#let your voice tell a different version of that story

[earthlybeam]

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Elves how would they react to their human s/o being so…human with their ‘odd quirks’ by elven standards

how would the elves react to this?

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Thranduil, Elrond, Gil-galad Versions are below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

Thranduil, being the proud and poised Elven King of Mirkwood, would react to the human quirks

You Missing your mouth with a drink and pouring it down your shirt.

𐂂 You lifting a glass of wine to your lips, but in a moment of miscalculation, you miss entirely, spilling the liquid down the front of your shirt.

𐂂 Thranduil He’s seated across from you, the soft light of the fire casting shadows over his sharp features. His gaze sharpens instantly, watching in mild surprise as the wine drips down your shirt. For a brief moment, he is silent, lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. “I was under the impression that you were capable of holding a glass properly.” His voice is cool, but there’s an unmistakable trace of amusement hidden beneath his composed exterior.

𐂂 You blushing, quickly wiping at your shirt, feeling embarrassed “I… I don’t know what happened, it just slipped.” Thranduil’s eyes narrow slightly, taking in your flustered state. The image of your clumsy mishap almost seems foreign to him—how could such a simple thing go wrong? For a fleeting moment, his gaze softens with a touch of empathy, though he quickly suppresses it. “Perhaps,” he says slowly, “you should be more mindful of your coordination when handling something so precious.”

𐂂 You glance up, eyes wide, and his lips twitch into the smallest of smirks. “It’s not just any wine, after all,” he adds, lifting his own glass, “but my favorite—Dorwinion.” His tone is mockingly solemn, as though mourning the loss of the wine, and the corners of his mouth betray a faint, knowing smile.

𐂂 You laughing softly “Well, I’m sorry, your favorite wine didn’t make it.” Thranduil leans back in his seat, the elegance of his posture unchanged despite the rare, lighthearted exchange. “Precious Dorwinion… spoiled.” He mutters under his breath, as though the very fabric of his world has been shaken. Then, with a flicker of mischief, he adds, “Let this be a lesson in humility, though I doubt the lesson will be learned by those who tend to spill their own drinks.”

𐂂 As you clean yourself up, he watches you with a mix of amusement and affection, his usually composed demeanor slipping just enough to reveal the gentleness of a ruler who, perhaps, has seen too many lives slip away—though this moment, this simple mishap, still makes him smile.

Another version

𐂂 You lift your glass of wine, but in a moment of distraction, you miss entirely, spilling the wine down the front of your shirt

𐂂 Thranduil The moment the wine escapes the glass and splashes across your chest, his face hardens immediately. His gaze flickers from the ruined shirt to the spilt liquid, and for the briefest moment, time seems to slow. His usually composed demeanor falters, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. He does not immediately speak, but the atmosphere shifts.

𐂂 His fingers tighten around his own glass, his knuckles whitening, and his lips press into a thin, almost imperceptible line. His eyes linger on the Dorwinion wine pooling on the table, and there’s a flash of something akin to pain in his gaze, though it vanishes just as quickly. “That,” he says, his voice quiet but carrying a cold edge, “was Dorwinion.” His tone is sharp, like a blade cutting through the silence, and his gaze remains fixed on the ruined wine as though it were an affront to his very existence.

𐂂 You looking at him, sheepish and embarrassed “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” He raises a hand, cutting you off before you can finish. His expression is unreadable, though the tension in his features tells a different story. “You are fortunate,” he murmurs, his voice low, “that it was you who spilled it, and not one of my people.” There’s a strange undercurrent to his words, as though he would not be so forgiving with anyone else.

𐂂 You awkwardly trying to clean the mess “I didn’t mean to…” Thranduil’s eyes flick back to the wine. “It is the finest vintage. Handcrafted, rare—each drop a testament to the artisans of Dorwinion.” His voice softens, and for a brief moment, his gaze becomes distant, lost in thought. “I have waited for years to enjoy that taste, and you—”

𐂂 He catches himself, straightening, masking the vulnerability that had briefly shown. “No matter. You should be more careful. The world does not take kindly to such careless waste.” His words are sharp, but there is a hint of sorrow there, as though he mourns the loss of something deeply precious to him. His gaze lingers on you, the initial anger replaced by a subtle, quieter frustration. “Perhaps next time, you might hold the glass with the same care as you would a jewel.”

𐂂 You offer an apologetic smile, but Thranduil doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he picks up the remaining wine in his glass, swirling it thoughtfully. “I will forgive this,” he says, the coolness creeping back into his voice, “but do not expect me to be so lenient next time.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You had stole elven horn used by herald king and warrior and You Blowing on a elven horn dramatically but passing out from trying too hard.

𐂂 You With a mischievous grin, you steal an Elven horn, its craftsmanship exquisite, used only by heralds of kings and warriors. Determined to make a grand show, you raise it to your lips and blow with all the drama you can muster. Your breath falters, cheeks puffing in exertion, but no majestic sound comes forth. Instead, you push harder, straining yourself, and with one last effort, you collapse in a faint, overwhelmed by the effort.

𐂂 Thranduil The moment you lift the horn, Thranduil’s eyes narrow, sensing something amiss. His gaze sharpens as you blow with reckless abandon, knowing full well the importance of the horn. His posture stiffens slightly, but he remains silent, watching with that calculating intensity of one who has witnessed countless histories unfold. The sound, however, never comes.

𐂂 As you collapse to the ground, he is already moving—silent and swift, his footsteps barely a whisper in the stillness of the moment. His expression is a mixture of disbelief and quiet fury, but it’s controlled, measured—like the calm before a storm.

He crouches by your side, the faintest twitch of his lips betraying his disapproval. His hand hovers above you for a moment, checking for injury, and his voice cuts through the silence, deep and cool “Foolishness. Only the worthy are meant to wield such a horn.”

The horn you had stolen still lies near you, its beauty stark against the earth. Thranduil picks it up with a delicate touch, as if handling something sacred, his fingers brushing the intricate carvings.

𐂂 The weight of its history seems to press down on him, and his eyes flick to you, then back to the horn, his expression unreadable. “This is not a toy, nor something to be flaunted for simple show,” he continues, his voice quiet but sharp, like a blade being drawn. “It has been passed down through generations of warriors and kings—those who have earned the right to summon its call.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, and there’s a flicker of something—perhaps regret, perhaps anger—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

𐂂 As you stir, regaining consciousness, his tone softens just enough to show the faintest trace of exasperation mixed with something else. “You have an admirable spirit, but no sense of restraint. I trust you’ve learned the cost of your… impetuousness.”

𐂂 You’re met with his steady, piercing gaze, and for a moment, you see the depths of his age and wisdom, the weight of the Elven kingdom resting upon him. “Next time, you may leave such things to those who understand their true purpose,” he adds, his voice colder, the hint of a warning hanging in the air.

𐂂 He stands, allowing you space to recover, his figure towering above you like a shadow cast over the land. The stolen horn remains in his grasp, now a symbol of your impudence, its regal nature restored only in his hands.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Running into battle with a war cry but slipping in mud and faceplanting.

𐂂 You With fire in your eyes, you charge forward into battle, roaring a war cry that echoes across the battlefield. The ground is slick with mud, and in your fervor, you fail to notice the treacherous patch of earth beneath your feet. Before you can even register what’s happening, your feet slip, and you crash face-first into the muck with an embarrassing splat.

𐂂 Thranduil From his vantage point, high upon a hill or within the command post, Thranduil watches the chaos unfold. His piercing eyes are sharp, scanning the battlefield with a cold precision that has seen many wars. His gaze shifts from enemy lines to his own soldiers, but then, it lands on you.

𐂂 The sight of you charging forward with reckless abandon, your war cry echoing with such bravado, causes a flicker of curiosity—until you slip. There’s a slight narrowing of his eyes, a tightening of his jaw, but for a moment, he says nothing. His gaze locks onto your figure as you faceplant into the mud, your cry quickly turning into a startled, frustrated grunt.

𐂂 Thranduil doesn’t rush to your aid; that’s not his way. He’s a king, a strategist, and he knows the nature of battle well enough to understand that no warrior is free from the occasional misstep. But as he watches you, covered in the thick, brown muck, there’s a faint smirk—one that barely touches his lips but is clearly there.

𐂂 “Of all the ways to disgrace yourself in battle…” he mutters under his breath, his voice soft but filled with a knowing amusement. His soldiers, too, notice, and he can hear the whispers that ripple through the ranks. Some chuckle, others shake their heads, but he does not react outwardly.

𐂂 However, there’s a glimmer in his eyes—a flash of something almost affectionate beneath the kingly aloofness. Perhaps it’s the sheer determination in your eyes, the way you scramble to rise and continue fighting, even covered in mud. Thranduil’s eyes soften just a touch as he watches you. It’s an unusual trait among his people, the willingness to push forward despite such setbacks.

𐂂 Once you manage to regain your footing, grimacing at the state of yourself, Thranduil’s voice finally cuts through the air, low and sharp, but tinged with the faintest edge of amusement. “Next time, perhaps… do not announce your presence so dramatically, hmm?” He doesn’t move toward you, but his gaze remains locked onto yours, unwavering.

𐂂 The battlefield is a place for grace and strategy, and he’s not one to engage in hasty, impulsive actions. But in you, he sees a fire that both fascinates and frustrates him. Still, he allows you the space to regain your composure. After all, a fall in battle is no shame—so long as one rises again.

𐂂 “Wipe the mud from your face, and keep your focus. There is no glory in clumsiness, even if it’s… somewhat endearing,” he adds, his voice cutting through the air with an almost imperceptible warmth hiding beneath his usual cold edge. And though his words are laced with dry humor, his gaze lingers just a little longer than necessary, almost as if he is silently acknowledging your resolve to continue despite the setback.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Attempting to eat a snack and immediately dropping it on the floor, then deciding it’s “still good” and eating it anyway.

𐂂 You Sitting comfortably beside Thranduil in the quiet of the evening, you reach for a small snack—some dried fruit or perhaps a savory pastry. But as you bring it to your lips, your hand slips, and the snack tumbles from your grasp, landing with an audible thud on the stone floor. For a moment, you stare at it in disbelief, contemplating the fall.

𐂂 Without hesitation, you shrug and, with a nonchalant smile, scoop the fallen treat up from the floor, dusting it off lightly before popping it into your mouth. “Still good,” you murmur, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

𐂂 The Elven King is always watching—though not always in a way that makes his presence obvious. He’s seated across from you, enjoying the stillness of the evening, when the mishap unfolds. At first, his eyes widen in surprise, a fleeting reaction—he hadn’t expected you to simply disregard the fall and continue with the snack as if it had never touched the ground.

𐂂 His icy blue eyes narrow slightly, and his lips press into a thin line, clearly caught off guard by your casualness. For a moment, there’s a silence between you, thick with his assessment. He’s seen the elves in his court be elegant, graceful, and pristine in all things, and yet here you are, so unabashedly human in your approach. You eat the very thing that has touched the floor with a careless determination, as if the small blemish of dirt does not exist in your mind.

𐂂 “I… see,” he mutters, his voice laced with a combination of disbelief and mild amusement. His eyes flick down to the snack, then back up to meet your gaze. The corners of his lips curl upward just barely, betraying a fleeting hint of fondness. He says nothing more for a few moments, but you can feel his attention on you—his sharp gaze quietly observing.

𐂂 His mind drifts to the ways of elves—where cleanliness, grace, and order were paramount. But you, with your strange human habits, seem so unfazed by such things. Thranduil had spent centuries perfecting his self-control, his poised demeanor, and yet here you are, challenging that composed order in the simplest of ways.

𐂂 “You… simply eat it anyway,” he says with a soft chuckle, an edge of wonder in his voice as he watches you. “There is something strange about the way humans value such things. There are far more important matters to concern yourself with than a mere snack that has been… dropped.” But despite his words, there is something undeniably endearing in your casual disregard for perfection—an aspect of you that is so utterly human, so beautifully unpretentious.

𐂂 “Very well,” he sighs, though the playful glint in his eyes betrays his true feelings. “But next time, perhaps consider a second snack before you attempt to eat something from the floor.” As the soft light flickers from the hearth, Thranduil sits back, his gaze still lingering on you, intrigued by the quirks of your nature.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

Elrond, being the proud and poised Half-elven lord of Rivendell, would react to the human quirks

You Missing your mouth with a drink and pouring it down your shirt.

✶ Elrond is seated beside you at the table, his posture impeccable, his expression calm and regal, as always. The room is dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the gentle murmur of Rivendell’s evening breeze slipping through the open windows. The two of you are sharing a quiet meal, surrounded by the ancient elegance of his home, where even the air feels heavy with the wisdom of ages.

✶ As you lift your glass to your lips, Elrond’s attention momentarily shifts from his thoughts to you. His gaze is steady and warm, a quiet affection hidden beneath the layers of his composed exterior. But then, in a split second, his sharp eyes widen slightly as you miss your mouth entirely, sending the drink cascading down your shirt. The sound of the liquid splashing softly on the fabric fills the otherwise tranquil room, and Elrond’s perfectly restrained features falter for just a moment. His brows furrow slightly—not out of disapproval, but from genuine concern.

