#she defines him as he defines her. they share the same blood. and one comes from the rib of the other. so on and so forth

[worshipfulmercy]

11amy are seriously like a play on adam and eve to me. in the sense that amy pond dreamt up & created the doctor and that will always be integral to who he is.

[ackermanrage]

Hey there! Could i request a levi x fem reader who has a similar muscular but still feminine physique like how annie and mikasa do (we love muscular women in this house, okay) and one day, while reader is sparring with a scout she’s training or something, levi sees how muscular reader’s arms are and he just can’t stop staring at them until hange is like what are you staring at and looks in the direction levi’s looking at. she begins teasing him, which ofc he gets defensive and sassy. then another time, levi accidentally walks in on reader just putting her shirt on and he sees her abs and gets all flustered.

ᴍᴜꜱᴄʟᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ

levi ackerman x muscular fem!reader warnings: none :) an: hehe i hope you like it~ alsooo should I start a taglist?? 🤨

You weren’t showing off.

It wasn’t your style — not really. You were a captain, same rank as Levi, and you earned it. Through grit. Through blood. Through the exact kind of discipline that left your body carved sharp and lean like it had been forged, not built.

You were leading sparring drills that morning — a group of younger scouts lined up in pairs while you moved through them, correcting footwork and intercepting poorly-timed swings with ease. You didn’t raise your voice. You didn’t have to. They listened.

And if your sleeves were rolled high to beat the heat — if your arms flexed visibly every time you moved or held a stance — it wasn’t on purpose.

Levi tried to tell himself that, anyway.

He leaned against the wooden fence bordering the training field, arms crossed, watching. He wasn’t supervising. He hadn’t been asked to come. He was “passing through.” That’s what he’d told himself when his boots had carried him here instead of straight to his office like he’d planned.

And now he was staring.

He didn’t mean to be. He’d watched you fight plenty of times before. You were good. But this—

This was different.

It was the casual strength in the way you moved. How easily you caught a scout’s incoming hit and twisted it off-balance without effort. How your biceps tensed and relaxed, your abs catching sunlight through the thin fabric of your shirt. How you’d crouch low and the hard lines of your back would show through the fabric with every motion.

God. Your back.

Levi blinked. His eyes were still on you when Hange appeared beside him, holding a half-empty cup of coffee and a look that said they’d seen everything.

“Well well well,” they hummed. “What do we have here?”

He didn’t look away. “What the hell do you want.”

“I was gonna ask you that. You’ve been standing here for a suspiciously long time, Captain.”

Levi scowled. “Watching her train.”

Hange tilted their head. “Watching her triceps, you mean?”

His jaw twitched.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Hange teased. “She is built like a titan-slaying goddess. I’d stare too if I thought I had a shot.”

“I’m analyzing her form.”

Hange gave him a look so smug it should’ve been illegal. “Mmm. ‘Analyzing her form.’ Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Levi turned away slightly, jaw locked.

Hange leaned in closer like a child discovering a secret. “You’ve got a thing for strong girls, huh? Didn’t peg you for the type, but I see it now.”

He glared at them. “I hope you choke on your coffee.”

“Oh, I might,” they grinned, turning their attention back to you. “Do you think her abs look like that all the time, or just after training—?”

“Hange.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Shut. Up.”

But when you crouched to pin a scout with one arm behind his back, Levi’s eyes dropped straight to your bicep again. Tight. Defined. Goddamn marble under skin.

And unfortunately for him — Hange noticed everything.

- - -

A few days later, it got worse.

He was looking for you — okay, technically, he was looking for a supply requisition that only you could sign off on. He didn’t plan to catch you mid-change.

You were in the shared barracks hallway, door half-open, shirt halfway over your head when he walked in. Just your sports bra on underneath. Damp from post-training sweat, your skin warm and flushed, mid-motion.

You froze when you saw him. One arm raised above your head, shirt still caught around your elbows. His eyes locked on the cut of your abdomen.

Sharp.

Defined.

Hard lines down your stomach, a visible V dipping under your belt. You were the kind of woman people either feared or worshipped — probably both.

Levi’s throat went dry. Completely blank. He didn’t blink.

“…Captain Ackerman,” you said calmly, tugging the shirt the rest of the way down. “Something urgent?”

“I—” he stepped back like the door had physically shoved him. “Didn’t realize this room was occupied.”

You arched a brow, still calm. “You need something?”

He shook his head like trying to dislodge a thought. “No. I’ll come back.”

He closed the door fast and with much more force than necessary. You heard his boots storm off down the hallway, stiff and rapid.

You smiled a little to yourself.

- - -

At dinner that night, Hange slid into the seat beside him with a wicked smile.

“So. Which was it this time?” they whispered. “Arms again? Or abs?”

Levi didn’t respond.

Hange grinned wider. “You’ve been distracted all day. It’s honestly adorable.”

“I’m not distracted.”

“Mhmm.” They leaned in close, lowering their voice. “You know, I heard she benched a fully grown man once during training. Just… one-armed tossed him across the mat. Isn’t that hot?”

Levi stared straight ahead.

“…I hate you.”

“Oh, I know.”

- - -

It didn’t stop.

Because then you started to go to the gym before dinner.

You weren’t even trying to be seen — it was just routine. You liked the quiet, liked getting it done before the mess hall filled. But the gym was outside the barracks, near the path that led to Levi’s quarters.

And one evening, as the sky was just turning pink, Levi rounded the corner and saw you there.

Back to him.

Sleeveless shirt.

Hands gripping the bar, core engaged, back muscles working under skin as you pulled yourself up with clean, smooth force.

You didn’t see him at first. You were focused. Breathing even. Legs crossed at the ankle, each rep strong and controlled.

He stopped walking.

Watched.

Just for a second.

“Captain Ackerman.”

You’d noticed.

You dropped to the ground in one silent motion and turned, wiping a bit of sweat from your temple with your wrist. Your expression was unreadable — as usual — but your brow lifted slightly. A flicker of amusement passed your face.

“You go to the gym?”

“So do you,” he muttered.

“Routine.” You shrugged. “Keeps me sharp.”

Levi’s eyes dropped briefly — involuntarily — to your shoulders. The slope of them, the carved definition. Then quickly back to your face.

You didn’t comment, but the corner of your mouth curved. Just a bit. Almost not a smile. More like a flicker of understanding.

“Need something?” you asked, voice calm, cool, neutral.

His gaze darted away. “Nothing important.”

And he walked away.

Fast.

You let your smirk linger once his back was turned.

- - -

It became a game, without either of you ever calling it that.

You didn’t flaunt. You didn’t flirt. You just existed — Quietly intense. Respected. Controlled.

But now, you’d catch him glancing at your hands when you wrapped them for sparring.

You’d feel his gaze on your shoulders when you tied your jacket around your waist.

You’d see how his jaw clenched when someone else — a scout, a lieutenant — complimented your technique.

And every time he got flustered, or snapped, or tried to play it cool, Hange would be there, lurking, delighted.

“You know,” they said once, pulling up beside you while Levi stood at a distance, arms crossed, pretending not to watch, “I think you might actually be driving him insane.”

You gave a light shrug. “Am I?”

Hange stared at you. “You’re terrifying.”

“Thank you.”

- - -

One night, Levi found himself outside the mess hall as most of the squad cleared out. He didn’t mean to wait. He wasn’t waiting. But he lingered.

And then you walked out, jacket slung over your shoulder, the collar of your shirt damp with sweat. Still fresh from the evening drills.

“Captain,” you said, nodding in greeting.

“Captain,” he returned.

There was a pause.

Then you tilted your head slightly. “You’ve been looking lately.”

Levi blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been looking,” you repeated calmly. “A lot.”

His mouth opened—then closed. Then opened again.

“I wasn’t— I’m not—”

You didn’t smirk. You didn’t tease. You just stepped closer, and let your eyes drop deliberately to his arms, then his chest, then back to his face.

“You could always ask to spar if you’re curious.

Levi’s entire brain stopped functioning.

“…Tch.”

You walked past him without another word, your shoulder brushing his lightly.

And behind you, Levi stood there in stunned silence, ears burning, arms crossed tighter than ever—trying to remember how to breathe.

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Creature Feature.

Yandere: Yandere!Miguel x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Mentions of Non-Human Anatomy, Obsessive Behavior, and Rough Sex.

You weren’t sure when you decided the man living in your house and fathering your daughter was not your husband.

It might’ve been last week, when you caught him sitting in his unlit study hours after he’d promised he would come to bed, his eyes glowing vaguely red as he fiddled with a device you didn’t recognize with tools you’d never seen him use, before. It might’ve been two months ago, when Gabi’s teacher called you into a conference to discuss your daughter’s worrying new obsession with spiders and superheroes and the holographic women that, if what she’s been telling her classmates is to be believed, read her bedtime stories when her father wasn’t home. It might’ve been that first night – when he came home from work hours late and doting a black eye, missing the glasses you would never see him wear again and too shell-shocked to do anything more than stand in Gabi’s doorway and let you fuss over him. You’d done everything you should’ve, kissed his cheek and begged him to tell you what happened and pretended to believe him when he said there’d been an accident at the research facility, but it hadn’t felt right, hadn’t felt like it would’ve if you’d been taking care of the man you’d loved for most of your life.

And, when he snapped out of his daze long enough to drag you into his arms and pull you into a kiss more forceful than anything your Miguel would’ve been capable of, you couldn’t help but shudder, but draw back when his hands started to drift lower and he proved to share your husband’s instability, if only that. That was what made the final decision, really. He wasn’t your husband, but it wasn’t as if you couldn’t see a glimmer of something you recognized when you looked at him.

Or, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t normally see a glimmer of something you recognized.

Right now, you knew the man on top of you was a total stranger.

He wasn’t Miguel. He couldn’t have been. Miguel would never hold you so tightly, never dig his fingertips so deeply into your waist, never be so determined to keep you so suffocatingly close to him. His nails would never be so sharp – pointed claws piercing your skin, drawing blood that dripped down your sides and pooled on the sheets beneath you – and he’d never been so massive, either, bulging muscle lining his arms, his defined chest heaving with every ragged breath and strangled moan, both a far cry from the borderline malnourished lab-rat that was the love of your life. His face was malformed, misshapen; curved fangs poking past his parted lips, distorting the shape of his mouth and leaking drops of luminescent venom that fell onto your chest and coated everything they touched with the same numbing, buzzing static. Even his eyes – the eyes you’d always loved, the eyes you would’ve known if nothing else of your husband remained – were gone, drowned out by the shadows cast over his face, the darkness you couldn’t seem to shake when he was around. What little remained was tinted red and bloodshot, pushed miles past the point of remote familiarity. You’d let this stranger, this thing into your home. You’d let him drive your daughter to school, look after her when she was sick.

You hadn’t let him fuck you, but he was fucking you, and you hadn’t been able to stop him.

The sounds he was making were awful, too. Your husband had been adorably shy, prone to biting his tongue and repeating your name over and over and over again, as if the feeling of your cunt milking his cock made it impossible to remember anything else. This Miguel was, in comparison, couldn’t seem to stop making those terrible noises; throaty grunts and airy moans spilling past his lips, only partially muffled by your skin as he buried his face in the curve of your throat. One of his hands fell to your thighs, curling around it and forcing your knee against your chest, making it so he could force himself that much deeper into you, so he could thrust into you with that much more raw strength. You were glad Gabi was staying at a friend’s, tonight. Her room was next to yours, and you would’ve been surprised if there was an apartment in your building that couldn’t hear your headboard beating against the wall, couldn’t make out every pitchy rise and fall of the drawn-out whine choked out of some deep, vulnerable pocket in your chest as he buried those pointed fangs in the crook of your neck.

