that means he can get free stuff too!

He doesn't question why people around you are offering these things to you nor does he really care, he just thinks this is neat!

But when you start batting your eyelashes and twirling your hair at the servers, the smile on his face quickly diminishes.

Why are you doing that? he wondered.

Yet those simple acts always result in luxury that he completely disregards it.

For a few times at least.

One day, he asks you the reason why these people are giving you free things. When you explain to him it was because of your pretty privilege, Ryu goes unusually silent.

"So you're entertaining them?" he said coldly which was unlike his super bubbly attitude. "What more have you done with them to get these things?"

This hurt you more than it should have. Why was he being so mean? Was it that big of a deal?

"Ryu, I don't really appreciate that–"

"Neither do I."

But before you could retort back, Ryu had snapped out of it. He recognised the sullen look on your face and asked you what was wrong.

"Do you think what I'm doing is wrong?" you asked him after the long, unbearable silence. He tilted his head like a cat, unsure of what you were talking about. "Of me getting stuff for free..."

"Oh..." he murmured. "I don't know, but it is kindaaa weird!"

"Haha, you think...?"

You didn't think he'd listen, but you clarified the reasons why this happens to you.

"(Y/N), I'm sorry," he said sadly.

"N-No, it's okay! That's all in the past now, but I guess old habits die hard. I'll try to stop it; if not, at least minimise it."

Ryu smiled, engulfing you in a big hug. He stroked your back like the way you'd do for him, reassuring you that all he wanted was for you to be comfortable with what you do, that you didn't need to do that anymore. After all, you were a person, not an object.

But it wouldn't hurt if you did use your pretty privilege once in a while~

Shiki gets extremely scared when you accept the free meal. He quickly rejects it, stating to the server that he’s already paying for everything. He doesn’t understand why this just happened even when you explained it to him.

He knows how beautiful you are, but this feels wrong. Should he even condone this? Whenever someone offers you something for free, their eyes look longingly at you and it’s something that Shiki fears.

He feels incredibly guilty now that this keeps happening, but he notices from the corner of his eye that you feel a little guilty about it too.

"(Y/N), it's okay to decline their offers if it makes you uncomfortable..." he spoke up. "B-But I know you've survived this long with your looks, so I don't expect you to stop! It's your decision after all..."

It just worries him that one day you’d be the one being taken advantage of. It scares him to think that someone would want something in return for their ‘generosity.’ Moreover, he thinks that the two of you would get in trouble for this, and he doesn't want to be caught up in that!

Due to his anxiety revolving around your pretty privilege, you decided to stop accepting the free gifts.

Sure, people are still going to goggle at you, but you no longer worked as a model who needed strangers’ generosity to survive. Now you can afford these things yourself like a normal person.

Shiki calms down, apologising for the fact that it was a great privilege to be this pretty to get free things. However, he just couldn’t have others gift you with free stuff when he was the one who wanted to do that for you.

"(Y/N), I'm going to work harder to afford the things you want!" he said triumphantly.

"Hehe, you don't need to do that, Shiki. You're all I need."

Intro page | Paradox Live masterlist | Request rules

[velvateen]

misery likes company- johnathan ohnn/the spot x reader smut

when you and Dr. Ohnn go from coworkers to something more, something that will last through thick and thin…

pre and post collider with @nami-kana ‘s OC, Scorpede at the end! check her out she is so talented mwah

gn fem bodied reader, no pronouns

warnings: oral sex, piv, non-canonical use of powers, slight slow burn at the beginning MDNI

Before the accident.

Johnathan Ohnn is your boss. That’s a fact, or a statement, rather. No matter which way you slice it, his position above you should be completely and undeniably professional. He does the lab work, you record his findings and translate his excited murmurs into legible notes for research. That’s all there is to it.

So why is it that hearts start appearing next to your notes, blossoming from sprouts in the margins to full bouquets of pages dedicated to mindless swirling and doodles accompanying his name on your notepad?

It is likely the same reason that your heart’s been starting to race whenever you catch his eye, or when he calls your name from the other side of the lab for you to write something down.

You’ve gotten into a bad habit of yearning for Dr. Johnathan Ohnn.

You tell yourself that, as far as having a crush on your boss goes, you’ve got a good thing going. Long days turning into late nights alone in the lab, so no gossipping coworkers, plus, the object of your affections himself is pretty oblivious to any and all signs from you.

It’s a double edged sword. On one hand, you’d be over the moon if Dr. Ohnn would wisen up to your affections, and swoop the stuff right off a desk and take you there in the lab like some sort of movie. On the other hand, you know your shy boss better than anyone, knowing that he’s far too invested in his research to ever notice.

It wears on you.

Night after night, you stay by his side, prattling away at the computer, jotting notes, brainstorming with him about the project.

Night after night you edge closer to him as he works, skin igniting at a brush of your arms, before he inevitably moves his away to point at something or other.

Night after night, the words to tell Dr. Ohnn how you feel creep closer and closer to leaving your lips.

Night after night, Dr. Ohnn stays oblivious. He runs his hands through his brown hair, exasperated (but still excited) about the research findings. Your eyes travel to his hands as they push his glasses away to rub his eyes. The sun begins to rise, early in the morning, which usually means that it’s about time to go home and catch a few hours of sleep before meeting back at the lab.

These few hours of sleep are precious to you and Dr. Ohnn knows it, he can tell by the way your eyes droop mid-day, even in the throes of enthralling experimenting, so he sends you home at the first sign of a yawn.

The chime of the pass key greets you as automatic doors admit you into the lab. You set down your bag at your desk.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Ohnn,” you spot him pouring over his table, undoubtedly running some kind of hypothesis over in his head.

“Oh, hello. That on your desk is for you,” he looks up, for the briefest moment. Your eyes widen as you turn to find the warm pastry bag and a coffee on your desk.

“Really? Thank you!” you said with a hum, not hesitating to rip a piece of the pastry off and into your mouth. “What for?” You ask. It sounds more like “wah or?”

“Well,” he mutters, “we’ve got a pretty long day ahead of us, and I know you get tired.” He looks up again, not long enough to catch the blush that pushes through your skin.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

He hums a ‘you’re welcome’, and then adds “Come over here, I wanna put this in the report.”