✶ “Meleth nín,” he murmurs, his voice rich with both amusement and tenderness. His hands, long and graceful, instinctively move toward you, though they hesitate for just a moment, as if unsure of how best to assist. “You are… certain the drink was not too much for you?” There is no trace of mockery in his tone, only a deep fondness and perhaps a touch of disbelief at how endearing your human foibles can be. His lips twitch into a small, amused smile as he rises from his seat, his steps as silent as the shadows in Rivendell’s corridors.

✶ “Elves are accustomed to such refined movements,” he continues, his tone teasing but affectionate, “but I admit, your… particular grace is something beyond my understanding.” Elrond gently retrieves a cloth from the table, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every action has been carefully planned to avoid startling you further. He moves to dab at the spill on your shirt, his fingers brushing the fabric with the same care he would offer something far more fragile.

✶ “Do not fret,” he says softly, his gaze softening as he meets your eyes. “This is nothing to be embarrassed about. You are more precious to me than any shirt or spilled drink.” A quiet laugh escapes him, an unexpected sound, but it is genuine—your little mistakes only make him love you more. Elrond leans in just slightly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his voice turning quieter, more intimate.

✶ “I will ensure that the next time you drink, the glass will be steadier in your hands, or perhaps, I shall assist you. I believe I could manage such a task far more competently.” His lips curl into a soft smile as he finishes cleaning the spill, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head, a quiet acknowledgment of your humanity and his unwavering affection for it—and for you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Running into battle with a war cry but slipping in mud and faceplanting.

✶ The clash of swords and the thunderous sound of hooves echoed across the battlefield as chaos reigned all around. Elrond stood poised, his elegant sword gleaming in the dim light as he surveyed the unfolding skirmish with a calm yet resolute expression. His keen elven senses honed in on every movement, every sound, ready to strike or defend as needed. He had seen countless battles in his lifetime, yet each one brought with it the familiar weight of duty and the pain of inevitable loss.

✶ Amid the cacophony, a sound caught his ear—a spirited and unmistakably human cry of, “For glory!” Turning his head, he caught sight of you, rushing valiantly toward the fray, weapon in hand, determination etched into every line of your face. For a moment, Elrond’s heart clenched—not with fear, but with a deep, abiding pride in your courage.

✶ And then it happened. Your boot landed squarely in a patch of wet mud, and instead of propelling you forward, the ground betrayed you. Your momentum carried you into an unceremonious tumble, legs flying out from under you as you slid face-first into the muck with a resounding splat. The valiant war cry was abruptly cut off, leaving only the mortified silence of the moment.

✶ Elrond’s sharp intake of breath was followed by a beat of stunned silence. For a second, he merely blinked, his expression unreadable as he processed what had just occurred. Around him, the battle raged on, but his focus remained entirely on you, sprawled in the mud, splattered from head to toe, your weapon lying a few feet away as if it, too, had given up.

✶ Finally, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though he quickly tempered it with a deep breath. Ever the composed and dignified Elf-lord, Elrond strode toward you with swift grace, dodging combatants and stepping carefully around the treacherous patch of mud that had claimed you. Reaching your side, he knelt down, his gaze warm yet gently amused as he assessed your rather muddy predicament.

✶ “You are, without question, the most valiant warrior I have ever encountered,” he said, his tone calm but laced with undeniable affection. “Few could charge into battle with such spirit… and leave such an impression—on both the enemy and the ground beneath them.”

✶ Your face burned as you attempted to wipe some of the mud from your cheeks, but your indignation was short-lived when you caught the faintest quirk of his lips. “It was a strategic fall,” you retorted, your voice muffled as you spat out a bit of dirt. “A distraction tactic.”

✶ “Ah,” Elrond replied, inclining his head as though deeply considering your explanation. “I see. A masterful maneuver indeed.” He extended a gloved hand toward you, his eyes softening. “Come, meleth nín. Let us restore you to your upright position before the mud decides to claim you entirely.”

✶ With his assistance, you managed to stand, though your dignity remained firmly planted in the muck. Elrond’s hand lingered on your arm as he steadied you, his touch steady and grounding. “You are fortunate I am here,” he murmured, his tone quieter now, tinged with both fondness and amusement. “For if the enemy had witnessed your… valiant strategy, they might have surrendered immediately out of sheer pity.”

✶ Despite his teasing words, there was nothing but love in his gaze as he brushed a bit of mud from your face with the edge of his sleeve, his own pristine attire now bearing a faint streak of dirt. “You have courage, meleth nín, even if the ground itself seems intent on thwarting your efforts. Let us ensure that your bravery does not go to waste.” As the two of you rejoined the fray—this time with you holding tightly to his arm for balance—Elrond’s quiet chuckle was lost amid the clamor of battle, but the memory of your faceplant would remain etched in his mind, a rare and cherished moment of lightness in the midst of war.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You had stole elven horn used by herald king and warrior and You Blowing on a elven horn dramatically but passing out from trying too hard.

✶ The evening had been filled with laughter and light-hearted moments, the air in Rivendell thick with the harmony of long-forgotten music and quiet joy. You had always been a curious soul, drawn to the relics of Elven history and the storied artifacts scattered throughout Elrond’s halls. One such item, an intricately carved Elven horn, had caught your eye. It was a symbol of power and authority, once wielded by Elrond himself and the heralds of his people.

✶ As the night grew late, your mischievous spirit took hold. Without much thought, you reached for the horn, its smooth surface cool against your skin, and, with a glance toward Elrond who was engrossed in a quiet conversation, you brought the instrument to your lips. The elegant craftsmanship of the horn gleamed in the flickering candlelight. You took a deep breath, preparing to blow.

✶ Elrond, sensing something amiss, turned just in time to witness you giving a dramatic, almost theatrical blow to the horn. The sound was a garbled mess at first, nothing like the clear, commanding call it was designed for. You seemed determined, however, your cheeks puffing out as you tried again, even harder this time.

✶ Then, much to Elrond’s surprise—and perhaps his amusement—the effort seemed to overwhelm you. The strain of forcing air through the instrument, coupled with the exertion of your enthusiasm, proved too much. Your body swayed and, with a soft gasp, you collapsed in a faint, the horn slipping from your grasp as you slumped into the soft cushions nearby.

✶ For a moment, Elrond stood frozen, his brow furrowing as he processed the sight. His usually composed demeanor faltered, concern flickering in his eyes. As a lord of wisdom and an immortal elf, he had seen countless things, but this was a new one—his beloved in such an uncharacteristic state.

✶ “By the Valar,” Elrond muttered softly under his breath, his voice laced with both concern and disbelief. His long, graceful fingers moved to gently lift your limp form, bringing you back into his embrace, his lips pressing against your forehead in a silent, tender gesture of reassurance. “What on Arda possessed you to exert yourself so?”

✶ His usual composed demeanor remained, but there was no hiding the soft edge of concern in his voice. “Foolish, yet endearing,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. He shook his head slightly, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I shall never understand the impulsiveness of humans,” he said, but the affection in his words made it clear that he could never love you any less for it.

✶ As you slowly began to stir, Elrond gently supported you, making sure you were comfortable, before placing the horn carefully to the side. His fingers brushed through your hair as he spoke, his voice now tender. “Rest now, meleth nín. The horn is not meant to be blown with such vigor, nor by one who has not trained with it for centuries.”

✶ He could not help but smile, the sight of your unabashed enthusiasm warming his heart, despite the somewhat comical outcome. It was a moment that would stay with him, not for the folly, but for the affection it symbolized—the tenderness of being loved by someone so wonderfully imperfect. And so, Elrond held you close, waiting patiently for you to regain your strength. Despite the dramatic display, it was clear that he would always be there to catch you when your exuberance led you astray.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Attempting to eat a snack and immediately dropping it on the floor, then deciding it’s “still good” and eating it anyway.

✶ It was a peaceful afternoon in Rivendell, the sun casting soft, golden light through the towering trees and the sound of the waterfall cascading in the distance. You had spent the morning with Elrond, walking through the quiet paths of his sanctuary, and now, as you both settled in the study, you felt a moment of hunger stir within you. Elrond was immersed in his thoughts, flipping through the pages of an ancient tome, his presence as calming and composed as ever.

✶ You, however, were less focused on the weighty matters of history. Reaching for a small basket beside you, you picked up a crisp fruit, its golden skin glistening in the light. But as you were about to take a bite, your fingers slipped, and the fruit tumbled from your hand, falling with a soft thud to the floor. For a moment, you stared at it in surprise, eyes wide as you assessed the situation. The floor was clean, after all, and it was only a minor mishap.

✶ With a shrug, you bent down, picked up the fruit, and, in a lighthearted tone, murmured to yourself, “It’s still good,” before bringing it to your lips. Elrond, ever observant, glanced up from his book at the sound of your words. His sharp elven eyes caught the scene—your casual dismissal of the small disaster and your decision to continue eating.

✶ He blinked, his brow furrowing in mild surprise. “Is it truly wise to… consume that, meleth nín?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of concern. The elves were, after all, creatures of elegance and perfection, and such casual disregard for cleanliness was not common among them. Yet there was no hint of judgment in his gaze—only curiosity and a quiet, affectionate amusement.

✶ You, undeterred, smiled brightly, as if to say that a little imperfection wouldn’t ruin the enjoyment. “It’s fine, Elrond. Just a little dirt. A bit of extra flavor,” you teased, as if you had just discovered a secret way to enjoy life’s small imperfections.

✶ Elrond sighed, though it was not a sound of disapproval. His lips quirked upward in a soft smile, a rare moment of humor breaking through his otherwise serene demeanor. “You are ever full of surprises,” he said, though there was a fondness in his voice. His hand gently reached for your own, brushing his fingers against yours in that reassuring touch that had become second nature. “I cannot say I would partake in such a… adventurous decision, but I suppose that is one of the joys of being human.”

✶ The moment was so simple, yet so perfect in its way. While Elrond would never have considered the same choice, he couldn’t help but be charmed by your carefree nature. Your willingness to laugh at life’s small mishaps, to find joy in the simplest of things, was something that spoke deeply to his heart. Even as a being of centuries, Elrond could not help but admire how you embraced the world in all its imperfections.

✶ As you took another bite, Elrond shook his head, but his smile widened, his affection for you only growing stronger. “I suppose,” he murmured softly, “there is something to be said for the strength of spirit that allows you to find joy in the smallest of moments, even when the world itself may seem too serious.”

✶ He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a mix of quiet adoration and amusement. There was no need for words beyond this; he could simply be with you in these quiet moments, finding joy in your company and the small, endearing quirks that made you so wonderfully human.

✶ With a soft chuckle, Elrond returned to his book, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, the warmth of his affection wrapped around you like a quiet, protective cloak. No, he would never understand the human disregard for cleanliness, but he could certainly appreciate the beauty in the way you lived.

👑𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

Gil-galad, being the proud and poised elven king of Lindon , would react to the human quirks

You Missing your mouth with a drink and pouring it down your shirt.

🜲 Gil-galad’s sharp eyes catch the moment almost before it happens. As you raise the cup to your lips, your aim falters, and the liquid splashes down your chin and onto your shirt. For a fleeting second, you freeze, perhaps embarrassed, but before you can react, a soft chuckle escapes the High King’s lips—a rare sound, warm and deeply amused. His regal composure remains intact, though there’s a flicker of mirth in his gaze as he steps closer to you.

🜲 “You appear to have missed the intended target,” he remarks, his voice calm but tinged with a teasing warmth. Despite his words, there’s no condescension—only the affectionate humor of someone who finds even your clumsiness endearing. Gil-galad’s long life has afforded him an appreciation for imperfection, especially in you, whose human quirks often surprise and delight him.

🜲 Without hesitation, he retrieves a clean cloth from nearby with the smooth efficiency of someone who’s used to anticipating the needs of others. Gently, he extends it toward you, his movements graceful, as though even this mundane act were part of some royal ritual. “Here,” he says softly, his tone kind and unhurried. “Though I must admit, you wear even the signs of your mishap with a certain charm.”

🜲 As you take the cloth and begin dabbing at the spill, his eyes remain fixed on you, a faint smile playing at his lips. “I did not think I would find such amusement this evening,” he continues, his words light but tinged with affection. “It seems even the mightiest of beings—whether elf or mortal—can falter in the simple act of drinking.” His smile deepens, a rare and genuine expression of his adoration for you.

🜲 Once the moment passes, he steps back with his usual elegance, though the warmth in his gaze lingers. “Next time, perhaps I shall hold the cup for you,” he adds, his voice carrying a playful undertone that’s rare from him. Gil-galad treasures these small, imperfect moments, for they remind him of the humanity he loves so deeply in you, grounding him in a way few things can.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You had stole elven horn used by herald king and warrior and You Blowing on a elven horn dramatically but passing out from trying too hard.

