#something something. girl who was made to be in love but not built to withstand the trials of love without breaking a little. hrm. um.

[deiscension]

I'll take "posts that aren't about SQX but also are completely about them too" for 500

[bunnys-kisses]

can I pretty please get nanaimo bars,english muffin with the side of milkshake, frozen latte with Charles Leclerc 🥹🫶

bakery menu

the bakery is open and accepting orders! we're cooking up smiles every day! submit your own order! reblogs & comments are appreciated! thank you lovely anon for submitting this, it was something very different to write that i loved. size kink with charles is super interesting given how many people see him. but sometimes i forget he is close to six feet tall and built like someone who does f1. he may look sweet as honey, but there's probably something more sinister (sexually) going on in that brain of his, haha.

nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + english muffins ("aw, is someone crying?") + milkshake (size kink) + frozen latte (dumbification) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, size difference/kink, dumbification, teasing/dirty talk, crying kink, cry baby!reader, oral sex (charles receives), deepthroating, facials & cock slapping, safe words/signals, hair pulling

"mon cœur"

"la douleur dans ma poitrine."

"mon amor..."

"ma salope."

charles liked to make you cry. he loved when his mean words would curl up into your brain and make that waterworks come out. he was the prince of ferrari and of his home country. it's pride and joy. he was seen as effortlessly cool and could entice anyone. that smile, those green eyes. but even with all he had been afforded, nothing turned him on more than seeing his precious girlfriend's bottom lip wobble her eyes grow cloudy with tears.

he was running on high after monza, it was like everything was barking in the back of his head. even out of his driving suit and away from the track for the night, he could still feel the adrenaline. and while many would go for a run or spend the night with a drink in hand. he yearned for something different.

and when he saw you in his lavish hotel room, in one of his shirts and what appeared nothing else underneath. he knew that he was in for a treat tonight. with his bag down and his shoes off, he entered further into the room. he ended up by you on the couch and took you by the chin.

he smiled, "most take off the make up before they get comfortable." his thumb trailed under your left eye.

you replied, "i took everything off earlier and put on the mascara that runs easily." it was from a cheap brand at the pharmacy. perfect for what charles liked.

he chuckled, "you are just full of surprises, my love. you're going to be good for me tonight, right?" it was moments like these that you realized just how much bigger charles was. most painted him as short and frail.

he was just under six foot but built in a way to withstand the strain of racing. with large hands and thighs that could kill. his hand could easily fit around your neck as easily as his cock did to the back of your throat. there was a flicker in the greens of his eyes, the noble prince had stripped away into a hungry animal that yearned for you.

you swallowed, "i always am. always for you."

he tapped your cheek six times and you tapped his wrist once in response. even if these sick games where you cried and grew stupid on his cock, there were limits everyone had. charles didn't want to break your little world apart because he took it too far. he got on the couch next to you and undid his belt. your delicate hands helped him and dropped the leather to the floor.

charles held you face to look at him. he remarked, "you really are pathetic, so eager. i'm surprised you didn't stalk the halls looking for something to fuck your throat while i was out."

you frowned a little bit, "i'd never, honey."

he pinched your cheek a little harder than normal and leaned in, "right, right. because you're a good girl, my pretty girl. who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." his words were enticing and it made your stomach flip.

"i am."

"you are pretty, my love." he said, "god blessed you with good looks because he knew you'd be stupid. add a dash of being a cock hungry whore and sometimes i get worried. i've never wanted to kill a man, but if another sank his teeth into you." his words were low and they made you curl in your gut.

if you wanted out, as a last resort. tap once then six times in rapid succession. charles liked to make your bottom lip wobble, but he wasn't a monster. he pulled you in for another searing kiss, his hand in between your legs. he felt panties as he rubbed his hand up.

he knew it was going to be a long night tonight. but first, he had his eyes on your pretty throat. after all his marks had faded over the week. while there would be press photos soon, they didn't mean he couldn't mess up the inside of your throat. even if you couldn't talk for the week, he was more than happy to do all the talking for both of you.

"stupid thing." he said, "you know that? i feel sorry for whatever school gave you your diploma." he acted like he wasn't at your graduation, "i bet you paid them off. or worse, sucked them off. little whore on campus, too stupid to actually learn anything except be on her knees and breath through her nose." he made a small noise of disappointment.

and charles got excited at the sight of you. that bottom lip was going, he could see the shudder in your shoulders. that struck a nerve, post-secondary was hard for you. you felt like people called you dumb without actually saying it. and charles' toxic words only added the fuel to the fire of doubt.

