#its not always negative but people just always ask me if i was an anon

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i used to try really hard to like rationalize things online and figure out exactly what people meant and who anons were, but the amount of times people have tried to do that and made up a really elaborate literally evil plot about ME that didnt happen made me be like... yeah im not doing that anymore

[deoidesign]

Hii! I have been recently getting more and more obsessed with your art and webcomic and was wondering if I could use your art as like a profile picture? (With credit!!) If not that's perfectly fine! :)

yeah you can use my art for whatever as long as you're not stealing it or selling it

I don't mind if people print my art out for themselves either. I do sell prints, but it doesn't bother me either way

In general I don't post anything that I haven't made my peace with all that comes with sharing my art publicly! So feel free to use it as you please pretty much.

Giving me credit for the things I've made is respectful and helps me in my career, and I would hope that most people intend to respect my work... And the people who don't respect my work were never going to whether I asked or not.

I make my work for other people to enjoy it, I want you to enjoy it!

[quarterprioritymidnight]

lol it’s hard for me to believe any of the negative stories ppl have abt Dan or Bastille, like I just see them as angels and perfectly nice all the time

yeah I mean same kind of. I can't really imagine them doing anything actively mean or trying to be rude to fans or anything lol, but also they are people so there are gonna be times when they're tired or busy or just don't want to be bothered and, even though that's obviously like fine and allowed, i can see how that might rub people the wrong way.

idk i think part of it is that they, and particularly dan, have such a reputation for being super nice and also the way dan comes across as very down-to-earth and kind of accessible (?) for an artist of his size can lead people to feel veryyy entitled to his time and a certain level of friendliness ig, so if the interaction doesn't go the way they want it to then some people will take that out on him even though he's literally just a person lol

also they aren't angels and perfectly nice all the time they are literally just people pls don't think that about anyone ahaha lol

[project-sekai-facts]

Hey I've been wondering, could you explain Akito and his death symbolism? It's been constantly mentioned or implied in his recent focus songs and VBS covers (getting lines about "death" or "dying" and the likes)

It's just because the fandom is using that to mischaracterize him as an overly depressed and suicidal guy (another Mafuyu copy; pls save him and Tsukasa) and I just don't think that's what the writers mean to say and the point of his whole character!!!

(prefacing this: I'm aware there was a thread about this going round twitter a while ago, I haven't read it specifically because of this ask and if anything is the same that wasn't intentional and I apologise)

A large part of Akito's character arc is his difficulty with improvement and his sheer determination and passion that goes alongside it. He had always viewed his lack of natural talent and unrefined skills as something that made him inferior, which only led to him pushing himself to his extremes, and trying to face things independently and head-on. This is something that's touched on heavily in the STRAY BAD DOG event, where we get to see him learn to rely on his teammates more and realise that he isn't alone. Find A Way Out continues his arc of personal development, with him realising he's actually not so different to the people he looks up to, and finally learning to accept and feel confident with his improvement instead of just pushing forward almost desperately. It's that idea of him finally realising that he won't always be a step behind everyone else and good things are actually coming with his hard work.

Building off that idea, it's like a sort of rebirth. And that's where the links to Kashika come in. Kashika is a song about death and longing which gets horribly misinterpreted and has led people to believe Akito is suicidal which is simply untrue. The thing that's dying in this context is Akito's old self. The child who had no talent and was falling so far behind everyone. The child who worked so, so, so hard to be perfect is dying. And that sounds like a negative thing but it's really not. It's a metaphor for Akito reflecting on himself and moving on from the past and breaking new ground.

The 2DMV adds another layer to this with its marigolds, which not only symbolise death, but also can symbolise a renewal. And in this case, renewal refers to Akito's growth following the events of FAWO. He finally faced up to his past mistakes and overcame them, but even then he won't let himself feel relief. It's only with the help of Taiga's story about Ken that he's finally able to be more satisfied with himself and how far he's managed to come. He's finally able to break out from that belief that he's forever going to be stuck behind, and he's able to have faith in himself. Realising that Ken was just like him and managed to get to such a high level of skill and be so respected by those around him finally lets Akito believe that he too can reach that same light.

The butterflies in the background again symbolise renewal or transformation. It's not about death as per se, it's about change. Change and growth and transformation are recurring themes in prsk's character writing, and Akito is no exception. While on a surface level, Kashika is about death, if you put it next to the story, it's about regeneration. Akito is moving forward and leaving the old him behind, he says as much in the FAWO story.

If you actually read the lyrics to Kashika, it's genuinely kinda shocking to me how much people misinterpret its connection to Akito as a character. Like I get the song talks about death a lot and wanting to die, but particularly in these extracts you can see some of the key points of the FAWO event - Akito's determination, passion and self-acceptance. It's a song about Akito growing up, physically and emotionally, and saying goodbye to his past self.

Now as anon pointed out, the marigolds previously appeared in his card from Light Up The Fire. And while in the case of this event, it was most likely drawn to connect with the story surrounding Nagi's death, but it's worth mentioning that every character had their own flower, so the marigolds are specific to him.

As I mentioned in today's fact, aside from being associated with death, grief, and mourning, marigolds can also have positive connotations of optimism and passion based on their warm and vibrant colors. One of the key elements of LUTF was despair and grief, shown through more ways than one. Whilst the truth of Nagi's death came as a shock to the VBS and the others, the following battle with Taiga crushed their hope to the point that everyone except VBS gave up. VBS decides to keep trying for Nagi, and again there's that idea of a renewal. They know the truth now, and are going to come back and get better. Now while this is more general about VBS, the marigolds are still specific to Akito, considering how he's always been the most determined one who has taught himself that the only way he can succeed is through sheer perseverance. Whilst it applies to all of VBS in this instance, it applies even moreso to him.

Also it leads very nicely into his fes card story, which follows after the events of LUTF from his point of view. Something notable about his fragment sekai is that it's a completely barren wasteland. It's dead. And to top it all off, he gets amnesia. However the whole point of his sekai is to remind him of his determination, remind him that he has never once given up on this dream, how he's fought and fought to hold onto it and shouldn't let what happened with Taiga and the truth behind RW strike him down. Despite the area being dead and barren, and despite the fact he can't even remember who he is at all, he still pushes forwards and keeps walking through the dangerous environment because he knows he can't just sit around, he knows he has to do something. He knows it's not a choice, it's a necessity for him to persevere, even if he can't remember why. In the end he does remember, and finds a single flower that is managing to flourish despite the harsh conditions, and he even compares himself to it because truthfully they're one in the same. Even in a hopeless situation, Akito manages to pull through. In a metaphorical sense, he can't truly die, he still finds a way to thrive even if the world is against him. His determination truly is the core of his character.

And that leads us nicely to BURN MY SOUL, which I would consider to be the end of his first character arc. Despite having learnt a lesson about his true strength and potential in FAWO, he still hasn't reached that full potential, and he still believes that he needs to keep pushing and keep working. Through Ken's advice, he's able to realise that he's been so focused on perfection that he's bottling up all the passion inside of him. Because he's so passionate about music and it's this passion that fuels his resolve that is ultimately his core, his soul. And especially after everything that's happened, the fact that there's still a lingering sense of despair after the incident with Taiga, he needs to truly let that passion burn and realise that his true potential has been inside of him all along. His role as assigned by Ken is to light up a fire amongst the people again, so he let's the fire within him burn freely for the first time, and it works exactly as needed and is able to rekindle hope throughout the town and in one of his teammates.

Back to that idea about how metaphorically Akito cannot die, I really like the symbolism of fire within VBS and Akito in particular because it's framed in such a way that the fire lit by RW is a flame that can't burn out. Even with things such as CRaZY's "I'm so ready to die" and the "I'm going to pry it open like I'm going to die" voiceline that plays when you pull his WL card, it's not meant in such a way that he wants to die, but in a way that he's going to put his all into it as if it is the last thing he'll ever do. Akito doesn't want to die, he wants to live to see things through to the end. He's too determined to let anything snuff out his flame, and even then that makes me think of the original usage of snuffing out a flame, which was actually to trim the wick so the flame could burn brighter. If you care enough about that dumb candle analogy, you could say that Taiga/the events of LUTF tried to extinguish Akito's flame, only for him to come back from the dead (and quite literally considering the wasteland in his fes card), and now he's only burning brighter and stronger.

Akito's death symbolism isn't a negative thing. Akito isn't someone who wants to die, he's too determined to die. No matter how much the universe tells him to give up he'll never stop pushing and never stop breaking down the walls around him until he sees his dreams through. All his death symbolism is equally tied to the idea of rebirth or even just living. Kashika is about him leaving his past behind and moving forward, his fes card is about his passion counteracting despair, and Burn my soul/CRaZY/Break down the wall are all about him being so fired up that he's going to act as if it's his final day. He's learning to be satisfied with his life and where he is. He's ready to live and to say he wants to die is a great injustice to his character arc.

[idksmtms]

You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 7

Full Request Part

Part 6 << PART7 >> Part 8

AN: I am so so sorry that this took me so long! I’m ngl, I lost a bit of inspiration for this for a while but I kinda forced myself to sit down and write it and it felt really good to finish something I felt I had given up on! I tried to make it a big one to make up for all the time I was gone! 

I also went back and read all the Anon messages I got from so many people and they really helped me, so thank you to absolutely everyone and all the anons who contributed ideas. I def included some in this part (and the coming parts) so if you spot it, I hope you enjoy it! 

Also, for the timing of his birthday versus when he started at Yancy Academy, IDK guys, I made it up. I don’t actually know about when he started versus when his birthday was so just… let it go ig. 

ALSO, I copied the dialogue for the diner scene almost verbatim from the show so I can’t take credit for writing that, but the descriptions attached to the dialogue are still mine. 