You make quick work of grabbing your notepad, pen, and coffee before standing next to where Dr. Ohnn sits at his desk. Even as he rambles important things for you to note, you can't help but feel the heat radiating off of his skin, and to flinch slightly when his elbow brushes your thigh. Imagine that smart mind of his, reduced to nothing, brought to incoherency by you, turned into mush by the heat of your core, as you slam yourself down onto him, wiping away the strands of brown hair as they stick to his forehead, kissing away the sounds that slip past his lips as you--

“Are-- Are you okay?”

His voice snaps you back into reality.

“Hm,” you play it off, “oh yeah, yeah I’m… I’m good. Sorry.”

“Okay, sorry, I just wanted to make sure you got this part but I looked over and you looked like you were somewhere else.”

“No, we were right here.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” you pick up your coffee cup and take a long sip to bring you back to earth.

It’s a long day of the same routine, note-taking, and theorizing, but today your mind has been running rampant with lewd scenarios of you and the Doctor, engaged in activities far from professional. Because of this, your “accidental” touches have become more and more frequent, aiding your addiction to the spark that rams its way up your spine into the base of your head. It’s so tangible, that you start to wonder if he can feel it too.

He feels it. Maybe not a physical spark or chill, but he can tell something is different about you today than on other days. The change in your behavior is accompanied by a lingering stare at him and is initiated by contact. So often is this occurring, that he starts to work up the words to ask if everything’s alright.

The day passes, and the chattering in the hall dies down completely as you two become, per usual, the only people working so late into the night. You’re typing away at the computer, condensing your notes into a report email, part of the routine that makes you wish you had another coffee, or a nap, or something else to numb the pain of dull office work. A shadow casts over you, causing you to turn and face Dr. Ohnn, who is looking very concerned over your shoulder, before his eyes fall on your face.

“Yes?” You ask, although you’d be kidding yourself if you said you didn’t immediately think about how hot he looked standing over you like this.

“I just wanted to ask,” he fiddles with his hands, “Well, I noticed you were a bit spaced out today, and, well, is everything alright?” He looks up, and he keeps the eye contact.

Fuck it. If I’m ever gonna get fired, this would be one hell of a way to go, You think.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you spin your chair to face him, standing where you land, which happens to be pretty close to him. He tries to back away, but your hands are quick to gently grab his tie, “There has been something on my mind lately…”

The loose grip on his tie strengthens, and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs.“...And I wonder if the same thing’s been on your mind too.” You bring yourself up to your tiptoes as you speak softly into his ear.

“Tell me, have I been on your mind, Doctor?” Your hands loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt before they start to make their way down. You have your answer before he speaks, his growing erection starting to be visible under his pants.

“I, well, I think of you, yes,” he cannot break his attention away from your hands, slowly undoing his belt buckle.

“And what do you think of when you think of me, Doctor?” You undo his pants button, urging him to help you pull them down. Once they’re off, leaving him in his boxers, your hand returns to his tie.

He doesn’t fight as you lead him by the loose tie to sit in your chair, his hands nervously gripping the armrests. He inhales sharply as your mouth hovers over his length, still hidden by his boxers.

“I think,” Your fingers hook over the waistline, “--think that you’re, you’re a great assistant, very uh, attentive and helpful and--”

“And?” you urge, freeing all of him from the confines of his boxers, taking a sharp inhale at his length. You make sure to use that exhale to warm the pre that have started beading across his tip.

“And you’re very hah--” Your mouth makes first contact with him, doing a delicate loop around his tip.

“Keep going.” You continue your administration, licking your lips before taking his tip fully into your mouth, letting spit drool out to work itself down.

“You’re very, um, thorough, and--” You take more of him into your mouth, using your tongue to administer light licking to the sensitive places his body is responding to.

“--You’re so, so warm.”

You groan at the compliment, the vibrations sending a definite shiver up and down his body, your mouth so full of his cock. The groans that are leaving his lips are going straight to your core, and also partially to your mind, feeling that he’s getting close, and wanting this to go farther. You drag your lips off of his dick, and he moans at the loss of contact.

Standing up, you nod your head towards the couch in your lab, and although it’s crowded with papers, it’ll have to do. Dr. Ohnn, his face flushed and red, makes his way to the couch, with you not far behind, and quickly swipes away the papers that obstruct the seating.

It’s slower than in the movies, and it most certainly is not as sexy, but it makes you laugh. He turns back to you, and your hands prod at his chest, kissing down his exposed inch of skin.

He doesn’t protest when you push him down, in fact, he uses his hands for the first time to pull you on top of him, resting on your hips as you kiss him, slowly grinding your clothed core over him. He’s vocal about it. You’re vocal about it. The way his hair has been ruffled and his glasses discarded has you going wild. You all but race to strip, and he watches, a mindless hand reaching down to steadily stroke himself as you pull your shirt over your head, followed into the growing pile on the floor by your pants and underwear, now fully exposed for him. His eyes roll back as you situate yourself over him, the heat of your bodies sweltering. He can feel the arousal pool and drip from you and onto his thighs, and it’s almost more than he can take.

“Please,” he starts, his voice breathless.

“Please what?” You’re kidding yourself. You want it just as bad as he does, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get any enjoyment out of this.

“Please fuck me, please.” His eyes are aviodant, nervously raking over every part of you except for your eyes.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Your hands cup his face, and he looks up at you. You keep him still as you sink down onto him, inch by inch, until he bottoms out, leaving you full. His face contorts in pleasure and from the effort of not closing his eyes or looking away.

The groans that slip past his lips are just what you’d been imagining, all those nights spent by his side finally coming to fruition as he’s finally under you, reduced to the mess you knew he’d become.

His hair sticks to his forehead from the effort of not busting on the spot, the sight of you stripped and squeezing him nearly too much to bear. With the rhythm of your hips comes the gradual undoing of resolve. Although your determination to fuck him into oblivion set your pace high and fast, it was all you could do to not fall apart on his dick. Your legs serve you well, not faltering for a while before tiring. The Doctor’s hands stop their roaming across your body, to help your rhythm be kept as his dick drags along inside you. His hands holding your hips, he uses the chance to slip a thumb to rub circles across your clit.

The change in your energy is immediate. You can feel yourself clench around him, earning a lewd sound, and your stamina is renewed as you can see your high within reach. He leans up, and you meet him in a sloppy, passionate kiss as you feel his hips jut up to meet yours.

“Fuck, Doctor,” you gasp, eyes slammed shut focusing on reaching your high.

“Johnathan,” his inhale is quick, “call me Johnathan.”

You moan his name, and his eyes widen, hearing it for the first time. He responds with a rendition of your name, broken through the strain of his voice. You don’t have to focus on reaching your high after that.