"aw, is someone crying? don't cry." he said, faking sympathy, "if you start crying then you won't suck my cock properly." he rubbed the back of your head as he watched the tears come down your cheek. he sighed once more, "silly thing."

soon your head was between his legs. he could feel your hot tears against the base of his cock as they streamed down your face. they weren't a rush of tears, but a slow trickle as charles' words clouded your head.

you started to work his cock and he felt the excitement in his body. it took a good while but eventually you learned how to deep throat him. he hissed and held onto the back of your head. you were both still clothed (or at least partially for you).

charles had a habit of running his mouth when your mouth was on him. and he rocked the blunt end of his cock up against the back of your throat, occasionally making you choke, he started talking. "i should throw you to the rest of ferrari. let them ruin you. then maybe you'll stop being so greedy for cock when you've had enough for a lifetime. i see how they look at you, my logo across your pretty breasts as you look so cute down at the paddock. if i waved my hand and told them to have their way with you, you wouldn't be getting far." he tugged on your hair a little and forced you up and down his cock faster.

you choked a little bit and sputtered, trying to catch your breath through your nose. it all was a deep throb in your head as you tried to cram as much of his cock into your throat.

"i'd say they'd make your ass ferrari red. but i think it would be closer to mercedes black. you wouldn't be able to sit right for months. maybe i'd be generous and let the other drivers have a chance too. crying on their cocks."

you sniffled, tears welled up in your eyes some more. while most despised having 'raccoon eyes', charles found it endearing. the poor little thing can't help but cry because she knows that he's right. you knew in your gut that you were at least a little cock hungry at all times. he watched you squirm in your seat at times while you let your imagination run wild.

he continued to use you to his liking. you were perfect. trained you from the ground up to be perfect on his cock. he caught glimpses of your face and your red eyes. poor thing, crying to much making a big mess.

so dumb, so small, so stupid.

he took his cock out of your mouth and rubbed it up against your cheek roughly. spit and pre-cum caught across your right eyelashes. his cock pushed your top lip up and he groaned at the sight. your tongue licked a bit of pre-cum that was dangerously close to your face.

"so small, i'm surprised you could take all this. i remember when i couldn't put it in without prepping you. then you spent all season training your cunt for when i got home. now you take me in every way perfectly." he licked his lips, "you know where you belong."

his words excited you as you put your mouth back on his cock. you whimpered as you felt it hit the back of your throat once more. he was big in a way that it made you squirm.

you continued up and down his cock, putting all your brain power (what little you had left) into taking him well. you coughed and panted, air felt in short supply as you got him to the base. your nose in his groomed pubic hair.

a picture perfect beauty, all for charles to devour.

he knew he was close. he could feel it in his bones and in the tension of his muscles. he then tensed up further with his hand in your hair and pulled your mouth off his cock (as much as it pained him to do that). with his other hand he stroked himself off quickly to the sight of your quivering, overheated body. you panted heavily and he finished all over your face. he streaked your skin white with cum up to your forehead. it dripped down your face as you coughed a little.

the debauched sight made him get a few more ropes up cum on your face before he settled down. he pulled your head back to look at you, you could barely have your eyes open. he wished he could take a picture. the white of cum and the mascara mixed tears created a sight that made charles run hot.

"now you look like a slut." he said as he got his jeans off. he rubbed his cock up against your soft lips before he slapped his still hard cock against your face, only making the mess on your cheeks more intense.

"charles." your throat felt raw from it. you looked at him and panted heavily, your tongue stuck out a little bit. and charles knew the night was far over. he fucked you stupid without stimulating your poor pussy. he wanted to see how stupid he could make you.

"we're not done yet." he said.

you tilted your head to the side, almost innocently as if your face wasn't a mess. you asked, "what?" your brain not capturing all the words properly.

he held onto you for a moment and said, "ten seconds to clean up your face. then i want you naked on the bed, or i'll fuck you on the bathroom floor." then let go of you and watched you scramble to clean yourself up. those words stuck in your blissed out brain even though you almost tripped over yourself.

charles chuckled and leaned further back onto the couch, his cock at full attention. even though the mascara was going to be gone, it was okay. you still looked just as pretty with just those tears streaming down your face. <3

[theunsinkableship1]

This is no ordinary LOVE.

DISCLAIMER: This is LUKOLALAND only. Skip this if you're not a shipper. This is only my point of view. No harm intended

Amidst recent events and news, many in the Lukola fandom have started to reconsider their stance on this ship. While I understand the confusion these events have caused, I want to share why I still ship them and why I remain aboard.

Firstly, this is my first and only ship, and it will likely be the last one. I’ve witnessed many relationships unfold, I’ve been in relationships, attended beautiful weddings, and seen happy, healthy marriages and relationships endure the test of time. I’ve observed deep connections between people, but I’ve never seen anything quite like this. It might sound silly or even a bit offensive to the people in my life, but I’ve never seen love like what I see in Lukola, and I’ve fallen deeply for them.