PS. I got a new divider that I love heheheh 

Also, I really hope y’all notice the significance of each of his birthday presents because I worked so unnecessarily hard on those. 

Summary: In one place, Percy grows up with his Aunt Sally, dealing with the struggles of being a demigod child. In another, you try to pretend you haven’t just given up your son and a life you have always wanted. Neither world is going as one would hope. 

Word count: 7.3k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), personal insecurity, insecurity about one’s parenting, absentee parents technically, light angst, Percy believing there is something wrong with him, negative view of one’s own ADHD and dyslexia, any warnings associated with Percy’s adventures, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When you returned to Valhalla, you tried to put on a brave face. Your return was denoted by a grand feast, and the Aesir were simply so happy to see you return no one questioned the way you occasionally turned away to brush off stray tears or gazed at Yggdrasil as if you wanted to see into one of the worlds nestled in its branches. But aside from all of that, you were rather good at pretending to be happy. You drank a few sips of ale for every mug Thor drained, you danced half the night with Baldur, and you sat cosied up with Loki, ready to listen to whatever story of his latest shenanigans he wished to bestow on you. Everyone was happy. Things were as they were meant to be. 

As the sun began to creep toward the horizon and the Aesir made their way out of the grand hall, you found yourself walking with Odin back to your old quarters in Valhalla. When he first came up to you as you stood from the feast table, he had wrapped you up in his arms, whispering how he was happy at your return. Even now, he occasionally turns to look at you with his remaining eye and smiles gently. The walk was peaceful, quiet, a stillness in the air at that hour just before dawn. 

“Do you know what I gave up my eye for?” He asked out of the blue. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head and looking at him almost incredulously. 

“Of course, all the gods know, you sacrificed your eye for all the knowledge of the world.” 

“Hm,” he nodded. Then he stopped in the hallway and turned to fully face you. You clasped your hands in front of you, heart suddenly beating just a little faster. “Did you know that this also means I know about Perseus?” 

You could suddenly hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could see Odin in front of you, but you also couldn’t. Your hands were sweaty and your dress was suddenly tight around your ribs. You looked up at him, shallow breaths blowing from your lips. But then Odin smiled, a small sad smile that somehow broke your heart just that little bit more. 

“I am the only one that knows, and it should be kept that way.” He reached out and caressed your cheek, and you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek that he wiped away. “If it were different, I would have cherished meeting him.” Then he pulled away and walked back in the direction of the feasting hall. You listened to his footsteps fade away, before entering the room you had left behind for millenia. 

Every year, without fail, it rained on Percy’s birthday. When he first noticed, he thought it meant something special. That there was something magical out there, wishing him well. Whatever higher power was out there, they knew he loved to swim, to be in the water, and they sent the rain just for him. As he grew, he began simply chalking it up to weather patterns. August was just the time of year when rain happened upon the city. It wasn’t anything special, this was simply the one part of his life where he was lucky. 

Sally knew it was a blessing. She knew it was his father, celebrating the day in the best way he knew how, sending a message to Percy in the only way he could. She always took Percy outside, regardless of if the rain became a storm. She knew Percy would be safe in the rain. They made it a habit to go onto the fire-escape when the rain was at its worst, and they would spin around and dance and laugh. 

In all the time Sally had spent raising Percy, through all the challenges and the struggles, she never failed to notice how alike to his mother he was. Percy, seemingly since he was born, was obsessed with the colour blue. He only wanted to eat blue food, only wanted to wear blue clothes (it took a lot of convincing to introduce other colours to his wardrobe) and all the toys he chose were blue. He had an immense sweet tooth, and every time she watched him bite into a blue chocolate chip cookie, she fondly remembered the afternoon she had sat with his mother and watched the ravenous pregnant woman devour an entire tray of those same cookies. He smiled brightly and constantly, always happy and mischievous, just like his mother. But he was also trapped like his mother. He also cried like his mother. And most of all, both good and bad, he loved just as sincerely, as fiercely as his mother. 

Every year on Percy’s birthday, this fierce love was demonstrated. A surprise present would arrive, wrapped in shiny blue wrapping paper with only ‘To Percy Jackson’ written on it in loopy, elegant handwriting. Each year the box contained something different, something odd but somehow heartwarming and special. Sometimes he didn’t know why in the world someone would send him these things, but they felt important, and he kept them lined up on the chest of drawers opposite his bed, and counted them each night before he went to bed. At least when he was still living at home. He even had presents from years he didn’t remember, going all the way from his first birthday to his latest. 

On his first birthday, he had apparently received a spool of golden thread. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why someone would give a one year old thread. It’s a choking hazard! What were they thinking?! But it was beautiful and shiny, and sometimes he thought it might just be real gold, but he didn’t want to find out if it was. It somehow felt… more than just something for money. He used it only for the most important things, but however much he seemed to unravel, the thread never seemed to end. 

On his second birthday, the package was smaller. Sally sat him up and unwrapped it in front of him to reveal a little toy throne. It was small, about the size of an adult hand, and made of hard resin. It was so intricate, coloured like the ocean, even white and frothy in some places, and looked as if it was made with the whorls of the ocean. It had been his favourite little toy for a long time. 

His third birthday present was simply a feather. It was beautiful, and no matter how much he crushed the fibres or threw it around, it never lost its perfect shape. It came with a flat metal stand that had a little foam rectangle in the centre so he could stick the tip of the feather into it and leave it as a decoration. The metal stand was simply labelled ‘Pegasus’ and three year old Percy staunchly believed it was a feather from the wing of a Pegasus. Even at the ripe old age of thirteen he sometimes still liked to hope it was a feather from Pegasus, simply so he could believe that magic existed. 

For his fourth birthday, he received a framed painting. Even at four years old he thought it was weird, and he still believed it was an absolutely insane present to get a four year old. A painting? Seriously? It was beautiful though, and he appreciated it a lot more once he was older than he did at the time. He didn’t know where it was supposed to show, there was no date and no artist’s signature. The edges showed that the viewer was looking through the mouth of a cave onto some type of secret hidden lake. Trees surrounded the lake, and it had the most beautiful clear water. The artist had even depicted the rocks at the bottom, and sometimes, in the quietest and stillest moments of the day, if he looked really hard at the painting, he could almost see the water lapping at the shore. He could almost hear the gentle chirp of birds and the soft rustle of leaves. The entire painting always made him feel so odd, as if he could feel someone’s else's memories, someone else’s feelings. Someone had been happy there once, but now they only looked at it with sadness, as if a wonderful day by the lake had been ruined by a fight in the car on the way home. 

His fifth birthday present was just as odd as the rest of them. He still didn’t quite understand why someone had gifted him five oysters with pearls inside of them. He didn’t believe the pearls were real (that was the only reason he hadn’t pawned or sold them off so he could get some extra money for his Aunt Sally) simply because he had never seen an oyster like that. No one had, not even google. He thought they were pretty though, and kept them lined up on the back of his nightstand rather than on the chest of drawers. 

His favourite birthday present, from all those he had ever received, came on his sixth birthday. It was a conch shell, bigger than both the palms of his hands put together, with a dark blue colour that slowly faded to white as it twisted in on itself. Normally when he held it up to his ear, he could hear the sea, but unlike any other conch he had ever listened to. He could hear waves crashing, he could hear the ruffling and snuffling sort of sound they made as they frothed onto the shore. He could hear the swoosh as the waves pulled back. He could even hear the distant sort of gurgling a person hears when they’re underwater in the ocean, the sound of water moving about you. But then, at the darkest parts of the night, when he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason and pressed the shell to his ear, he could hear a gentle voice whispering ‘I love you’. It was soft, but calming and loving, the kind of ‘I love you’ a father whispers to his son just as he puts him to bed. He had never heard the voice before, but secretly he always wished it was somehow the voice of his own father. He tried not to think about that as much anymore. His father simply wasn’t here. 

A little zombie looking figurine arrived for his seventh birthday. This one felt a little more kid-appropriate, and he had loved playing with it when he was still into action figures. For a while he hadn’t known what character it was supposed to be, because while it looked like a zombie, it didn’t really look like the zombie figurines he had seen some of the other kids play with. The little circle that connected the two feet of the figurine was engraved with the word ‘Draugr’ and Aunt Sally had had to google that for him. The stories had scared him so much that for a while he had hidden the figure in the back of his toybox. 

By the time his eighth birthday had rolled around, he had begun to grow an interest in Greek mythology and the stories of Greek heroes. When he received a little storybook on Perseus and his adventures, he had asked Sally if she was the one sending him the secret presents. It had to be his Aunt Sally. She knew he liked Greek mythology, she had been the one to tell him that he was named after Perseus. Sure, the earlier gifts had been really weird, but maybe she had just become a better gift-giver over time? But Aunt Sally denied it, and when they opened the book, a little picture had been put in as a bookmark. It depicted a cabin high up on the cliffs of the fjords, small but homely looking, and it was simply marked with the word Norway in the bottom corner in that same loopy handwriting. Sally had simply replied “see, it can’t be from me because I’ve never even been to Norway. Plus, kid, have you ever seen me write that neatly?” He had sat there and read the entire book, pushing through even though the letters bounced around and sometimes he had to look completely away to be able to try and focus again. He kept the picture in the book and the book on his nightstand as well. Though he had read it countless times, thumbed each page a million times, the book still looked good as new. 

On his ninth birthday he got… a jar of sand. He was pretty disappointed at first, staring at it for a whole minute after he had taken it out of the wrapping. But then he saw that a little label had been pasted onto the top of the metal lid of the jar that simply said ‘Montauk’ and he realised it must be from the beach in front of the cabins they went to every year. It was seemingly sentimental, and it had made Aunt Sally smile all sad and happy and teary that he had told her to keep it in her room, so it would stay safe. 