The searing, tightening of your core brings him over the edge, taking you spilling over with him as you all but collapse over his frame.

You both catch your breath, draped over each other and exhausted on the couch. It went over as a wordless resolve, made through tender touches, that this could be, should be the new normal.

And normal doesn’t change, even when everything else does.

After the accident.

The Spot becomes known worldwide quickly after taking his revenge against the heroes for the disaster that his life has become.

But he can’t complain, can he? Even though he wishes, really wishes that he could’ve protected everyone from the effects of the collider explosion, he’s secretly comforted.

After all, misery likes company.

Especially when it’s company as loyal, as faithful, and as beautiful as you.

To the world, he’s the Spot. To you, he’s still Dr. Jonathan Ohn. And to him, you’re still you, just under the new form the collider had given you.

And he would never complain about the possibilities that your new identities had gifted to you.

Figuring out intimacy after the accident had been difficult, but worthwhile. Your two extra arms and lengthened tongue had no complaints, and his infinite warp holes had some… interesting implications.

And neither of you had any qualms about putting those implications to the test.

He hovered over as his fingers pummeled into you, your skin darkening to bright shades of pink and red, as your powers indicated, love, romance, lust. He was bullying you, remembering how you’d teased him for so long with that long tongue of yours, wrapped in loops around his length, denying him his release for ages.

Two of your hands were clasped over your mouth, resisting and stifling the moans that he was earning so fairly from you. Your third and fourth arms were holding his face against yours, his blotchy forehead pressed against you.

“Come on now, don’t do that,” he teased, “I wanna hear how badly you want me, Scorpede.” You clenched around his fingers, but held back every sound from your lips. “Fine,” he added, “I asked nicely before, guess we’ll do this the hard way.”

In a mind boggling instant, he pulled his hand away, the black hole in his palm suddenly warping. Before you could wrap your mind around what was happening, he shoved his dick inside your warm center.

Using his powers, he teleported his dick, literally, into the palm of his hand. You were stripped of all of your breath, skin colors rapidly fluctuating and pulsing with the thrust of his hand.

“How’s that? Use your words, honey,” he teased, slamming his hand against your core, the pace harder and steadier, and urged on by the moans you couldn’t hold back if you’d tried.

“Holy,, shit,” you huffed, a spare arm pushing back your long hair. Your usually orderly long braids were loosened by his relentless pace, his hungry behavior towards you.

Without hips to stutter, Jonathan worked you over your high more times than you can count. His other hand reached up, fingers shoved into your mouth, before bringing them down to stimulate your clit.

How many times had it been? Three? Four? You’d lost track of how many times he’d made you cum just tonight, his stamina had increased in the accident, it seems. Whatever the number was, you could tell that this round was the finale, the spot on his face swirling in irratic glitches as he moaned, the hand fucking his dick into you slapping delightfully against your pussy.

“Go ahead, cum on my cock, please, for me, yeah,” he muttered, angling his wrist to hit that part inside you that sent blinding white light shooting through your vision. Your color changed from flashing red, to a dull, glowing, satisfied pink as he fucked his way through his high.

You could get used to this new normal.

an: this was a gift to my very talented bestie @nami-kana she is also on instagram @ nami_kana. here is her art of her OC Scorpede and The Spot!!!

[thrashkink-coven]

Random thoughts about Jophiel because he’s on my mind today

Jophiel truly was my introduction into the occult. My relationship with him has a lot more history than many of my other spirits, even that of Lord Lucifer, so I cherish him very deeply and consider him to be my patron saint. You may notice that I use he/ him pronouns for Jophiel which is unusual. Jophiel has always appeared to me androgynously (of course) but has always seemed to assume a kind of masculine energy, even with all his feminine aspects. He’s kind of like me in that way.

I first “met” Jophiel around the age of 7. I had a very surreal “dream” in which a ghostly figure with luminescent white hair and firey - incomprehensible- blue eyes appeared in my room and explained to me that we were eternally bound. He told me that no matter where I go, he will find me and “keep me in good condition”. Weird dream for a 7 year old to be having!!

(Note: I’m 99% sure Jophiel is not my holy guardian angel- he himself has told me that he is not “the one responsible for that role”)

I remember thinking he was inhumanly beautiful, purely beautiful- so much so that it’s almost uncanny. He is beautiful in a way a human cannot be- the way that a painting or a flower is beautiful. Beyond description.

He’s like a cathedral or an ocean beaming with life, and it affected my idea of beauty for the rest of my life. Jophiel is beauty that is beyond understanding. The beauty in music that makes you tear up without understanding why. The beauty in a poem that makes you strangely melancholy for months. He is aesthetic in itself, the idea of beautiful elements coming together to portray an emotion. He is the beauty of existence and the melancholy of its destruction.

Jophiel always speaks softly, almost muted. In fact he seems to mute the entire world. His energy is shrill, rings extremely high, but he also washes over you like ocean waves, swelling and waning and swelling again in cycles. He is a liminal entity who exists between spaces. He’s someone you have to be very quiet to notice.

Since that first introduction to him I had developed the ability to “see things”. I hold my skepticism close to my chest, but I also cannot deny my experiences. Since the age of 7 or so I have been able to see the energy on certain objects among other things. Perhaps these would be described as “auras”. Sometimes I can see the intentions of others before they act, their energy will swell to a certain direction and then they will take that path seconds later. I don’t want to go to into specifics for fear of sounding crazy or delusional, but Jophiel’s blessing allowed me to somewhat see through the vail when my mind is in the right state. It allowed me to be aware of the energies around me that I cannot see with my own two eyes but with my “third” if that makes sense. I was also given greater access to astral travel. Other witches in my community have described them as the abilities of a “seer”, I believe these abilities came directly from Jophiel. But, again, skepticism skepticism.

About a year or so ago Jophiel started seriously pursuing me, maybe even haunting me for months in my dreams. He showed me a lot of incomprehensible cryptic symbolism and visions, seemingly in hopes to get me to take my craft more seriously and stop questioning whether my reality is real. In order to understand how to use my abilities I’d have to first stop questioning their existence- and this is when I took up Jophiel as my patron more seriously. I genuinely believed that I was losing my mind at this point, things became very clear and that was very confusing. Angels don’t care how much or little you believe in them, when they have a job for you to do they will make you believe, whether you want to or not.