🜲 Gil-galad stood by the window of his chambers, calmly reviewing a scroll, when a sudden, blaring—and utterly ungraceful—sound erupted from elsewhere in the hall. His sharp elven ears recognized the unmistakable tone of the ancient herald’s horn, but its call was off, almost comically strained. His brows furrowed, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He set down the scroll, a mix of curiosity and concern guiding his steps as he followed the sound.

🜲 When he entered the grand hall, the sight before him was enough to stop even the High King in his tracks. There you were, slumped dramatically on the floor, the great elven horn tilted at an awkward angle in your lap. Your face was flushed, and you looked as though you had just waged battle with the horn itself—and lost. Gil-galad’s gaze flicked between you and the horn, his expression carefully composed though the faintest twitch of amusement threatened to surface.

🜲 He strode forward, his movements measured, as though trying to assess the situation without laughing outright. “I see you have discovered one of Lindon’s most sacred relics,” he said, his voice calm but laced with gentle humor. “Though it appears you have underestimated its power… or overestimated your own lungs.”

🜲 Kneeling beside you, his keen eyes swept over you to ensure you were unharmed, his hand lightly brushing your shoulder. “Are you well, my little herald?” he asked, a rare playfulness in his tone as he referred to your ill-fated attempt at ceremonial grandeur. His touch was steady, grounding, though his lips quirked into a small, amused smile as he glanced at the horn. “Few have dared to attempt such a feat untrained. Fewer still have lived to boast of it without collapsing.”

🜲 You muttered something about “wanting to see what all the fuss was about,” and Gil-galad chuckled softly, a rich, low sound that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. “It is no small task to wield the herald’s horn,” he said, his tone shifting into one of lighthearted mockery that only you would be privileged to hear. “Its call is meant to rally armies, not… entertain curious mortals.”

🜲 With practiced ease, he helped you to your feet, his hands firm but gentle as he steadied you. “I shall forgive your theft, though I may need to assign a guard to the relics chamber,” he teased, his voice calm yet brimming with affection. As you stood, he lifted the horn and gave it an appraising look. “Perhaps I should teach you how to properly use it—after you’ve recovered from this valiant, if misguided, attempt.”

🜲 Guiding you toward a seat, Gil-galad allowed himself one final glance at the horn, shaking his head lightly. “Only you could turn a herald’s call into an adventure,” he said softly, the warmth in his tone making it clear that, despite everything, he treasured the moments of spontaneity you brought to his life.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Running into battle with a war cry but slipping in mud and faceplanting.

🜲 The battlefield was grim and chaotic, with the clamor of war echoing across the field. Gil-galad stood poised, his golden armor gleaming under the faint light that broke through the smoky haze. His presence alone was a rallying cry to the elven soldiers, his commanding aura steadying even the most doubtful hearts. But then, over the din of battle, he heard it: your war cry—a ferocious, spirited sound that echoed with determination, bold enough to rival the horns of Valar themselves. He turned just in time to see you charging forward, weapon raised high, fire in your eyes.

🜲 And then… disaster. Your foot met the treacherous slick of churned mud, and, with almost comical inevitability, you lost your balance. Arms flailing, you tumbled forward in a spectacularly graceless arc, landing face-first in the mire with a resounding splat. The sound was loud enough to cut through even the noise of the battle, and for a moment, time seemed to still as everyone—including Gil-galad—turned to witness your unfortunate display.

🜲 For a long, agonizing moment, Gil-galad simply stared, his impassive expression betraying nothing. Then, slowly, a faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. He immediately suppressed it, his regal composure reasserting itself, though a glimmer of humor danced in his eyes. Striding forward with the grace of an elf who had never once tripped in his life, he reached your side, offering a hand to pull you from the mud.

🜲 “You have the spirit of a warrior,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with a warmth that betrayed his affection. As he helped you to your feet, his hand remained firm, steadying you while you wiped the mud from your face. “Though it seems the ground of Middle-earth wishes to claim you as its champion instead.”

🜲 His words carried no mockery, only gentle teasing, a quiet effort to ease the sting of your embarrassment. He brushed a smear of mud from your shoulder, his gaze briefly flickering toward the battlefield where the enemy still advanced. Then, with a quiet sigh of resignation and a slight, mischievous smile, he reached down to retrieve your fallen weapon, handing it back to you with a raised brow.

🜲 “Shall we try again? This time, perhaps with less zeal and more footing,” he said, his tone light yet encouraging. The twinkle in his eyes softened as he added in a quieter voice meant only for you, “Remember, bravery lies not in perfection but in rising after the fall. And you… you rise well.”

🜲 With that, he turned back toward the fray, his confidence in you unwavering despite your earlier mishap. And as he strode forward, leading his forces with the grace and nobility of a High King, he allowed himself the smallest chuckle under his breath—a fleeting indulgence in the chaos of war, brought about by you, his endlessly endearing companion.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Attempting to eat a snack and immediately dropping it on the floor, then deciding it’s “still good” and eating it anyway.

🜲 The serene halls of Lindon echoed with a faint crunch as you bit into the snack you had been eagerly anticipating. Gil-galad, seated nearby, was immersed in reviewing a map of strategic importance, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. However, his sharp elven senses picked up the muffled gasp that escaped your lips as your fingers fumbled, and the snack tumbled to the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground seemed louder than it had any right to be, and he glanced up, his gaze calm but mildly curious.

🜲 You froze, staring at the fallen snack as though weighing the consequences of your next move. Gil-galad’s piercing eyes softened with subtle amusement as he watched you quickly glance around—perhaps checking if anyone had seen your mishap. Your resolve visibly hardened, and before he could say a word, you bent down, retrieved the fallen food, and dusted it off with the exaggerated confidence of someone who refused to let misfortune win. Without hesitation, you popped it into your mouth, declaring under your breath, “Still good.”

🜲 The High King of the Noldor said nothing at first, his expression impeccably composed, though there was a distinct flicker of incredulity in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he set aside the map and folded his hands on the table, regarding you with an air that was both regal and deeply amused. “Did you just…” he began, his voice carrying the unmistakable lilt of suppressed laughter, “consume food that has—how shall I put this—touched the earth of Lindon?”

🜲 You chewed nonchalantly, refusing to meet his gaze as if that would somehow erase the evidence. “Five-second rule,” you muttered, as though this were an immutable law of the universe.

🜲 Gil-galad leaned back in his chair, regarding you with the bemusement of one who had witnessed many baffling human behaviors but had not, until this moment, encountered this particular quirk. “Ah, yes,” he said with mock gravitas, his tone tinged with teasing. “A mortal custom I have often heard of but never seen demonstrated so boldly. Truly, your resilience in the face of… questionable hygiene is unmatched.”

🜲 He rose from his seat, his long strides carrying him to where you sat. With the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips, he bent slightly, as though examining the now-empty spot on the floor. “If it were possible, I believe you might make even Sauron hesitate. Few have the audacity to flout propriety so fearlessly.” His words carried no malice, only the quiet warmth of someone utterly charmed by your idiosyncrasies.

🜲 As he straightened, his sharp gaze lingered on you for a moment, full of a kind of affection he rarely displayed. Then, shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he returned to his seat. “Just try not to make this a habit,” he said, his tone light but playful. “I may be brave enough to face the Enemy, but watching you tempt fate with such culinary recklessness may test even my resolve.” Though his focus returned to the map before him, the occasional amused glance in your direction betrayed his ongoing struggle to suppress the grin that your antics had stirred. Even amidst the weight of kingship, it seemed, you had a knack for reminding him of the simpler, if occasionally baffling, joys of life.

[ronanceisintheair]

"I'm sure this has been done before"

Yes me too but I want to hear your interpretation. I want to hear your play on it. I want to see how you connect the dots, how you shift the puzzle pieces and make them fit. Show me it through your eyes.

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @lavender-constellation

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for commissioning, means a whole lot <3 This is a part 2 of this post, and we have this other post as a continuation. This piece is a longer version of the second one with two sex-scenes. Hope y’all like it!

Request: I’d love a part two to the monster kissing booth story, upgrading to a sex booth (but like not officially if that makes sense? Like it’s still a kissing booth but in the middle of the market, fem!reader just can’t take it anymore and it becomes a sex booth) with maybe a little bit of emphasis on a tentacle monster and orc coming to the booth 👀 Just no vampires pls!

Naughty booth

Orc x fem!reader + Tentacle monster x fem!reader || tentacle sex, size difference, oral sex, cum play (lowkey), free use, double penetration, squirting

You are coming down from an orgasm when someone screams: “Dude, come on! There’s more of us waiting!” You giggle, the werewolf (who woks two booths down, at the art booth) between your legs sighs as he grabs some tissues to help clean you the best he can so the next monster can have his turn with your soft human flesh.

“Don’t be impatient, you’ll want your sweet time when you get there,” someone else retorts. The line is so long you can’t really see how many monsters are still waiting.

You are way too fucked out already. Your pussy feels stretched even though there’s only been like three monsters so far. You are in heaven, everything feels great. A succubus gave you some of her special magic, and made sure you were extra sensitive and you could fit every size of monster. You will have to find her later and thank her. Maybe even ask her on a date… But that’s something for later.

“Leave it, come on! I don’t care about your jizz, I’ll use it as lube,” a rough voice says behind you.

The werewolf leans down and pecks your lips, promising to come later with some food. You smile softly at him, and see him go as you wait on the table he set you onto. He fucked you so good you still can’t feel your legs. But the next patron doesn’t care about it.

A big orc with a grumpy face appears over you, his erection already out and making your mouth water. “Can you take an orc, little human?” He’s so big… You pray to the goddess that he’d fit inside of you, but the succubus said every size of monster would fit, and you believe her. You really should thank her later.

“Ye- yes. I can,” you tell him. You can’t move much, too tired to participate much, but eager to get fucked all over again.

You can still feel some of the werewolf cum dripping out of your pussy, but when the orc’s fingers tease your entrance, you groan all over again. He pushes some of the cum back inside, scissoring his fingers to make sure you are prepped enough for him. He sits down on a chair and grabs your body, manhandling you until you are on his lap, your body little in comparison to his big physique.

“Prove it,” he tells you holding your body with one hand and his dick with the other. You try to fit him inside, but you can’t get the correct angle. “Come here,” he says. He moves you until your pussy is right over his dick, and you start to descend. He doesn’t wait, though. He puts his big hands against your hips and lowers you completely, making you arch your back and cry out as you hear cheering behind you.

The fact that everyone is looking and enjoying themselves with the spectacle only adds a new layer of heat to your growing arousal. You can’t believe you are still horny after all the orgasms you had, but the movement of the orc inside of you is driving you to the sky once again. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving your body up and down like a toy and making you groan and moan in a symphony of depravity.

“Come on, little human, your pussy is perfection, let me feel you flutter around my big dick.” His words should be cringy, but at that moment, you can just groan as he keeps using your body and you get closer and closer to the edge. With precision that shouldn’t be legal, he moves your hips until his dick is rubbing against your perfect spot, making you come apart instantly. “That’s it, good goddess, I love your pussy.”

He keeps going, fucking you restlessly as your body gives up and your skin gets tingly. He pinches your nipple as he comes, the combination of the amount of cum he’s shooting inside of you and the pain-pleasure sending you into another orgasm that has your eyesight blacking out for a few seconds.

You come back to a tongue between your legs and your thighs pressing the sides of the orc’s head. He’s kneeling between your legs, at some point he manhandled you into a sitting position in the chair. He hums happily against your clit. You think you can’t take anymore, but the thing the succubus gave you is potent, so a new wave of heat fills your insides as you sigh happily as the orc cleans you out with his tongue. He makes you come around his fingers and tongue one more time before the next in line starts complaining.

“Dude you made her come three times already, let some other people enjoy!” You chuckle, but it’s lost in a loud groan as the orc sucks on your clit, his tusks framing your pussy in the most amazing way.

“They can’t stop complaining, little human, I guess is time for me to go. I hope this is not a one time thing… I had fun with your pretty pussy.” He kisses said pussy one more time before saluting you with his hand and walking away, fastening his pants as he goes.

Anticipation fills your insides when the next patron appears. You see his tentacles before you see him. Fuck, you never had tentacle sex.

“Look at that, the sex-princess is all fucked out…” The tentacles around him are moving like crazy and you have to hold your breath as one slowly approaches your body. The first contact is cold and a bit slimy, but in a good way. It feels like cooling-lube over your body, and it’s so good you groan. “Yes, like that… You love a good tentacle, don’t you, sex-princess?” You want to answer him, but he waits no longer to latch two suckers to your nipples, making you scream as the next in line laughs.

“Don’t tease her too much, I want her to still be there when my turn comes around,” she says. You can’t see which kind of monster she is, but you silently agree with her. There’s still a lot of monsters that want to try your soft human flesh.

“Okay… Okay.” The tentacle monster’s voice is reluctant, but he moves his tentacles around your body, positioning you spread over the table again.