You felt him force something into you, your vision blurring as the blood seemed to smolder in your veins. Suddenly, the feeling of his pelvic bone catching on your clit was unbearable, your own slick now burning as it dripped down your thighs. It wasn’t a whine you let out, this time, but a sob – ragged and broken, hitched as it emerged from uncooperative lungs and further fractured by the way his chest pressed into yours as he straightened his back, as he drew back just far enough to smile down at you, to let those cruel eyes go soft and half-lidded. “Oh, mi amor…” You didn’t notice you were crying until his hand cupped your face, until his thumb swiped over your cheek and came away wet. “I could fall in love with you all over again.”

Your husband would never say that. Your husband would never imply that there ever could’ve been a world where he wasn’t in love with you, that there ever could’ve been a life he would’ve led that wouldn’t feature you at its center. Your husband would never grow fangs and claws and force himself on you with all the care and tenderness of a rampaging monster. Your husband—

Your husband wasn’t here.

Your husband wasn’t here, and it didn’t seem like he’d ever be coming back.

You curled into yourself, sobbing unabashedly. Miguel (or, whatever the creature on top of you called himself) welcomed your devastation with open arms, leaning back and pulling you onto his lap, bouncing you on his cock as a low, reverberating purr sparked in the base of his throat and filled what little empty space was left in your bedroom. He watched on as you scrambled to wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a breathy laugh as he nuzzled into the dip of your shoulder and went on. “Fucking beautiful,” he groaned, his cock practically throbbing against the walls of your cunt. “I don’t know how I got by without you. I’m never—” A fractured moan, the tips of pointed teeth ghosting over your jugular. “I’m never letting you leave my side again.”

It was a promise, a threat, spoken with enough dedication to send a cold shudder up the length of your spine. You only realized your mouth had fallen open when you heard your own voice, distant and distraught. “Who... who are you?”

Some part of you expected him to devolve, for what was left of his disguise to fall away and reveal rows upon rows of jagged teeth that would tear into your skin, countless eyes that would stare you down like some trapped insect, half a dozen more arms and hands he could use to grab and grope and pull and maim. You expected blood to spill by the bucketful, flesh to melt away like candlewax, rough edges and broken anatomy and all the terrible monstrosities that had to be lingering inside of a creature like him. You expected all the worst things you could possibly imagine, but in the end, what you got was so, so much worse.

His manic grin melted into a softened smile. He pressed another open-mouthed kiss into your throat before pulling away, staring down at you with more love than anything human could’ve spared. “I’m your husband.” And then, again, as he settled so deeply inside of you, you could only pray you’d be able to forget the feeling of him, one day.

“I’m yours.”

[poisonlove]

Hello! Not sure if you’re taking requests or not. I was wondering if you could do afab reader x Wednesday aaand Wednesday’s twin brother? Doesn’t have to be smut or can be, no preference. But Wednesday and her twin are immediately obsessed with reader, brother maybe having a more Gomez (Raul Julia) like way of showing his love (Cara Mia😍) and reading falling for both of them?! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

ADDAMS'S TRAP | w.a

Pairing: wednesday Addams X William Addams X reader

"Come on, Wed! It's just a small favor," William, Wednesday's twin brother, drawled. Despite sharing the same last name, the two were like day and night. William was outgoing, charismatic, always at the center of attention. Wednesday, on the other hand... well, she was just Wednesday. If it weren't for their dark eyes, black hair and pale skin, no one would ever suspect they were related.

And yet, Addams blood ran through both of them.

Wednesday rolled her eyes with disdain and turned to face her brother. William stopped abruptly, flashing a sly smile. She stared at him with her usual coldness, sizing him up from head to toe.

"I'm not letting you copy my notes," she said in her characteristic monotone, her icy eyes challenging William's.

William stepped closer, pulling out his best puppy dog eyes. He always hoped it would soften her, as if she was susceptible to such nonsense.

"It's not working," Wednesday replied, predictably bored.

Her brother was smart, she acknowledged that. Yet, she couldn't understand how he could be so annoyingly lazy. She bit her lip slightly, her gaze unwavering as she regarded him with detachment. William, on the other hand, straightened his posture, his shoulders rising in resignation. His eyes, however, sparkled with disappointment that Wednesday didn't even bother to consider.

This, she thought, was the natural consequence of spending nights chasing fleeting pleasures and arriving late to class.

"That's why you have no friends," William muttered casually, rubbing his tired eyes to shake off the sleep. The dark circles under his eyes were a clear sign of a sleepless night.

"And you know perfectly well that I don’t care," Wednesday snapped, as cutting as ever. "I can barely tolerate Enid’s presence." Her jaw tightened. Just that morning, Enid had persistently asked her to accompany her on a tour of the school for a new student—a request Wednesday had quickly dealt with by coldly saying, "get out of my room."

"Wow," William gasped, his mouth falling open in mock surprise. His gaze was now locked onto something behind Wednesday. Curiously, she slowly turned just in time to see Enid approaching with the new girl. But William’s eyes were glued to the newcomer.

Well, Wednesday thought, I couldn’t have expected anything less.

The girl had something... intriguing about her. Wednesday wasn’t sure what adjective to use. Her y/c-colored hair and y/c-colored eyes naturally drew attention, almost effortlessly. She was slender, tall, with a defined jawline and a radiant smile that strangely irritated Wednesday.

"She's hot," William muttered, dumbfounded.

Wednesday sighed, rolling her eyes at her brother’s comment. Superficial, as always. Enid waved enthusiastically at them, walking toward them with the new arrival. William straightened up, adjusted his tie, and flashed his charming smile as he prepared to greet the two girls.

"Don't make me look bad," William hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes glued to the pair.

"Screw you," Wednesday retorted, not looking up from the book she was holding, completely dismissing him.

"Hi, Enid," William greeted warmly, leaning in slightly to kiss the blonde’s cheek.

"Hi, Will!" Enid replied, blushing and smiling broadly.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" William asked with his usual charming grin.

"Oh! This is y/n," Enid said with enthusiasm.

William gently took y/n’s hand, brushing it with a kiss on the back. "Welcome to Nevermore Academy," he murmured with an irresistible smile. Y/n looked at him, confused and slightly embarrassed, but returned a shy smile.

"And this is Wednesday," Enid continued, gesturing towards her roommate with a hint of hesitation. "My roommate."

Wednesday barely lifted her gaze from the book, meeting y/n’s eyes. "Wednesday," she said in her typical frosty tone.

"Y/n," the girl responded sweetly.

As soon as their eyes met, Wednesday felt a strange sensation ripple through her body, like tiny spiders weaving webs in her stomach. She was confused but also strangely drawn to the girl.

She pressed her lips together and, without another word, turned her back and walked into the school, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling creeping over her. William smiled awkwardly, apologizing in a flat tone: "Don’t mind her, my sister’s always like that."

Y/n didn’t respond immediately, and Wednesday disappeared into the shadows of the building, attempting to ignore the slight quickening of her heartbeat.

(...)

In the following weeks, y/n quickly found herself caught up in the subtle conflict between the Addams twins. Surprisingly, Wednesday had begun spending more time with her, either in the library or during fleeting moments between classes. William, on the other hand, continued to court her openly, with his usual charm.

Y/n felt flattered, but there was something about Wednesday's cold, penetrating attention that left her perplexed... and perhaps a little captivated.

Each day, William seemed more determined to court y/n, showing off his usual array of gallantries. If he wasn’t reciting poetic verses under the trees, he was showering her with attention in a theatrical way that Wednesday found unbearable.

One morning, sitting in the courtyard with a gothic novel in hand, Wednesday watched her brother from a distance. As usual, he was playing the role of the "charming gentleman." He had just handed y/n a black rose, and she smiled, shy but visibly flattered. William, with that sparkling gaze, so similar to Gomez’s when he looked at Morticia, gazed at her as if she were the only person in the world.

Wednesday felt a tightness in her stomach. An unusual annoyance she couldn't quite explain. It wasn’t jealousy, she thought. She wasn’t the type to feel such trivial emotions. And yet, every time she saw them together, something stirred inside her, a sort of cold, sharp irritation.

Next to her, Enid watched the scene with a mischievous smile. She knew Wednesday well enough to understand what was happening, even if her friend would never admit such a thing.

"You're jealous," Enid said with amusement, glancing at her.

Wednesday slowly turned toward her, her face as impassive as ever. "Don’t be ridiculous," she replied, her voice sharp as a knife. "Jealousy is an emotion devoid of logic. And I don’t feel irrational emotions."

Enid giggled. "Sure, sure. So why are you gripping that book like you want to throw it at your brother?"

Wednesday didn’t even bother to respond. Her dark eyes returned to watching the scene from a distance: William and y/n were talking, and he gently touched her hand, laughing at something she had just said. The sight of that gesture was enough to make Wednesday’s jaw tighten.

Later, as she walked down the shadowy halls of Nevermore, Wednesday decided to act. She couldn’t continue allowing her brother to monopolize y/n’s attention. Not because she was jealous, of course. It was simply a matter of control. Or so she told herself.

When she crossed paths with y/n near the library, alone for the first time in days, Wednesday decided to put her plan into action. She approached her silently, like a shadow, and stopped in front of her.

"Y/n," she called, her voice low and monotone.

The girl turned, surprised to see her. "Wednesday! Hi... is everything okay?"

Wednesday observed her for a moment, her dark eyes cold and impenetrable. "Tomorrow night. We don’t have classes. Come with me to the cemetery," she said, as if she were suggesting something completely normal.

Y/n blinked, puzzled. "The... cemetery?"

"I need to collect herbs for research," Wednesday explained in her usual detached tone. "Your presence will be... tolerated."

The truth was that Wednesday had no need to collect herbs. Her research had been completed days ago, but the mere thought of y/n spending another evening in William’s company had become unbearable. She needed to pull her away from that dynamic. And obviously, there was no other reason but logic and practicality.

"It will be useful," she added, further justifying her request, even though a small part of her wondered why she was doing this at all.

Y/n looked at her for a moment, then smiled sweetly. "I like the idea. Sure, why not?"

Wednesday’s heart, which she would never admit to feeling such a frivolous emotion, gave a slight jump. She nodded with her usual coldness, satisfied that she had gotten what she wanted. She was about to turn when y/n added, in a casual tone, "It'll be nice to spend time just the two of us."

Wednesday froze for a moment, almost stumbling over her own feet. She wasn’t used to hearing such words. She wasn’t used to spending "pleasant time" with anyone. And the idea that y/n might actually want to be with her alone confused her more than she was willing to admit.

With a brief nod, she turned and walked away down the hall, disappearing into the shadows. Her heart, despite everything, seemed to be beating harder than usual, though she would never, ever let anyone know it.

[love-that-we-were-in]

indelible scars, pivotal marks

pairing: luke castellan x implied apollo!reader

summary: you might be the only person who actually knows luke castellan. you don't think anyone else is willing to try.

a/n: what if i told you i got yelled at a lot after writing this. enjoy! oh this is also my first x reader in the 5 years i've been writing who cheered. have fun !

Luke is fourteen the first time he can remember sleeping through the night. He’s barely been at Camp Half-Blood for three hours, skin still splotched purple and blue, Thalia’s yells echoing in his skull. There’s no silence, a steady hum of nature that’s leveled by the voices of people he doesn’t know, and he knows he shouldn’t sleep. They’ve lost Thalia, left her just beyond the borders of an unknown place, and it’s a risk to welcome the flimsy pillow they gave him. He does it anyway, eyes closing to the sound of Annabeth’s soft breaths. 