Jophiel can be stern, terrible and terrifying. He is the angel with the flaming sword. He is not at all afraid to get serious by any means, and he has most definitely put me in my place a couple times. He is the strength and wisdom that is required to protect beauty as well as the beauty itself. Jophiel doesn’t need to yell- in fact he doesn’t need to say anything at all to get his point across. He really doesn’t tolerate disrespect, as kind as he is he is still an Archangel with legions of angels beneath him.

I thoroughly believe his purpose was to prepare me for the other magical relationships I later developed with his assistance. Jophiel and Lucifer (and Haniel) are extremely merciful and understanding of human mistakes and clumsiness. Other spirits are not so much. Jophiel made it very clear to me that my angelic work needed to lay the foundation for my work with the infernals. My boundaries and protections needed to be strong in order to delve into the darkness unscathed.

We now have a relationship where he will sometimes show me visions that I will then use as inspirations for drawings. He seems to really enjoy this, saying once that “his will has become real in my material though the intentions of my hands”.

Jophiel has appeared to me in a variety of forms. Sometimes he is not a person, but a place. An oasis in a desert or a field of lavender. He is music and art in every form, but also wisdom. The art and wisdom of maths and sciences and sacred geometry. The geometry that builds your cells and arranges your atoms.

Sometimes he is gargantuan, so tall that I cannot see the top of him like a mountain. Sometimes he is so bright that I fear he will burn my eyes out of my skull. He speaks quietly but he can also be VERY LOUD! Because of his raw intensity I only summon him once every few months. It takes a long time and requires weeks of submerging myself deep in prayer. Jophiel adores prayer.

I see many people equate Jophiel to a happy cheerful young girl. To me he is always pleasant, but not necessarily a happy go lucky ball of sunshine. Don’t get me wrong, he is literally a ball of sunshine- he is pure light and love. But his immense wisdom creates a sense of quietness in him- nuance. He is aware of the cycle of creation and destruction- how beautiful things can become ugly and how ugly things are beautiful. How beauty is so subjective and therefore adaptive. He isn’t a stereotypical portrayal of beauty and love- not at all.

While other spirits represent more carnal love of the flesh and lust, Jophiel is more oriented towards the love of culture, the love of the natural beauty of the world, the love a child has for a stuffed toy, or the love a painter feels towards a flower. In fact I would go as far as to describe Jophiel as a virgin goddess. He has actually told me himself that he does not like to be sexualized, although he has nothing against sex in general it is not his greatest sphere of influence.

Many occultists have corresponded Jophiel with Saturn and Jupiter, as a wise and capable guardian. I personally believe that Jophiel is also Venusian. I believe he is among the spirits that embody the principles of Venus. This is more of a upg based off of my experiences with him and his leading me towards Archangel Haniel and Lord Lucifer. They are extremely familiar and have good opinions of each other.

The last time I saw Jophiel was a few nights ago in my dreams. He was accompanied by a legion of angels behind him (fucking wild to see, they look like a bunch of glowing goo that shifts around and oscillates when they’re all together like that) and he basically said “Hi, it’s nice to see you but I’m really busy right now, okay bye!” and I thought that was really funny.

He always likes to answer whenever I call even if it’s just to tell me that he’s unavailable which is really really nice. Not even Faviel does that for me lol.

Anyways, that was just a bunch of brain vomit about my relationship with Jophiel. I really do love him so much. Maybe I’ll make a post about ways to better connect with him some time for those who are interested.

I usually end these posts off with “Ave ___!” as a devotional send off, but angels work a little differently than that, so I’ll just say thank you Jophiel for everything that you’ve given me and everything that you are. You are my dear friend and I wish you well. May we meet again soon.

[prrism]

A Day Meant to Celebrate

Well… it wasn’t finished as soon as I had hoped but at least it’s finished now! (It is currently 12:30am, sleep? Don’t know ‘em)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part ?

Summary: It’s been a year since you first took Techno under your care and you wanted to do something special for the occasion, things don’t go as planned…

Characters: Techno x Reader

Relationship: parental, platonic

Pronouns: unspecified/kept neutral

They say time flies when you’re having fun, and you can sure vouch for that, in fact you didn’t even realize how much time had gone by until you looked at your calendar. You grab a few things from your chests and sort your inventory a bit before you check in on Techno.

“Hey kiddo, how do ya feel about going on a little errand run with me?” You ask nonchalantly. He looks up at you curiously from the blocked he’s playing around with.

“Sounds boring.” He says blankly. You figured he’d say that, you didn’t exactly word it to sound interesting after all.

“Well good thing for me it wasn’t actually a question, you’re still coming along.” This earns you a soft glare from him. “Don’t give me that look. You’re too young to stay here by yourself anyways.” You reply matter-of-factly.

“Why would you ask that if I don’t really get to choose.” He huffs crossing his arms.

“You ask a fair question, and like I said you’re too young right now to stay home alone. But I promise when you get older you can make your own decisions without the need of some authority figure… except for me, of course, because I’m your sensei.” You quickly add the last part while ruffling up his hair, he playfully swats at you in retaliation. When you’re done messing around you both make your way out the door.

As the two of you walk along the path you decide to fill the calm silence by playing a bit of eye spy with Techno, helped give some extra entertainment and keep his spatial awareness sharp. When the village finally came into view Techno picks up the pace.

“Come on, the sooner you finish your boring errands the sooner we can leave.” He says, trying to drag you along, instead you lift him into your arms keeping an even pace, he snorts in displeasure.

“If you can promise me you’ll behave we can head to our favourite lookout spot later. (I almost wanted to call it lookout landing… Zelda has taken over my life 😅)” His eyes light up and he nods in agreement. “Alright, this shouldn’t take too long…”

You regret making that earlier comment because boy did the universe decide to really ruin your day. It started out fine, sure, but the second you saw Tarlin and Jett patrolling the area you should’ve finished your trade and left, of course they just had to spot you and Techno before you could and of course they knew something was suspicious, now there was no running from the commotion they decided to stir up.

“So…” Jett sneered. “Looks like you were hiding something from us after all. And here I thought you were better then that.”

“That’s your fault for assuming something like that.” You reply unbothered, easily angering him, Jett always had a short fuse and you were always willing to push his button should the opportunity arise.

“Why don’t we make this easy for everyone and you hand that thing over.” Tarlin tries to resolve, you being very displeased they’d refer to Techno like he was just an object rather then a living, breathing being.