On his tenth birthday, he only received an envelope. It was made of the same shimmery blue paper as the wrapping of all the other gifts he had ever received, and it had the same loopy handwriting, but it had been pushed under the door. Aunt Sally usually got her letters from the box downstairs, he had thought it was weird, but she had told him not to worry, that this must be special because it was his birthday. The only thing in the envelope was a picture. It was square, and about the size of a polaroid, but glossy like it had been taken by a digital camera and printed at some fancy shop. He couldn’t quite tell what it was at first. It looked like it was taken underwater, he could see little flecks of seaweed floating and sand that had been kicked up by the waves and little bubbles here and there. He could see the sandy floor as well, the way some of it was mid-movement with the waves. ‘Midnight on Montauk - where the water meets the sand’ was written on the back, and he thought it was weird that he had gotten two gifts from Montauk now. Nevertheless, he pinned the picture to the corkboard above his chest of drawers. 

On his eleventh birthday he got a gold coin. He was so excited at first. This was the first time he had ever gotten money as a present, let alone a frickin’ gold coin! He had even promised Aunt Sally he would take her out for ice cream with the money from the coin. But then he had looked at it again and realised that it was stamped with a trident on both sides. He had suddenly deflated, thinking it was some kind of gimmick coin they sold at souvenir shops (this gift-giver seemed to be way too sentimental) but Aunt Sally had quickly pressed it into his palm and told him to keep it very very safe. He kept it on him at all times now. At least some of his jeans had that little seemingly useless pocket, making it easy for him to carry it around. 

His last birthday, the one right before everything went wrong for the millionth time and got him sent to Yancy Academy, had brought a flat box filled with shredded paper. Nestled inside it was a framed weather report from the day he had been born. At the top was the cut out of a headline ‘Largest Storm to Ever Hit Montauk and all of New York’. Below it, there were a bunch of different images, from graphs about the intensity of the rainfall to satellite images of the eye of the storm and the area it covered. He thought it was kind of funny, and he put it up proudly on the chest of drawers. That day was the first time in a long time he had thought the rain on his birthday really meant something again. Maybe it wasn’t something special for him, maybe it was just the weather remembering the storm it had put on that day, and sending some rain in its memory. But it meant something. 

Grover heard whispers in his dreams. He never quite remembered what they were, never quite remembered what they said, but he knew that something whispered to him in his sleep. A woman, a soft, lilting voice that sounded just out of reach, was all that he had gleaned thus far. He didn’t know if the forces were good or bad, where the voice came from, but whenever he awoke there was a small niggling feeling inside him that he should be doing something. Deep in the pit of his stomach he felt like he had to be outside Camp Half-Blood, had to be chasing something or maybe finding something. It was an itch that no other satyr duty seemed to satiate. No amount of berries collected, animal cages cleaned, campfires attended made him forget the voice, forget the desire to follow its orders, whatever they may be. 

When he got his next mission to escort a demigod back to the camp, everything seemed to click into place inside him. When he was told that he would be responsible for bringing Percy Jackson safely back to the camp, it was like the gods themselves had come in and soothed whatever had been writhing inside him. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what the whispers had commanded for him. And somehow, he knew that this was the most important journey in his entire life… 

Three days before Percy’s twelfth birthday, a blue butterfly landed on his hand as he sat outside his latest school. It was the end of his first official week at Yancy Academy, and the school was rather… daunting. All the kids looked at him like he was dirt beneath their shoes and nothing seemed to be clicking with him. He was trying his best. When the kids whispered about him, he ignored it. When they started messing with his things, he just asked his teachers for new notebooks and moved on. Whatever they did, he chose to try peace and quiet. He didn’t want to make life even more difficult for his Aunt Sally, she was already doing everything she could to make sure he had a decent school to go to; this was their last chance and he wasn’t going to be the one that screwed it up. 

He sighed and rested his elbows on his crossed legs, staring out at the yard. If nothing else, at least Yancy had a nice garden to look at. He hadn’t noticed the fluttering little creature until it was directly in his line of sight. It took a few turns around in front of his face before landing directly on the tip of his nose. The little legs were slightly ticklish and he breathed out of his mouth to resist the urge to sneeze. 

It was beautiful. It almost glowed in the light, like a haze was surrounding its edges, and he reached up to gently touch the tip of its wing. It shattered right in front of his eyes, like a glass breaking against the floor. The little pieces floated all around and landed on his clothes, sticking to his jeans. He stared at his lap, wide eyed. What the- He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths in, a technique one of the many councillors had taught him to try and re-centre himself in the world. When he opened his eyes again, the pieces were still there, like glitter all over his clothes, but they were beginning to fade. 

Percy stared at his clothes, at the fading pieces of a butterfly that had somehow flown directly to him then shattered like glass, and stood up with a determination to forget this ever happened. He shook his head, as if to shake his brain into action. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one would believe him anyway. This was just another pegasus in the window. He wouldn’t speak of it until the next time he was at home. Aunt Sally could calm him down, Aunt Sally would make him feel better and they would solve this. There was just something fundamentally wrong with him, they needed to fix it soon. With a clench of his fist, he walked back inside, only to bump directly into someone who quickly introduced themselves as Grover Underwood….

“And then Grover beat me, Aunt Sally!” Percy told her excitedly as they sat at the dining table ravenously devouring stacks of blue pancakes. Sally smiled down at the boy, reaching forward and ruffling his curly hair as he shoved another forkful into his mouth. 

“Grover sounds awesome, I’m glad you guys found each other,” she told him happily, pretending like the satyr hadn’t already introduced himself as Percy’s guardian. “If you want, you can invite him up here today, we can have a little birthday party.” 

“Nah, todays about you and me Aunt Sally,” he smiled brightly up at her, syrup painting the corners of his mouth, and she stood up to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Alright then mister, have I got plans for you this weekend! I was gonna get us passes for the waterpark today but I knew it was gonna rain so it’s been postponed for tomorrow. Today will start with a swim at the indoor pool in a country club in Manhattan! Someone I know gave me her pass for the weekend,” Sally giggled, reaching out to high five Percy as he exclaimed ‘no way!’. 

“Is it Denise? I love Denise,” Percy asked excitedly, momentarily forgetting his plate. 

“No, I mentioned to one of my regular customers that it’s your birthday this weekend and that you love to swim so she got us signed up as her guests for the weekend!” Sally explained, smiling triumphantly. 

Though she always tried her hardest, sometimes she felt like Percy missed out on a better life because she didn’t make enough money. But Percy simply jumped up and hugged her tightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ against her ear. 

“Hold on, you haven’t even heard the entire plan!” She exclaimed, laughing as he pulled away and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Ok, so, then we’re gonna go get ice cream, I found this cool place near the country club that has a bunch of blue ice creams and I thought we could get a scoop of each so we have those cones piled with like ten scoops. Then we’ll come back here for a mov-” 

There was a knock at the door. Sally frowned for a second, turning to the door, but there was no other sound and she looked back to Percy as something dawned on her. She smiled gently, a rather wistful look in her eyes all of a sudden, and got up from where she was sitting adjacent to him. 

“That must be your special present.” Percy swallowed his latest too-big mouthful and got up from the table to meet Aunt Sally in the hallway. 

It was cube shaped this time, about the size of both his palms put together, and it had simply been left in front of their door. Sally brought the box inside and they stood by the window to look at it in the dim grey light from outside. It was covered in that same shiny blue wrapping paper as every other year, and his name was written in that same loopy style with a fresh black pen. His face was contorted in confusion and he took it from Sallys hands, ripping through the wrapping paper to the baby blue cardboard box beneath. He opened that too and Sally watched on curiously as he pulled out something wrapped in bubble wrap. Percy pulled the little pieces of tape holding it together and unfolded the sheet of wrapping to find a snowglobe nestled inside. 

The little stand that the orb was perched on was a blue so dark it was almost black, and smooth, without any engraving or description of the scene inside the ball. The globe itself showed a little scene of what looked like a campground, with lots of cabins and a big bonfire in the middle. It even had a little sign pointing in different directions, and had an open-air pavilion near the edge. It was cute, a little fancy, but he had no idea why in the world someone would send this to him. He had never been to camp before, but especially not this camp, whatever it was. He held it up to Sally and frowned at it. 

“I have no idea where this is,” he told her, but she was staring at it so intensely that he paused. Percy raised an eyebrow and pushed it toward her. “You know where this is? Have you been here before?” At first Sally didn’t answer, because yes, she knew where it was, she knew exactly what the snow globe was showing her, and she knew that it was a message. It meant that soon, she would have to say goodbye to Percy, and soon Percy would know everything she had been hiding from him his entire life. 

“It’s a campground, right?” She asked nonchalantly, “it’s cute though, I like it. Keep it on your dresser, I’m sure one day you’ll know more about it.” And she shrugged as if that day wasn’t coming very soon. 

Percy shrugged in return and went to his room to put the snowglobe on the dresser. A beam of sunlight had broken through the clouds and sparkled in the rain right onto his dresser. The water in the painting looked like it was moving again, and a phantom wind ruffled the fibres on the feather. He put the snowglobe between them carefully, directly in the light of the sun, and a little bit of glitter in the globe shined directly onto his eye. He squinted and bent down to look at it again. There, hidden behind one of the cabins because of the way he had been holding it earlier, was a tiny blue butterfly. It was so small it was easy to miss, but it looked exactly like the butterfly that had come to him. Percy felt his heart begin to race. Surely this was a coincidence. He blinked and rubbed his eyes roughly, then looked down at the snowglobe again. It was still there. The butterfly almost looked like it flapped its wings in the sunlight. No, surely not, this was just another sign that he was going crazy, that there was something really wrong with him. 