The respite lasts one night.

By morning, he’s recounted the last five years more than he ever wanted to. Annabeth clings to him then, a known comfort. She knows the broad strokes of the story, could recount them herself, but there’s gaps from before her time, and there’s things Thalia made him swear not to tell. If she notices, she doesn’t comment, just keeps her fingers close to her side. He knows that’s where she keeps her dagger - he wonders if Chiron can tell as well.

Chiron brings them to Thalia, explains what happened and how lucky it is. Luke looks at the tree, the first time Thalia has stood taller than him since they met - something she always swore she would do one day - and leans back against it as Annabeth sobs into his shoulder. 

Mr D sends Annabeth to the Athena cabin before lunch. Luke doesn’t need to be told to make his way to Cabin 11. He knows who his father is. His backpack is left at the base of a bed in the far corner of the room, a group of boys gathered around the area turning to watch him the second he walks in. They move away but they don’t stop their stares.

Sleep doesn’t come as easily to him that night.

*

You meet Luke Castellan when you’re fifteen, standing on the edge of the lake as a golden sun rises in the horizon. It’s your first morning at camp, your first morning admiring the sunrise in months, and you think you could find a home here. Within the hour, you’re sure the calm won’t be the same – too many kids in the same space, swords and satyrs and strawberries guiding the day along – but for now there’s sunlight. 

“Breakfast isn’t for two more hours,” someone says from behind you. It should be scarier than it is, put you on high alert with the way he creeps into the space without a sound. “Just in case someone forgot to mention that.”

He’s pretty. Strong chin, dark eyes. On most people you’ve met, that’s where pretty ends. Not him. There’s this way he stands in your periphery; comfortable in his worn camp t-shirt, like he was made to live in it, to have it define him for an eternity. Very few people are pretty in a way that speaks of forever.

“I like to watch the sunrise.” 

He hums. “I’m Luke.”

He waits, steps away, until you offer him a seat beside you on the grass. It was something you were told once, an eclectic art teacher draped in shawls and chunky jewelry, how the sun is only as beautiful as it is when shared with another. As Luke sits next to you, you enjoy the quiet you’re positive isn’t built to last.

*

Luke becomes a counselor that summer. Everyone saw it coming, the way he’s known to everyone and not just the Hermes kids. Whispers of a legacy, of a potential legend in the making, followed him already, two years at camp creating grand ideas for his future – counselor status just helps to further them. It’s not that big of a deal normally. It’s potentially defining when you’re the best swordsman in almost three hundred years.

You find him on his way back from the Big House that evening, heading in no particular direction but with a clear idea of where he doesn’t want to be. It’s something you’ve learnt to read in the last few weeks, the way Luke fluctuates. How he dips in and out of personas as if it’s possible to switch them out. It comes with renown, you suppose. 

“Counselor Castellan, is it?” 

He smiles something bitter. “So they tell me.”

Without hesitation, you take hold of his hand. It’s warmer than yours and you feel the difference in your bloodstream. Luke doesn’t look at you, doesn’t comment, and you lead him away from the cabins and down to the lake. 

There’s maybe an hour until sunset. You’re almost attuned to it now, mornings spent watching it with rapt attention. Luke normally joins you, sword dropped between you. Some mornings, the thud of metal onto stone is the only reason you know he’s arrived, still so silent in his arrival that you wonder if it’s on purpose. 

“Does it make you anxious?” You ask when the silence stretches on for too long, when Luke stares unblinkingly at the horizon for longer than he should. He blinks, irises shifting from a glassy bronze and back to muted brown as the film clears. “Did they even ask if it was something you wanted?” 

He scoffs and you wonder if this is where everything changes. Luke always has things he wants to say, balancing on the tip of his tongue until he figures out how to swallow them down and burn them. It’s like you can see it play out in real time, his jaw shifting, arm tensing.

“Mr D told me it was a great honor. Chiron told me it was long overdue.” 

“You weren’t given a chance to say no.”

It’s a pattern you’ve noticed, not just within camp but with all the Gods. Clarisse was sent a spear with no note, but everyone knew who had sent it. Annabeth’s hat was exactly the same. Gifts. All gifts. No receipts or return addresses provided. Life at camp was something to be grateful for, always, considering the alternative most of you had already been forced to live. To comment on it would make you an enemy of those too powerful to consider.

Looking at the tense set of Luke’s shoulders, you kind of want to say it anyway.

“I’m about to have all the glory Camp Half-Blood could offer me,” Luke says and the sun begins to dip below the surface of the lake. His palm is warm in yours again. “Why would I complain?”

*

There’s a flurry of new arrivals no one anticipated the next summer They come in pairs, mostly, with the odd trio. Always one unclaimed within the group. Always one who gets marched to Cabin 11 in the middle of the night, sometimes after hours of questioning.

You know the nights that it’s happened, taking in the way Luke’s movements are less sharp, the way he breathes more shallowly. A conservation of energy. It doesn’t affect you much until it does, the sharp sting of Luke’s sword on your arm as he loses his footing, turns too suddenly at the sound of your footsteps. 

“This is insane,” you say as you press your shirt into the cut. It’s not bad, something that will heal quickly and fade into nothingness, but Luke locks his gaze on the red dotting your skin as if he doesn’t understand how it got there. “They can’t keep waking you up in the middle of the night for this.”

“The only other place they can go is the med bay and none of them have been beaten up badly enough to be worth waking an Apollo kid.”

“I’ve seen some of the kids when they’ve gotten here, Luke,” you mutter, shirt hem dropping as the wound stops bleeding. You glance up at him. “They could do with being patched up.” 

He sinks down to the floor. You stay on your feet. “This is what I signed up for when I took the position.”

There’s this way Luke’s voice gets sometimes, sharp and low and just a little spiteful. A build-up of years with little mercy granted. That’s how it is now, speaking through clenched teeth, completely biting back the vitriol and pretending there’s no heat to his words. 

He’s always been pretty in the sunrise, from the day you met, but you think he might be prettiest right now – lying to himself more than he can lie to you in the moments before there’s any sunlight at all. When you would let darkness spill into itself, Luke forces light to filter in. If you caught him at the darkest hour, you wonder if that would remain.

Taking in the way he digs his nail into the fabric of his pants, you doubt even he would know how to stop himself then. 

*

You aren’t chosen for Luke’s quest. He finds you after the ceremony, face pulled taut and bag thrown over his shoulder already. There’s no regret in his eyes, no determination either. You stand straighter when you hear him approach, grateful that he cared enough not to take you by surprise for once. 

“Don’t be mad at me.” 

“Why would I be mad?” You say. It’s disingenuous to your own ears, the way it pitches, so you fold your arms across your chest. “Chris and Ethan will be great questmates. A band of brothers.”

Luke swallows. “Is that really what you think this is? That I wanted to make my quest a guys trip?”

“I don’t think anything of it, Luke.” 

In the middle of the day, you can see him clearest. See the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood the way everyone else does. In broad daylight, there’s few things more noticeable on Luke Castellan. The slope of his nose, the straightness of his back, the comfortable weight of his sword on his hip – almost a tether to who he proclaims himself to be. It’s your least favorite version of him.

“I would’ve chosen you. In a heartbeat, I would’ve chosen you,” he says, brown eyes shifting from dim to desperate in moments. A plea to be heard. You know you’re the only one to ever truly listen when he speaks.

“Doesn’t really seem that way.”

“I just needed a reason to come back when it’s over.”

It stills the air around you. The words tangle themselves together in your brain, drown out the archers in the distance, the birds overhead. They echo and twist and they maintain their tone, the low pitch Luke uses when he’s decided to say something he doesn’t want to be heard. They bury themselves in the corner with the other times he’s used it, forever ingrained, and you don’t know what to make of them. How to define them at all.

He waits, gaze firm, until you nod slightly. You keep your chin low, determined to give little satisfaction to the situation. To Hermes giving Luke a reused quest, to the possibility of losing him because you aren’t there. It curdles deep in your gut, refusing to remain unknown.

There’s a moment where Luke hesitates, his hand twitching slightly, arm moving minutely higher from where it hangs down by his waist. Instead, his fist clenches and he exhales long and low. 

“Promise to be here when I get back?” 

“I’ll be really annoyed if you’re not the one knocking on my cabin door.”

He turns back to face you after he joins Chris and Ethan at the border. They’re all capable, with a history of working together. They’ll succeed, return to praise and glory and everything they deserve to have. The sun beats down on Luke as he nods goodbye and you wonder if it shines on anyone else at all.

*

The scar becomes a part of him. 

It fades into his skin with time, going from raised and rotten to a streak of pale across his cheek. You overhear some of the Ares kids praising it as symbolic of his win, a prize of sorts, and some of the Aphrodite kids saying it makes him more appealing, makes him look stronger. You’re not sure what you think of it, tracing it with gentle fingers as it heals. 

It becomes a habit, running a knuckle down Luke’s cheek each morning. Feeling where the skin tied itself back together. He never comments. You want to ask if he minds, that you’ll stop if it’s too much. The first few times you did it, in the days right after his return, he had flinched, features pinching together. Your hand had dropped, all too aware of the matted skin, how it probably still ached but Luke had taken your hand and placed it back where it had been. 

His scar becomes a statement, a badge of skill that everyone at camp can recognise. There had been little debate on the truth of his swordsmanship before but now it hardly existed, undeniable proof the first thing people noticed when introduced to him. 

Most people don’t bother to ask Luke about it. Percy Jackson isn’t most people.

“You got attacked by a dragon?” 

It’s the first time in years that anyone has joined you and Luke at the lake this early. Annabeth used to, on the rare occasions the worst of her nightmares returned. It’s different with Percy, like being close to the water rewires him completely. It makes sense days later when you watch him push open the door to the empty Cabin 3.

“Last year,” Luke hums, one hand resting softly in yours and the other keeping a loose grip on the sword handle in his lap. Percy had wanted to see him in action after hearing the stories, so you’d both obliged. “I made a wrong call and I paid for it.”

“At least it looks pretty cool.” 

The way Percy says it is different to everyone else. It’s not ingrained with this odd lust, whether for adventure or the story or Luke himself. It’s more muted, a fact of life. He’s not saying it to make anyone feel better – he’s saying it to disregard. A scar is just a scar to Percy Jackson, as if he’s known too many to care.

“I guess it kind of is,” Luke says and the three of you listen to the morning begin.

[forthewomenonly]

You Belong to Me

Warnings: NSFW, smut, Sam Carpenter x reader, Sam Carpenter x Fem Reader (implied, no pronouns used), choking, semi exhibitionism, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving) , Top!Sam, jealous Sam, R’s really a pillow princess in this one (Sam gets nothing)  a/n: Lowkey hated on Ethan this entire fic sorry guys. Made him sound like a bitchy pervert...he is.