“First off, HE has a name and second, if you try coming near my son I’ll make sure you suffer a most painful demise before hand delivering your souls to the goddess of death myself.” You hiss, hand twitching above your sword but holding back from summoning it. There’s a tense silence between the three of you, onlookers backing away and watching the scene play out cautiously. Jett looked more then ready to brawl and you’d be happy to oblige if not for Tarlin being a buzzkill and backing the two away.

“Mark my words, you’ll regret betraying us.” They say ominously, you roll your eyes.

“Please, you even try and it’ll be the last thing you do.” You bite in reply, quickly scooping Techno up and making your leave. There’s a long silence as you make as much distance from the village as you can, still tense from the whole encounter.

“Wh-What did they mean by betraying them?” Techno asks, pulling you back to reality.

“That is a long story that happened a long time ago.” You say with a sigh. “But I didn’t really betray anyone, my opinions and morals just don’t match theirs so that instantly makes me their enemy.” You try to explain as simply as possible.

“Oh…” He trails off, clearly still curious about your mysterious past.

“Maybe when you’re a little older I’ll tell it to you.” You offer. “For now why don’t we head to our lookout spot, I’ve got a surprise waiting for you.” This perks his mood back up again at the mention of a surprise.

The rest of the walk is a lot more calmer then earlier and you reach the little cliff side overhang that has a gorgeous view of the landscape below and the best part is that it isn’t too far from your house. You set Techno down and gesture for him to close his eyes, he gives you a confused yet curious look before covering his eyes. You put your hands together, hovering over the item in your inventory.

“Alright open your eyes.” You say smiling, when he does you open your hands summoning the crown you crafted for him. He stares in awe, eyes sparkling and subtle little oinks of joy coming from him at the golden headpiece. He doesn’t instantly take it from you like you anticipated he would, instead tracing a finger over the jewels you had embedded into the design. “I take it you like it?” You ask more rhetorically, earning a pleased snort from the hybrid. You chuckle softly as you carefully place the crown onto his head. “There we go. I want you to see this as a sort of symbol, so that no one can ever tell you what you are or boss you around to do their bidding. You are in charge of your own destiny, no amount of hunters or haters will ever get to change that.” You state proudly, he puffs out his chest just as proudly before the crown slides down over his eyes making you both share a small laugh.

“It’s a little big.” He comments trying to push it back up, you hum contently as you help adjust it a bit so it wouldn’t slide around too much.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a small boop on his nose. “You’ll grow into it.”

Taglist:

@maxismp1

@justmare

@anon-duck

[dystopianam]

Some headcanons about Veronaville premades I've had while roleplaying with @gingersimmerr

On Contessa's side of the family, people in the family have short or medium height, while on Consort's side of the family, all people in the family are very tall. Goneril, Regan, Kent, Tybalt and Hermia are very tall, having taken from their dad/grandfather's side, BUT, Juliette and Cordelia is/was short and Caliban was of medium height.

All the Capp brothers have freckles, but only Hermia covers them up with makeup because she doesn't like them.

Hermia has very flat breasts but she doesn't mind because she would feel uncomfortable if they were bigger.

When the fire killed his parents, Tybalt was able to save his little sisters, being the oldest of the three at the time, but the loss of his family and the memory of the flames remained in his head as a trauma. Juliette and Hermia don't remember much about the fire as they passed out from the excessive amount of smoke.

Also because of the fire, Tybalt has developed a paranoid personality which often causes him to react nervously even when there is no need to. He feels the need to protect his sisters from the whole world and from any insignificant danger and has a hard time calming down. Loving music (it's his hobby on ts2) when he's too nervous and has no one to hit or objects to break (or trash cans to kick) he plays the piano. The piano is the last thing he has left of his mother and is also half burned in flames, miraculously survived.

Somewhere on his back, Tybalt also has a burn.

Hermia has an artistic and theatrical personality and her room is entirely painted by her, including the window panes. Her hobbies are: painting, doing bodyart on Puck (who is her model) and sewing bizarre masquerade dresses (masks included!)

Romeo is a lil short, has quite a cowardly personality when it comes to the paranormal. He is terribly afraid of anything occult and often avoids going near his parents' urns at night. He is not very intelligent, but on the other hand he is quite pacifist (unless he has to fight with Tybalt) and avoids arguing/fight with anyone else unless absolutely necessary.

If they were in the Middle Ages, Tybalt would have a black horse, Romeo would have a nut and white one. Also, Tybalt and Mercutio would be very good with the sword, while Romeo is fine but not a champion. Often Romeo and Mercutio sword fight just for fun.

When Bottom was adopted, she was a creature of the forest whose species was not understood, because she was the victim of a curse that had given her the head of a donkey. Freed from the curse, Titania and Oberon took her home with them, unaware that Bottom was NOT a child, but that she had already over a hundred years old. For Bottom though, it was convenient that they believe so. Only Puck knows the truth about her true age.

Because of her assiduous pranks, Titania and Oberon locked her magical powers, and Bottom now lives as a normal human. They promised her that they would unlock them if she was a good girl but be a baaaad girl is stronger than her.

Bottom has a direct, sincere, sarcastic and sometimes a little too rude personality, because she struggles not to say what she really thinks.

Though she prefers to see herself as a child, Bottom's mental age is that of an adult and she is often the one to give more mature advice to her brother Puck.

Bottom is jealous of Puck because she believes their parents give him more attention, so, although she loves him, she often tries to get him into trouble to make him look bad in front of their eyes.

Though she refers to herself as a girl, being a creature of the forest and having no real concept of sexuality, Bottom is indifferent to whatever pronoun is used for her. She would also like masculine or neutral.

[asa--holland]

A S A H O L L A N D

— basics

name: Asa Holland age / d.o.b.: 47, October 24, 1977 gender, pronouns & sexuality: Cis man, he/him, gay  hometown: Swords, Ireland  occupation: illustrator & Librarian education: none relationship status: Single children: None positive traits: (5) Creative, Resourceful, Kind, Thoughtful, Witty negative traits: (5) Vengeful, Awkward, Forgetful, Negative, Withdrawn

Full Bio is under the cut - please be aware of trigger warnings before proceeding.

— biography

tw // homophobia, medical malpractice, mental institutions, murder

Asa grew up in a small family home in a town on the outskirts of Dublin. Both parents were devoutly Catholic and the whole family walked to church multiple times a week. He worked summers helping clean up the little church-house in the valley and his father often pawned him off to ‘learn a hard day’s work’ at various places in town. Despite his father having plenty of money and working at a bank in the city, Asa was often treated like he had to provide for his family as well. He wanted to spend time with his siblings but it often fell on him to get a job first, to get his license, to get into college. There was immense pressure from his family at all times to be the model son.