Percy shoved the snowglobe behind the painting and walked right back out to find Aunt Sally. She was sitting on the sofa waiting for him, smiling when he came over to her, but quickly her lips drooped into a frown at the look on his face. 

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” She asked, pulling him down to sit beside her. 

“Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. It’s happening again, it’s exactly like the horse on the rooftop and I-I don’t kno-” 

“Hey. Ok, let’s take a deep breath. Ok, good, one, two, three, four, ok now big release. Alright, good, now, start from the beginning.” She gently cupped his cheek for a moment before folding her hands in her lap and watching his face. 

“I was sitting in the garden at Yancy, I don’t know, I’d had kind of a crummy day, I guess, but then suddenly this butterfly came fluttering to me. Aunt Sally, I have never seen a butterfly like that. It’s like it wasn’t real. It was all shiny and like-like it was glowing? I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like it actually existed. But it came right up to me and landed on my nose. And I thought that was so cool, so I kinda just reached up and touched it. I mean, I didn’t even really touch it, the tip of my finger kinda just brushed it, but then it burst. I don’t even know, it shattered like it was made of glass. And that’s crazy because that’s not possible. Animals don’t shatter like that, nothing real shatters like that and just disappears. It broke into glitter and was all over me! I was trying to brush it off but it-it just wouldn’t come off, and then slowly, it just started to… fade away. Just like that. Ugh, I don’t know Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. I mean, it’s not normal to be seeing visions, even I know that.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you,” she added simply, staring at him as if everything he had just said was the most important words to ever have come out of someone’s mouth. 

“What?” Percy tilted his head and looked at her with a frown, as if suddenly she was the crazy one, not him. 

“I believe you. I believe that that happened to you, but we’ll talk about that some other time.” She smiled sadly at him, reaching out to gently brush the hair away from his forehead. Percy scoffed, pulling back from her slightly. 

“What does that even mean? You just said you believed me, we need to talk about it now.” 

“Percy, when the time is right, we’ll talk about it,” Sally sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay this conversation for much longer. She just wanted him to be a kid as long as possible… “But today is your birthday, and we’re supposed to be having fun before you go back to school. So come on,” she clapped her hands and stood up, “there is a bag of blue jelly beans sitting in the kitchen with your name on it!” She sing-songed. 

“But Aunt Sally-” 

“Percy. Some other time.” Her lips were set in a line and her tone left no more room for argument. Sally left him to go to her room to start packing a backpack with stuff they would need for the pool, while Percy made his way to the kitchen and began slowly chewing on blue jelly beans, his mind stuck on the butterfly. 

That night, after a long day of swimming, and a little too much sugar, Sally sat in the middle of little garden they had made on their floor of the fire escape and let the rain douse her. She had already shoved a hungover Gabe into bed and locked the door on him in case he wanted to come back out and make any noise that disturbed Percy, and now, under the rain, she let her thoughts wander to the past thirteen years. 

Life with Percy had been as beautiful and loving as it had been difficult. She had known, from the beginning, that Percy would not be a normal kid. As much as his parents wanted him to be, as much as she wanted it for him, it simply wouldn’t happen. He was too special, the product of two worlds too incomprehensible. 

She remembered all the calls to schools. He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t learn, he was too ‘disruptive’, too ‘distracted’. Each time it boiled her blood, broke her heart, because he wasn’t even made for this world, but these people had the audacity to reduce this child to what they considered bad things. She remembered all the times he would cry, clinging to her with his little hands wondering why he couldn’t be like the other kids, why he couldn’t focus like other kids or why he couldn’t study like the other kids, why he didn’t have parents like the other kids… 

She remembered the first time she had told little Percy about his dad. How excited he had been to learn that somewhere out there, he did have parents, parents who loved him and wanted to be with him but for some inexplicable reason, couldn’t. She had seen the way he had slowly dismissed that childish hope as he grew up, how he stopped asking about his mom, how he stopped wondering if he looked like his dad. He never asked anymore. 

The day she had used the coin suddenly floated to the front of her mind as she wiped the water from her eyes. She remembered it vividly. It had been a bad day. The baddest of days at that point. Percy was struggling, and she was on edge. There was a storm. It was still the years when she had been scared of storms, when they reminded her of the day Percy was born, the fear in Y/n’s eyes, the pain in Poseidon’s. She had driven them away from yet another school and decided to stop at a diner for lunch. Maybe ice cream would improve Percy’s mood. 

They had eaten in silence, neither of them ready to talk to the other. She had tried to make a few jokes before the food came, hoping to lift Percy’s mood, but he had simply pushed the salt and pepper shakers around the table and mumbled answers to her. After that she had given up on her attempts and sat in silence, staring out of the window and stewing in her own struggles. Maybe this was her breaking point, she thought. Maybe this was the moment when she couldn’t raise Percy anymore. She was struggling, and the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin his life because she couldn’t cope with raising a godly child. What could she do? No one could understand her situation, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Was this the time to send him to camp? Was it the time to let him go, for his sake? Tears had begun to prick at her eyes but she wiped them away as the server had come by. 

They had finished their mains, and she had ordered a sundae for Percy in as excited a voice as she could manage, glad to see a little smile begin to curl at his lips. The server had engaged with him as well, asking him what toppings he wanted and how many ‘extras’ to add before telling the chef he wanted chocolate sauce. She had smiled at the server in thanks before telling Percy to stay put as she got up from the stall and went to the bar to settle the bill. 

At the bar, she asked for a glass of tap water and the bill, and when the bartender had deposited both, she pulled a coin out of her pocket. It was gold, and had tridents embossed on both sides. Even though she’d had it for years now, it hadn’t lost its shine. She brought the cup of water closer to her and flipped the coin over it, watching it twist in the air before falling into the water with a little ‘plonk’. She closed her eyes and whispered two names to herself, over and over and over. A crack of thunder shook through the diner, as if the storm was right overhead. She opened her eyes and stared into the glass of water as the door to the diner opened and someone walked in. The stool beside her was pulled out, and someone settled onto it with a slight creak. The sleeve of their shirt brushed against hers and the smell of salty sea air suddenly seemed to waft around her. She closed her eyes and whispered one of the names again, but nothing changed. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she stared ahead of her, unable, unwilling, to look at the man that had settled down beside her. 

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheek. 

“No, it isn’t,” he replied quietly, his gruff voice comforting and painful at the same time. 

“And I am failing.” She clenched her hands around the cup of water at the uncomfortable truth of it all. More tears slipped out of her eyes now, easier than the first. 

“No, you’re not,” he answered instantly, and still neither of them looked at each other. For all anyone knew, they were strangers sitting beside each other at a bar. Sally closed her eyes and gulped, her eyes fluttering open as breathing became just that little more painful as she tried to keep a handle on herself. 

“I’m going to take him to camp,” she told him, releasing her grip around the glass of water and pushing it forward slightly. 

“Are you sure?” He asked simply, as if it was a casual decision, but she could still hear the gravity in the statement. 

“What choice do I have?” She whispered, “he and I living together in the city…” she paused, taking in a deep breath, “it’s starting to attract attention from your world.” He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and stared at the floor behind the bar with an intensity that would make it crack if he truly wanted it to. “A winged horse followed him to school.” She let the statement settle into the air. “It saw him, he saw it. Sooner or later it’s not gonna be just pretty things that are following him,” she breathed out, shaking her head slightly and looking up to the ceiling as the tears pushed from her eyes again. 

It was so painful to sit here, mere steps from Percy, with the father he couldn’t meet. It was so painful, knowing that soon she would have to let him go, to let him fight his own battles. It was so painful knowing that there were forces much bigger than her little self, controlling everything, and making life so difficult for the beautiful little boy sitting just over there. 

“At camp, he will be safe,” she nodded to herself, taking a sharp breath in and staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that this was the best idea. 

“You don’t want him at camp,” he answered simply, as if he could look into her mind and see everything that she was thinking, as if he could look directly at her heart and see the immense amount of love she felt for that child. 

“No,” she breathed out painfully, “no, I don’t,” and she almost began crying with the words, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head. 

“Tell me why,” he stated as he stared down at the wood of the bar but his attention was fully on her. 

“You don’t wanna know why,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head and looking to the ceiling again. Then she smiled, a rueful, exasperated little smile as he let out a huff of a chuckle. 

“Probably not. But you have no one to say it to, and maybe that’s the most unfair part of it.” He paused, just for a moment, but her heart began to feel a little lighter somehow. “You say it, and I will listen.” They were silent, sitting together and listening to the quiet sounds of the bar, the clinking of spoons and glasses and plates, the rush of water inside the dishwasher. 

“I want him to know who he is, before your worlds try to tell him who they want him to be,” her voice was forceful, verging on spiteful. “He is better than that, he has better things in him than that.” She was full of conviction, this was a truth she knew better than anything else in the world. Poseidon continued staring at the bar as he spoke. 

“Then you have your answer. He’s going to go to school, and he’s going to learn things you can’t teach him there, and it’s going to be hard for the both of you. And it’s going to be torture for the both of you. But he will be stronger for it on the other side. His aunt raised him well.” And her tears flowed again, as if something in her chest released but brought with it a stabbing pain of everything that could not be. 

“Do you wanna talk to him?” She asked through tears, hoping against all hope that he would say yes. “I know you shouldn’t,” she began, trying to convince him somehow. “Maybe just hear his voice,” she whispered, but there was another crack of thunder in the sky, and Poseidon turned away, listening as if he could hear things she could not. 

“One day,” he simply whispered, and when she looked up to finally meet his eyes, to finally look at him again after so many years, no one was sitting there. 