Sam was jealous. This isn’t a surprise Sam is always jealous, but she’s seething watching him shamelessly flirt with you in the comfort of her own home. Him being Ethan Landry. Sam hates Ethan Landry and his feigned innocence, she sees the way he looks at you. Of course she sees it, Sam looks at you the exact same way. He’s not the innocent virgin angel he claims to be, and the thought of him thinking of you in anyway other than platonically makes Sam feel violently nauseous. Ethan comes over twice a week to study with Tara, meaning that twice a week he gets to see you. How could he be so blind? Obviously you were Sam’s, everyone knew that. Yet it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over your shoulder, or complimenting your outfits in ways that are far too descriptive to be seen as friendly. Sam wants Ethan out of her home, and she briefly considers asking Tara if they would relocate their study sessions elsewhere. She quickly dismisses that thought as she realizes she doesn’t want her baby sister anywhere alone with that perv. She narrows her eyes, grimacing as she notices Ethan lean over and whisper something in your ear. The fit of giggles that you erupt into is more than enough to soften her gaze. But how dare he. How dare he make you laugh like that, that was Sam’s job. You aren’t Ethan’s. You belong to her. You belong to Sam. She grips the kitchen counter tightly, knuckles turning white and her hand veins bulging. Sam’s huffy and irritant, counting down the seconds until Ethan leaves her apartment. Her ears perk up as she hears Ethan finally begin to pack up his belongings, she walks up to the front door in long strides, opening the door to speed up the process of his departure. After hugging you for much longer than necessary he meets the angry Carpenter at the door. “Bye Sam!” he waves. Sam grumbles some distasteful words under her breath in annoyance. Not that he could hear her anyways as she slammed the door in his face the second he stepped out of the apartment.   --- The next time Ethan comes over, Sam is prepared. He doesn’t get a chance to say hello to either of you as Sam drags you into your shared bedroom the very moment Ethan walks in. You laugh as she shuts the room door in haste turning to face you. “What’s got you all riled up today” you say playfully poking at her chest. “You.” She growls. Your teasing grin wiped off your face instantly. Sam lunges forward capturing your lips in a heated kiss, moving downwards to kiss and suck at your throat. She all but tears your clothes off leaving you naked in front of her. “Sam- slow down.” you gasp out. You’re unsure of what has her so excited at the moment but you welcome the lustful attention, reaching your hands down to the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head. You stop briefly taking a moment to gawk at Sam’s shirtless body. God she looks so hot. Her arm muscles are so defined and her forearm veins are so attractively visible, blood pulsing through her hand and arm veins from how hard she’s gripping your hips. She removes herself from you, settling down on the bed and propping herself up on her elbows. Immediately you follow her to the bed climbing on her stomach. Sam inhales sharply when she feels your wet cunt against her skin. Placing your hands on her chest, you rock yourself against the ridges of her abs. You let out a loud moan rolling your hips faster against her, Sam’s hands guide your hips in a steady rhythm. She flexes her abdomen and quickens pace making your body shudder, your moans increasing in volume. Usually Sam would have slapped her hand over your mouth by now to keep you quiet, but when you look down at her she just smirks at you, moving your hips faster against her. “Sam I c-can’t” you whine out desperately. The corners of her lips quirk up into a smile and she flips you onto your back. Sam knew that you wouldn’t be able to cum just from grinding on her stomach, you needed her help. You always do. You need Sam to make you cum, not Ethan, not anyone else. Sam. She prides herself in the fact that you’re no longer able to get yourself off properly. You can’t make yourself cum anymore, your own fingers incomparable to Sam’s fingers, tongue, or strap. Moving her hand down, Sam harshly presses her thumb against your puffy clit and you cry out loudly. Since she has decided against quieting you, you reach your hand up to cover your mouth yourself as Sam continues playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves. She can see you biting your hand and is not at all impressed. Sam grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, while using the other to roughly shove two fingers inside your dripping cunt. The muscular girl removes her hand from your wrists and uses it to squeeze your throat, she feels your pussy flutter against her fingers as she drags them through your gummy inner walls. Your moans are loud and frequent, making Sam quicken her pace and curl her fingers, massaging your g-spot with each thrust. You cum with an obscenely loud pornographic moan, soaking Sam’s fingers and grinding into her hand. Sam moves down the bed, using her strength to pry your legs wider open. Opening her mouth to messily lick up all of your juices, she has a mix of her saliva and your wetness dripping down her chin and onto the bedsheets. Licking wide stripes through your folds and up to your clit. She takes the pulsing nub between her lips, sucking vigorously. You’re close to orgasm again and you buck your hips up trying to press yourself harder against Sam’s tongue. “Gonna cum Sam, gonna c-cum so hard.” you whine. Her fingers press harder into your thighs and you’re sure they’ll bruise. She lifts her head up looking you in the eye before pushing her fingers back inside of you, in place of her tongue. “Say my name.” “ W-what?” “Say. my. name.” she repeats. “Sam. Feels so good Sammy.” you moan breathlessly. You clench impossibly tight around her long, thick fingers and Sam knows you’re about to cum. “My name, say it again when you cum. I want to hear it.” “Fuck Sam! I’m cumming!” you scream out, rolling your hips out in time with her slowing thrusts. She pulls her fingers out, pushing them into your mouth making you taste yourself. Sam stands up brushing your damp hair out of your face delicately and  kisses the tip of your nose. She pulls a shirt on before exiting the room to grab you water. Walking up to the fridge she can see her younger sister’s disgusted expression and has to fight the urge to snicker. Turning her head she sees Ethan. It was her name you moaned, not Ethan’s. He’ll never get to have you like this because you’re all Sam’s. His jaw is slack, eyes wide, and his gaze flitters everywhere in the room except for Sam, he avoids eye contact with her desperately. Clearing his throat he packs up his belongings and gives Tara a meek “goodbye”. Sam smirks in victory, before turning to walk back into your room, water bottle in hand.

Tara rolls her eyes exasperated, now she has to study all alone just because her sister got jealous. Sam can be a real dick sometimes. 

[galesdevoteewife]

Gale may not be so typical squishy wizard/scholar?

-My Galeology study note-

Looking at his character sheet in the Deluxe pack gets me thinking, maybe our wizard is not exactly designed to be the typical squishy one...?

[Act2 spoiler warning]

2 things caught my eyes:

1) Great physical fitness, and good reflexes. (For your reference, Gale & Wyll are the two companions who have the highest Con: 15. I put everyone's sheets at the bottom of the post.)

His Con and Dex are... very high?? I mean, higher than Karlach and Lae'zel...????

Note 1: I suspect it could have something to do with his background as Mystra's chosen, as they are somewhat "transformed" when they agree to become the goddess's chosen. A topic for another day since I haven't quite figured it out yet, for anyone who is interested there's a chapter about it in The Seven Sisters. Also, I have little clues on how much chosen lore credit Larian was taking into account while designing him, or how Mystra's "taking back the given ability" works. Note 2: Again, Mystra's chosen are often sent on missions that involve a lot of traveling according to Elminster's series. Mystra also mentioned that Gale and she used to have adventures together, which leads to an assumption: despite his preference he might be traveling quite a lot until he was cast aside and quarantined himself in his tower. Might be the type of scholar who is very keen on field studies?

Note 3: Can someone undress Elminster to exam my theory please??xD Neh won't work I think all human might share same body model in game

Come to think of it, there was a party banter between Karlach & Gale that went like :

Karlach: Whoa! Almost slipped there. Gale: You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager. It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer. Karlach: You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? Gale: With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe.

At first I thought that was a sarcastic joke but, seems like it wasn't? Also this:

Karlach: Ready to enter the belly of the beast? Gale: It's the stairs I'm dreading. I shall close my eyes, and pretend I'm climbing my own, far superior tower in Waterdeep. Karlach: In that case, welcome home.

...So it seems when I pictured him as a homebody, I should reimagine the concept of home... His has...lots of stairs? Just walking around in the tower could be counted as a workout, sort of thing? Note: I don't think the place he shows in the Act 2 cutscene is his tower. Otherwise, aren't these neighbors pretty much doomed?

2) Not THAT smart. Well, I love him, so I will speak in his defence: [1] He has a warm(s) digging holes in his brain. [2] Poisonous magical bile running in his blood. Maybe he's just not at his best, makes sense, eh? Wyll mentioned he is nerfed after tadpole too. After all, this man obviously memorized a DICTIONARY:

Gale: You promised to stay in Waterdeep. 'Promise,' verb, meaning to swear something will or will not be done. Tara the Tressym: And I decided 'will not'. And a good thing, too. You look like you haven't had a good meal in days

Player: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Gale: Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable. In seriousness, I'm glad you asked that question.

Along with a bunch of you-may-never-need information:

Everything about ceremorphosis? Myconid? Why in the world have him read about Cazador??? And how can he not know the distance between Waterdeep & Baldur's Gate, even Karlach ―who spent a decade, which is likely half of her life in hell― knows better geography than him. Gale either totally ignored the subject or portaled everywhere; distance meant nothing to him?? Uh, but you can't take party banters too seriously; it's buggy. How could a bug bit Karlach in the swamp? It should've been burned into ashes before it even reached her, no?

Anyway, just rambling some thoughts <3 I would have gone to Harvard if there was a major in Gale...

-DISCLAIMER- Brought to you by a brainrot wife, Galerian missionary. Be warned the article might has (strong) bias because the writer is braindead and she thinks Gale is the most awesome character in the world.

[softantlers]

a bit ago i wrote a meta about lottie experiencing the wilderness as her abuser, here:

i was rewatching some of season 3 and the scene with travis and lottie in the woods stood out to me as particularly meaningful under this premise...

lottie matthews and anger meta

context: travis is high & he's vibing it out, but lottie says (prompted by no one) that it's okay to be angry about what happened to javi and his father.

anger... there are a lot of words to describe lottie in the wilderness. anger isn't really one of them. in season 2, she has a few bites here and there, usually in reaction to taissa and natalie. but in season 3, she's rarely expressing anything besides a kind of ongoing torment/sadness. so anger? lottie isn't angry. and maybe i would argue... she doesn't get to be? because for all the ways she gives permission to the other yellowjackets to feel angry... lottie never seems to let herself.

and for lottie to invite travis to be angry now... why? travis notably hasn't been angry. immediately after javi died, there was a flash of it... but then it dissolved into the withdrawal and sadness that he carries with him through most of season 3 (at least until the possibility of rescue arises)... so why is lottie offering him this? he didn't ask for it. and angry at what? maybe we could say lottie means that it's okay to be angry at the team and herself for javi. but what about coach martinez? the team had nothing to do with his death... so what should travis be angry at? the world? circumstance? the plane crash?