He had always been introverted but starting in high school, he started to rebel, getting angry at his parents and lashing out at them. His father had just started a very high-profile job in the government and his 13 year old son was the least of his issues. Eventually, Asa was sent away to a home for ‘troubled teens’ and was essentially beaten into submission by orderlies and people who did not care about his wellbeing or his mental stability. He was treated like a problem, like an inmate in a prison at the age of 14 and was kept there for years due to his father’s negligence and lies. Saying after Asa came back for a short time once that he was still ‘acting up’. That they had failed and he would expose them if they didn’t forge documents to send Asa off to a mental institution.

Through it all, Asa was manipulated into thinking he was the problem. That he had done so much wrong that he was being punished, and would continue to be for the rest of his life- tormented by the Devil. Because of his father’s lies, he was in and out of a few psychiatric facilities, given experimental (and illegal) medical treatments, and treated as insane. His father was a constant terrifying presence in his life, always finding a new place to send him off to in Ireland, Wales, and London.

Asa changed the course of his fate when one day his father pushed him too far- after another heated argument and further tries at manipulating him to go back to an in-patient facility, Asa murdered his father. He was lucky- his dad never spoke about his son to others due to his immense disappointment, so Asa fleeing to the U.S. was done as covertly as possible.

After moving to the US, he created a large court case to take down the corrupt mental hospital he'd been in back in London - St. Irene's. With meticulous organization and gathering evidence, Asa was able to get the place shut down and several of the doctors sent away to prison - and he in turn won a huge settlement. He did art- something he’d loved to do throughout his time in and out of facilities, and in the past few years he's created some children's books that have done well on the market, the second one even hitting the NYT Bestsellers list. He’s a bit withdrawn and quiet, awkward with making friends.

Without money being a huge object, Asa moved off to Ohio. He wanted to avoid prying eyes and suspicion about his crimes, and live out the rest of his life in peace. He started as a volunteer to put books away, seeming like some lost soul who had happened upon Helltown. Soon he was hired as an actual librarian, his meticulous organization an asset even if he's sometimes a little offputting.

— wanted connections / plots

-One night stands, ex-lovers, hook-ups, flings -Unlikely friends that contrast his shy demeanor -Drinking buddies -Folks who know about his father’s mysterious death -Someone who watches his 5 cats when he’s away -Fans of his illustration work  -Unlikely rivals turned friends (turned… lovers??) -Extended family on his mother’s side

[zombiecicada]

Can we get Dragato hcs?

WB! Dragato head canons, he’s quite the tragic little orb. Trigger warning for mention of sensitive topics.

-He is transgender ftm, and has known since he was about six, but only publicly socially transitioned when he was sixteen. His pronouns are he/him! Sexuality wise, he’s asexual panromantic. When he came out as transgender, Falspar was the first person he told and Falspar supported him completely and entirely and encouraged him when he changed his name and pronouns. 

-His current full legal name is Sir Dragato Galahad Ceren. Currently, he is equivalent to being forty or so years old.

-He is the brother of Falspar and Nonsurat. He’s also brothers with Arthur, Meta, Bedivere, and Galacta. With Bedivere KIA and Meta and Galacta MIA, and Arthur emotionally unavailable and other…. difficulties in their relationship, he only really considers Falspar and Nonsurat to be his only surviving family. He is the smallest of the siblings.

-Dragato is the smartest out of the three Wolfbell Knight crew. He is a skilled strategist and has led many successful battles and serves the Blitzar Soldier Rebellion as its top strategist and head of intelligence. Practically a living calculator he’s very good at math. He’s a very skilled linguist and can speak several languages fluently. He’s also quite the skilled mechanic, and when he has time he makes blueprints for spaceships and builds equipment for the rebellion. The rings around his fingers are one example, and using magnetism and a little bit of magic from Nonsurat, can attract metal objects like weapons. It’s very useful for retrieving a weapon when you’re disarmed.

-His favourite pastimes are chess, strategic board or card games and reading. He’s also a very, very talented landscapes painter. He also has a fascination for rocks and is very interested in geology. If he’s approaching a mental spiral, Falspar will get him to talk about the surrounding landscape and its formation to keep him grounded (Falspar says yes, that was indeed a pun)

-He is addicted to coffee.

-He has the tornado ability, which allows him to whip up razor sharp blades of wind and slice through almost anything. With his wings he can sense air currents and create whirlwinds and vortexes. Or rather, he could. He currently is unable to use this ability.

-Currently, his only weapon is a stasis rifle as his sword, the legendary weapon Dragonsbane (which like Galaxia will accept and reject users) started rejecting him. Falspar feels uneasy letting him have sharp things, so a stasis rifle is a good compromise.

-Back when he was still part of the GSA before their disband, he was put in charge of a mission and was appointed commanding officer. Nobody knows how his plan failed, they had never failed before. But it failed. He was captured, and his entire unit was killed. Held war prisoner, he was tortured and sexually assaulted to the point of near death. He can’t remember how he escaped, just… that someone helped him get out and get back. Arthur was going to medically discharge him upon his return, as after a month he showed zero signs of recovery or mental awareness, he would have screaming fits and attack medical staff and try running away. But Falspar used his powers against Arthur’s orders to ‘stitch Dragato’s mind back together’ and convinced Arthur that sending Dragato away from them would only hurt him more than it would help him. Ultimately this saved Dragato’s life as the GSA sanctuaries were later found and destroyed by NME shortly after the GSA’s disband.

-As a result of the time as war prisoner and the assault/torture, he has been both scarred mentally and physically. He has severe PTSD, horrible insomnia and survivor’s guilt, firmly believing the death of his unit and his capture to be his own fault. He often has nightmares and nonverbal episodes, of which he often will force himself to speak despite his discomfort as he doesn’t believe he should be so weak as to stop talking. Physically, he lost a decent amount of sight and hearing in his left side. He can no longer unsheathe his claws after receiving a tendonectomy on both paws. His wings were clipped and bound, and while his flight feathers have since grown back, his wing muscles are still recovering from lack of use and muscle wasting and he can only fly a little bit before he gets tired and needs a break.

-Despite his struggles, he continues to do his best and help Falspar and Nonsurat lead the BSR. He’s tired a lot and has frequent episodes, but serving the stand against NME gives him a sense of purpose and a reason to continue holding on and existing. In a way, it also lets him get revenge against NME as he plays a part on stopping Nightmare from accomplishing his goals and continues to be a thorn digging into his side.