Like many of us, I discovered Polin during the confinement days. I instantly loved their cute chemistry, as the friends-to-lovers trope is my favorite. I fell for Polin first, read the book, and was eager for their season. After the first season of Bridgerton, I started following  only Nicola, my favorite from the Derry Girls cast also. Then came Season 2, and I really liked Luke and the unique chemistry he and Nicola shared. There was something different about it, and I found myself watching their interviews. They were so adorable in "Amours ou Petits Fours" that I started following Luke Newton too.

I wasn’t shipping them yet because Luke was in a serious, real relationship at the time, one that was also worth rooting for. But when that ended, the idea of Nicola and Luke together began to grow in my heart. Their interactions were sweet, and their evident chemistry bled into everything they did together. I was a casual shipper until that photo of them after his play made me truly invested and hopeful. Then came the press tour in January, every interview, every interaction between them only strengthened what I was feeling. I fell for Lukola even harder.

What I saw, I can’t unsee. This has taken up a significant and unexpected place in my life. It feels different from anything else; I don’t usually follow celebrities this closely. I have always maintained a respectful distance and never invested myself like this. I’m not sure how I got here, but I know it’s not meaningless. There’s a reason for this pull, and while I don’t know exactly what that reason is, I believe it’s because I sense the love between them, it transcends the screen and radiates in my heart, deep and intensely beautiful.

I consciously joined the fandom to see if I was the only one feeling this way, and it’s clear I’m not. My perception of the reality might be altered, but I believe in what I see. Even if they choose to identify as friends, I believe that what they have is love.

Real, pure, and rare love, a powerful force that transcends time and circumstances. It isn’t rushed or forced; instead, it unfolds naturally, growing deeper as both people learn and grow together. This kind of love is built on genuine connection, mutual respect, and shared values, creating a bond that withstands the ups and downs of life.

Why does it matter? Because pure love brings out the best in each person, allowing them to be their true selves without fear of judgment. It’s not about grand gestures but the quiet, consistent presence that reassures and supports. This love matters because it’s authentic and unwavering, offering comfort and joy that can't be easily shaken.

Such love, though rare, finds its way when the time is right. It doesn't conform to external pressures or expectations; it simply exists, patient and steadfast. When allowed to flourish in its own time, this kind of love creates something beautiful and lasting, reminding us that the best things in life are often worth waiting for. As someone who hopes to see Lukola flourish, there’s a special kind of joy in watching two people whose bond transcends their characters on screen, finding connection and harmony in real life. It’s about witnessing moments of genuine affection, support, and camaraderie that hint at something deeper, something real.

This kind of love is worth cherishing and believing in because it reminds us of the beauty that exists in a World that can feel harsh and cold, in a reality that is disheartening and disappointing. It’s the unspoken looks, the shared laughter, and the way they uplift each other in subtle, bold and meaningful ways.

Hoping for Lukola to come to fruition isn’t just about a fandom fantasy, it’s about rooting for a connection that feels authentic, organic, and rare. It’s about believing that what we see is not just a projection of our hopes but a reflection of something real and beautiful that can grow stronger with time.

True love doesn’t need to rush; it will come to fruition when both people are ready to embrace it fully.

If we choose to stay in this Fandom, we’ll have to act very demurely and very mindfully. If this love is meant to be, it will find its way, blossoming when the time is right, and that is a story worth waiting for.

[sacredpyre]

Twisters sentence starters

Writing / roleplay prompts from 2024 Twisters. Plus do not add to this. Ok to reblog

“If you feel it, chase it.”

“It’s Gonna Be Okay.”

“I’m Assuming This Is Safe.”

“This Ain’t My First Rodeo.”

"You don't face your fears, you ride 'em."

"It's good to have you back."

"There's no tornado, 9 times out of 10 it's a false alarm."

"This place wasn't built to withstand what's coming!"

"Can always trust a guy who puts his face on a t-shirt."

"You ever wonder why it was us that made it out of there?"

"You have a gift"

"Hillbillies with a youtube channel."

"I Don't Chase Anymore."

"A Tornado Rating, It's Not Based On Size Or Wind Speed – It's Based On Damage."

"Boring Is Not Usually A Problem For Me."

"We Could Save Lives."

"Whatever's In There, It's Big And It's Moving Fast."

"when you love something, you spend your whole life trying to understand it”.

"Don’t make me laugh. Stop it."

"All right, how are we getting to this thing?"

"Everybody okay?"

"Keep holding on! I’ve got you!"

"It’s gonna be okay!"

"Look at that. I learned something about you."

"Yeah, well, you’ve seen the worst of this place. Thought it’d be nice for you to see something good."

"we need to evacuate this arena right now!"

"We got to find a shelter, fast."

"Okay, you’re gonna be okay."

"I got you. I got you."

"We’re gonna be… We’re taming a tornado."

"I haven’t been good about calling."

"I’m still waiting for you to save the world.

"I’m sorry about your friends."

"Wow, you hear that? You’re better than the cows.