She sat at the bar for another few minutes, staring into the glass of water as if it had all the answers, but not one reason floated up for the absence of the boy’s mother. 

For thirteen years, you watched your son’s life in snippets. It was like a faulty connection on a tv, darkness one moment, then a flash of Percy smiling as he opened the new mystery present that had been left at his door. A moment of beauty and excitement as you watched him uncover pieces of the world that you and his father had created, the world that led to his being. Then darkness once more, a year of knowing nothing about his life no matter how hard you tried, then Percy crying in Sally’s arms, sobbing about his latest struggles at school, and a pain so sharp in your heart that you almost abandoned secrecy to go to him, then darkness again. You didn’t know why it was like this. Why you didn’t get to watch over him as you so hoped before he was born, why even a distant relationship was stolen from you. You spent days climbing over the roots of Yggdrasil, peering into different worlds and hoping to see Percy living his life. Even if you found a branch that looked into Midgard, you saw only the mountains, with little dots of people climbing up them that left you amused for a moment, or boats on the ocean that made your heart ache desperately for your husband. 

But you didn’t question it much either. Maybe it was his position between the two worlds of gods, the magic of the Fates and the Norns interfering with your powers, the mist cloaking him better than you had hoped. 

You continued with your life as it had been long before you knew of the existence of the Greek Pantheon. You filled your position as a good goddess should, protecting the people from threats bigger than them, refusing to interfere with the machinations of demigods and their quests. You had no way of knowing that this obstruction of your view was unnatural. How would you know that someone else’s designs were at play here? How could you possibly know that your own father was stopping you from hearing the desperate prayers meant for you, the pleas of your dear friend when she felt she could not cope? 

As you sat there beside Odin at the feast table, looking up to your father with reverence as he smiled cheerfully down at you, how were you to know he was actively hiding your son from you?

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord, @turtleshavesoulmates, @wolfgirl294, @stanswifties, @mrsinclaire, @homanoid, @bellamysnatblida

[saiscribbles]

So apparently the line now is that ANYBODY responding negatively towards Lily is now one of her “harassers”. It’s always the most abusive, cruel fucking people who are the most fragile to any outside negative attention or criticism whatsoever. Being a public facing media ‘critic’/‘analyst’, Lily should be able to understand people not dogmatically agreeing with her on fucking everything. But she’s an incredibly overdramatic/insecure person by nature, so she kind of just breaks down into sobbing and abusive lashing out whenever anybody DOES tell her that she’s wrong or disagrees with her!

Absolute coward. Lily is exactly the kind of sniveling little puke who will run their mouth, act tough, talk a big game, be nasty to everyone around them, make absolutely outrageous claims and accusations about other people but as soon as anyone pushes back will run off with their tail between their legs. Good riddance, she can continue to shrink her online presence until it's just her and her Discord sycophants being miserable together. Gonna just lump some more Lily asks in this post.

Lol yes.

Anon it makes me some side money and is fun for everyone except Lily. I consider that a win-win situation. Though my YouTube channel will probably graduate from Lily eventually. Not that I won't talk about her when something funny happens but most of her other videos are either just really boring, completely incoherent and sometimes never actually talk about the topic the video is supposedly about.

Otherwise after Utena Week I'll be doing more game streams and my usual Wednesday stream where I draw and talk, and sometimes react to things.

Lily is definitely contrarian on purpose, but its not even in the a way a normal person would be. Every opinion Lily expresses seems to be wrapped up in her own rigid ideas formed by her own narcissism, seeming hatred of fandoms just having fun and discussing things, the same 5 or so franchises she allegedly enjoys, her baffling inability to understand any media she consumes and just overall being a case study on the Dunning-Kruger effect.

[onskepa]

Anon again with new idea I have been thinking of.

So what about neteyam x human fem reader where she shows him her outfits and makes a fashion show for him (yk just for fun). Neteyam is just amazed with her style and find it a bit strange but he still finds her adorable with her posing and twirling and stuff.

Hello! I gotta admit, to me at least, this was cute to write about! hope you enjoy!

Eyes on me

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

Fyolup

It was a long day for neteyam, between training, scolding his brother, and going on raids with his father. He was wiped out. despite how busy he can be, he will always have time for his sweet mate.

He darling human mate who lives with the others in the base, he would always make time for her. She was a breathe of fresh air. Always making his days conclude with kisses, hugs and loving words. He enjoys everything about her and would refuse to hear anything negative when it comes to his mate.

Well, technically, they aren't mated yet, however, they are in the processing of courting. Have been together for 2 years and neteyam thinks its time to take it seriously.

He arrives in the base, doing the needed procedure and wears his breathing mask. He hates it really, but cant complain. Because of it, he understands more the needed safety when his beloved walks outside and wears her mask.

It was night, so every other human was in their rooms asleep or doing something else. So quietly neteyam goes to his beloved's room. Being one of the few girls in the base has its perks, she has one of the bigger rooms. Especially when na'vi come in to visit.

He opens the sliding door and to see his dear one wearing something. "Yawne?" he calls out to her, she jumps a bit, startled. "neteyam! you scared me!" she giggles. Neteyam smiles warmly as he goes to her and hugs her tightly. "I'm sorry, what are you wearing?" he takes a good look at her. She was wearing a bright long cloth that covered her body excluding her arms and neck. His beloved smiles and makes a little twirl. "do you like it? it is a summer dress", neteyam tilts his head in confusion and curiosity. "a summer.....dress??" he repeats, his beloved smile and explains to him that for humans, to adapt to different climates they wear different clothing to fit that climate. Neteyam was very intrigued by it, "can you show me more? I want to see you in all of your people's clothing" he tells her. His beloved was a bit surprised. She know of the na'vi clothing and choice of style they wear, which is drastically different from how humans see clothing.

"r-really....?" she blushes, getting excited to show him all of the clothing she has. Neteyam smiles as his tail wags in happiness, "yes, I want to see my yawne in everything". So, she does that.

She performs a little fashion show for him, her number one audience. Wearing different dresses, varying in colors, patterns, and the flow of the dress. But, dresses wasn't the only thing she present for him, wearing shorts and tank tops, button up shirts, but neteyam's favorite were the bikini styles. He enjoy seeing her body in the natural way. Flawless was her skin, soft to touch and smooth to feel. Far different from how his skin feels, tough and firm.

Seeing his mate wearing various clothes made him appreciate her more. She was just too beautiful! and he come to enjoy some of the clothing she displayed for him. Anything that has blue or yellow. Like the yellow summer dress with green leaves decorated on them. Or the blue dress with star patters on them. She looked better in blue he personally thinks.

Of course neteyam would praise her in every outfit she wears. "That is all of them" his beloved says, neteyam gets up and pulls her in his embrace. "You look beautiful in every one your clothing, it is interesting how vastly different you humans perceive clothing". He kisses her on top of her head, then cheeks, then on her soft petal lips.

"stay with me?" she asks him, he smirks and nods, still wearing the blue white dotted dress that neteyam has come to favor, they lay on her bed to sleep, ending the day.

Yawne = beloved

Fyolup = exquisite, sublime in style

that is all for this fic! Tell me what ya think!

[glitzreyasblog]

Hi girl! Well i want to manifest high grades in my exams but sometimes when i pass the exam and then the teachers returns my papers i find them bad...and then i give up persisting, how do i fix that? It Also a problem with changing my past grades, it just the 3d circumstances triggers me and that would make me think that it impossible to change my grades. I Hope you see my Ask and thank you 💗

hey, anon, thanks for asking ! ♡

first, nothing is impossible. the truth is everything is available to you and everything is possible. so even if you don’t always believe everything is possible, know that the truth is that every possibility is at your fingertips.

I understand that the 3D can be triggering, I mean, of course it is! if it’s in your face 24/7 how could it not annoy you? but at the end of the day, as long as you realize that the 3D and it’s circumstances literally mean nothing and can’t do anything to impact your manifestations— you’re good.

also, the 3D is neverrrr a source of confirmation or validation. don’t look to it and take whatever it says as the last word. it’s not in the 3D, so what? keep going. There’s no such thing as giving up since you’re always manifesting, giving up simply means persisting in the assumption you don’t want.

the 3D always look at you for validation anyways. everything in the 3D comes from you because the 3D is you, there’s no separation! so don’t believe that the 3D can create on its own or that whatever happens in the 3D is set in stone. keep doing your thing and the 3D has no choice but to follow— that is a guarantee.

I really recommend reading these posts by @etherealkissed88 , as soon as I saw your ask, her posts popped into my head:

indifference towards the 3D

applying the law while experiencing the 3D

(I rlly recommend her blog too! it’s been incredibly helpful for me and allowed me to find success in my loa journey 🫶)

don’t look at your grades in the 3D and take that as a sign that “it didn’t work”. don’t take anything that happens in the 3D as a sign of anything. the 3D literally means nothing, so don’t let it stop you. the only one who can change your reality is you, so dont give up just because the insignificant 3D shows you something.

ps, it’s perfectly okay to have doubts. lots of people manifest even with doubts, anxiety, negative thoughts, etc. once you’ve decided that you have it, it’s done. nothing can take that away from you. so do whatever you want, interact with the 3D, while knowing you already made the decision that it’s yours.

and remember, the 3D can only change once there is a change in self.

aside from my advice, I’d also like to share my experience, because I used to be in a similar situation. I depended on the 3D for confirmation so much it’s not even funny. I’m proud to say that now my mindset is completely different and i couldn’t care that much about the 3D if I tried. what helped me the most was learning and understanding the significance of imagination. learning the importance of imagination and self was what changed the game for me. I was able to give myself everything I wanted in my imagination, I was able to fulfill and change self with ease and I had never felt more free doing so. It also made me a million times more sure in my decision that I had what I wanted. because why would I care about the 3D and what it was showing me if i had everything i wanted in the 4D— the real reality. so, if your 3D grades are bothering you then simply have fun in the 4D! what do you desire aside from the grades? Is it the satisfaction of achieving such high marks? Is it the pride you’ll have in yourself once you get the top score? Is it relief you want to feel? Do you want to impress your peers? Or is it academic validation you want? Whatever it is, give it to yourself within. and don’t just do that for the sake of change in the 3D, for the sake of getting something, do it because you’ll feel how you want to feel. do it because you’ll feel confident in the assumption you have high marks.

give yourself something to fall in love with in imagination.

another ps (I swear I’m almost done just stay with me😭😭) it’s also worth mentioning that you as the outer man can do absolutely nothing to change the outer world, nor should you strive to. the only way to change the 3D is to change self, change imagination. to create a new assumption which then turns into a new identity.

at the end of the day, it all comes back to the inner world. a change in the 3D can only be created by a change in the 4D. so you either make the change or get stuck in the cycle that is putting the 3D on a pedestal. the choice is yours.