You lay there, looking at the ceiling as you feel more tentacles join the fun. The two on your nipples start sucking harder, enticing more groans out of your mouth. Another tentacle finds your pussy and goes in without preamble. You cry out again and the crowd cheers. You think he’s going to fuck you like everyone else did, but instead, he latches another sucker inside of you, right over your G-spot. You scream at the feeling. Too good, too much.

You feel tears rolling down your cheeks as he adds another sucker to your clit, making you see stars. The combination of sensations is so good you feel something inside of you building. Something unknown, like you are going to break if he keeps going like that. When you think you can’t take anymore, he adds another tentacle to your pussy, stretching you impossibly wide as he starts fucking you with the second one.

The combination of suckers and fucking is too much and you feel something explode inside of you, a gush of liquid leaving your body and making him gasp in surprise.

“Did she just squirt?” Some monster asks, amazement filling their voice.

“Yes, she did.” The tentacle monster looks so smug you feel a bit embarrassed, but too fucked to complain. He keeps going, making you come two more times around his tentacles. “Good job, sex-princess, you did great.” He tells you before disappearing.

The next monster is already waiting, strap on and a big smile on her face.

It’s going to be a long day… and you are going to enjoy every single second of it.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.

We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.

I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.

But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.

Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.

And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.

It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.

It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.

And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.

[bloomzone]

2025: #2 u are the main character of ur life

✒️.U.NEED.TO.GET.CRAZY.ABOUT.UR. LIFE .THIS is ur life. your story, your movie. And guess what? You’re the main character. But here’s the problem—you’re sitting there, acting like you’re just an extra. Let me ask you something: when are you going to wake up? When are you going to stop living like someone else is writing your script? Because newsflash—nobody else cares as much about your story as YOU should.

N1 You’re Not Here to Be Average

Do you feel it? That spark inside you? The one that says you’re made for something bigger? Stop shoving it down. Stop telling yourself, 'I’m not special,' or, 'I’ll never be that person.' Because let me tell you something—you already ARE that person. The only difference between you and the version of you that you dream about? Action. Average is safe, but it’s boring. U NEED TO KNOW Being 'okay' is easy, but it’s unfulfilling. You weren’t put on this planet to blend in. You were born to stand out, to do something, to leave a mark. But first, you have to believe that. You have to take risks. You have to dare to be seen, to be heard, to be ALIVE.

N2 Get Obsessed with Yourself

This is the part where people get uncomfortable, but IDGASS . You need to fall in love with YOU. Not in a shallow, fake, selfie-obsessed way—but deeply, madly, passionately in love with the person you are becoming.Spend time with yourself. Take yourself out on dates. Sit in silence and listen to your thoughts. Who are you, really? What do you want? Not what society wants, not what your parents want, not what your friends think is cool—what do YOU want?Get crazy about discovering your passions. Throw yourself into books, art, music, whatever lights you up inside. Because the more you pour into yourself, the more unstoppable you become. You’re not just living life; you’re creating it. So why not make it something spectacular?

N3 Stop Waiting for Permission

Why are you waiting? Waiting for someone to tell you you’re good enough? Waiting for the 'right time'? BRO WTF Let me tell you something nobody is coming to give you permission. Nobody is going to hand you your dream life wrapped up in a bow. You have to go out there and TAKE IT.Stop looking for signs. Stop waiting for everything to feel perfect. It’s messy, it’s chaotic, and sometimes it’s downright terrifying—but that’s the beauty of it. The magic happens when you stop overthinking and just DO. Take the leap, even if you don’t feel ready. Life isn’t about being ready—it’s about showing up, again and again, until you create the life you can’t stop dreaming about AND THIS IS DISCIPLINE

N4 Reclaim Your Power

Let’s get one thing straight: you are powerful. Not in a vague, 'manifestation vibes' kind of way, but in a real, tangible way. Every decision you make is a choice. Every habit you keep is a vote for the kind of person you want to be.But here’s the catch—every time you let someone else control your narrative, you give away a piece of that power. Every time you shrink yourself to fit someone else’s expectations, you lose a little more. Stop giving it away. Own your voice. Own your choices. Own your life.You are the architect of your story. So start building something worth remembering. And if people don’t like it? If they don’t 'get' you? Let them go. Your life is not a democracy it’s YOUR kingdom. Rule it unapologetically.

N5 Romanticize the Hell Out of Everything

Here’s the secret nobody tells you: life is as magical as you decide to make it. Stop waiting for the big moments—graduation, the 'dream job'...—to feel alive. Start finding beauty in the small, ordinary, quiet things.Make your morning coffee an event. Cook ur dinner by urself. Write love letters to urself. Turn sunsets into poetry. Life is happening right now, and if you keep rushing to the 'next thing,' you’re going to miss it.Romanticizing your life isn’t about pretending everything is perfect. It’s about choosing to see the magic, even in the mess. Because when you do that, life stops feeling like something you’re just surviving—and starts feeling like something worth celebrating.

This is Your one life. Your one shot. So stop living like you have forever. Stop waiting, stop hiding, stop playing small. You are the main character of this story, and it’s time to act like it. Get crazy about your life. Get obsessed. Because when you do, everything changes.Now go out there and make something beautiful I'm proud of u 143

@bloomzone 📇

[slttygeto]

JJK MEN AS DADS — headcanons.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥featuring: geto suguru, nanami kento and toji fushiguro.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥note: enjoy this alternate universe where everyone is okay and safe and happy.

╰┈➤ interested in sending a commission?

╰┈➤ GOJO'S VERSION

—GETO SUGURU ;

some of you might not agree with me on this but he probably never saw himself becoming a dad

sure he loves kids, they do annoy him when they’re loud and all over the place but he never thought that he would have kids

that is until you announced to him that you were pregnant, and his entire world changed

his daughter is pretty much everything to him but he doesn’t spoil her (gojo does)

he wants to teach her proper manners, the right way to communicate things and isn’t big on spoiling

and you both end up raising a sweetheart who’s in love with uncle satoru.

“baby, stay in my sights.” you heard suguru talk to your daughter as you both walked down the food aisle. she was well mannered, didn’t act up or tried to be bratty when told something (unless she was having a really bad day, which was very different).

watching your husband parent a child that looked like a mix of you both was a different kind of love. he was gentle, careful and most importantly trying to be there for her.

from taking her on daddy-daughter dates, to talking things out with her when she was mad at him or when she messed up, suguru proved himself worthy of becoming someone’s father.

“who knew someone else would come along, and you’d call them baby,” you teased the man with a small smile, letting him push the cart while you walked next to him. he shot you a playful glare before grabbing a can of tuna.

“don’t even start—i somehow got used to speaking in girl voice from being forced to attend her tea parties…” he sighs but you know it's far from a tired one. he looks at your daughter with so much love, so much adoration that your heart flutters.

you were incredibly lucky.

“tell me you love me in your girl voice, come on,”

"move."

—NANAMI KENTO;

this man was made to be a father

despite how tired he looks he always makes time for you and your girl

very lovey dovey and is very proud of referring to you two as his girls

whenever he is asked to hang out, he goes 'lemme make sure my girls dont need anything'

hes quite literally the best

most patient, loving and understanding husband/father

ever since you gave birth, kento and your daughter had a routine. you two would feed her at 8p.m when he comes back from work, he would then take her to the bathroom where he would bathe her then read her a bed time story. he would then kiss her goodnight, keep the small moon shaped light turned on before closing the door.

it was endearing because he put it on so much effort when it came to her. you knew it was the bare minimum for a father, but you were still very grateful that you married a good husband and an even better father.

both kento and your daughter were now in the bathroom. bath time usually took about twenty minutes to half an hour, and it would be filled with giggles coming from your four year old and kento's occasional chuckles. but it was oddly quiet, so you decided to go check on them.

when you opened the door, your heart melted at the sight. your daughter had fallen asleep in the bathtub, and so your husband was trying his best to get her out and dry her up before she caught a cold.

and he was doing it so quietly that you couldn't help but ask if he needed any help.

"baby, do you need help?" you whispered to the man holding the sleeping girl, lightly kissing his nape and squeezing his shoulders.

"I got this." he whispered in response, turning around and pressing a light kiss on your lips and forehead.

you watched with heart eyes as he gently woke her up to dry her hair, kissed her forehead and continued on with their routine, before it was time to say goodnight.

nanami kento was an angel sent from above.

—FUSHIGURO TOJI;

this man isn't new to parenting, in fact you knew you weren't his first wife

but you were accepting of it, helped giving the grieving man a second chance at life as he liked to say

you met megumi when he was still so young and the little boy loving you was enough reason for toji to confirm that you were indeed the right one

loving a child that wasn't yours wasn't given to everyone, toji was well aware of that

and as you watched the man parent megumi, you were a bit hesitant to announce to him your pregnancy

when you did tho, he sobbed like a baby

and twins? a boy and a girl? oh he was in for a ride

"you little rascals better let me love on my wife in peace." your husband whispered to the two sleeping babies in their cribs. it was 9p.m and they were fortunately fast asleep.

you on the other hand, were busy with your oldest.

finally after getting them in bed, you were with megumi in the kitchen asking him what you should pack for his lunch tomorrow, which the ten year old responded with what he typically always chose.

megumi wasn't a difficult child, but with the arrival of the twins, you were a bit worried that he would think you and toji no longer cared for him. dealing with twins wasn't easy, but you were aware and willingly brought two lives to his family, and were fully responsible for it.

when toji was with the twins, you would help out megumi with his homework. and when it was time to breastfeed the babies, toji would take megumi to basketball practice or engage in a random activity together.

"a juice box?" you asked while packing his lunch, which the little boy nodded at before staring at who was coming down the stairs.

"you got school tomorrow at 8?" toji asked megumi, and the little boy responded with a nod. not much of a talker.

"are they asleep?" megumi quietly asked his dad, who raised an eyebrow at him before saying 'yes' and you watched as your son fiddled with his fingers, anxious of what to say next.

"gumi, do you wanna see them?" you stepped in, a hand resting on his back. the little boy looked up at you with sparkly eyes, grateful that you understood him.

"go, and if they do wake up call me." you kissed his forehead and watched as he carefully tiptoed upstairs.

toji's eyes stayed glued on you during the entire interaction, and finally let his arms wrap around your waist once your son was upstairs before resting his forehead on your shoulder.

"thank you," he whispered out, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

"for what?" you chuckled, caressing the taller man's back.

"for making everything feel like it's worth it."

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[enwoso]

A cute blurb of Lovie having the best time playing dolly’s with all the new youngsters on the team (Katie, Viv, Freya, Michelle) and having the best time

NEW FRIENDS — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was pre-season and the team had been spending an evening together. a lot of the girls playing some sort of card game. it sometimes getting quite competitive at times.

but alessia was getting wary, you had been quite for a while. which wasn’t always a good sign as sometimes that would mean you were up to no good. not always but it was usually a good indication.

“had anyone seen lovie?” alessia asked as the round of cards had just finished the girls shaking their heads as the cards were thrown onto the table to be reshuffled before the next game.

“actually i seen her, she was dragging freya along to play whatever she was playing” lia said as she placed her cards back on the table. remembering seeing you pull freya and a couple of the young gunners along.

“oh good god knows what she’s doing then” alessia sighed as she began to stand up from her seat next to codi, “i’ll quickly go and check on her!”

alessia followed the hushed sound of your talking along with the voices of the young gunners voice and as she turned the corner she doesn’t know what she expected you to have roped the young girls into doing but you siting and playing dolly’s with the girls was definitely not top of the list.

she stood at the doorway and watched as you had a full story line going on with the young gunners; freya, viv, katie and michelle all with doll in their hand as they played along with your little imagination.

alessia soon clicked that the storyline you had was of that the dolls were the arsenal girls just with different names. a smile couldn’t help but creep on your mummy’s face before alessia fake coughed to make her presence known to the small group of girls.

“hi mummy!” you beamed as a small hello came from the young gunners too.

“i see you’ve made some new friends!” alessia raised an eyebrow as you nodded. alessia knew she was being a little exaggerate with that, of course you knew of the young gunners the group of them having been on the team that traveled to australia and they’d been in and around the first team for the past season, so of course you knew them.

this was just the first time she had seen any of them properly sitting down and interacting with you instead of a usual hello or little wave every time they seen you in and around the team.

“yes! we playing a game” you explained the game and just like alessia thought, you were playing your own little version of arsenal but with different names.

“this is you less!” viv held up a blonde barbie, “but her name is alyssa. tiny’s idea, all the names were” viv carried on as alessia laughed at the name choice.

“let’s hear them then!”

“this is leanne and you can probably guess who this is by the frown!” katie joked as she held up a barbie again with blonde hair and a bob with two longer bits at the front, one basically identical to leah’s.

another giggle came from alessia as she listened to each explanation, “i love it!”

“this is kacey and she’s loves yellow cards and just the colour yellow in general!” michelle laughed as she held up a brunette barbie dressed all in the colour yellow with a bit of green.