"Worse the weather, the happier the girl."

"You really think I’m an idiot, don’t you?"

"How did you not tell me about this before?"

"when it mattered, I got it wrong."

"Okay, I underestimated what we were up against,"

"Some childish dream I had that I could make a difference?"

"But how much more are you gonna let this thing take from you?"

[beautifulsnake2162020]

We have it all (Hualian adopted daughter fanfic) Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I only do this for fun.

Premise: Not long after comforting a bullied girl named Meng Ai, Hua Cheng and Xie Lian find themselves adopting her and together they form a family they didn't know they had needed for awhile.

Story/Genre tags: Slice of life-ish (mainly), Family focused, Hua Cheng's houses finally become homes, there may be an overarching story but that's not the focus, Hualian being parents, Fengqing being uncles, Lang Qianqiu falling in love with someone who was raised by the Xianle squad, technically post-canon (though I haven't read the books so if there are some ooc moments please forgive me).

AO3 Link

Chapter 1

Follower tags: @anonimgato1507

Chapter 2

"My name is Meng Ai, I'm 6 years old and just like my baba I could see and talk to ghosts." She says as she finishes her first cup of water. The rain has become stronger now and Hua Cheng decided to carry her while Xie Lian held the crimson umbrella so that all three of them would fit under it as they made their way back to Puqi Shrine. Now stable enough to withstand a storm but still quite modest and humble compared to other temples. The public area of worship was separated from the living quarters where the three of them were in now.

"And where do you live Meng Ai? My name is Xie Lian." He says as he gives her a bowl of broth prepared previously by one of Hua Cheng's servants. While Hua Cheng may not mind consuming Xie Lian's cooking no matter how awful it was, his worshippers and any visitors to the shrine were a different story.

"You honestly think that your worshippers will endure this kind of suffering?" Mu Qing asks him frankly one day as he and Feng Xin were visiting one time. They in their guises as Fu Yao and Nan Feng and Hua Cheng in his San Lang appearance. While their identities were no secret among the four of them, for the sake of mortals they kept their disguises whenever they dwelled in the mortal realm.

"It's still sustenance."

"For your husband maybe, but his tastes have always been questionable."

"Hmph, you're saying that as if your tastes are any better."

"Now now you two." Xie Lian says as he settles himself beside Hua Cheng and across from Nan Feng. If someone were to listen to their voices alone they would easily tell that it didn't have the same level of malice in their earlier days. Though they were still arguing. Hua Cheng had a smug expression and Fu Yao relaxed in his seat and leaned towards Nan Feng.

"You know he does have a point Dianxie." Nan Feng added as he joined the conversation.

"If your followers could get something more palatable then they would be encouraged to come here more often."

And ever since then broth previously prepared by someone else was made to be consumed for any hungry visitors to the shrine. Meng Ai had just finished her first bowl of it and politely asked for more.

"I actually don't know the name of our village. Mama and Baba just tell me to first look for Puqi village, pass the ghostly forest, walk straight the main road on the rice field area until you see the entrance of the village."

"By any chance." Hua Cheng starts as he relaxes in his seat across her.

"Is this village the one surrounded by a forest?"

"Yes."

"Oh that would be Hu village." Xie Lian says as he sits beside Hua Cheng and pours more water in Meng Ai's cup.

"It used to be a place where tigers were plentiful."

"What happened Xie Lian?"

"The ones who first built the village drove them out."

"Oh no."

"It was a long time ago Meng Ai."

"But it's still so awful, is that why our village is so isolated?"

"One among many Xiao-Ai, is it alright if I call you that?"

"Oh yes, but I'm confused what to call you. Xie Lian your husband calls you San Lang. But I overheard the other ghosts say that your name is Hua Cheng." Hua Cheng chuckles lightheartedly.

"I'm not close with those ghosts. But you may also call me San Lang." She raises one of her eyebrows at him.

"But I'm not married to you." Now Xie Lian couldn't help but laugh with Hua Cheng.

"San Lang is the name I give to those I want to be close with." He couldn't help but feel lighter as her smile grew.

BANG

"AH!" She runs to the space between them to hide from the thunder. She finds herself being lifted ontu Xie Lian's lap since he was seated further away from the window.

"Does the thunder frighten you?"

"No - but I hate sudden surprises."

BANG

She hides her face beneath Xie Lian's robes and he cradles her head to calm her down.

"It's why I ran to the forest with many ghosts. Some of them have followed me to the rice fields when I was delivering one of my mama's works to a farmer's wife. And then when I turn around to go home, they all scared me suddenly with scary masks."

"What does your mother do?" Xie Lian asks as he adjusts her so that they were more comfortable and he was facing Hua Cheng.

"She's a seamstress and puts the embroidery on clothes. She just began teaching me after I pricked myself with a needle when I was trying to copy her."