...the wilderness?

because all things considered, the wilderness is what took both javi and coach martinez. coach martinez was the first blood spilled, impaled by a tree, and javi plunged through the ice. the wilderness took them both. in nat's words, "the wilderness chose." later, in lottie's own words before the ben trial, "life and death has always been for it to decide."

so lottie acknowledging that someone might be angry at the wilderness for deciding who lives and dies... that's a thought. and it's a thought that brings me back to the lottieshauna beating scene in season 2.

in both the travis and shauna scenes, lottie is inviting others to experience their anger. at the very extreme with shauna, she's giving permission to let that anger be released onto her own body: "i know there's a lot of pain right now, but let it out."

and if we're to define the "pain" that lottie is describing here--well, of course, she means jackie and shauna's baby... which brings us back to the wilderness. jackie was a casualty of the first snow and shauna's baby was a stillbirth casualty of starvation. in either instance, the wilderness is inseparable from the loss. the wilderness took them.

and lottie sees that keeping that anger toward the wilderness inside is killing shauna. so she gives of herself so that shauna might have access to anger & the relief of letting it out.

in the adult timeline, lottie is still encouraging people to experience their anger. when she talks to lisa about letting people walk all over her, it seems to come from a place of deep empathy. (maybe one of the reasons that lottie grew close to lisa in the first place was that she saw herself in the ways lisa restrained her anger?) in the scene where she's mediating between lisa and natalie, lottie says that lisa has shared that not allowing herself to be angry is a battle for her. and so there lottie goes again... inviting someone else to experience anger, to feel that... she says to "honor it."

does lottie honor anger? well, in a lot of ways, she tolerates it, but this is hardly the same thing. throughout season 2-3, she never fights back when people are angry with her. travis calls her bullshit. akilah tells her everything is her fault. natalie says she can stay behind.

bringing this all back the wilderness as lottie's abuser... this is kind of the way it goes? in an abusive dynamic, you might not feel like you can express anger due to fear of the consequences. (in the abuser meta, i discuss how lottie feels continually punished: the way the wilderness ices her out, the way her friends keep dying... yes, she is aware of the consequences of denying what it wants...) so anger is tricky? is there room for lottie's anger? will it hurt her or someone else if she expresses it?

in this kind of situation, experiencing anger through other people can seem like a safer outlet... so when lottie invites shauna and travis to feel anger--when she invites lisa to--there is something there... because lottie didn't go without loss in the wilderness. laura lee was the first casualty & that's not even to diminish lottie's relationships with the other crash survivors: jackie... javi... mari... these are all losses too. but does she really allow herself to feel the injustice and rage and anger of it? i'm not sure. to me, when lottie invites shauna and travis to express the anger for what they've lost, it's almost like she's inviting them to touch something that she herself can't. or at least that she's too scared to...

because there's this continuous bargaining at play inside lottie, like "if i give it what it wants, it'll stop. it'll stop taking. it'll stop killing." in the adult timeline, she even says: "can this just be enough?" as she bleeds her hand over the tree when the wilderness begins to haunt her again. but it never is. because the wilderness will not let lottie be enough. it'll keep taking her friends to their deaths and lottie will have to keep watching it happen, hoping and praying that she picks that card instead. but she never does. because her small angry god won't give her that. so she's stuck. she can't be mad at it. she has to follow its whims to make the suffering stop. but it won't put her out of her misery...

and again, whether you believe the wilderness is supernatural or not, what matters most imo is what it means to lottie. and to me, season 3 especially demonstrated how lottie feels so ensnared and captured by it. the fact that she is so often pushing other people toward anger, toward "honoring it" as she says with lisa, seems like an almost vicarious mindset... something she wishes she could do for herself. but she's too scared of her abuser. and she believes she needs to follow it for the sake of everyone.

that the dream scene of lottie encountering a physical manifestation of the wilderness has her looking like this--screaming, falling to her knees, crying, screaming... that she can only ever be this angry toward the wilderness in a dream... it's such an interesting insight into her character and the rage she's holding inside.

[neostellarjpg]

Hello! I really love your HS art hehe. I hope you don't mind answering but, how would you classpect the Deltarune kids ;w; By kids I mean our main three and also Noelle and Berdly :3 I know we probably still don't have a lot to go on but hmm. I've seen a few classpect assignments over the past weeks and I'm curious on your takes!

Also if you want to wait until you've taken in weird route stuff, go ahead xD

Thank you ~

thanks for asking :D i think a lot of others have more well defined takes on their classpects but i can throw my hat in too.

i see susie as a rage player. i've seen some people portray her as blood- or hope-bound, but i haven't seen any totally compelling arguments for those yet (feel free to share some). her strongest character moments are her rejecting the premise of the game, straying from the "pacifist route" in chapter 1, and breaking the prophecy in chapter 4. she's straightforward and a rule breaker, which is why all the other characters in the game love her. kris, ralsei, and noelle are all restrained by something that prevents them from being true to themselves. susie notices immediately when someone might be lying even to themselves about something, calls them out, and then they're like "wait true, i /am/ miserable this way." she liberates people through conflict. she's adored to the point of being put on a pedestal, the characters and story all but saying "she's the hero we need." knight of rage behavior.

kris has an obvious connection to their soul, is agonized by the fact that they cannot fit in with their friends and family, their true self is scrubbed from the game by design, there is intentional ambiguity between kris and player actions, and it turns out they are voluntarily enduring the control of a powerful entity for some mysterious end… like let's face it, kris is most probably a prince of heart. …….but i also want to see them as a breath player T_T with all the lowas imagery and the absolute euphoria radiating from their piano scenes. the fact that even excluding all the player stuff, someone is still controlling their actions, and some of their acts of defiance towards the player are according to directions from someone else… but their piano playing is the one thing they refuse to give up to anybody… derse page of breath is another possibility for kris, to me. but it depends on what direction the game takes things. with the story we have so far, i think there's more evidence for heart + a destructive class for kris.

ralsei's weird… when i first started replaying deltarune, i kinda thought he might be a maid of light with how his every action is in service of the narrative and the player's understanding of it. plus you could maybe read that as creating purpose/importance for himself, like inserting himself into the prophecy (despite us only being shown a hooded figure), taking the "tutorial character" role, trying very hard to be useful to his friends… but come chapter 3 and 4, his connections to void are waaaay strong. darkners don't acknowledge him. he is obsessed with the supposed inevitability of being forgotten. he is constantly asserting that he is literally nothing, that he cannot and should not "be" or "possess" the way lightners can. he suffers greatly from a lack of true identity and relies on a higher power structure because he lacks personal purpose. even despite serving the narrative, he specifically obscures it, rather than just expositing it at a more convenient time, because he doesn't want it to come true. i see ralsei as a maid of void, with the way he was brought up in obscurity and has stubbornly aligned himself to it, while at the same time being at odds with his aspect and wanting to be freed from it.

i haven't analyzed noelle & berdly enough yet to classpect them! maybe i'll reblog this and add those at a later time.

[seasttarr]

I really need an Eris fanfic focused on the Autumn Court and its political intrigues. I've had this idea in mind for a while, but I'm not a writer, so putting it into words has been a challenge. The story would revolve around Eris's engagement to a young woman from the Autumn Court, who belongs to a highly respected lineage. Her family possesses an elemental power linked to fire—not as potent as the Vanserra's, but still valuable and feared. She is the first daughter born into her lineage in generations, which makes her even more special and strategically relevant.Her mother hails from the Court of Nightmares, and comes from an equally influential lineage. The young woman inherited a mysterious power from her mother, something akin to the abilities of the Bene Gesserit of Dune—perhaps a combination of influence, subtle mind-reading, and manipulation of perception. I haven’t yet defined exactly how this gift would work, but I want it to be something dangerous and deeply rooted in secrets. Her father, on the other hand, is a pure Autumn blood. He is ambitious, as would be expected of a noble of his Court, but he is also a good father. He recognizes his daughter’s latent power—especially the power of fire—and knows that if the High Lord found out, she would be immediately betrothed to one of the Vanserra children. Eris, as heir, would be the most obvious candidate. This would ensure that their future child would inherit both types of fire power, and thus that the Vanserra patriarch would have complete control over her family.As for the gift inherited from her mother, no one but the young woman’s parents knows that she possesses it. But I believe that Eris would eventually discover it—perhaps through intuition, observation, or even betrayal. This revealed secret would become a turning point: he would opt for a direct alliance with her. At that moment, she would accept, not out of love or devotion, but out of necessity and a desire to survive. Over time, the two would become true partners—not only politically, but also emotionally, in a bond forged in mutual respect and shared ambition. Eris would also be a very gray character and she would learn a lot from him, although she received some teachings from her father about how to live in this web of sand that is the court, she learned a lot from her mother too, she lived in the court of nightmares, the character closest to the reader would be Sansa Stark, more connected to the fact of her performance in the court, she would not be as naive as Sansa in the first book, you know she would be the personification of a true lady, but inside she would be something more different "my skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel" ifykyk she would also be ambitious, she is Eris' partner they are the same on certain levels, I don't know if you can understand my idea. anyway I think I'm going crazy

[memento-morianon]

orc names and titles

finally gave name titles and full name translations to all my orc characters! yaaay.

Orcish name titles come in a few varieties. One word titles for common orcs. Two word titles for nobility or anyone who has performed a Great Deed. They're given during one's adult years, as a sign that the individual has truly come into their own self. It's based on some defining personal trait, skill, or notable actions. These name titles are also useful in tracking historical figures in orcish stories and legends.

Clan Founder Ka'ar (great voice) [Herald of Courage] Ashalen-Kit'aer

He'esh (forest) [Raven's Voice] Khar-Takran

Elkha (promise) [Wolf's Cunning] K'anresh-Arik

At'ali (blade wielder) [Thunder Heart] Kith-Rokar

Rokar (thunder) [Crimson Tusk] K'at-Langash

Ikar (new voice) [Hears like a Wolf] Roth-Arik Ikar's Wife,

Urzu (keen eye) [Mother Blessed] Sh'oren-Aneru

Th'elir (beautiful) [Swift Tusk] K'at-Lis

Senik (honor) [Traitor's Bane] Taun-Ashikar

T'oren (pulls forward) [Hero of the Wildfire] At'eruken-Hathok

K'arik (wolf voice) [Raven's Wisdom] Aresh-Takran

Kith (heart) [the Persistent] Ak'ani

Artuk (waterfall) [the Bloody] Langash

detailed explanations under the cut

Clan Founder Ka'ar Ashalen-Kit'aer, Herald of Courage. Ka'ar was born in the northern orc clan which is stubbornly and rather disrespectfully located so close to the centaur territory that it puts a visible dent in the border on every map. Ka'ar also lived during the years of the goblin revolution, a global conflict that resulted in a greater expansion of "personhood" and equality. Ka'ar spoke out against their own ancestors and their clan leaders, shaming them for failing their promise to leave the centaur lands and for continuing to be idle and selfish while the goblins were struggling for equality. Ka'ar's declaration that they would rather die alone doing what's right than sit back surrounded by comfort and family stirred the hearts of many who didn't have the courage to speak out on their own. Ka'ar lead those people southward to establish a new clan and lend aid to the goblins in their revolution.

Rokar K'at-Langash, Crimson Tusk. Rokar was a direct descendant of Ka'ar, and shared his ancestor's furious passion, but not for the same reasons. Rokar dedicated himself to violence. He was a skilled hunter and duelist, and he had no mercy for his opponents. As an adult, he never lost a duel. As crown prince of his clan, he decided to handle the problem of limited resources by planning to conquer the lands around his people. He died as he lived, with blood on his tusks.

He'esh Khar-Takran, Raven's Voice. The takran is not truly a raven, but another species of large corvid that resembles a vulture. Raven works well enough for an English translation. The takran is associated with death, guidance, and magic, especially spiritual magic. they are known to lead hunters of any species to carrion or live prey, just so they can have a share. The word takran means "bird who guides death/the dead". He'esh was a dedicated student of magic. He was very faithful to his religion as well. He'esh is best known publicly for his accomplishments as a diplomat. He was a powerful speaker, like his ancestor, and he relied on his public speaking skills to gain allies and friends, bringing his clan properly into the country that had been established around them by other people. He was the polar opposite to his older brother Rokar, and no one ever suspected him when Rokar suddenly died in a terrible hunting accident. Dire elk are so strong, you know, hunting them in close quarters during the rutting season is just risky.