-Like Meta and Falspar, his eyes change colour depending on his feelings.

-His theme song is ‘Lay Down’ by Caravan Palace.

[lovely-english-rose]

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

hope you dont mind me picking two of my special lil guys to answer these for!

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

Alyosha would prefer strings orchestra music, and preferring music with more sombre or melancholic tones. He probably listens to music alot since he plays viola and I see him practicing often.

Cerdic on the other hand I feel would prefer more upbeat and joyful music. Unless any army companions are playing or he goes out of his way to go somewhere, he likely does not get to listen to music too often.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

I have so many Alyosha facts waiting to be unleashed- to start: 1- his mother is the one who taught him to play viola 2- his weapon of choice is a flame-bladed sword 3- he is completely blind in his left eye.

Cerdic has less to work with here, but 1- he is afraid of using his magic 2- he has a crush on Silas 3- I originally did consider making him nonbinary, so a leftover crumb of that is he does not care how others refer to him in terms of pronouns/gendered words.

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

Alyosha would have a harder time falling asleep, but once he's asleep he is out- it definitely helps that his dog, Skye, is a cuddle bug though! He probably has pretty rough sleeping habits though since he would also be likely to stay up late since it's the only time he can really escape his responsibilities and be himself.

Cerdic is more of a light sleeper. He would wake at the slightest noise, and that's definitely advantageous in case something goes wrong at night. I think he would also be able to fall back asleep quickly when the sounds are just nothing.

🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

Alyosha is gay and asexual, pronouns he/him! He is cisgender.

Cerdic is gay, also he/him! Also cis-

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

In terms of objects, I think Alyosha would consider a few belongings that were his mother's deeply important to him. His dog Skye is also extremely important to him. And he also values his closest friends alot; Vasile, Leisl, Amy, and one other who's name I haven't decided yet 😭 (I have their rough design in mind and a bit about them, just no idea for a name yet. I haven't shown yall Amy yet either, but I adore her and can't wait for when I finally do show her off-)

Cerdic would consider his mother to be the most important person to him. His wyvern, Clover, is also very important to him. His mother gave so much to establish stable lives for the two of them, and his wyvern is his trusted companion. He would be absolutely heartbroken if anything bad were to happen to either of them.

details about ocs!

[tomasletcombe]

The rest of Gealch Annabelle and Eris' band I am honestly really really proud of these guys and I am actually trying to work on the music they would play these are their backstories:

Apollo Nightingale the lead singer/vocalist of Gealch they use any/all pronouns and are very jokey often phasing in and out of objects to scare and confuse people and will make many dead or ghost puns, she died in the 1970's and he doesn't remember his birth name so they chose this one because they thought it sounded cool

Kethan Noone the drummer of Gealch he uses he/him pronouns. Kethan was born in the 80's but due to being so long lived and aging relatively slowly he only appears to be in his late teens/early twenties. Kethan grew up in an abusive household where he got many scars mostly on his forearms from defending himself which is why he wears long gloves, he began reading the Drizzt Do'urden books because it was the first media he saw with someone who looks like him and reading about Drizzt's escape from Menzoberranzan and the evil that went on there gave him the courage to leave home, he wears a panther necklace and has a tattoo on his front of Drizzt's swords as a reminder of his favourite books and what gave him courage. He often finds himself feeling protective over the rest of the band even though he knows they can handle themselves if he catches someone being horrible or racist to his friends he will often be the first going for a chair to break over the troublemaker's head

Susie Lovelock the last and youngest member of the band being born in 2000 she had a pretty good upbringing and is quite innocent which the other band members are determined to protect especially Kethan as they don't want her to go through the same/similar stuff they did. She uses she/her pronouns

[majorgammage]

My husband wondering why I’m on my phone at 3am typing away: …What if she’s talking to other guys?

Me in my iPhone notes:

—-

How lgbt+ friendly are Stardew Valley folks anyway? A breakdown of suspected character philosophies:

—

Objectively homophobic, repeats shitty takes on “woke culture” they heard on a podcast: Pam, Alex

Tries to debate biological sex but only cites sources 20+ years out of date: Gunther

Straight until further notice, gets your pronouns right but still calls you ugly to your face: Haley

Accidentally homophobic, but gets too defensive to learn from it: Clint

Trans and living her best life: Sandy

Also trans, has some serious work to do on himself: Shane

Educates you on ten different cultures’ worth of ideas on gender and sexuality from his travels but never talks about himself: Linus

Has enjoyed many whirlwind romances in his life and claims it doesn’t really matter as long as you’re enjoying the adventure: Professor Snail

Doesn’t have a problem with gay people but still insists they just didn’t “have those” in his day: George

Doesn’t understand what the big deal is, claims everyone knows women are just more attractive. Thinks it would be neat to live with your bff 24/7. Keeps a framed picture of her best friend on her nightstand: Evelyn

Desperately wants to be bisexual for the aesthetic, but she’s just an awkward ally—still wears a lot of rainbows and a she/her pronoun pin at work: Emily

Pansexual, but only likes you if you own a sword (WILL critique how you hold it): Abigail

Queer bffs club, everyone’s tried to date at some point but they’re not really compatible with each other or anyone else in town, so they just meet up and talk shit at the saloon: Elliot, Leah, Penny

Undecided, too busy working and being edgy to care much anyway: Sebastian

Straight, genuinely invested in getting your pronouns right—honestly one of the safest bets in town if he can get out of his parents’ house: Sam

Starts the local Gay-Straight Alliance chapter the minute Sam starts wearing nail polish. Still learning but means well: Jodi

Trying to be supportive of whatever, secretly scared Sebastian is making his son gay: Kent

Devout Yoba follower who claims to welcome everyone but definitely has Opinions despite needing a literal she-shed to escape the mundanities of her own hetero marriage: Caroline

Flies rainbow flags everywhere in June, but only to capitalize on profits: Pierre

Gay but still a shitty person, votes conservative: Morris

Kissed a guy in college but pretty sure it isn’t for him, reminds you to get tested regularly and always use protection no matter who you’re with: Harvey

Gray ace, exclusively reads queer monsterfucker fanfic and scientific journals, might consider a relationship with the right person/machine: Maru

Bisexual, needs marriage counseling in a bad way: Robin

Asexual/aromantic, self-therapized into that realization late in life but hasn’t ever discussed how that might affect, you know, his wife: Demetrius