"Oh? Do you want to be like her?" Hua Cheng asks curiously.

"No, I'm not sure I would enjoy being a priestess. It's clothes that I enjoy more."

"A priestess you say."

"Yes San Lang, she recieves visions every now and again."

A brief flash of lightning appeared by the window. But now having become comfortable with them she now faces Hua Cheng while still sitting on Xie Lian's lap.

Bang

She doesn't wince or hide anymore now that she was given a warning that a thunder might follow.

"Is that so? Which God does she serve Xiao-Ai?"

"Xiwangmu."

"Ah, how interesting." Hua Cheng says in a relaxed tone while sharing a glance at Xie Lian who gives him a subtle nod.

"Does she tell you her visions?"

"No, she always says that it's a burden only she and the other priests or priestesses have to bear. I think this is also why sometimes some of her embroidery are more interesting than other seamstresses."

"Why is that Xiao-Ai?" Xie Lian asks as he gives her another cup of water with the hand that wasn't supporting her.

"Mama says that she cannot directly say her visions when she's not serving as the oracle. But mama couldn't help but warn those who would be affected by some of them. So she embroiders more interesting patterns hoping that someone in the family could decipher it."

"Does it work?"

"No Xie Lian, I think that's why mama cries a lot more nowadays. Because nobody could read her warnings no matter how much she tries to warn them." It's something else little one, Xie Lian thought as continues cradling Meng Ai who has leaned into his arms as another bout of thunder and lightning make their appearance outside. He doesn't need to look at Hua Cheng to know that they are both thinking of the same thing.

This was the test.

Xiwangmu says to not overthink it and to just be themselves and they would pass the test with ease.

I hope she's right. Xie Lian thinks as he feels the storm's wind easing up. It won't be long before the storm would be over, even though it is late at night.

"Xiao-Ai" Hua Cheng begins, tone still gentle but a little bit more persuasive than earlier. "You've mentioned earlier that your father could also see ghosts. What does he do for a living?"

"Oh baba is a magician."

"A magician?"

"Well, I like to call him that. I actually don't really know what his title is. But I always see him mixing and making potions and studying dirt. Sometimes it changes the color of the water and sometimes if I've been really good he'll make a potion that makes so many sparks and show it to me. People go to him and ask him to make fireworks, paint, ink, and other things. Mama says that it's because of baba teaching something to the farmers that the fields are now consistently fertile."

"And what does he do when it comes to ghosts?"

"He just talks to them, he explained that sometimes people are doing things that ghosts don't like but because ghosts can't talk to them so they need to be more disruptive to try to make people stop." She then gives Hua Cheng a smile.

"But I think he'll like you because you took care of me San Lang."

"Oh? And how did you know I was a ghost?" He says now teasing.

"You don't have a heart beat. And there's some sort of clinginess to keep yourself the way you are. Whereas with Xie Lian there's a lack of clinginess but there is a heartbeat. So Xie Lian must be another type of spirit." There was silence after her revelation.

"I'm sorry San Lang, my baba could explain it better than I could. But that's how it makes sense to me."

"Don't be Xiao-Ai." He says as he opens his arms and she goes into them. The storm is weaker now and is on it's way out. Now in his arms Xie Lian makes preparations to return her to her parents. He doesn't want to return her empty handed and since he is the God of this shrine, he takes some of the fresher and better food offerings he received and begins packing them for Meng Ai's family.

"If you don't practice explaining it, then how will you be better at it hmm?"

"Oh you have...a...point." She let's out a yawn. It was obviously well past her bedtime and she's struggling to stay awake.

"Shh sleep now, little one."

"But ... mama and ... baba." Hua Cheng gently shifts his position to make it more comfortable for Meng Ai to sleep in his arms.

"You'll be with them soon."

The next time Meng Ai woke up she was back in her bed with her parents hugging her. A part of her thought that they would scold her for not returning home before the storm but instead they were just grateful that she is back. Along with her return were gifts of fresh fruit which she recalled were some of the offerings in the Puqi shrine that San Lang and Xie Lian brought her to as shelter from the storm.

Later when she was alone she found a little tied parcel attached to her belt. Opening it she found a beautiful necklace with a silver butterfly pendant on it.

She couldn't help but shed tears of joy.

_____________________________________________________________

"See, I told you that you would like her." Hua Cheng couldn't help but raise his eyebrow at the sudden visitor waiting for them on the shrine's entrance when they returned.

"What are you up to Xiwangmu? Are you really going to remove that girl from her family just to give us a wedding gift? You need not bother - I already knew Gods could do despicable things."

"San Lang, let's listen to her. Maybe she has an explanation for all of this."

"I do, but I'm not the best person to explain it. Ask her parents why and you will find out why if you choose to accept her and raise her as your own, you will be doing all of us a favor." She vanishes before either of them could say a word.

"She's really insistent isn't she?"