Elkha K'anresh-Arik, Wolf's Cunning. Elkha was deaf, and the younger of two sisters. She cleverly spread rumors to convince the clan's head family to overlook her older sister and pick her instead as a wife for their younger son. She did it to protect her older sister, who had a secret lover, but she also did it to put herself in a more strategic position. Like a mother wolf directing the pack to surround, isolate, and take down a dire elk, Elkha carefully worked out the best ways to get rid of corrupt leaders who were obstacles to her ambitions. She helped He'esh plan and execute his brother's assassination and make it look like a believable accident. She prevented the remaining corrupt leaders and sycophants from plotting anything after Rokar's death, ousting them from the clan by baiting them into revealing themselves so He'esh could banish them, or goading them to fight each other or even baiting them into dueling her, only if she was sure she would win. While He'esh was a great speaker on his own, Elkha also organized the people with more than words, erasing the residual corruption and de-escalating the conflicts Rokar had been stirring up with their non-orc neighbors. She won the war by making sure it never started.

At'ali Kith-Rokar, Thunder Heart. At'ali was He'esh's cousin. She was in a position to be married to someone important in another clan, perhaps even the northern clan her ancestors originated from. But instead, she found herself connecting with and falling for a gnomish man. The southern clan had lost its way over the generations and become more isolated and restrictive. The orcs and the gnomes also still carried a mutual grudge against each other for the messy history of their ancestors and the wars with the centaurs. Regardless, At'ali fell in love and decided to speak up and push back against clan laws in order to defend her love. She was willing to die fighting Rokar just to prove her point. He'esh prevented this by suggesting banishment instead, allowing her to live and be happy with her gnomish lover and start a new family of her own. She only forgave him on her deathbed, long after he usurped the crown and undid her banishment. Most of her own descendants are still reluctant to interact with the orcs, still carrying At'ali's passion and righteous fury as a family grudge.

Ikar Roth-Arik, he who Listens like a Wolf. Ikar was born to He'esh and Elkha, but legally kidnapped by the infertile Rokar who laid claim to his own brother's firstborn since he could have no direct heirs of his own. Ikar was still visited by his birth parents frequently, and they took him back after Rokar died. As a result, Ikar did grow up more with his true birth parents, and he did learn most of his life skills from them, but Rokar's influence stuck with him throughout the years. Ikar became very sociable and connected well with people, like a wolf in a pack. He was praised for his ability to listen to people, hear out their complaints, and work with them to fix their problems. But after he was married to a woman in the northern clan, a diplomatic move to repair an old wound, he ended up listening a little too well to the wrong people. There were still orcs in the northern clan who believed themselves to be above other people, who still complained of the centaurs taking their ancestral lands, and who believed warriors were far superior to scholars or anyone who relied on spiritual magic. Ikar listened to them, and he kept listening. He later disrespected his own family so cruelly that he was disowned and banished.

Urzu Sh'oren-Aneru, Mother Blessed. Urzu was Ikar's wife. She actually outranked him in the northern clan, as a spiritual leader. She was born with the odd genetic hormonal condition that causes the growth of at least one pair of vestigial mammary glands, giving her an extra set of breasts. This is considered a blessing from the ancestral matriarchs and a sign of inherent spiritual strength. Ikar used to respect his wife and her position in the clan. She's still not sure when exactly he crossed the line and began to act so dismissive of her role and her power.

Th'elir K'at-Lis, Swift Tusk. Th'elir is the second child of He'esh and Elkha. She takes after her uncle Rokar in terms of skill and strength as a fighter, but where he was merciless and brutal, Th'elir is decisive. She only fights when she needs to, and she calculates it out before delivering a quick, solid blow. The sort of attack that leaves an opponent gasping in shock, knowing very well that they could have died just then. But Th'elir is not so keen on killing without good reason. She always lets her opponent see how easily she could have killed them, so they know they're only alive because she decided to let them live. Her own brother, Ikar, can certainly vouch for her terrifying speed and precision, even when she's past her prime.

Senik Taun-Ashikar, Traitor's Bane. Senik is the youngest of He'esh and Elkha's children. Like his mother, he is deaf. Like his father, he prefers scholarly pursuits over warrior training. He'll leave the fighting to others. Senik joined his father to aid with diplomatic missions in his younger days, especially when He'esh was trying to gain an alliance with the dwarves. The dwarves had their own problems, so it was difficult to work with them sometimes. There was even a rebel faction that was so against having a diplomatic relationship with the orcs that they tried to poison their own leaders just to blame it on He'esh and Senik. Senik, however, intelligent and observant, caught the plan before it harmed anyone, and prevented a great tragedy. His actions earned him and his father the trust of the dwarves and allowed them to secure that alliance.

T'oren At'eruken-Hathok, Hero of the Wildfire. T'oren is Th'elir's eldest son. He is the crown prince in charge of more local politics. T'oren originally had a different name title praising his skills as an organized leader. But he proved those skills even more when a terribly dry and hot summer created the perfect conditions for dangerously large wildfires in the region. T'oren acted quickly, organizing the clan and working with their neighbors to get people to safety and protect as many homes as possible. He got directly involved in the action himself, and still bears the scars from embers that fell on his skin. Though the wildfires only contributed to a bigger problem later on, as there were less supplies and stored food to get through a particularly harsh winter that followed after the fires, T'oren was given a new name title to honor his heroic actions.

K'arik Aresh-Takran, Raven's Wisdom. K'arik is T'oren's younger brother. He is also deaf like their grandmother Elkha and their uncle Senik. Like his grandfather He'esh, K'arik has honed his skills in spiritual magic, earning him the takran title. He is also a crown prince alongside his brother, which is a break from tradition. K'arik carries on He'esh's external diplomatic work. He cannot speak the way his grandfather did, but he doesn't need to. K'arik is humble and wise, patient and thoughtful. He is fully aware of the dangers of pride, having watched his uncle Ikar go from a skilled diplomat to an angry fool after letting the wrong people get into his head. No one is immune to praise, pressure, or threats. With this understanding, K'arik approaches diplomacy with caution and care, always taking the time to study a situation and get to know as much of the truth as possible before making any final decisions.

Kith Ak'ani, the Persistent. Kith is a commoner, so she only gets one word in her name title. Kith has ambitions. I haven't figured out what those ambitions are, but she has risen beyond her station to become good friends with K'arik, a prince. She has married a dwarven woman of rather high status, and she is now pregnant with a child sired by K'arik's dear platonic companion and third cousin, Evarin. All to position herself higher, for some goal she's keeping to herself. What does she want? She grew up in a time of peace in her clan, in a country that has strong support systems for its people. But there she is, pursuing her goals with all the gumption, patience, and endurance of a bobcat that's decided to stalk a dire elk until it collapses from exhaustion, even while surrounded by abundant smaller and easier prey.

Artuk Langash, the Bloody. Why is the owner of a tavern and brothel named "the Bloody"? He'll never tell. He grew up in a time of peace and economic stability, in the very peak of He'esh's leadership. And yet. Here he is. On the older side of middle aged, running The Devious Drake alongside his drow co-owner and platonic lover, Rain. And his name title, which is supposed to reflect some defining personal trait or action, is "the Bloody". Well, at least it's good fodder for gossip in the worker's lounge of The Devious Drake.

[lunebris]

Thoughts of Uther Pendragon

Hello hello. It's pretty obvious that hatred towards Uther’s character shades most of the fandom’s opinions. But it happens that I find his character pretty intriguing, mostly because the show doesn’t tell much about his past or things from his perspective which gives much room for interpretation.

So here’s another character analysis I’ve made of Uther. Take from it what you want. (In other words I’m not labeling him as ”good” or ”bad”, I’m simply inspired and wrote this analysis of a commonly not-so-popular character.)

Here are some more themes I’ve been thinking about:

Uther the warrior

Is Uther a lonely king?

Why are Uther and Arthur clashing so much?

Uther's attitude towards the old religion It's a relatively lengthy post so it's under 'keep reading'

1. Uther the warrior

Medieval times were times filled with wars. As far as I have understood, when the show begins, it’s the longest peaceful times for ages.

Backtracking a little… It’s not implied in the show but generally in the Arthurian legends Uther was trained to be a warrior since birth. He wasn’t a blood heir but he was given the position by another king which created a domino-effect of conflicts and more wars.

The way I see Uther in the show, he is still a warrior (regardless of his background the show doesn’t tell us). He never learned how to act or what to be when it’s finally peace. A king in wartime has a clear purpose: fight, conquer, and protect. But in peace? A ruler has to shift from being a warrior to being a diplomat, lawmaker, and administrator. They’re all roles that Uther doesn’t seem particularly suited for. For someone who’s spent decades defining himself through war and conquest, suddenly ruling a kingdom that no longer needs a warrior could make him feel directionless.

This scene between Uther and Nimueh pops up in my mind:

UTHER Don't ever speak of her in that way. She was my heart, my soul. And you took her from me.

NIMUEH She died giving birth to your son. It was not my choice. That is the law of magic. To create a life, there had to be a death. The balance of the world had to be repaid.

UTHER You knew it would kill her.

NIMUEH No, you're wrong. If I had foreseen her death, and the terrible retribution you would seek... I would never have granted your wish.

UTHER I wish you hadn't.

NIMUEH You wish you didn't have a son? Well, your wish will come true tomorrow.

UTHER I will not let you take him.

NIMUEH I have watched so many people I love die at your hands, Uther Pendragon. Now it is your turn.

”I wish you hadn’t.” The way I see it is that Uther regrets the mess he has made – not Ygraine’s death or having a son. He is lost, lonely and lives with the fact that he isn’t the best father to Arthur (and Morgana).

”You wish you didn’t have a son?” Btw, it’s Nimueh speculating. Uther replies, ”I will not let you take him.” He hates the stressfull situation he has created and put himself into – but he does not hate Arthur.

2. Is Uther a lonely king?

Uther still lives like a warrior, a war commander, because he doesn’t know what else to be. This could explain why he keeps such a tight grip on power: he might subconsciously provoke conflict (through harsh laws, executions, and persecution of magic users) because it keeps him in his psychological comfort zone. He’s paranoid, he rarely trusts anyone and he believes that peaceful times are only temporary. (”It’s peaceful – what’s wrong?” Nowadays we know it’s a sign of being unhealthily in a constant survival mode.)

I have seen some discussions about Arthur being a lonely prince and Merlin being one of the first friends (if not the first) with whom he can just be himself and have a genuine connection with. I think it’s the same with Uther. He has some other noble friends but as far as I’ve understood, Gaius is the only one he shares the more sensitive stuff with. Gaius is his trusted advisor.

Imagine being Uther – not daring to trust anyone, ruling a kingdom you fear might fall apart any moment, raising a future king some people apparently want to kill – and just… being lonely all the time. It’s a poisonous cycle, and it’s hard to find a way out of there. Being lonely yet not trusting anyone. Wanting to protect a future king and the kingdom, having to endure the hatred people have towards you. He’s not the type to give up. I think he believes that people hating him are a part of the deal, of being a king. He thinks you can’t please everyone and is more or less fine with it.

3. Why are Uther and Arthur clashing so much?

Arthur is growing up in a more stable kingdom and sees peace as something worth maintaining. He believes that a king should be loved, not feared.

Uther, on the other hand, sees peace as fragile, temporary, and believes that a king must always be ready for war. His training of Arthur is based on this: he wants Arthur to be a warrior first, a ruler second. But Uther doesn't necessarily know how to be a ruler. This is why they clash so much. Uther believes that Camelot is constantly under some threat - he's the warrior protecting his kingdom, eliminating enemies or possible enemies for the safety of Camelot's people. Whereas Arthur lives in the moment, treasures the peaceful times and wants to focus on the well being of Camelot's residents. He doesn't understand why the king should be feared. He wants a connection with his subordinates.

But in Uther's mind being loved means being weak. Love requires trust and trust is easily taken advantage of.