“this is betty and she loves dogs look she even had her own called milo” freya held up another barbie which had a little puppy dog accessorie, a knowing nod coming from alessia as she knew exactly who that was.

“and this is jones! and he tells everyone how to play football!” you held up a male barbie as alessia hummed as she listened a little more to your little fantasy world you’d created with the young gunners.

“well this sounds lovely and i won’t interrupt anymore!” alessia said as she tapped her knees ready to stand back up. “if you need me i’ll be out there with the girls” alessia smiled looking at you but more talking to the group of young gunners as she placed a light kiss to your cheek before leaving you to get back to your own little world with your new friends.

“what is she up to then?” beth asked curiously as alessia joined back with the group of girls she was originally playing cards with.

“oh she and the young gunners have made us in barbie form!” alessia explained as the girls’ faces turned to confusion but also intrigued.

“that’s so- wait, what?”

[shaniacsboogara]

jojo siwa claiming she's revitalizing gay pop and releasing 'karma' on the same night as conan gray's 'found heaven' and chappell roan's 'good luck babe' is so poetically ironic. it's like the universe WANTS to draw a comparison between jojo and queer pop artists.

the thing that makes queer pop compelling as a genre is the unique storytelling and experiences of queer artists told through their music. that doesn't necessarily mean every song by a queer artist has to be about their queerness. they don't have to scream "hey i'm gay!" in every single song they write. but claiming to be "reinventing gay pop" should mean you're telling interesting stories about your queer experience, right???

'found heaven' by conan gray is about growing up as a queer kid with religious guilt and disapproving parents. he equates being in love in an authentic way to "finding heaven", and the piece as a whole resonates with a TON of queer people in different stages of their lives. some people can look back at their childhoods and how much they've grown since then, some can relate because they're currently going through what conan's written about, and some people can sympathize with the way some queer people are treated, even if they aren't necessarily queer themselves.

'good luck babe' is a song about queerness and compulsory heterosexuality. chappell sings about a woman she was in a relationship with who decided to settle down in a conventional marriage despite being queer. the song reflects the denial a lot of queer people go through (specifically regarding the lesbian experience) and the unfortunate way a lot of them end up repressing who they are to conform to societal standards. it's fun, it's campy, but its message is still poignant.

as for karma… there's nothing inherently queer about that song. the music video for the original version, ‘karma’s a bitch’ by brit smith, featured a heterosexual storyline. jojo buying the rights to a song she didn't write isn't inherently a bad thing, a lot of mainstream artists do that all the time. however, if you're claiming to be a pioneer of the “gay pop” genre and your music doesn't reflect any queer themes or experiences, is it really “gay pop”? again, queer artists don't have to write exclusively about their queerness, but if you try to present yourself as a voice for the queer community without telling any of their stories, you're not going to be lauded as some revolutionary figure. if any of the songs on jojo’s album are actually about her experience as a lesbian or contain any queer themes, then i think she'd qualify as a “gay pop” artist. but so far, she's given us a faux edgy, generic pop song and tried to market it as some insane never-been-done-before feat. and honestly, if her entire album is like this and she continues to market herself this way, it's a slap in the face to all the genuine artists and storytellers in the queer community.

but let's stop talking about jojo siwa and start talking about the incredible queer artists who are truly breathing life into the "gay pop" genre: chappell roan, renee rapp, ben platt, conan gray, girl in red, kevin atwater, baby queen, mitski, clairo, dodie, and SO MANY MORE (feel free to add on some of your favourites because there are so many wonderful artists out there <3)

also: if you have a different perspective on this situation i would absolutely love to hear what you think and if you agree / disagree with this! i love discussing topics like this so feel free to reblog with your own take

[hoe4hotchner]

Sweat

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

CW: 18+, this is a clean version of smut if that makes sense, shower sex is implied, piv implied, basically just very sensual filth with very little plot, kisses and loads of them.

A/N: I'm sorry to everyone who needs serious help after this one. I made myself cry and it's not even sad.

Send requests here

The case, one of the most taxing they had faced in months, had left Aaron on edge, his nerves frayed like the ends of a rope that had been pulled too tight for way too long. The kind of day that wore on him, physically and emotionally, draining his reserves until all he craved was the silence of your touch, your presence - a reminder that there was more to his life than the darkness that often threatened to swallow him after cases like these.

The two of you hadn’t spoken much since he returned home, just a few quiet exchanges over dinner, which you had prepared while he showered the day off of him. Aaron was a man of few words when he was exhausted, and tonight was no different. His silence was not a sign of distance, but rather a deep trust that you understood him without the need for conversation. The intimacy between you was built on more than just words - it was in the glances, the touches, the way you moved around each other with an unspoken understanding of each other's needs. There were nights when words were unnecessary, where the silence between you was filled with a shared understanding that ran deeper than any spoken sentiment. Tonight felt like one of those nights.

As you finished cleaning up, you heard the sound of the shower turning on once again. It wasn’t unusual for Aaron to take another shower before bed, especially after days like today. But something in the air tonight felt different - charged with an electricity that buzzed beneath the surface, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

You made your way to the bathroom, the soft light from within casting a warm glow through the half-open door. Pushing it open a little wider, you were greeted by the sight of Aaron standing under the cascade of water, his hands braced against the wall, head bowed as the droplets streamed down his broad shoulders and back. His muscles, tense and rigid from the stress of today, seemed to slowly relax under the steady flow from the head on the wall. The air was thick with steam, the room a cocoon of heat that matched the intensity of emotions swirling between you.

He didn’t turn when you stepped inside, but you knew he was aware of your presence. Aaron always knew where you were, his senses finely tuned to you in a way that spoke to the depth of his feelings. There was a pull between you, a gravitational force that drew you closer until you found yourself standing at the edge of the shower, watching him, admiring him. You’d seen him like this before, stripped down to his most basic form, yet tonight, it felt as though you were seeing him anew - each ridge of muscle, every scar on his skin telling a story.

“Long day?” you asked softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the water.

He nodded, the motion slow and weary. “Too long.”

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the shower behind him, letting the hot water envelop you in its embrace. The heat was soothing, but it was the intimacy of him that you craved more than anything else. Your hands found their way to his back, your touch light at first, tracing the lines of his shoulders, the curve of his spine. You felt him shiver under your fingertips, a barely detectable tremor that sent a charge through you.

“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. It was a promise, a plea, a declaration all wrapped into one.

He didn’t respond with words; he didn’t need to. The way he leaned back into your touch, the way his breath hitched as your hands moved lower, was answer enough. Aaron was a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but here, in this moment, you were the one holding him up, anchoring him down.

You moved to stand in front of him, your eyes meeting his for the first time since you’d stepped into the shower. His gaze was intense, darkened with the heat of desire, but there was something else there too - vulnerability. The walls he kept so carefully constructed were crumbling, leaving him exposed, raw. He needed this - needed you - and that knowledge filled you with a sense of purpose, a fierce determination to give him exactly what he craved.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, the water mingling with the wetness on his skin. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, a sigh escaping his lips as you brushed your thumbs across his cheekbones. The moment was tender, intimate, but charged with an underlying tension that thrummed between you, begging to be released.

“Aaron,” you murmured, your voice a soft plea. He opened his eyes, and the intensity in them stole your breath away.

“I need you,” he said, his voice rough, barely more than a growl. There was a desperation in his tone that sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter than the water cascading over your bodies. There was something primal in the way he said it, a raw edge that both startled and excited you. Aaron wasn’t one to give in to his desires easily, but when he did, it was all-consuming, like he couldn’t get enough of you, no matter how close you were.

Without another word, you pulled him down to you, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues that left you both gasping for air. His hands found your hips, pulling you closer, needing to feel every inch of you pressed against him. The kiss deepened, became more frantic, as if you were both trying to erase his memories of the day, to drown out everything but the sensation of each other.

Aaron’s hands roamed over your body, his touch was reverent yet possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. The steam swirled around you, the heat of the water matching the heat between your bodies as you moved together, the tension building with every brush of skin against skin.

You broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and Aaron immediately moved to press his lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands moved lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly against the cool tile. The contrast of the cold tile against your back and the searing heat of his body pressed against yours sent a shock of pleasure through you.

“Aaron,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his wet hair as he continued his assault on your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Shh,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The nickname sent a wave of heat through you, the intimacy of it grounding you even as your body threatened to float away on a wave of sensation. He held you steady, his hands firm on your hips, guiding you as he moved against you, each touch deliberate, controlled. There was an intensity to the way he touched you, a focus that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His movements were measured, each stroke and caress a declaration of his control - his way of reminding you, and perhaps himself, that despite the chaos in his mind, here in this moment, you both had the power to create something beautiful, something sacred.

The water cascaded over you both, mixing with the sweat that beaded on your skin, creating a slickness that only added to the pleasure. Every movement, every touch, was magnified by the heat, the steam, the closeness of the small space. The sounds of your breathing, your moans, mingled with the rush of water, creating a symphony of sensation that drowned out everything else.

Aaron’s lips found yours again, and the kiss was slower this time, more deliberate. There was a tenderness to it, a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity of his touch. He kissed you like he was trying to memorize the taste of you, the shape of your lips, to imprint it in his memory so he could carry it with him always.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you were both breathing heavily, your bodies trembling with the force of the connection between you. He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours, and in that moment, you saw everything he couldn’t say - his need for you, his love, his gratitude.

“I love you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the sincerity in it made your heart swell with emotion.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice just as soft, just as filled with meaning. You tugged your head under his chin and relaxed into his chest.

For a long moment, you just stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside the shower forgotten. It was just the two of you, in your little bubble of heat and steam.

Finally, Aaron lowered you back to the ground, his hands lingering on your waist as if he were reluctant to let you go. You smiled up at him, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw and lips, marveling at how someone so strong and skillful, could be so gentle with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said softly, reaching for the bottle of body wash on the shelf.

He didn’t protest, didn’t argue that he didn’t need to be taken care of. He knew better than to argue on the matter. Aaron just watched you with those intense eyes as you lathered up your hands and began to wash him, your touch gentle and soothing. It was a ritual, one that had become a way for you to show him how much you cared, how much you loved him. Every stroke of your hands, every brush of your fingertips, was a promise - a promise that you would always be there for him, that he would never have to carry his burdens alone.

Aaron closed his eyes, letting out a contented sigh as you worked the tension from his muscles, the heat of the water, and the feel of your hands on his skin working together to soothe him in a way that nothing else could. He trusted you completely, allowing himself to be vulnerable with you, in a way that he never could with anyone else. It was a privilege, one that you never took for granted.

By the time you finished, the water had started to cool, but neither of you seemed to mind. The fire between you had been banked, replaced by a warm glow of embers, of contentment that filled the space between you. You turned off the water, and Aaron immediately reached for a towel, wrapping it around you before grabbing one for himself.

You stepped out of the shower together, the air outside the stall cooler, but the warmth of the moment lingered, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Consider linking or reblogging if you enjoy my work

[signanothername]

Can we see your version of Swap? Get to know the silly guy a little? What about Ink?

Hell yaaaa I think it’s time I actually gave a bit of a spotlight to the Stars and especially to Swap and Ink

If we’re gonna talk about who would be the most badass of the Stars, it’ll definitely be Swap, the guy is an unstoppable force

My version of Swap would be a variant that went through Killer’s eye stabbing incident, rendering his magical eye completely blind and by extension, later gets a prosthetic eye in his blind side, the loss of his magical eye has definitely affected his magic to a significant extent, he no longer is able to use blue magic, and not just gravity wise but also blue bone attacks, he also experiences phantom pain a lot and deals with severe migraines at times, and obviously had to adjust to living with one eye, getting to minimize depth perception issues

Not only that, but that also gave him problems with how his magic is distributed within his body, and so Swap sometimes struggles with too little magic output or too much depending on the situation

That however, still doesn’t strip Swap’s amazing physical, mental, emotional and magical strength regardless, he’s still very much more than capable on his own, and blue magic or not, he’s not to be trifled with, Nightmare actually sees him as a genuine threat, and that says a lot

The reason Swap ends up with a prosthetic eye is cause he asked for it to be made for him before he went on another mission with the Stars, to make it seem as tho he still has his original eye intact, so the Nightmare gang won’t take his blindness as a leverage in fights by targeting him from said blind side, as far as the Nightmares know, Swap’s eyelight survived Killer’s assault (Killer has a different opinion about that), Dream and Ink are the first to know about the incident and Swap’s blindness outside his own AU, Swap tells them about it after he has his prosthetic

Swap is generally the voice of reason and the one who takes care of Dream, cause while Dream is someone who can take care of himself, he sure isn’t putting much effort into doing so, too preoccupied with his messy life and his relationship with Nightmare to notice how he’s destroying himself

Swap looks out for Dream and tries to be as present as he could, he does not treat Dream like a child or forces him into taking care of himself, but he does nudge him to the right direction, and teaches Dream things that could help him like how to take care of his chronic pain, and later down the line help him with his Autism