"Insistent that she deprive one of her oracles from being with her daughter that is."

"Hmm...she says that the best people to ask are her parents. Let's invite them over to have a chat."

"We'll need to keep her distracted while we talk to her parents. Her mother cannot talk directly to anyone involved in her visions. She must have had a vision involving her early on which is why she doesn't want to share any of her visions with her."

"You have a point San Lang. But who would be able to keep her distracted? Oh." He has a pleased expression while Hua Cheng couldn't help but laugh at the hilarity that would ensue.

____________________________________________________________

"Couldn't you have called someone else to babysit her?" Mu Qing in his Fu Yao appearance complained as he and Feng Xin in his Nan Feng appearance arrived at Puqi shrine.

"Shi Qingxuan is ill and there is no way I'm letting Ming Guang anywhere near her."

"She's just a kid San Lang, I don't think Pei Ming would do anything to her."

"He has a point Dianxie, who knows what that womanizer would do." Feng Xin says as the four of them settle down in the living quarters of the shrine.

"Couldn't you have Yin yu do this instead?"

"Is your fear of women that debilitating?" Hua Cheng asks provokingly as Feng Xin's face becomes red.

"I'm not scared of little girls!"

"Good, then you two will have to do. Besides, Yin yu is currently on an assignment that he shouldn't be disturbed from. Unless of course it is an emergency."

"Fine. What do we do?"

"Stick with either Puqi village or a nearby area. And don't let her out of your sight and make sure she's always protected." Xie Lian says in a calm yet authoritative tone.

"What is important is that she shouldn't be anywhere within hearing shot of us. Her mother is an oracle and a priestess of Xiwangmu any information about a vision involving her might change certain things should she learn about them."

"Alright. Any other-"

"SAN LANG! XIE LIAN!" The little girl in question yells in urgent panic as she enters the shrine's grounds. All four rush out to meet her.

"Xiao-Ai what is it?" Xie Lian asks hoping to calm her down.

"Mama says baba is going to be killed today and she told me to run to you to help him!"

"Where is he?"

"He won't tell me where, he just says he's going on a trip to get moon cakes for my birthday gift. But I overheard him say something about getting the perfect vessel from porcelain."

Jingdezhen

Xie Lian telepathically says to all four present.

"You did well Xiao-Ai, San Lang and I will go there to help your father. Will you stay here with our friends Fu Yao and Nan Feng to watch over the temple?" She nods, the worry for her father's life is weighing on her.

"They will make sure you are safe."

"Okay, Xie Lian - if my baba dies, could you still bring him back to mama and I? He asked us to bring his remains to the capital of Fu Dao."

"Of course little one, we will bring your father back." Hua Cheng says reassuringly.

And with that they made their way to the porcelain capital.

AN: Thank you for reading.

Meng = Dream, Ai = Love (I don't know what the total meaning of that is in mandarin but I love the meanings of these names that I found in Chinese name websites)

Up next - Fengqing's first experience as uncles hahaha.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Spring 2023 Anime Overview-Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Season 2

In my review for season one of Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury, I praised the show for being a compelling sci-fi full or intrigue, centering a well developed queer romance between the robot-piloting protagonist and all around precious girl, Suletta Mercury, and her fierce fiancé, Miorine Rembran.

But having been burned by anime before, I said I would hold off on recommending the entire show until it finished, and crossed my fingers tight that season 2 wouldn’t drop the ball.

The great news is that I can now wholeheartedly recommend the show. The final season did not drop the ball. It remained a great watch, the romance and relationship development continued to be worthwhile and excellent, and it was consistent with the strengths of the first season. It wasn’t perfect, which I’ll get into, but it was very good. Whether you’re here for girls in love, robots wrecking each other, tense battles between opposing political factions, or morally-horrifying moms on a revenge spree, you’re in for a treat.

The shocking last moments of the first season have some great relationship fallout, and the series delves into how Suletta was truly brainwashed by her mother. Miorine’s struggles to come to terms with the bloody legacy she’s inherited and her relationship with Suletta can withstand such a thing. Suletta grapples with her mother’s deception and her own individuality. Both are compelling arcs that built upon the groundwork the first season laid and lead to some nice relationship drama.

(Also, the credit sequence was awesome.)

The parallels between the two girls really pop this season as they both have to confront their mistakes, shoulder their sins, and see if they can move forward with the other. You really see how they mirror each other, and how they need each other. The romance ball isn’t dropped and becomes even more textually explicit, with Suletta explicitly stating she's into Miorine and no one else and eagerly anticipating the wedding, while Miorine also makes her intentions with Suletta very clear.

The second season is also a lot faster paced than the first, delivering tense and heartbreaking episodes one after another and leaving you on the edge of your seat. A lot of the conflicts that had been building from the first episode came to an explosive crescendo. Those bombs dropped and the carnage was wonderful. It was exciting, we saw more sides of the conflict, spent some time on earth, and got to see some unexpected depth in several characters. And yes, there were approximately a million more Utena references, some that made me laugh out loud.