If Uther fought for his own throne or had to suppress challenges to his rule, then he knows how dangerous it is to be seen as weak. Even though the show portrays him as a rightful king (if I remember correctly), he still might have faced opposition early on (which typically happened with new kings during their era), and it shapes his paranoia about Arthur's future. This could explain his strictness with Arthur. He’s not just preparing him to rule but to defend his claim against inevitable rivals.

Even though Arthur is Uther’s son and an obvious heir, that doesn’t mean everyone will accept him unquestioningly. Nobles, rival families, and even former allies could see a young, inexperienced king as an opportunity to seize power (which, again, was typical in their era). Uther’s an elder man, he has first hand experience of these things. Uther’s harsh training of Arthur (forcing him into battles, making him prove himself constantly) isn’t just about strength for strength’s sake. It’s about making sure no one dares to challenge him when the time comes. And, the rivals aren’t even imaginary threats: the times someone tries to get rid of Arthur in the show… Phew.

It might seem heartless of Uther to not let Arthur go on quests to save servants etc, but honestly Uther’s actually being pretty smart since he doesn’t want to risk the life of Camelot’s future king. Uther is getting old and if his heir dies it opens possibilities for enemies to attack and try to take down Uther too. To take Camelot.

If you want to beat a group, an army or even a kingdom, you aim for the leader. Sometimes when kings fight in wars with their men, it’s quite easy to think that they're being cowards if they flee the scene when the battles get worse. But really, they’re being smart (or acting smart, who knows), because if the king is defeated, the whole kingdom is defeated. Nobody wants that because typically the new leader wants to shape the conquered area into their liking, which means that the people might lose their identity and are forced to submit to a new ruler's will.

Uther training Arthur sends mixed messages too. He wants Arthur to take part in tournaments and other competitions and quests to prove his strength, and these aren't always risk-free either. I think that Uther accepts these battles because he is there to oversee most of these happenings, he could step in if he considered it necessary. To protect his son. Also, these tournaments and quests carry a pretty huge reputation: people know and talk about these things. If Arthur survives or wins something, everyone will know about it. It builds his reputation as a strong heir, whereas going on a quest to save a servant etc. is not that grand of an event. Besides, I think Uther fears that enemies might take advantage of Arthur's soft heart. If he goes through that much trouble to save "just a servant", how easy it would be to manipulate Arthur into something more sinister?

Lastly, taking in notice that Uther doesn’t seem to trust anyone fully, who would he choose to be his follower had Arthur died?

4. Uther’s attitude towards the old religion

In the show, prophecies and destiny play a huge role in shaping events. A lot of the conflict comes from people trying to either fulfill or prevent prophecies and, to be honest, it doesn’t work that well even if the participants truly have good intentions.

If we look at it from Uther’s perspective, the old religion and magic users aren’t just dangerous because they have power – it's because they believe in forces like fate and destiny that they actively try to enforce. They manipulate people based on prophecies or visions. Uther might see them as dangerous not just because of their abilities, but because they shape events in unpredictable ways. Even when people (for example Merlin) try to prevent a prophecy, they often just make things worse.

Uther seems to be a person who does what he wants. He makes his own path based on his own reasoning – he doesn’t trust these visions or prophesies. Maybe because he knows how tricky they can be? Has he learnt something the hard way himself?

* * *

What do you all think? Would Uther have been less extreme if magic users weren’t constantly trying to reshape destiny? Would he have been a better king and a father had he found a way to drop the I-trust-no-one-and-rule-this-kingdom-alone thought?

[scekrex]

Ring the bell, baby

pairing: Poolverine

warnings: language, sexual tension, implied sex

note: not beta read bc fuck you

See, living with a person like Wade Wilson was special. Special because it was more exhausting than Logan had ever imagined. But it was also rewarding in many, different and surprisingly tasteful ways, as the Wolverine was granted to find out.

Wade was a freak. So when Logan entered the kitchen one morning he had found a bell. The thing was pink, even had a cute little bow on it and white letters read ‘ring for sex’. It was a simple thing, really, one of the less freaky things Wade had bought over the short period of time the two mutants had been living together. And oh lord have mercy, Logan was able to give people an entire list of freaky things the merc had ordered ever since the Wolverine from another earth had agreed to move in with Red. And the list was long, so very long and partly disturbing.

And that same pink bell that Logan had found on the kitchen counter a week ago, was now filling the apartment with the softest and yet annoying sound the Wolverine knew. Because Wade had just gotten home from a mission and the merc had turned it into a little tradition to ring that bell after every little adventure he went on. Actually, no scratch that. Wade was ringing that bell whenever he got his greedy little hands on it - which was often. And that was the reason - to Logan’s sensitive ears - the sound was highly annoying.

Then a groan from the living room was heard - Logan’s groan. The fabric of the old, worn out couch shifted, moved over the equally old and worn out cushions and the wood of the couche’s frame creaked under the heavy weight of Logan’s bones. Slow, heavy steps made their way towards the kitchen of the apartment and Logan was grateful for Al to be out of the house. The old lady could be quite lovely - at least to the Wolverine from another earth she was - but she couldn’t stand the noises of sex. Him and Wade had to learn that the hard way.

Wade was sitting on the counter. The bell was set down on the flat, clean surface next to him. His legs were dangling, his suit still drenched in blood from the mission he had been on for the entire day. The merc’s head was tilted to the side and even though he was wearing his mask, the grumpy, old Wolverine knew that underneath that red fabric there was a massive smirk.

And so the brunette grabbed Wade’s waist, hauled him off the counter and tossed him over his shoulder with zero effort, like Wade was just a sheet of paper, like the man wasn’t packing a bunch of muscles and strong bones himself. And so they made their way over to the only bedroom of the apartment - with Logan, who was carrying Wade thrown over his shoulder and Wade, who was dragging a chair behind them to put in front of the closed - and later locked - bedroom door to give Al a heads up in case the lady got home early from playing bingo with her friends.. Neither of them liked it very much when the old lady walked in on Logan and Wade. Especially Al - and she couldn’t even see the impure things Wade and Logan were doing in the bed all three of them shared. And she was grateful for that, God knew it, at least that’s what she said.

“About damn time your ass comes back to me,” Logan growled out in a deep, grumpy voice and yet Wade knew he didn’t mean it, wasn’t actually as annoyed as he acted. Because - believe it or not - Logan could be a little drama queen if he wanted to. At least that’s what Wade said, but who knew how true those words actually were - probably only Wade and Logan themselves.

“Sorry,” Wade responded in a tone that reflected his cheerfulness as much as his legs that kept happily kicking against Logan’s so well defined abs - at least they did so until Logan wrapped his other arm around them strong calves, pressing them to his chest with such force that it caused them to stop moving. Logan released a single, low grunt. “Some cockblocking shitface kept me on my toes, told ‘im I have a feisty little Wolvie waitin’ for me, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Keep the cheerful bullshit up, Wilson. We both know you won’t be able to walk after this. Not even with your healing factor.”

[ramielll]

I was waiting for you -Part 1

Benjicot Blackwood x fem reader

Summery: Y/N Stark travels to the Riverlands to spend time with her cousins, only to be met with unexpected turn of events.

Wourd count: 1151

Tw.: nothing yet, I think. Everybody is aged up.

A/n: This is my very first time posting a work of mine. This one is going to be a bit short, but the ones coming are going to be longer. I hope you'll like it! I will be posting the next chapter soon. (English is not my first language)

part 2

≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫

Growing up in Winterfell as a young lady meant a sheltered life. Being secluded with one’s family up in the north. The lady Y/N was lucky for not only being born into a noble family, but for being closely connected to another, through her mother. Sharing blood with the Tullys earned not only for her brother but for her also, to spend time in the Riverlands. Allowing Y/N to see a bit more of the realm before being whisked away to another house, to another family through marriage.

Riverrun was a stark contrast to the always white lands surrounding Winterfell.She welcomed the gentle change in temperature as they travelled to see their cousins in Riverrun and to spend a few months there. The carriage came to stop as they crossed the bridge to the castle overlooking the broad river there.

Their cousins stood at the front of the welcoming party assembled for their arrival. Oscar, always with a smile, quickly stepped forward to offer a hand as lady Y/N stepped out of the carriage, while her brother went ahead to greet Kermit with a hug.

„Good day cousin. I hope your travels were pleasant.” the young man she come to know during their times here, now looked taller, his features more defined, losing some of his boyish charm to give way to a more serious appearance, though his smile was all the same as he looked at her.

„They were.” she sighed as she looked up the familiar towers over her. „Its always worth the journey if it means spending time with you two.” she smiled back at him.

„Well, seems it’s not going to be just us four this time. We have guests from house Blackwood and Frey also. I’m sure they’re eager to meet you.” She could hear the mirth in his voice as he finished his sentence with a breathy laugh, but before she could ask for the reason behind it, her brother and Kermit already walked up to them, and her attention was quickly turned towards greeting her youngest cousin.

Oscar escorted her to her chambers and before the young man left her to refresh and settle in a bit, he informed her about their plans to have a sparring session with the other boys in the courtyard and that she would be welcomed to choose a winner if she wishes.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Y/N turned towards the room she stayed in the last couple of years when she would visit, since her and her brother became too old to share one. She opened the windows looking over the neighbouring forest before she walked to the basin filled with water to wash her face and change into a more comfortable, deep blue gown and to let her hair out of the tight braids she wore for their arrival. Then she made her way outside.

The loud laughs and clinging of swords could be heard from the stoney hallway even before she stepped out onto the low balcony overlooking the yard. She found Kermit already seated there with red cheeks and sweat on his brow, clearly done with his turn of the pretend fighting.

„Which one of these fine warriors bested you already cousin?” Kermit only laughed. She seated herself beside him and looked down onto the match before them. Her brother was trying his hardest to beat the Frey boy as they dance around one another. Meanwhile Oscar and another boy stood with their backs turned to onlookers. From the sigil sawn onto the back of his clothes, it wasn’t hard to realise it was a son of house Blackwood. She just didn’t know which one.

The four of them clapped as the fighting eventually ended with Edmure Frey coming out as victorious.

„Let’s get on with the next one so that we may make it to supper! Especially now that we have a lady watching your sad efforts!” Kermit’s boisterous voice rang through the yard, turning all heads towards the two of them. Y/N could feel her face flush, even though she was trained to get used to the attention she naturally garnered through her life, she never really did well under it. She gave a small smile as she made eye contact with Edmure. The young man bowed his head with a much larger smile than hers. Then she looked at the Blackwood boy, who now stood fully facing her. It was only then she recognised him. The young man standing beneath her looked very different from the scrawny boy she spent time looking at small fish and trying to climb tress with a summer age. She could see the mutual surprise in his dark eyes as he bowed his head before looking back up at her. Their stare was broken when Oscar grabbed the man’s shoulder and they walked to the centre to begin their own match. Y/N kept her eyes on him, thinking about all the time they have spent together before Kermit spoke again, interrupting her thoughts.

„You should have seen his face when I told him you’ll be arriving soon. I swear he was restless ever since. Benjicot Blackwood, fierce swordsman and heir to house Blackwood, reduced to a grinning fool in his excitement.” he said laughing as he leaned closer to her. „He never said it, but I would bet my favourite horse, that it has to do with something about your fathers plan to betroth you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she whipped her head towards him, her body stilling. Kermit’s smile slowly fell at the shocked expression on the young lady’s face. Realisation hitting him.

„They did not tell you?” he asked, clearly confused.