[moodymisty]

'We float for Macragge.' That is the cutest quote ever omg. Thank you for blessing me with this, I'd never seen the meme before. The blueberries are so charming sometimes 🥺 -anon that likes excerpts

It's one of the less popular iconic WH40k memes, but I see people reference it sometimes. Here's some more funnies because I like forcing people to read this stuff.

There's also the fucking hilarious scene of an astartes with new terminator armor falling through a floor, and his buddy has to call a crew with a crane to get him out, which is fucking hysterical. (master of sanctity)

‘Some kind of sub-level here,’ reported Daellon. ‘Descending.’ ‘Wait!’ yelled Telemenus, but his warning came too late. The audio pick-ups brought the sound of splintering woods and crumbling ferrocrete followed by an almighty crash. Daellon cursed without pause over the vox. ‘Report,’ barked Arbalan. ‘Brother Daellon misjudged the load bearing of some internal stairs, brother-sergeant,’ said Telemenus, trying not to laugh. For once he was glad somebody else was attracting the negative scrutiny. There was a chuckle from Cadmael and a sigh from Arbalan. ‘Daellon, can you climb out?’ asked the sergeant. ‘Negative, a three metre drop at least. The floor will not hold my weight to pull myself up.’ ‘No threats detected,’ Telemenus added, his auspex sensors encompassing the long row of huts. ‘Understood,’ said Arbalan. He sounded impatient. ‘Daellon, remain in place, I will signal for an armoury extraction team. Telemenus, rejoin the squad.'

There's also a book I don't remember where a group of baseline humans are descending from tight steps with an astartes, and are VERY concerned at the creaking of the stairs from his weight. Chunky boi

Also here's Guilliman making a joke in Armour of Fate about him being stuck in this massive bulky armor and Sicarius just, doesn't get it. This moment was another reason why I always recommend Dark Imperium to people, it just kind of gets Guilliman and how different he is from his legion now.

Sheaves of blueprints were scattered across the desk in front of him. He spotted something of interest written on one and reached for it, gritting his teeth against the purring of the suit. He always reached with his right hand. The integration points for the Hand of Dominion on his left made picking anything up nigh on impossible, even with the over gauntlet and its underslung bolter removed. Day-to-day tasks such as this were a struggle. His armoured fingers pushed at slick plastek. Ceramite skidded across the papers, knocking them to the ground in wafting flutters. ‘Oh, for the love of…’ he grumbled as he bent awkwardly to pick them up. The Armour of Fate was bulky. As its waist joint prevented him from flexing his spine and reaching the floor, he had to kneel. He reached for the scattered flimsies. Fingertips failed to grasp the sheets, sending them fleeing in small armadas over the polished floor. He growled in frustration, abandoned his task and stood, drawing a curious look from Sicarius. ‘I have the manual dexterity of a Legio Cybernetica battle automaton!’ Guilliman said. ‘Created by the Lord of All Mankind, master of the greatest armies in the Imperium, and I cannot pick up a plastek flimsy.’ He glared at the offending articles. ‘My greatest enemy.’ There was a thoughtful quiet. ‘You are joking, my lord?’ said Sicarius. Guilliman looked at Sicarius. He had to turn all the way around to do so. The pauldrons, ornamental wings and large halo mounted on his back made it impossible for him to see over his shoulder. At least he had stopped knocking into things. There was that. ‘By the Throne, why am I expected to be serious at all times? Yes, Captain Sicarius, I am making light of my predicament. During the worst of the Great Crusade, I was known to make the occasional jest. Even after Terra fell. I did not spend my entire previous life writing deep thoughts into little notebooks, but sometimes dared to enjoy myself. I suppose that was not recorded in the hagiographies.’ ‘Humour is not something you are renowned for, my lord.’ ‘My time in this new age has revealed that to me amply.’

I have way too many random book moments stuck in my head. And not enough space for actual useful information.

[aleenuhs]

Can you make a drabble where the reader asks Arthur for advice? The reader went through a difficult time and she would like to ask Arthur for help. You can do it platonically or romantically, I'd just like a little fluff with angst.

⋆Confide in Me

thank u anon. i am so sorry that i got back this really late, its been a whirlwind of things.

warnings: nun much just fluff and smidge of angst.

Lately you’d been down. Moping around camp and hardly carrying your own weight, so you were having a hard time needless to say.

Barley finishing your chores, your mind was filled with the negativity energy that clouded your judgement. Finding no time to be alone or without your thoughts for even a moment.

Nobody had noticed you and how you carried yourself for the last few days, well, most people in the gang had been out and about the land, hunting — robbing, stealing. Whatever they did outside of camp.

It felt so lonely but crowded at the same time, like you were a ghost in a room full of people.

Your life had been characterized by an overwhelming desire to escape, but a lack of direction harbored you. From your childhood till now, you wanted to leave, find a home. And even around these people who treated you so well, you felt lost. Arthur had tried talking to you, but you quickly ended it, shutting down any opportunity for him to ask if you were okay.

Arthur, had just came back from a hunting trip with the Charles, bringing back 2 deer carcasses.

You were sitting on a flipped over crate, which created something like a seat, which wasn’t to your comfort but you didn’t want to sit on the ground. You needed some kind of break, maybe even someone to confide in.

Arthur was at his tent, moving some stuff around, you looked at him, quickly looking away when his gaze turned back to you. A moment passed by and he kneeled next to you.

“Hey love,” he said, lowering his head to look at you, your gaze was locked to the floor and the blades of grass surrounding. Though it was hot out, the breeze felt nice.

You chose your words, and replied back. “Hi,” you said, barely audible, he had to strain to hear you.

“You doin’ alright there?” He said, still kneeling next you. You looked at him, you nodded, then took it back, shaking your head, tears threatening your eyes. His face contorted into a more worried expression, his hand went to your thigh. “Hey — what’s wrong?” He’d sensed something was up, the way you were hardly talking for the past few days, just finishing up chores. Which you didn’t like to do, but it was your distraction.

“I’ve…” You started, then retired as you could hardly find the words to express what you had been feeling for the longest. You and Arthur were no strangers, you knew him well and he knew you very well, and how he loves you is for eternity. But you could be closed off at times.

“I don’t know Arthur.” You spoke and his eyes looked sad as he looked at you. “I feel so alone, here.”

He brings you closer, taking you into his arms, now sitting on the ground with you in his arms, he slowly brushed your hair away from your face. “Whys that? Is someone making you feel that way?”

You immediately rejected that idea, as it was not true. “No, it’s not that Arthur. I don’t know how to explain it, I feel like I’m just free floating and nobody sees me here, I feel down. And it’s all coming back to me.” You shed a few tears, but you weren’t full fledged sobbing.

He nods, “Understood. Y’know, I see you. Always.” He said calmly, it comforted you like hell. “I’m here for you, come to me.”

“I know, but you’ve been gone for the time being. And I missed you so much.” You admitted.

“I can’t skip my chores or duties here, but if it’s somethin’ like this, I’ll try and stay here for you. You mean s’much to me, if I lost you I’d go mad.” He said stroking your hair. And at once, your problems weren’t gone, but you knew you had a solid rock to lean on. And it was Arthur.

“Yeah. Thank you, Arthur.” You looked up at him, he thumb reaches up to swipe a tear from your cheek, kissing your forehead.

a/n if u liked this pls req more, they’ll be open for a bit (check guidelines and info to see who and what I write for!)

[leakyweep]

Doflamingo x gn!Reader - Patience

@kyuuin9in ; Morning, hope you’re doing better! It’s 💜 anon, decided to come off anon for the request. :D I’ve had this on my mind for a while; how would Doffy feel if he met someone who actually read him like an open book to the point where his s/o actively (but not verbally) tries to teach him healthier habits, such as handing him a glass of water instead of letting him reach for the bottle of wine after a nightmare, proving him with emotional support without outright asking him about it and not expecting him to tell her about it. But also being basically attached to the hip to him and just doing things for him without him asking her to. He’s thinking about getting some salt? Well, would you look at that his s/o already passed it to him. (I also think his s/o wouldn’t like Trebol too much cause he’s an active enabler of Doffy’s bad habits 💀💀)

A/N ; Thank you for this lovely request! Writing Doffy being soft is so fun and challenging, so I hope you enjoy <3

Words ; 0.8k

Warnings ; None, just pure fluff. Although this fic is sfw, my blog is not. Minors, you are not welcome on my blog. Thank you.

Being with Doflamingo was a full time job. It didn’t matter that you lived under his income, under the roof of his stone palace, in his pink satin sheets. You helped out the servants in your free time, making up for the harsh side Doffy always showed the helpful staff. You stood in the kitchen, cutting vegetables, preparing lettuce, learning how long to cook meat to the exact temperature the master enjoyed. You found the servants to be quite pleasant; and while your husband was off in some meeting, you got to know his underlings, smiling and listening to their interesting stories and anecdotes. 