However, this season wasn’t perfect. I was already having a little trouble following all the different factions and agendas in the first season, and this season exacerbated the problem. And while some characters got great roles, there were just so many. That meant a lot of them didn’t have any space to develop or even serve a clear purpose. There were a lot of characters I was excited to see do something, who the show built up as super ominous and meaningful and...then they did nothing. As funny as it is that several characters can be summed up as "s/he did fuck all the whole show and then bounced, king shit", it's also a letdown.

And this season really threw into focus how many of the more distinctive supporting characters were barely explored. Suletta’s bond with Earth House was a major plot point, but we barely know anything about most of them so it doesn't hit as hard as it should. Even Chuchu, who was one of the more developed ones, felt under-served as fan favorite. For instance, there were several bits where she entered the battle and it was treated like a big deal…and we didn’t even get to see her fight, presumably because the show didn’t have time. And it was worse for other characters- I couldn’t even tell you the names of most of the girl squad working with Shaddiq. They all had such potential as characters, I wish we'd gotten more of them. Things that should be impactful the narrative, like Miorine's dad and the consequences to his actions and what it means for their relationship, were barely explored (not that I'm all that interested in him, but it was weird after the emphasis the first season put on it).

No major balls were dropped in the conflict between the Spacians and Earthians, but it also felt like it got lost in the shuffle at times and I felt like the show could have had a clearer ideology. The “war is bad” and “exploitative corporations are bad” came through loud and clear, but it felt like some threads could have been followed up on more.

In hindsight, I was also disappointed how much of the season Suletta and Miorine spent separated- some of that was plot relevant, but some of it was just clearly so they could learn exposition separately, and considering how important the relationship was to the show, it felt like a waste.

A good chunk of screentime was also waited Guel’s brother, Lauda. While Guel’s arc was solid and he’s the character who changed the most throughout the show, his brother and his tendency to blame any woman Guel was standing near for all their problems was not compelling (Nanami did it better). So it felt like there was a conflict involving him just to give Guel something to do during the fighting and tie a bow on things. Even the characters involved admitted what happened was kind of dumb, and I would have liked to see one of the more interesting unexplored characters get development instead.

The finale was especially rushed, and while there were cool moments, I couldn’t really describe how the battle was fought, and even one of the characters in the show admits that certain plot developments don’t make sense. I also couldn’t tell you exactly how exactly the villain’s big plan worked, which is kind of important!

You just had to be like “oh okay, well, pretty lights, stuff happened, don’t know why that was a thing, that was the power of love I guess, I’ll just soak up the vibes.” Which isn’t the end of the world, a lot of anime does that, but it stuck out because all the battles before that had their fantastical mechanics (mostly) clearly explained, There were also several reconciliations I would have been more okay with if the show had spent more time on what the messy process of repairing that broken trust looked like, but because it didn’t, it felt unearned.

And finally, the show spent a lot of time talking about a huge romantic event and in the end we…didn’t see it. It’s made clear it happened off screen, but the fact we didn’t see the event the show itself made such a big deal about felt like a let-down and even a bit of a cop-out, if I’m being honest. I get that outside forces may have been responsible, but it doesn't change my disappointment.

Basically what most of the complaints amount to is that I really enjoy this show, but I feel it needed to be longer than it was. At the very least, the events of the final episode could have used two episodes to unfold, so everything could be fully developed, and we could fully see how the characters ended up where they were. But ideally…Gundam series are typically 50 episodes, and I feel like this show might have been better served as a show of that length (or even 37 episodes/3 seasons). This show had a huge cast, a huge world, and a lot going on. I think we needed to spend a lot more time with the characters to get to know their backstories, personalities and agendas. I would have loved some “filler” episodes focusing on a minor character, or Suletta and Miorine going on a disastrous date.

However, overall I was satisfied with the ending. I came out feeling like a winner. It was fun, a lot of the characters ended up where I wanted them to be, and I liked how things turned out. There was an acknowledgement that a corrupt system of war profiteering and exploitation could not be taken down in one stroke, but that our heroes were going to keep fighting. I dearly want a slice of life following all these people at the end of the day, and my investment in the characters is a sign of a job well done.

The show also continued to treat it’s array of fat characters with respect, and it had some good disability representation as well, highlighting some disabled people leading fulfilling and joyful lives.