Dream never says it out loud , but in a way Dream himself doesn’t understand, Swap is like another sibling to him, like it was always that way, like it’s just natural

Needless to say, Swap and Dream are very close

Swap loves Ink and his intense passion for creation, he might not understand Ink’s views fully, but he doesn’t judge them for it, just keeps a bit of an eye out for any mischief he’s cooking, Ink definitely is an a bit of an enigma to Swap, and he loves them for it

Outside the Stars, Swap is usually in his own AU with his brother dealing with his usual story and resets, the resets however no longer affect him the same way as he’s pretty much a semi-outcode, so when a reset happens, he still retains his memories fully and is able to know that a reset took place

Honey (Swap Paps) on the other hand, does not retain his memories at all, and by extension, isn’t able to truly realize if a reset took place unless he gets hints

Swap and Honey however, are open about the resets to each other, so when a reset happens, Swap does let Honey know, and Honey believes him without a shadow of a doubt, the Swap bros have a very open and healthy relationship with each other

The Swap bros also usually welcome Dream in their house with open arms, and while Honey expresses his reservations about Swap’s adventures as a Star (he’s just a lil worried) he still trusts Swap to take care of himself, in fact, Honey has no right to talk with his sock still on the ground

Swap spends most of his time in his AU in his own house, only getting out with the Stars when Dream comes to tell him he needs help or when duty calls, he does go out with them on genuine adventures too where they explore the multiverse, usually returning with souvenirs and gifts for Honey and his friends in his AU

Ink is the kinda guy that’s looking for what’s entertaining, if he isn’t entertained, then he’ll find ways to entertain himself, and believe me don’t want them to take it into his own hands

Ink generally has very low social needs and has no desire for connection, it doesn’t mean he has no connections at all, but rather, they’re satisfied by the very few connections he already has, like his friendships with Dream, Swap and Error, and their familial connection with his parents, (with Killer on the way to becoming another friend to them) these few connections are more than enough for Ink, he doesn’t look/long for new connections or feels the need to widen their social circle, Ink getting attached to others is very rare, but not impossible

The few connections they have are genuine, and he does love them, that doesn’t mean their views of them change however, his friends and family are all characters in a script, a never ending game

But not him, they’re above that, they’re real (yes, he’s very much a hypocrite)

He prefers to stay by himself in the doodlsphere, or in the Omega timeline with his parents, otherwise, you might see them traveling across the multiverse just to look for new AUs or stories, he might even go out of his way and travel around with Color, Epic and Delta, as they generally love traveling around, he goes for a little company, then leaves

In the Stars, Ink generally tries to never interfere or actually fight alongside Dream and Swap unless there’s an actual reason to, such as Error messing with the code or trying to erase the AU, which is rare, as Error’s attacks are usually independent of Nightmare’s

He does help with fighting Nightmare off if his quest for negativity messes with the script of an AU (which is usually the case) Ink usually stays on the defensive than the offensive in fights

They find no true joy in fighting, they prefer de-escalation tactics, but with how blunt and brutally honest he is, it usually just ends with it escalating further, he can be an absolute asshole, really inconsiderate, and a downright bitch at times

He acts upon his own interests, seeking what fulfills them not what others expect them to do, that’s why Ink would not allow anyone to interfere with AU scripts, that even includes Swap’s, Dream had tried interfering with Swap’s AU to make it so Swap never has to go through resets again (all from a place of wanting to do good) and Ink never allowed it to happen, it escalated in a fight between Dream and Ink, only to be interrupted by Swap

They and Dream end up in a pretty bad fallout, as during Dream’s younger years, a bit of a younger not fully mature anger riddled Dream couldn’t simply fathom Ink’s views of how the world works, that fallout does hurt Ink deeply and messes a bit with them, triggering his abandonment issues, he would be lying if they said he didn’t want Dream back in their life, but he sees no use in trying to mend something that’s engraved in Dream’s mind, so he just confides in Swap

As the years go by and Dream eventually matures, he comes back to talk to Ink, apologizing and asking Ink if he’d be willing to be friends again, which makes Ink happy, they both become really good friends again

Ink does not act on what’s good or bad, they simply do their job as an AU protector/ guardian just like Dream does, if that means stopping Dream from doing good or Nightmare from doing bad in an AU if it interferes with the script, then he will stand against both of them

His protection of these AUs comes from both a survival instinct and a genuine love for creativity, that’s how their love for creation blossoms through, he views everyone as mere characters in a story, but they find these characters to be beautiful, he finds the storylines they live as perfect the way they are, the way they were intended to be, a product of the beauty of creation, he recognizes the value of the stunning differences in these creations

Ink does help others if they’re asked to, he cares about the few people he loves most and absolutely enjoys the company of others, most of the help he provides is usually in the Omega timeline, making new houses, living spaces and creating essentials for the residents there

Ink and Swap are very sibling coded, they both are a bit hyper about what they love and their passions, they love spending time with each other and going on adventures together

Ink definitely loves pranking the shit out of Swap specifically, and he sure has gotten him in problems so many times, but Swap persists and Ink would be lying if they said he wasn’t impressed with Swap’s ability to withstand the bullshit he puts him through without batting an eye like it’s another Tuseday

He’s insecure about their lack for a soul, sometimes overthinking things and doubting their own emotions and the legitimacy of his love for the few people they do love, he often finds himself going to his parents when these doubts arise, finding saftey within their arms

Generally, the Stars go through ups and downs in their relationships, Swap being the one to help keep the balance of the team, they still are pretty good friends overall and each of them do look forward to their next adventure together

[wordsnstuff]

Standing Water: Wordsnstuff Writing Challenge [in collaboration with RUNT magazine]

Welcome to RUNT Magazine. We are an indie print publication celebrating visual art, literature, and the distinctions that make us human. Our aim as a magazine is to cultivate a vibrant community that promotes exploration and creativity instead of stifling it.

We’ve put together these prompts to hopefully inspire you to submit to our upcoming issue with the theme of STANDING WATER [click link for more info!]. If you feel inclined to express yourself in a different media, we accept all forms of writing (fiction, non-fiction, essays, poetry, etc.), photography, art, or anything that moves you! There is no submission fee and we encourage you to submit as much as you like.

The deadline is December 31st, 2024 and we can’t wait to see what you come up with! Submit for free here!

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Write from the perspective of a favored toy of your childhood.

If future you met present you, what would you talk about? What would you think of each other?

Your hometown has mysteriously disappeared. As you stand looking where it once stood, what memories come to mind?

You’re aging (spoiler alert). Write dual perspectives about one character who embraces that fact and one that rejects it.

You wake up in your childhood bedroom, magically a child yourself. You get to experience a Christmas as a kid again. Describe what you’ve missed about this as an adult, even down to the smells.

It’s been MANY years since you’ve stopped aging. You’ve watched friends and family pass on, never letting yourself fall in love or get attached. You spot someone that you remember from your childhood, also unchanged. Who is it? Do you say anything to them?

You’ve just discovered you were switched at birth. What do you imagine the life you could’ve had was like?

Tell a true story about your childhood. The first one that comes to mind. Maybe even the one you don’t think is even worth writing about at all.

You’ve spent decades running from the small town that labeled you a weird kid, but when you find an old yearbook and see your old self staring back at you, you realize you’ve made a nightmare of the only person who understands you. Make amends with the younger version of yourself, you were just a child.

Every morning, you sit at the same desk, doing the same work, feeling your potential slowly wither away, but you convince yourself it’s fine. What would happen if you stopped telling yourself that this is all there is?

Write the day in the life of an inanimate object that feels it is not being used to its full potential.

Write your first break up from the other person’s perspective.

Your spouse is a writer and has been incredibly secretive about their current book. It’s been published and as they’ve finally allowed you to read it, you’re slowly realizing this all sounds far too familiar.

You awake with your eyes closed, but you don’t remember falling asleep. “It wasn’t your fault,” you hear a voice say. What do you see when you open your eyes?

A once famous person reflects on their career as they slowly being to feel they are being forgotten by the public.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Check us out on Instagram.ᐟ

Submission Link

⟢ no fee ⟢ no limit on submissions ⟢ any type of writing or art medium

RUNT Website

[fllagellant]

Sometimes I cannot tell if you guys want villains who do not want to be redeemed or not bc we get gortash and everyone trips over themselves to make this version of him that is absolved from his actions and he’ s changed … Anyways another day another time Wyll gets put to the back burner with crumbs of content yet everyone huddles around like “ OMG THANK YOU LARIAN … oh yeah sorry about Wyll : ((( “

You guys get you are a part of the problem right . You are letting Larian know they can get away with being racist as long as they feed fandom and whatever . Instead of actual quality of life updates and patching in content that would Actually help the game run better and feel finished , they just bloat the game and let companions go untouched with minimal content while playing into whatever the loudest voices in fandom demand the most .

The studio account should not be interacting with fandom so often . This blur between creators and fans is bad ! This leads to fans blindly defending and protecting a Game Studio that they have no connection to because haha larian mad a funny reply . And this also causes a feeling of ownership that should not be there ! You do not own a piece of bg3 and you should not be dictating it ! This is different from criticism btw . Just so we are Clear . Larian deserves and needs criticism .

It is super telling that they voices they are choosing to listen to are not voices that actually care about the game at its story . If they were , we would not have Zero Story for the Son of the Duke of Baldur’ s Gate and yet we have so much for a character that isn’ t actually tied into any major story beat ! We have no more for the character directly tied to Gortash with a prototype of the Steel Watch in her chest , but we can take a side character a few people wanted to bang and speed to have him included ad a full companion ! Instead of Dark Urge getting more content with Orin , Savrok and anyone else that had a tie to Bhaal , they get their relationship with a guy unrelated to all that be made to be read more and more explicitly romantic when that is just ruining the character !

Wyll should have a proper sex scene . He should have a romanced greeting that changes after the proposal . He should have more personal story content . He should have scenes of him in Baldur’ s Gate . The Emperor reveal as Balduran should not have been the main focus of HIS FINAL STORY QUEST . He should have hug and kiss options in the epilogue . People should comment on the engagement ! He should have all of this !! AND MORE FRANKLY .

But because everyone is so quick to forgive Larian , they’ ll never feel pressured to add any of this . They’ ll never feel like they’ ll loose players if they don’ t . Because you guys don’ t actually care . No , I am not saying thank you to larian for not giving me anything I have been asking for and sending feedback on for months . I am not thanking larian for choosing to bend over backwards to random big name fandom people who are racist and just want to fuck the pale guys again and again .

Larian Studio is not your fucking friend, stop acting like they are .

[greensagephase]

Double Trouble (One - Shot Miguel O'Hara 18+)

Pairing: 2099 Miguel O'Hara X Female Reader X Variant Miguel O'Hara Summary: You live a normal life in a different dimension with your own version of Miguel but one day Miguel from Earth-928 shows up, leading to interesting times. Word Count: 2.574 Warnings: p in v, oral (male receiving), nipple play (f), fingering, this has no plot, MINORS DNI Masterlist

You live in your dimension with your own version of Miguel. Your Miguel is sweet and kind, and a perfect lover. You have been dating for three years now and you have the feeling that soon enough he will propose, though you’re in no hurry. You feel secure in your relationship and you two love each other. You live in an apartment with Miguel and have a comfortable life. You work from home and Miguel works at Alchemax as a geneticist.

Your lives are perfectly normal, happy, and comfortable until one day another Miguel enters your apartment. You immediately notice this man, while he looks like your Miguel, is not your Miguel. He has a more serious look on his face and he’s far more muscular than your Miguel. After he scares you by grabbing and holding you against the wall, you manage to calm him down until he lets you go. You comfort him with your soothing voice, telling him that whatever is going on in his head is okay despite your own fear of what was happening.

There was another Miguel and you didn’t know how that was even possible. As you calm this stranger, you coax some facts from him. He eventually reveals to you that he came from another dimension.

“Earth-928. The year is 2099,” he tells you.

It takes a few minutes for you to wrap your brain around this but the concept of a multiverse is not something completely unknown to you as your Miguel is a scientist and he has talked about other scientists playing with the idea of a possible multiverse.

You offer food and comfort to this 2099 Miguel, feeling sadness for him as he tells you a bit more about his life and the reason he showed up to your dimension. He realized there was a variant of him, your Miguel, here and something had come over him. He explained he was in your apartment before he could stop himself. You can’t help but want to ease his pain and stress, being unable to turn him away as he looks like your Miguel, for the most part. You notice 2099 Miguel is more muscular and he explains it’s because of his job. You nod when he tells you that. Your Miguel is pretty muscular, too, but because he works out. You can’t imagine the heavy work 2099 Miguel must do to have those laterals.

When your own Miguel arrives, 2099 Miguel is still there. There is shock and confusion from your Miguel as he sees nearly an exact clone of himself sitting on the couch, drinking tea.

You explain everything to your Miguel as the other one nods occasionally. 2099 Miguel can’t help but feel something for you as you explain to your own Miguel how this happened. You’re so understanding and sweet, making him long even more for the life your Miguel has. He has you, and 2099 Miguel wishes he did, too.