„Tell me what?” she asked with a tight face.

„Their plans to betroth you. With you, might acquainting yourself with one of the young lords here, so that your brother can choose a match for you. I’m sorry cousin, I thought that you were made aware of these plans.” he sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

She felt dizzy, confusion turning into shock, turning into anger inside her so quickly she could barely keep up with her own emotions. She looked down again, just as Oscar and Benjicot finished with their sparring, shaking hands. She turned her gaze towards her brother then.

„My brother told you this.” It wasn’t even really a question. Disappointment and betrayal colouring her voice as she kept looking ahead. She was aware of the fact that she soon, rather than late, had to marry someone. It was inevitable. Even if she wished to avoid that more than anything. She didn’t want to leave her family, her home, her own room, just to be thrusted into a strange life with a husband chosen by the men around her. She was also aware that her wishes did not matter in this case as a daughter of house Stark.

„He did.” Said Kermit with a much quieter voice.

„I see.”

[bnhaobservation]

Was the savior trio really a savior trio?

In the fandom is common to define Midoriya, Uraraka and Shouto as the savior trio but I’ve been wondering if this ‘nickname’ is actually fitting for them. No, I’m not referring to the fact that none of them truly saved his Villain, Touya only managing to live a little longer than Tomura and Himiko I’m referring to something else.

But let’s go with order.

What do we know of their intentions PRE WAR?

We know Midoriya made clear he wanted to save Tenko from chapter 305, making clear OFA is a power meant to saving, not killing, even if he had no idea what to do when the time would come.

We know Uraraka worried for Himiko, she couldn’t forget her sad face and ponder over her, thinking she doesn’t know her and that Himiko might see things differently from her… but also think Himiko can’t be forgiven and she wants to forget those thoughts. Uraraka though, has made clear in chap 289 that her Quirk isn’t to kill people (so she basically wouldn’t want to use it to kill Himiko either).

We know Shouto identifies with Touya and believes he should be the one to handle him. When he’s with his family they talk about stopping him together, his family taking the blame for not looking AFTER Touya, with the result he became a Villain. We also know Shouto would want to share a meal with Touya, even if it were to be hot udon.

All this makes us think the trio wants to save the Villains. They clearly aren’t out for their blood and show empathy toward them.

What do they do DURING THE WAR?

Although Midoriya insists in his belief he wants to save Tenko, from when he has decided to do so, to the whole war, he won’t be able to come up with a single plan to do so and he will agree to follow the divide and conquer plan All Might, the police and the senior Heroes came up with. When Nana claims Tomura can’t be saved and urges Midoriya to just annihilate him with a single blow, Midoriya still refuses because he wants to understand why he can’t let go of his past and merely put a lid to it, which is why he wants to smash that lid away. This leads him to follow Kudou’s plan and use OFA to smash the ball of hatred inside Tomura in which the crying child is trapped so as to give his soul a direct beating. This has three consequences, the first is that the strike on its soul allows Midoriya to force his way into Tomura’s memories and force him to show him his past as Midoriya is holding his hands in hope to destroy his anger and hate, the second is that Tenko’s spiritual defeat allows AFO to take control of Tenko again, almost destroying Tenko’s spirit and the third is that the spiritual damage takes such a tool on his flesh that his body starts to shatter as well as he still tries to fight the Heroes. Midoriya gave him the final blow so as to stop AFO from transferring into another body before the body were to break down, but it’s clear the body wouldn’t have survived even without it. With the destruction of Tomura’s body, Tomura dies as well. All Midoriya ‘saved’ was his soul.

Uraraka also will just follow the plan of the adults and fights Himiko, claiming she’ll live the life that’s right for her. When the Villains number on their battle ground is thinned and the only real danger is the Nomu, Himiko will use sad man parade while, at the same time, Kurogiri will appear willing to teleport her. Only when Himiko will try to leave Uraraka will tell her she has to remain there because they haven’t had yet their talk about romance and chase her when Himiko will refuse to remain on the island. Uraraka will chase and, even though Hawks will tell her and the others to kill Himiko, she’ll refuse to do so and try to talk with her but Himiko will refuse. Uraraka will insist and upset her further, which will lead to Himiko stabbing her, while Uraraka makes her float. Uraraka will insist that she can’t erase the fact that Himiko killed people still she won’t use her Quirk to try to kill her and she’ll claim she wants to touch the sadness inside her, because she wants to talk with her and is willing to give her blood to her in exchange through all her life. Everyone ends up floating and Himiko opens up with Uraraka, which ‘saves’ her soul. As this happens she calms down and her transformation in Jin end. At this point Uraraka’s Quirk let her descend slowly but she’s dying of bloodloss. To save her Himiko donate her all her blood (in an extremely unrealistic act as transfusions don’t work this way) and, as a result, dies in Uraraka’s place.

Shouto also will follow the plan of the adults and, after asking Touya why he didn’t come home and getting a reply, he’ll fight him and try to freeze him. It’ll only work temporally, Touya will free himself after having learnt to reproduce Shouto’s technique and, thanks to Kurogiri, will reach his father. Shouto, with the help of Iida, will manage to reach Touya who has turned himself into a heat bomb that’s about to explode and the rest of his family who is trying to cool Touya down and freeze Touya again. This time Touya will lack the strength to get up. Touya survives but, few days after the battle, we’ll be told he’s about to die anyway. However his whole family finally looking at him likely ‘saved’ his soul.

To sum it up… none of them truly permanently saved the life of his Villain, the one that get the best result is Shouto, but he basically only gain a little more time with his brother.

Sure, Midoriya didn’t think his spiritual attack would shatter Tenko’s body, Uraraka didn’t think Himiko would die to save her as for Touya maybe he was bound to die anyway as Garaki said he shouldn’t have survived a month after waking up and instead he lasted years but let’s assume none of the three died.

Let’s assume Midoriya, Uraraka and Shouto only managed TO STOP Tomura, Himiko and Touya as they all claimed they wanted to do.

What would have happened of them then?

As Himiko said, Tomura, Himiko and Touya would end up in jail and be sentenced to death.

They’ve killed people and none of the three members of the ‘savior trio’ did a deal with someone high in power to save their lives should they stop (Hawks promised to Jin if he were to surrender he would only have to spend some time in jail, meaning he either was lying or he had an agreement that would allow Jin to have a tame sentence despite Jin being a Villain who killed people). The public basically was asking for their head at Endeavor and Hawks’ press conference and yes, death sentencing doesn’t exist only in Japan but also in BNHA (Moonfish was an escaped convict on the death row).

Stopping Tomura, Himiko and Touya and arresting them, means to basically condemn them to be executed. The savior trio could NEVER save their lives if it were to follow the legal procedures and arrest them.

Yes, Japan is slow at administering death sentencing, there’s people sentenced to death who died of old age, but considering how many Villains got captured and the fact AFO damaged their best jails, I guess they would want to speed up things and no, Japan isn’t a fan of considering people with mental health problems deserving indulgence. They would sentence them to death and society would likely celebrate this.

The only alternative to insure Tomura, Himiko and Touya wouldn’t end up killed after having been stopped was to let them escape but this is never discussed, we never see the ‘savior’ trio having a plan at least for what they’ll do AFTER they’ve stopped them. Uraraka doesn’t correct Himiko when the latter claims Uraraka believed he could bring her blood while Himiko was in jail, meaning the plan was always to send those three behind bars to wait for their execution… but the fact Midoriya and Co would send them to their eventual execution denies the fact they could save their lives.

Mind you, this is not a post to discuss about how Tomura and Co should or should not be executed for their crimes, this is a post merely to say that if Midoriya and Co follow the law and arrest them, they can’t save their lives, they’re just postponing the inevitable and letting it in the care of someone else.

I guess Horikoshi realized that and how it wouldn’t sit well, as it seems absurd to talk about how Midoriya wanted to save Tomura, how Midoriya and Co wouldn’t kill them, when they would basically ensure they would be killed by others later. This is also probably why Horikoshi killed his Villains with other means, because he knew if the main Villain trio were to end up in jail he would have to reveal this bit, that they would be eventually executed, or the readers, who’re Japanese and know how this things work, would figure it out, while instead he can ‘conceal’ this fact with just Shuuichi and Atsuhiro in jail.

So in the end probably there was never meant to be a savior trio because, legally, the Villain trio couldn’t be saved if Midoriya and Co were to act by the books.

I think the story plays Midoriya and Co as if they were unaware of this little detail, that, as impossible as this would be, they weren't mean to know that arresting their Villains meant to kill them, after all, if Uraraka’s plan was really to put Himiko in jail and give her a lifetime supply of blood, we can already see how this clashes with the reality of BNHA where All Might himself couldn’t just drop to the prison when he wanted to see a Villain, be it AFO or Stain but needed Tsukauchi to organize a meeting and this organization took so much time All Might never managed to meet up with Stain while the latter was in jail… never mentioning we were also told Tartarus was known for violating human rights and there or in an equivalent of Tartarus as Tartarus got seriously damaged, is where they would put the most important members of the league. Touya likely ended up in what’s probably a Villain hospital and not in jail only because he’s dying... which sits well with Horikoshi so he won’t have to show how hopeless their situation was.

Still, it’s kind of sad. I really wish Horikoshi had, at least, erased death sentencing from BNHA and avoided to say such things on Tartarus so that we could have harbored the delusion that, had the Villain trio stopped, their lives weren’t meant to be lost anyway. But well, maybe it’s just me.

[bonefall]

tawnypelt honor title pleeeease she deserves it tigerstars daughter with the burden of a million expectations on her but who who has always adamantly gone her own way. maybe tawnysun or tawnydusk. also, whats her relationship with mothwing like? in the books their heritage as tigerkin was super neglected (misogyny) but it ended up creating two very indepentent characters who defined themselves outside of their fathers, unluke hawk and bramble who never could

I wish I could justify a four-tiger pileup at the Snare Scene, but it would change the events waaay too much to stay in the spirit of BB. Like, have it somehow be Tawnypelt who was targeted for ultimately rejecting her father so she's in the trap, somehow this would give Brambleclaw power or expose him so he hesitates, Mothwing jumps in to save Tawnypelt, Hawk and Bramble fight, and then Hawkfrost impales himself on the stake Mothwing is holding.

Especially since BB!TNP is now from the perspective of the Tigerkin-only. It would be really cool for it to be the ultimate confrontation between the four tiger cubs.

But, it is what it is.

I wish there was more space to explore a Tawnypelt/Mothwing dynamic, but I think there's a reason beyond just misogyny tbf (tho it is also present). When you have two half-siblings who reject their shared dad, what really connects you?

Nothing. I've seen it irl too. People don't like to hear this, but family IS a choice. The associations and expectations put on you because of your family aren't, and WHO you are born TO isn't a choice. But whenever your family comes to support you, every instance where you stand with them through hardship, the monumental task of being there for each other, time after time, IS A CHOICE.

It always has been.

When Brambleclaw learned that Hawkfrost was only connected to him through his bloodline, even after (canonically) being told Hawk never faced the same discrimination he did, he was CHOOSING to act as his brother. He was CHOOSING to accept that Tigerstar is something to unite over.

Tawnypelt and Mothwing don't. Nothing makes them sisters besides a man that one of them never even met.

Now dgmw. I don't think the Erins believe this, they're obsessed with magical, innate blood emotions. I think they didn't explore Tawny and Moth because they care less about girls, bottom line.

But I think this is why it wouldn't really make sense if they tried. And it's something I'd say on purpose if I had the chance.