At the end of the day, when changing into your silk pajamas in front of your beloved, he asked you why in the hell you spent your days folding laundry with his servants, thanking them at the dinner table, tucking them in and telling them about the days you spent on the sea when you would join him on his expeditions – and your answer was simple. 

“They’re people too.” 

This made him… think. In his office, in bed, with the other members of the royal family. Of course, your least favorite cohort, Trebol, had many negative things to say about your kindness. He found it pathetic, trying his best to convince Doffy you were his weakest link, that your emotions were too strong. Of course, this made your love see red, grabbing his closest commander by the collar to tell him never to speak about you that way. Although your heart swelled, it discouraged you from being around Trebol for long bouts of time.

One particular night, you had joined him in bed later than usual, too caught up in your screaming thoughts as loud as a freight train in your ears. Sitting in the plush armchair Doffy had gifted you for a birthday in the past, you watched the moon slowly ascend into its place in the dark sky, trying your best to focus on all the good things in your life, the most prominent being the large, snoring figure just feet behind you, sleeping wistfully beneath his heavy comforter. This was short lived, though, when he was snapped awake by a harsh nightmare, his breaths ragged and uneven. 

You turned from your seat to ask him what was wrong, but before you could, his large hand reached for the bottle of red wine on his bedside table. You frowned at him and when his golden eyes met yours, you shook your head. 

“Darling, let me put that away for you. I’ll grab you some water.” Your footsteps were soft against the carpet as you took the bottle before he could argue. You disappeared to the kitchen to grab a glass of cold water for him as he pouted like a little boy who got his toy taken away. His expression upon rearrival made you chuckle gently while handing him the glass. With a roll of his eyes a mumble of gratitude, he took the glass and sipped. He fell back asleep in your arms that night, your manicured nails gliding through his blonde locks to calm him back to his dreamland.

Over time, you began to learn small habits to change for his well being – wine was forever replaced with water on his bedside table, you found yourself passing him things before he could ask at the dinner table, learning his triggers to help him calm himself when he was tested, being his kind ambassador when going to the town to enjoy the nightlife. You wouldn’t change it for the world, you thought. You loved this man – and you realized that while he was ruthless, powerful, and malicious, he also had feelings, and he just needed a little help dealing with them in a self-sustaining way.

Doffy’s heart had grown a few sizes since meeting you, or so he was convinced. The way you were kind to every living creature, how you spoke to children and laughed at their terrible jokes in the streets of Dressrosa, your calming tone as he felt those tendrils of anger threaten to choke him and devour him whole and completely dissipate at the sound of your voice – it all drew him closer to you, wanting to smother himself in the absolutely pure and selfless aura that radiated from your smooth skin. Hearing your laugh after a long day of work and dealing with absolute imbeciles was like medicine. Making love to you was like nothing he had felt before. All these things combined into one, and Doffy was marrying you within the next year. 

You were thankful for him, just as he was for you. And you knew as you grew old together, he would change, and he would grow, and that he just needed time. 

You were willing to be patient with him until the end of time.

[trans-androgyne]

hey, thank you for having and running this blog. you're doing the equivalent of gods work.

first, i'm sorry for the amounts of jerk anons you have to deal with. you literally articulate yourself very well and clearly, and still, people will find a way to twist it or not take it seriously. it reminds me of me "arguing" with terfs back in 2022 on twitter. (shudders.)

and second, how do you deal with the constant negativity? i have found myself doomscrolling the transandrophobia tag, and, well, to no ones surprise, my mental health is down the gutter. do you have any tips to deal with it? mainly with the transandrophobia in general? it is more than exhausting existing as a (gnc & enby) trans guy atm, and it's really getting to me. the thing is, I wouldn't mind it if it were non-queer bigots, but the fact it's coming from inside the community is devastating. i am more than hurt. this intense hatred for men and masculinity, queer, trans, or not, is incomprehensible to me. it never does anything good. anyone who says "i hate all men and anything masculine" is definitely going in the "yep that's either a radfem or a radfem hatchling" box. i partially understand as to why- i had a fear of men myself when i still identified as a girl, and slipped into the "all men bad. kill" side of the internet for a short while but ONLY because of this rhetoric ("you need to be afraid because there are men outside." , "men and masculinity are inherently predatory or dangerous")- but i got out of it because i saw how fucked it was eventually (thank goodness)- but nothing should ever be an excuse to excessively hate a gender or masculinity this badly. and its mostly gender essentialist bs anyways imo, so i do not understand it at all...it reminds me of people saying men/mascs cant be asexual because it's "in their nature to be sexual"- because testosterone. its hard. i just wish we all could respect each other. you're either "one of the bad bad evil men" or "noooooo not YOU. you're AFAB!! never!! youre a girl/woman in spirit!!" from my personal experience with terfs/radfems/idiots.

anyways, sorry for invading your anon space with this long rant, but i just wanted to leave this and the question. i hope you have a nice day/night, and thank you for reporting on transandrophobia as much as you do. it's sadly very much needed right now.

Thank you so much, this is such a kind ask to receive. To be honest with you: I don’t handle my mental health very well around it </3 It’s weighed on me pretty heavily these last few months especially. The things keeping me running this blog anyway are my passion for the transmasc community and lovely anons like yourself cheering me up. When it comes to trying to manage it, the most important thing for me has been finding people I can vent to about it who will understand. I’m lucky enough to have a wonderful discord server full of awesome trans people who will talk it through with me, and that’s been a life-saver. Staying offline for a bit and trying to engage in person with people who are unlikely to be transandrophobic towards you can be a nice relief. I catch myself doomscrolling constantly too, and it doesn’t feel great. If you need to set some sort of time limit on your phone even just to remind yourself not to do it, that’s helped me before and might help you too.

Having this much hatred levied at me for my identity from my own community lately has been devastating. I completely understand you. I’ve always been vocal about supporting transfems in particular, so it really hurts to see so many turn against me for speaking up. I understand how the queer community got this way, though. Antimasculinism has been an issue in queer and feminist spaces for ages. I think people are starting to notice it more and understand why it sucks and how much it negatively affects trans men and mascs. It feels like a losing battle sometimes with how much cultural feminism — the Men Bad Women Good flavor of pop feminism — has pervaded our communities and often led to very overt radical feminism that people still can’t always recognize because they don’t know anything about TERFs outside of them hating trans women. I believe the culture will start to shift soon such that people are able to recognize sexism and gender essentialism that harms all genders, and I will be doing my part to help that happen.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I liked Kieran, maybe only because he reminded me of myself as a kid. Constantly feeling left out and being both harassed for everything you do do and never being trusted with anything to even proof yourself capable, like the knowledge about the truth about ogerpon. I still am, working on that, but was way more jealous of other people hanging out with my friends simply because I had so precious few. Idk how much it would have fucked with me if my verbally abusive older sister (I do also have one of those) simply decided that one of my friends was now one of hers instead and kicking me out while my friend isn't saying or doing anything to be like "no, actually I want to spend time with [anon] too".

Obviously his obsession with ogerpon and the following Drive to get stronger is pretty hyperbolic but I did also have a bit of that. Just rejecting everything, throwing everything back at everyone since it was, or at least felt, like its always my family and the people around me just throwing shit at me too. Did I overreact a bunch of times? Oh yeah for sure. Teenage tantrums will get ya, but I really did need that. Without it I don't think I would have ever learned to call out my family's abuse and other people treating me poorly. Since as a kid that just radiates low self esteem you seem to get treated like shit from just about everyone.

Anyway all that is to say, throwing around things like "I think this kid would shoot up a school if only he had access to guns" isn't, imho, great. And I don't even really particularly care about your instance rn, like it's a fictional character in a Pokémon game who cares. So sorry for being the one who got my rant lol. It's just something I've been seeing more of lately, people throwing "they'd shoot up a school" not only at fictional characters but actual human beings. Which I think is fucked. Thankfully no one ever said that to me, but I cannot imagine how hurtful that must be, like if we ignore all the other negative effects it has for a second, when your actual school life was hell enough to make you consider ending your own life, like it was for me, to just get thrown another brick at your head that people think you would be monster enough to murder people.

...well there's a lot to unpack here.

So first up, you have my genuine condolences for your extraordinarily shitty school life. You clearly had the very rough end of the stick, and it's clearly still hurting, and that sucks.

However. I am not thrilled that you just trauma dumped in my inbox because you over-projected onto a fictional character, and I'll ask you not to do that again. Particularly when your "rant" is explicitly aimed at trying to make me feel bad for criticising a fictional character that you, once again, have over-projected onto.

Like listen, I too had an extraordinarily shitty school life, and I also had very few friends (and at three separate extended points, a combination of Literally No Friends At All, AND Being Actively Targeted For Bullying; the first time around, the bullying was led by the class teacher, even.) I have very much been there, done that and got an entire t-shirt shop. But I still didn't come away from that feeling that I was entitled to other people liking me or wanting to be friends with me, because no one is obliged to like or be friends with anyone else. I may have occasionally felt jealous, but I didn't throw tantrums and demand perfect loyalty from the few friends I did make, because that would have been abusive as all hell and would have justly made them want nothing to do with me. And, crucially and relevantly to the fictional character in the fictional world that we are discussing, I did not fixate on someone I wanted to be my friend, see that they were afraid of me and wanted to be friends with someone else, and then throw such a tantrum about it that I physically fought that someone else for the 'rights' to that friend regardless of their consent in that matter, apparently with the intention of abducting them if I won. And on losing that fight, I did not storm off and start amassing a collection of stronger and stronger weapons so I could take over my school and prove my dominance over them, emotionally abusing anyone who couldn't keep up with me because of family problems along the way. I presume you did not either!