After his own shock, your Miguel just sits nearby. His mind whirls with thoughts as he processes what he has heard and seeing as he stares at himself. As a scientist, he’s in awe with the story but he also feels odd about one of his own versions showing up. He wonders what exactly this Miguel wants, showing up at like that out of nowhere.

You cannot help but feel bad for this other version of your boyfriend. You invite 2099 Miguel for dinner the next day, not knowing why. You tell your boyfriend later that night, when 2099 Miguel is gone, that you just feel bad for him and it’s something nice the two of you could do for his variant.

2099 Miguel shows up for dinner the next day. At the end of that dinner, he’s invited again for next week. It becomes a thing. Once a week 2099 Miguel shows up for dinner at your apartment. Miguel, 2099 Miguel, and you hang out and have dinner. Miguel and you listen with fascination to the stories that 2099 Miguel has from his own universe, while he seems pleased to have someone enjoy his stories.

Months pass and your friendship grows. Sometimes 2099 Miguel shows up in the middle of the day when you’re working from home. Thanks to your job, you can chat with him for an hour or so before he has to head back to his universe. Your own Miguel finds 2099 Miguel interesting as they’re both scientists and the reluctance of your Miguel dissipates as he, too, begins to feel compassion for his own variant.

So, everything is going great. There’s a friendship. You all have a great time and look forward to the weekly dinner.

It’s until one night that the three of you are drinking and that things take a turn. You end up in your bedroom, lying at the edge of the bed as the two Miguels stand over you. They’re both looking down at you, their eyes filled with lust. As you look up at them, you feel heat spread through your body.

Before you know it, the three of you are completely naked and both men are touching you. Their hands roam your body, exploring different parts of your body, overwhelming your mind as it struggles to keep up with their touches.

You stand between them, your back pressed to your Miguel as 2099 Miguel’s body is pressed to your front. You can feel their cocks touching your skin and you can’t help but take a peek at 2099 Miguel’s, noticing it’s slightly larger than your Miguel’s but they are roughly the same size. The idea of the two of them makes your pussy even more wet.

You feel your Miguel’s hands on your breasts now as he begins to play with your nipples. You moan softly, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes.

“Look how pretty you look,” 2099 Miguel whispers, as he leans closer to your face, his fingers grazing your chin. “You enjoy that?” he asks, referring to having your nipples played with.

You open your eyes as you hear his deep voice and feel his hot breath on your face. You nod, unable to speak at the sensations your body is experiencing right now.

“She loves it, right, hermosa?” your Miguel asks in a whisper, as he leans down and kisses the side of your neck.

As your Miguel fondles with your nipples and presses kisses to the side of your neck, 2099 Miguel’s hands are now resting on your hips, sliding down the sides. They remain there while he leans down and kisses you, biting your lower lip gently afterward. His hands move down, until one of them reaches your slit. You gasp softly at his touch.

Your body is already beginning to feel overwhelmed as your Miguel is still playing with your nipples, twisting and tugging at them and now 2099 Miguel’s fingers are sliding up and down your slit. A loud moan escapes your mouth as you feel him press a finger.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” 2099 Miguel mutters as he kisses your chin. “You’re ready for us, bonita?”

“Let me see, Miguel,” your Miguel says, and you open your eyes just in time to see 2099 Miguel show his long finger to Miguel. You can see your wetness glistening on his finger.

“Hermosa, you are enjoying this, baby?” your Miguel asks, and you nod, your mind foggy with need.

The two men continue to kiss you in different areas. Your neck, your face, your lips, your shoulders, and back. 2099 Miguel takes your hands and kisses them softly before you feel his free hand slide down your body until he reaches your heat. He kisses your lips gently before he slips a finger into you, making you jolt against your Miguel in both pleasure and surprise.

“Miguel,” you moan softly.

“You sound so pretty moaning our name, bonita,” 2099 Miguel says as he starts pumping his long, thick finger into your squelching pussy.

The sensations of having both your nipples played with while being fingered is already so overwhelming to your senses that you begin to back into your Miguel, trying to escape 2099 Miguel’s touch but your Miguel’s body is like an iron wall. You cannot escape 2099 Miguel’s fingering and when you open your eyes, he’s looking down at you with a smirk, pleased to see that his touch is already too much for you. He caresses your face for a second as he continues to pump his finger into you before he surprisingly slides another one.

“Fuc-“ you start but are unable to finish as your head lands on 2099 Miguel’s chest now. Your hands are on his bare abdomen, trying to keep yourself steady as he pumps his fingers into you faster. The men watch and hears your moans of pleasure before they step away from you. You whimper as 2099 Miguel pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty.

“Please,” you say as you watch him bring his fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices.

“Que rico sabes, bonita,” 2099 Miguel tells you, still cleaning his fingers, before each man takes one of your wrists, carefully tugging you to the bed.

You’re immediately told to get on all fours before you hear the men whispering to themselves. You’re so needy for them, you don’t really pay attention to what they say. All you know is that your Miguel is suddenly behind you, slapping his cock on your ass before he grabs your arms, tugging you back into his chest. This gives 2099 Miguel the opportunity to slide into bed and position himself, his legs parting to give you space to settle between them. When your Miguel lets go of your arms, you get on all fours again, understanding what the agreement between the men was. When you get into position, 2099 Miguel’s cock is right in front of your face.

You don’t even try to hide the fact that you’re looking at it and 2099 Miguel smirks as he sees your face. You feel like your mouth is watering at the sight of it, and suddenly all you want is for your Miguel to take you from behind as you suck 2099 Miguel’s cock.

Your wish comes true as your Miguel rubs his cock on your slit, covering it in your wetness.

“Fuck, hermosa, you’re dripping wet,” your Miguel groans as he feels your pussy’s wetness. “Are you gonna be a good girl for us, baby?”

You nod, too overwhelmed to respond but 2099 Miguel reaches for your face, gripping your chin gently.

“You have to say it, bonita. Can you handle the two of us?”

“Yes, yes. I can take it,” you answer eagerly and 2099 Miguel nods, giving your chin a gentle squeeze.

Your Miguel rubs his cock on your slit one more time before he pushes the tip in, making the two of you moan before he slides the rest in with no effort. He begins to slide in and out of you, making him grunt behind you as he supports himself by grabbing your ass.

2099 Miguel’s hand is still on your chin, he’s watching you for now, enjoying the sight of you getting fucked by… basically himself. His eyes scan your face, and he has a cheeky grin as his eyes fall on your closed eyes and parted lips. He eventually squeezes your chin again, making you open your eyes. You meet his eyes before your gaze falls on his large cock. 2099 Miguel can’t help but look at your pretty mouth and wonder how you’ll look with your mouth wrapped around his cock. The moment your eyes see his tip oozing with pre-cum, you immediately lower your head. You lick the tip, cleaning the pre-cum from his tip, earning yourself a low moan from him. As your Miguel fucks your pussy from behind, you begin to suck 2099 Miguel’s cock, taking as much as you can into your mouth.

Despite wanting to close your eyes in pleasure, you keep them open and stare at 2099 Miguel as you suck his cock. He’s grunting your name softly with his head thrown back in pleasure.

“Fuck, bonita, así," he praises you as his hand finds its way to your head. He slides his fingers into your hair, taking a handful of it to move your head to his preference.

You continue to suck his cock, feeling his tip at the back of your throat now. Tears begin to form in your eyes, especially as he begins to bop your head lower, making you take more of him. The sensations of your warm, and drooling mouth makes 2099 Miguel grunt even louder. Your mouth feels so good around his big cock that he begins to lift his hips. You moan as you feel his cock hit the back of your throat even more now.

“So beautiful, hermosa. You feel so fucking good for us,” your Miguel grunts from behind, as he pounds faster into your wet pussy now, hearing you and 2099 Miguel getting closer.

The room is filled with obscene sounds. Their loud grunts and praises for you taking them so well fills your ears. You can also hear the sound of flesh to flesh as your ass repeatedly makes contact with Miguel’s thighs as he thrusts into you. In exchange, your moans, trapped in your throat as your mouth is full of 2099 Miguel’s cock, is music to their ears.

It doesn’t take long for the three of you to reach your peak. You come on Miguel’s cock and both Miguels finish in your holes, filling them with their warm, thick cum. Your body collapses over 2099 Miguel as you swallow his load, exhausted. You feel the men caress your body as they praise you, while panting.

“Better recover, hermosa,” your Miguel tells you lovingly, watching his cum leak out of your pussy. “That was just round one. It’s Miguel’s turn with your pussy. And I get that pretty mouth of yours.”

---

You wake up the next morning, feeling exhausted but awoken by delightful sensations. You feel wetness on your breasts and when you open your eyes, you find both Miguels resting their heads on your chest as each one sucks one of your nipples. You moan softly as they release your nipples almost at the same time with a loud pop.

“Good morning, hermosa,” your Miguel says, using his usual nickname for you.

“Hope you slept good, bonita,” 2099 Miguel says, with a teasing smile.

You lay between them as they are still pretty much all over you. You begin to remember everything that happened last night, and you feel embarrassed and worried about what your Miguel will say but as you look at him, he doesn’t seem mad. In fact, both men look comfortable with each other, and you can’t help but wonder if they talked before you woke up.

“Um – good morning,” you say, reaching for the bed sheets to cover yourself, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you lay there with your exposed chest.

But it’s to no avail because both Miguels reach for the bed sheets, tugging them out of your grip and throwing them to the end of the bed, revealing the rest of your naked body, and theirs, too.

Your eyes immediately land on their cocks, already hard and ready for you.

_____________________________

Translation for Italicized words: Hermosa - gorgeous Bonita – pretty, beautiful Que rico sabes – You taste so good Así - Like that

Can't believe I thought of this during family dinner time. I'm not seeing the pearly gates 🥲Also, first time writing smut despite reading it since a teenager lol. Miguel O'Hara, what have you done to me?!😭

[jane-alma]

Writing advice for new writers

Some things that I wished I had been told when I started writing <3

1. Read, read, read:

Immerse yourself in the works of established authors across various genres. Reading not only exposes you to different writing styles and techniques but also helps you understand the fundamentals of storytelling. It broadens your vocabulary, sparks your imagination, and inspires your own writing.

2. Write regularly:

Make writing a habit. Set aside dedicated time each day or week to write, even if it's just for a short period. Consistency is key to improving your skills and developing your unique voice. Practice, experiment, and don't be afraid to make mistakes – it's all part of the learning process.

3. Embrace the editing process:

Writing is rewriting. Understand that your first draft is just the beginning. Editing and revising are crucial steps that transform your work into its best version. Be open to constructive feedback, whether from friends, writing groups, or professionals. Embrace the opportunity to refine your ideas, strengthen your prose, and polish your storytelling.

4. Find your writing environment:

Discover the environment in which you feel most comfortable and creative. Experiment with different settings, and create a space that inspires and motivates you to write. Surround yourself with objects, images, or music that enhance your creativity.

5. Explore different genres and styles:

Don't limit yourself to a single genre or writing style. Experiment with different forms of writing – from short stories to poetry, fiction to non-fiction. Trying new genres and styles challenges you as a writer, expands your skills. I also find this really helpful If I feel stuck in a project. Whenever I feel really stuck, I like to open a new document, or even get a pen and some paper and just write something completely different. It might just be a silly little poem, or maybe I’ll just write down what I’ve been doing that day. Just something to get out of my head, and then I can get back to my project with a clearer mind.

6. Write what you love:

Write about topics that genuinely interest and excite you. When you're passionate about your subject matter, your enthusiasm will shine through in your writing. Whether it's fantasy, romance, history, or science fiction, let your love for the topic fuel your creativity and captivate your readers.

7. Trust your voice:

Each writer has a unique voice, perspective, and story to tell. Embrace your individuality and trust your instincts. Don't compare yourself to others or try to imitate someone else's style. Your voice is what sets you apart and makes your writing authentic.

8. Enjoy the process:

Above all, enjoy the process of writing. Writing is a creative outlet, a form of self-expression, and a journey of self-discovery. Embrace the ups and downs, the challenges and triumphs, and savor the joy of bringing your ideas to life through words.

And most importantly of all: Remember, every writer starts somewhere, and like any other craft, it takes time, practice and dedication. Happy writing y’all! <3

[cera-writes]

can you do a story gambit where reader is a mutant or just has the power to either travel through the multiverse or see into different universes and she’s in a relationship with remy and she sees that gambit and rogue are together in every universe except theirs and reader ignores him because she thinks that they should be together so basically some angst and shes comforted by remy maybe some smut? 🤗💕

A/N: thanks for requesting this! This was such an interesting prompt and I had fun writing it! Pairing: Remy LeBeau x F!Reader Tags: nsfw, angst, comfort/hurt, sweet reassuring smut

In this Universe

You stand in the dimly lit room, your eyes fixed on the swirling portal that connects to countless alternate realities. The air around you crackles with energy, a tangible reminder of the power coursing through your veins—the power to see and traverse the multiverse. Your partner, Remy LeBeau, stands beside you, his hand resting reassuringly on your shoulder. His eyes, though masked by the shadows, betray a concern that mirrors your own inner turmoil.