Emotional support straight/designated mom friend: Marnie

Not gay but supportive, does a lot of extracurricular reading to support Marnie and Shane: Mayor Lewis

Husbands of 20+ years: Gil and Marlon

Former leather club gods, occasional hookups with Gil and Marlon: Willy, Grandpa

Owned the leather club, may or may not have participated: Gus

Reproduces asexually so can’t comprehend the conversation: Dwarf

Non-binary king: Krobus

Love is love, and that’s all she has to say about that: Birdie

Doesn’t really do labels, only requirement is that you’re into smooth jazz: The Bouncer

Somehow transcended gender and achieved true peace, but is gatekeeping the secret: Mr. Qi

Just here for the soup: The Governor

[hannahtempler]

Hi! I am a big fan of your webcomic (and also I just realized you did some of the artwork of Thirsty Sword Lesbians and congratulations on that, it rules). Anyway, I found the Book 1 of Cosmoknights at a comic book store yesterday and I have been pouring over every little detail since. And there is one thing that's making my brain buzz. So I hope you don't mind me asking...

The thing is, I am reading the French translation, and that means stuff is a LOT more gendered. Particularly, in Cass' flashback during her time as a princess, when she goes to meet with Bee, people use male epithets to refer to her, including Bee. Also, Jaws uses female wordings to talk to both of them at the bar, but during the tournament the only time the turn of sentence genders her he says "tu es cinglé", which is the masculine form. I have checked, and all the male epithets correspond to places where the original story says either "fella", "dude" or "big guy", which could mean that the translator has just decided to keep the masc vibe of those terms and ignore that fact that (as far as I'm aware) the terms they're using in French are not as gender-neutral as they are in English. And I guess Jaws saying "cinglé" instead of "cinglée" could be a typo. But all put together, with the fact that the commentators use he/him for Bull even in the English version, makes me wonder...

So I guess my question is, on one hand, did you get any say on the translation? Is this the translator's interpretation, or yours?

And if it is yours, can you tell us a little more of what's going on with Cass' pronouns here? Is she (I'm using "she" because Bee does) genderfluid to some degree? Is she just someone who likes male epithets because of their associations? Does she have a male alter ego as a cosmoknight to keep pursuers at bay? If yes, does that mean all the cosmoknights know and are willing to protect the secret that she's a woman to the public, and that's why Jaws genders her like that at the joust?

(Also, is the second book going to come out in French? I'd love to have the series all in the same language, and not paying the price of the book in shipping fees would be great)

I hope I've not overwhelmed you, i'm sorry for the wall of text, and I hope you have a great day!

Hi! Thanks so much for your kind words and thoughtful questions! I'll do my best to answer here:

I didn't get a direct say on the translation– although I do speak French, I don't practice a lot, so I would probably miss a lot of the subtleties you're describing. It's possible that there is variation after translation, but from what it sounds like, the French version does come close to the intention of the English version.

Cass uses any/all pronouns and is gender-fluid– most of the time she uses she/her pronouns, but does not object to more masculine descriptors (for example, Bee affectionately greets her with "Hey, big guy" during the flashback). It's less that she has a male alter ego, and more that she is unconcerned with how people interpret her gender (Cass's gender expression matches my own, so I'm also partially speaking from personal experience here).

It's worth noting that during the games the commentators assume she is a man because of her size and approach to fighting while still referring to Bee as a woman, and often in public Cass is addressed with male pronouns (or "hey fella" etc.)– and while that may help keep her identity hidden, it's not necessary for a secret disguise (some women do compete in the games, after all). Cass loves to play in the gender playground and gets a kick out of people's perceptions– for those who don't know her (e.g. fans of the game) it's an indictment of their assumptions about gender, and for those who do (for example, Jaws), it can be a sign of mutual respect and acknowledgement of her fluidity.

It makes a lot of sense that she would enjoy flexibility when we consider the highly gendered expectations placed on her growing up*– now that she's away from home and dressing how she wants (often wearing a binder), she's free to thrive in and out of people's expectations.

I hope that makes sense! There's a little more about this in the second book (specifically about the way knights interact with each other outside of the ring) that I think helps illuminate some of this too.

Also: yes, the second book will be out in French either later this year or early next year! No exact dates yet, but the publisher (Bliss) will announce at some point soon.

*here's some fun bonus Cass trivia: she's the youngest of five, and all the boys in her family have names that mean "ruler" or "king"– Kingsley, Derek, Rory, and Elric. Expecting another boy, her parents picked out the name Caesar, but she juked 'em :^)

[siderealcity]

Thee, Thou, Thy, Thine: A Guide for Writers

Are you trying to write a fic with Urianger in it, and succumbing to The Terrors whenever he has to say something? Working on a Withers/Volo story and getting stumped by the Death God's anachronistic speech?* Do you just want to put some old timey sounding prophecy in your story? Good news! I can help.** Here is a (hopefully) simple guide to using the Ancient Second-Person Pronouns of Madness.

Thee vs. Thou

Use thee when "you" is the object of the verb. As a simple test, if you could replace the pronoun with the words "Ice cream" it should be thee.

Real John Donne example:

Therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee. Therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for ice cream.

Real Urianger example:

Well, well… I know not what errand bringeth thee hither, but thine is ever a welcome presence. Well, well... I know not what errand bringeth ice cream hither, but thine is ever a welcome presence.

Thou is the subject of the verb. It is the "you" who is doing something.

Real Urianger examples:

Thou shalt rejoin our comrades anon to deliberate measures, yes? Ah, Forename, thou art returned.

You could (as in the second one) stick a name immediately next to it, and it would make sense. "Hey, Jeff, would you get me a pen?" "Prithee, wouldst thou bring to me a pen?"

Thy vs. Thine

This rule is way simpler: Use thine if the next word in the sentence starts with a vowel. If not, use thy. Thine is only used to keep the vowels in the sentence from tangling together into an unpronounceable mess.

Examples:

I see thy face. I see thine eye. Take up thy sword. Take up thine axe.

Thou vs. You

Final rule! Thee and Thou are singular. This is like Tu vs. Vous in French. If the character is addressing a group of people they should use you. If they're addressing one person specifically, they'd use thou.

*Even Larian messed this up with Withers occasionally. No shame. Absolutely no sane writer needs to know this stuff.

**I mean, with grammar. I'm not sure anything can help Withers/Volo.