And if I had, then the trauma and loneliness I received would be irrelevant - actions borne of trauma are still actions, with real world consequences, and you are still responsible for them regardless of how bad you felt.

(I mean, not to put too fine a point on it, but school shooters are people who are also lonely and often bullied. It's very interesting therefore that you dismiss them as "monsters" while demanding that all behaviour from such people up to the shooting be excused. But the issue with such people is the entitlement they feel and the abuse they therefore dish out. Shootings are just the most extreme symptom of that - they're far from the only symptom.)

I cannot stress this enough - you are not the fictional character of Kieran in the game Pokémon Scarlet and Violet. You did not make his choices, or perform his actions (I assume). Criticism of him is not criticism of you. No one is accusing you of being about to shoot up a school. You state that you don't care that he's a fictional character, but I'm afraid you very much should, because that is the crucial difference. I am sorry that you're seeing a lot of people accusing real life people of being school shooters, but that is not what has happened here, is it?

You're welcome to write back. But I'll warn you very clearly - I am absolutely not at home to you trauma dumping further, or trying to make me feel guilty for talking about a fictional character because you have over-projected and therefore are taking it personally. That is a You Problem, and I will block you without reading if you do.

However, I am going to finish by reiterating my very genuine sympathies for your school experience. It truly was an appalling time for me, and it seems like it was for you, too. I hope you can process that trauma now, and find peace.

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Ahh it's the last day of 2023 already?

I am expecting a call from a friend although the possibility of this happening is very slim it always felt nice to hear the voice of an old friend ( I'm not a text person I've realised this over time but I am stuck to be a text person) .

I can't wait for spring to come in 2024 , spring provides an intense amount of healing to my soul.

The next four months are very crucial in my life if they go well I can survive the rest of the year, I have died a couple of times this year and I am amazed that I am alive i didn't honestly thought i would make it to the end of this year ( especially in the last 3 months , I badly needed help but i didn't wanted others to pity me so i spoke to none about it ) anyways I don't want to talk about it , i don't want to make it sound blue than it already is,a i am really sorry about the fact all my posts are blue I sincerely wish it wasn't that way( altho i haven't posted anything here with as much as devotion I use to do , partly cuz i created an Instagram acc but that's not all reason I ve been sad nonetheless) and sorry for all the "anon/asks" that i haven't answered

I have made no achievements this year and there is little to no progress towards my self love or self growth, but I think that's okay I can do it in the upcoming year, time flies so quick i can't believe Its been so many years since I was 16 I miss being 16 honestly I had more in me back then than i have now , i have lost of confidence my vision and my smile over the years it's as if I am very different person now , i certainly wish I wasn't this way i really thought i would be so much more and better in my early 20s but it is what it is , acceptance is haredest of all emotions in my opinion , you know things are harder to accept when you know you could have done better .

Just like in the last 2 years even this year I didn't make any real life friends with whom I can hang out with i think it's partly due to the fact some people are destined to be alone and I am afraid to admit I am one of them , I did make 2 online friends this year .

I don't want to share any life lessons i learnt this year but if there is something i would love to share is choose yourself one more time each time you feel it's the last time you are doing it , choose one more time to live,one more time to hope, one more time to have faith , one more time to start again [ the fact I am the one telling you this is rediciculosly funny ] .

Unlike most people i don't have a lot of goals for the new year I just got things i want to avoid ( idk if that's the same thing?) Avoid my leftover heart's heartbreak, avoiding what takes away my peace, avoiding what can cause me discomfort, avoiding things that make me question myself ( in any negative way) ,i think that's a little too much but that's it .

As I was writing this Google photos sent me a notification saying " 3 years back today with a photo of mine " and it broke my heart a little, now I am questioning myself how did i let so much happen to me , I wish I treated certain things as the last time instead of always stupidly believing in future ( my worse trait yes).

There is a lot to say as always, i wonder if I open my mouth i would never stop sharing things that go inside my mind , but i also know there is no use of it if i can't find people who can understand it , maybe that's how I end up ranting here .

Not to mention I love people who are patient, i believe in the near future i would only like to talk with people who could be patient with me and with my silence . I believe everyone deserves people who can be patient with them .

Nothing really matters in the end but at the same time everything you do matters ❤️‍🩹

[valkyriexo]

Since you want the attention that bad. Here you can have it.

statement and rant below the cut

If you're going to post screenshots of a conversation. Post the full thing. But since you didn't. I will.

let's start at the beginning, shall we?

the first time you felt "attacked" was in a staff channel, where you claimed one of our moderators at the time was attacking you. Here is a screenshot of that conversation.

Mind you, this is in response to you saying you didn't think fake texts were a valid form of fan fiction or work. But of course you can have your opinion,

but so can we.

The second time you claimed you were attacked was when you were called out for your negative criques every single time someone posts anything to general chat. In this case, it was a photo of Chan. The original messages between both you and ace were removed, so I'm not going to recount them as it will just be hearsay. However, what I can show are the screenshots of our conversation when I put both of you on timeout (cant send messages for a period of time) and issued warnings out.

Here is the official warn.

Here is our conversation.

I was not rude to you. I did not attack you. I did not blame you.

In the meantime, you continue to make remarks about others' appearances, making people in the server feel like they can't share anything without being invalidated or ignored because you always find a way to make it about yourself. You've turned what should be positive spaces into negative ones, and it's giving serious pick-me energy. You can't blame others for not wanting to engage with you or for voicing their concerns when your behavior pushes them away. Maybe instead of questioning why people aren't talking to you, you should consider why they don't feel comfortable doing so in the first place.

Here are some of the many statements you've made in public chat channels.

No one sent anyone to hate on you. the statement had to be made public because it wasnt just two or three people complaining. it was 12+ people through different forms complaining about how you were making them feel.

You're saying the complaints weren't real? The only reason i am not showing you them is because people came forward confiding in me. so i will not be putting them on blast.

HOWEVER.

You stated and i quote

"People claimed they felt so horribly unsafe by my presence, God knows why (nobody ever explained it beyond insulting me on anon lol) "

But here is the original message that got sent to you from our admin. TELLING YOU EXACTLY WHY.

You chose to leave, that was YOUR decision. We did not remove you.

You also stated and i quote "but sending your minions to harass me, insult me and tell me to kill myself is totally safe. This is absolutely fucking insane."

Here is the post i made both on discord and tumblr, along with Bel ( a mod) post that was also made

No where in this did we ask people to hate on you. and this is the message you sent me.

Apparently, I'm supposed to control the community? hm interesting.

I'm not a dictator, I'm not the president, and I'm not even the only administrator of the community. The name says it itself, it's a COMMUNITY. I'm not here to control people on the internet.

I'm sorry, your getting hate. But I'm not Tumblr's help desk. you can report your issues to tumblr.

Now onto the statement you said about @seungminindabuilding.. here are all the messages you so kindly left out.

But .. you have the full conversation, so you can re-read it yourself.

During this conversation, is when you blocked me. While I was responding to your message, you sent me on Tumblr.

You know... when you "recognized the language being used" as if i was the one sending the messages.

I'm sorry you're receiving hate; I don't condone that kind of behavior. But I want to be clear—I am not the person sending any of it to you.

I value myself as someone who is kind and calm, but that doesn't mean I'll tolerate disrespect. You do not get to bash me, this community, or its members without expecting a response. Respect is a two-way street, and it’s about time you learned that.

In short.

I stand by what I said.

You do not get to be rude to me and my staff and then play the victim in my messages. We were genuinely trying to help you, and in return we get you attacking us and blaming us. no thank you. You blocked me. now its my turn.

Have the day you deserve

-Val

[aevallare]

Anon bc im shy, but I really wanted to say that you have been such an important part of my time in bg3 fandom. The kindredverse means so so so much to me as an abuse survivor. To me your work stretches out so far beyond the game into something precious and beautiful in its own right. AND! your blog slaps too! idk im rambling ig but i just wanted to thank you for everything you do for the community. ppl arent always good about saying it but i really do think your presence here means more to people than you may realize

i considered not answering this because i kind of wanted it to sit in my inbox forever, but that didn't seem totally fair.

i think a lot of fanwork gets wrapped up in tropes as its identity, and it's not difficult to see why. canon has done a lot of the heavy lifting for a lot of the difficult stuff: character work, themes and motives, overarching narrative goals. i could go on. but what that often means is that people lose the plot sometimes imo.

astarion's an intense fucking character. he's self-serving, egotistical, and cripplingly self-loathing. fanwork seems to want so badly to distill him down into a 2D cardboard cutout of the character work done in the source material because engaging with a character like this is fucking hard. there's a great post that floated around a while back about how people should understand that astarion isn't nice, but that he is kind. and that's the kind of thing i'm talking about. he's not simple. and that's why he resonates so much with me, too. being a victim/survivor isn't simple.

not giving him the space to fuck up is a disservice to his character. not letting him get torn a new asshole when he fucks up is a disservice to his character. putting him in a bubble as if shielding him from any and all negative experience will heal him is a disservice to his character.

i know he's pixels. but. he's so much like me that it's hard for me not to get worked up about it lmao.

i know this really wasn't necessarily the point of your ask, but it restores a lot of my joy in interacting with the community when i get messages like these, because it can feel pretty lonely. that probably sounds rich coming from me - i'm one of the best known bg3 writers in the game (sorry for how masturbatory that sounds) - but it's true. astarion means a lot to me. auri means a lot to me. i took a lot of chunks of myself and split them in two to create what they have. and to know it's appreciated really means a lot.

i hope people like having me here. i like being here.