"Qu'est-ce qui te tracasse, chere?" Remy's voice is soft, tinged with his usual Creole accent that still managed to wrap around your heart like a warm and inviting embrace.

You hesitate, torn between sharing your recent discovery and the fear it might shatter the fragile peace you've built together. "I... I've been seeing things, Remy. In other universes."

His grip tightens slightly, encouraging you to continue. "Go on, tell Remy."

"In every universe I've seen, you and Rogue are... together. Always." The words hang heavy in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

Remy's expression remains calm, but you can sense the undercurrent of tension. "And what does dat mean fo' us here?"

You turn to face him, searching his eyes for any hint of what he might be feeling. "It means... maybe we're not meant to be together. Maybe our story was written for someone else."

A muscle ticks in his jaw, but his voice remains steady when he speaks. "So, you think we should jus' give up because some versions of us didn't make it work?"

The question stings, not because of its sharpness, but because of its accuracy. You sigh, looking back at the portal. "I don't know what to think anymore."

Remy steps closer, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze. "Listen to Remy, chere. Our love, it's real. It's ours. Not some borrowed fairytale from another world."

You want to believe him, to cling to the warmth of his words, but the images from those other universes keep flashing through your mind—Rogue and Gambit, laughing, fighting, loving. "What if we're just living out someone else's destiny?"

Remy shakes his head, his eyes burning with an intensity that surprises you. "No. Dis, us, it's ours to shape. Ours to fight for."

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, caught off guard by the depth of emotion in his response. "But how can we be sure?"

He brushes the tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle yet firm. "Cause I choose you, every day. And Gambit'll keep choosing you, no matter what those other worlds show."

His words resonate within you, stirring something deep and primal. "Remy..."

Before you can finish, he presses his lips to yours, a fierce declaration of intent that leaves no room for doubt. The kiss is passionate, desperate, as if he's trying to imprint himself upon you, to drown out the visions of other realities with the reality of his love.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming fast. "Let's make our own story, chere. One dat those other worlds will envy."

You nod, your resolve strengthening with each beat of your heart. "

"Please." You needed the distraction desperately to keep from coming apart at the seams. You needed him to ground you and make you really believe that this was your universe with him and that's all that mattered, otherwise, you don't think you could handle anymore of these visions.

"I'm right here, chere." He squeezed your hand.

Together, you turn back to the portal, hand in hand, ready to confront whatever challenges lie ahead, united in your decision to forge your own path, regardless of the echoes from parallel worlds.

You grip Remy's hand tightly as you step into the swirling portal, the sensation of being pulled apart and reassembled in a different reality washing over you like a tidal wave. The colors blur and merge, creating a kaleidoscope of visions that threaten to overwhelm your senses.

"Focus on me, chere," Remy's voice cuts through the chaos, steady and reassuring. You lock eyes with him, allowing his presence to anchor you as the world around you shifts and morphs.

Suddenly, the disorientation ceases, and you find yourselves standing in a lush, overgrown garden. The air is thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and the soft hum of insects fills the silence. You look around, recognizing this place—it's one of the alternate realities you've seen before, where Gambit and Rogue are deeply in love.

Remy seems to sense your unease. "Show Gambit what troubles you," he murmurs, leading you deeper into the garden.

As you walk, the scenery changes subtly, transforming into a scene from your visions. There, under a weeping willow, stands Gambit and Rogue, their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. Your hands start to shake as anxiety takes over again. The sight stings, but before you can turn away, Remy pulls you close.

"Look at dem, but see us," he whispers against your ear, his breath warm and comforting. "Feel how our hearts beat as one."

You close your eyes, focusing on the solidity of Remy's body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of his heart matching your own. When you open your eyes again, the vision of Gambit and Rogue fades, replaced by the vivid reality of Remy's intense gaze.

"I see only you," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

Remy smiles, a flicker of relief softening his features. "Good. Now, lemme show you why Gambit chose you."

He leads you to a secluded clearing, where the grass is soft and inviting. The sunlight filters through the leaves overhead, dappling the ground with golden light. Remy kneels, gently pulling you down with him.

"Here, in dis place dat isn't ours, we'll make it ours," he says, his hands tracing the curve of your waist. His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns brighter than any multiverse illusion.

You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips meet yours in a searing kiss that speaks of promises and possession. The world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a battle for dominance and surrender.

Remy's hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your body with a reverence that makes you arch into his touch. "You're beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, marking you as his. "Remy," you breathe, your need rising like a tide.

He looks up, his eyes dark with passion. "Say it again, chere. My name," he commands, his voice a low growl.

"Remy," you repeat, more urgently this time, your body aching for more.

With a groan, he presses you back against the grass, his body covering yours. The weight of him feels perfect, grounding you in this stolen moment of reality. It almost doesn't feel real. His kisses trail down your throat, his hands mapping your curves with possessive strokes.

"You're mine," he asserts, punctuating each word with a sharp nip to your skin. "In every universe, you're mine."

The intensity of his declaration sends a thrill through you, fueling your own hunger. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Prove it," you challenge, your voice husky with arousal.

Remy grins, a feral spark lighting his eyes. "With pleasure, ma chere."

He shifts, aligning himself with your core, and with one powerful thrust, he shears through your barriers, claiming you completely. You cry out, a mix of pain and ecstasy ripping through you as he fills you, joining your souls in a union that transcends the multiverse.

"Y-yes... yes!" you pant, clawing at his back, desperate to feel every part of him.

Remy moves inside you, his strokes deep and relentless, each thrust a testament to his devotion. "Look at me," he demands, forcing you to meet his gaze. "See only me, darlin'."

You do, your vision blurring with tears of joy as you drown in the crimson and black of his eyes. "Always," you promise, your voice breaking with emotion.

His pace quickens, driving you both towards the precipice. "Together," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "Forever."

With a final, powerful surge, he pushes you over the edge, your bodies convulsing in unison as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cling to each other, bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in sync.

"Ours," Remy breathes, collapsing beside you, his chest heaving with exertion.

You turn to face him, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. "Ours," you agree, sealing your pact with a tender kiss.

As you lie there, wrapped in each other's arms, the garden around you begins to fade, the portal calling you back to your own reality. But for now, you're content to stay lost in this stolen moment, secure in the knowledge that no matter the multiverse, your love will always find its way home.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Kira’s MK favs with a clingy S/O

A/N: Basically how the men would react to having a S/O who is completely fascinated by them and is kinda anxiously clingy. Is this too ooc and niche? Who cares…this is literally me.

Characters: Mk11 Kung Lao, MK11 Raiden, MK1 Johnny Cage

Warnings: none ur safe…for now hehe

Requests: always open 24/7

Masterlist

Kung Lao MK11

I can’t imagine him ever really minding you wanting to be around him 24/7. I mean like who wouldn’t want to be?? Lol. But I seriously feel like he actually enjoys being needed, especially by you.

He loves it most when you waddle behind him everywhere he goes and will hold his hand out behind him for you. The other way around is super cute too. You always get super excited going to the different markets and shops and end up pulling him around everywhere.

Will automatically pull you into his lap and cuddle you when you go to sit down somewhere. He knows that you’ll automatically ask after a few minutes of sitting next to him anyways.

You can’t tell me that kung lao doesn’t have the perfect back for piggybacking. Like you are just starfishing on his back all day because you don’t want to let go of the warm fuzzy feeling of his body. He’s soooo warm and cosy all of the time. It’s extremely soothing.

It’s quite sweet to have someone who is so enthralled by everything he does. From sitting on the sink counter and watching him while he gets ready for the day to cheering him on as he trains. There’s never a moment that you ever seem to be bored and uninterested with him and that’s something he’s been craving for yearrrsss, to be appreciated.

Gladly will answer each and every question you have about his hat, culture, life, fighting style…ect.

Speaking of his hat, I feel like Kung Lao would design a similar version of his…one that is safe of course for you to wear when you miss him. Or if you are just fascinated by it.

If you’re super anxious or nervous about him leaving to go handle things, don’t worry as he’s amazing at reassurance and building you confidence that he will be back soon. He will always make time to send you handwritten letters or small gifts when he’s away for long extended periods.

If you keep a little journal about him and all the little facts he tells you, he will be so honored. I can imagine him finding it and writing little cute notes in it or answering any questions you may have written down.

He has gotten you a cute little king Lao bear fully decked out in a mini version of his gear…bonus points if he put a little sound bite in there too for you so you can always hear his voice.

I like to think that kung lao enjoys braiding/maintaining your hair as an intimate time for you. Especially if you’re anxious about him being gone all day. He’ll massage your scalp as well and when he’s finished you’re already asleep so he takes you to bed.

“Hmm..goodnight my sweet lotus.”~

Johnny Cage MK1

Oh he’s used to fans and groupies, your little fascination isn’t weird compared to what he’s dealt with. Also he’s just as much of a fan of himself as you are lolllll.

It’s honestly so cute how much of a fan you are of him, his other partners were annoyed with the whole actor thing after a month. He likes being able to talk about his movies and career adventures over and over again. Johnny loves to tell the same stories a thousand times and you’re always just as eager and excited to hear them like it’s your first.

Can’t help but to spill all his upcoming movie details whenever you ask him about it.

He sees you as an adorable small puppy and can’t help but to be curious about everything. He has gotten special books and photo albums made just for you that are a compilation of his entire career so far and life.

Anytime he gets a new headshot taken, he gets a second copy for you to add to your collection. Speaking of your collection, it’s so freaking big. Like pretty much everything that has ever been produced with his name on it, you own. His dearest career possessions are also yours to take care of, except for his awards. Sorry babe, no one is allowed to touch them outside of him.

His favorite thing is when you hold onto his arm like he’s going to fly away. Haha he promises he isn’t going anywhere.

He’s just as outwardly and intensely affectionate as you are so you having at least one hand on him at all times isn’t a biggie because if you aren’t touching him…he’s certainly touching you.

He allows you to wash his hair for him while he’s showering so you have something to do instead of waiting outside for him.

You have complete freedom to choose any of his clothes from his closets to wear. They all already smell just like him. When his maid does his laundry, she is instructed to spray everything with his cologne.

Will never deny taking a photo with you or posing with random objects and backgrounds that you have interest in for your album.

Lowkey I believe he’ll stay on FaceTime all day with you and keep his phone hidden in his pocket while filming just so you won’t be lonely.

He definitely will take you on set from time to time and steal props you want. Doesn’t matter anyways they all work for him and can make another one in an instant.

He’s definitely lost you at a big premier party and had some rando return you back to him with your eyes all watery.

“Is this yours, Johnny?”

Raiden MK11

Is kind of confused why you need to be near him 24/7… like don’t you want to go do other things instead of watching him work?

You definitely cried before and asked him if he still loved you because he seemed to be bothered by your constant presence.

He’s not he’s just so out of the loop with human things but he eventually stops questioning it after you explain it to him and he sees how sad you are over it.

I’m not sure if he’d be into holding your hand all day or you clinging to his arm, I think he’ll settle for you holding onto his garments instead. They’re already super loose and baggy so it’s not really disturbing him. Plus it’s easier for him to get used to than just diving right in.

I don’t think Raiden would mind the questions you ask him as long as it’s not while he’s busy. He’ll probably question why you’re so interested in him and these things but ultimately he’ll answer them .

Will also bring you scrolls about different questions you have and go through them with you.

You following closely behind him doesn’t really phase him too much, obviously there are times you can’t go into a certain room with him because of private matters but you’re allowed to wait outside of the door. He likes to know where you are at all times just in case he needs to protect you and you always being nearby soothes him.

He doesn’t have much memorabilia to give to you but I can imagine Raiden picking flowers or pretty rocks for you while he’s outside. He knows it brings you much joy to receive things from him, especially things you can fiddle with while you’re anxious.

Is very serious about the use of his powers but he’ll use his electricity more often for you to see. Sometimes even when he’s gone he’ll even cause lightning in the sky to let you know he’s thinking about you in hopes it’ll give you some comfort.

Speaking of electricity, he most enjoys your questions about it. He knows everything there is to know about storms and his power/where it comes from.

Doesn’t really understand the purpose of cuddling or really how to do it but I think he’d let you sit in his lap while he’s working on something. You can put your head in the crook of his neck and rest. He quite likes feeling the warmth of your breaths on his neck. Sometimes he’ll even explain to you what he’s doing and how everything works.

He doesn’t often sleep and knows you refuse to go to bed without him so he’ll pull up a chair next to you and watch you until you are in deep slumber. This is the time he’ll allow you to hold his hand. It’s cute seeing you like this.

I think people slightly tease him about your clinginess and childish like behavior but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Y/N enjoys being around me because I make her feel protected…is that a fault?”