I really wish G-Witch could have been the absolute best version of itself. But the version we got is still pretty great. I definitely had a fantastic time with the show, was often touched by it, and I’ll carry the excellent characters with me for a long while. The textual romance between two female leads in a mainstream franchise like Gundam is a monumental achievement, and the show handled the relationship well. I hope its success opens the door for more like it. We deserve more stories like this- stories of all genres where queer people are important and get to go on grand adventures, are protagonists, are a normal part of the setting, where we see the kind of people anime usually ignores (fat people, non-Japanese people of color, queer people and disabled people...) are treated with respect, where the story embraces all even as it explores injustice. G-witch is an important step, and I’m sure it will be remembered fondly for years to come. And I sure wouldn’t say no to an OVA to fill in some of the blanks.

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

**The Singlet in the Thrift Store**

Emily had always loved exploring thrift stores. There was something magical about rummaging through the old, discarded items, each with its own story, its own history. On this particular day, she wandered into a small, out-of-the-way shop she had never noticed before. The smell of dust and worn leather filled the air, and the shelves were packed with an eclectic mix of objects.

As she browsed, something caught her eye—a bright red and blue wrestling singlet hanging on a rack in the back corner. It was surprisingly well-preserved, the fabric still taut, though it bore the unmistakable signs of use. The material was thick and stretchy, designed to withstand the rigors of the wrestling ring. Emily wasn't sure why she was drawn to it. She had never been interested in wrestling, but something about the singlet called to her.

She took it off the rack, holding it up to her petite frame. It was clearly too big for her, meant for a man much larger, but a strange curiosity pushed her to try it on. After a quick glance to ensure no one was watching, she slipped into one of the small dressing rooms at the back of the store.

Inside the cramped space, Emily undressed down to her underwear and carefully stepped into the singlet. The material was cool against her skin, and she had to tug it up over her hips and adjust it around her shoulders. As she pulled the straps over her arms, she felt an odd tingle spread across her body, but she brushed it off as nothing more than a strange reaction to the old fabric.

Emily turned to look at herself in the mirror, expecting to see a ridiculous sight—herself, a small, slender girl, drowning in the oversized singlet. But what she saw was different. The singlet seemed to fit her better than it should, hugging her body in a way that was both surprising and a little unsettling. The fabric clung to her form as if it were tailor-made, and she noticed with a start that her muscles appeared more defined, her legs thicker, more powerful.

A sharp tingling sensation shot through her spine, and Emily gasped, grabbing the edges of the small dressing room mirror as she felt her body begin to change. Her muscles, once delicate and lean, began to swell and harden, bulging beneath the fabric of the singlet. Her arms grew thicker, biceps and triceps developing as if sculpted by years of intense physical training. Her chest expanded, flattening as it filled out with muscle, her breasts disappearing entirely.

Emily’s breathing grew heavy, her voice catching in her throat as it deepened involuntarily, the pitch lowering to a gravelly tone that was unfamiliar and frightening. She tried to scream, but the sound that escaped her lips was guttural, masculine. Panic set in as she watched her reflection change further—her jawline grew more pronounced, and a coarse stubble began to spread across her face, soon darkening into a thick, full beard. Her once delicate facial features hardened, taking on the rough, rugged appearance of a man who had lived through years of experience.

The transformation didn’t stop there. Her body continued to broaden, her shoulders widening, her neck thickening with corded muscle. A strange pressure built in her groin, and Emily doubled over, gasping in shock and confusion as her anatomy shifted, twisted, and reformed. The reality of what was happening hit her like a freight train—she was no longer a she at all.

She tried to hold on to the memories of who she was, but they slipped away like sand through her fingers. Her childhood, her friends, her family—all of it faded, replaced by new memories, foreign yet eerily familiar. The sound of a roaring crowd filled her mind, the smell of sweat and the sting of physical exertion becoming the backdrop of her existence. She remembered fights, victories, losses, and the camaraderie of fellow wrestlers in locker rooms that she had never before stepped foot in.

The image in the mirror was no longer Emily at all, but a burly, hairy man, every inch of his body radiating strength and masculinity. His eyes, once wide with fear, now looked back at him with the calm confidence of someone who had seen it all. A thick beard framed his square jaw, and his chest, arms, and legs were covered in a dense mat of hair. He was a man in his forties, hardened by life and the sport he loved.

As he straightened up and adjusted the singlet, which now fit him perfectly, he couldn’t remember why he had been so frightened just moments before. The memories of Emily’s life were gone, replaced entirely by the life of Jack “The Crusher” Malone, a seasoned wrestler who had spent years dominating the ring. Jack flexed his arms, grinning at his reflection, the last remnants of Emily’s thoughts dissolving into the background.

With a satisfied grunt, Jack stepped out of the dressing room, leaving behind the memory of a young girl who had once existed. As he left the thrift store, he felt an overwhelming desire to get back into the ring, to feel the rush of the fight once more. The singlet, after all, was a part of him, just as much as the memories and the life that now filled his mind.

[anonniemousefics]

I have this distinct memory of driving down South Willow Street in Manchester, NH, preparing to turn onto the interstate at a series of traffic lights on a bridge, and internally bemoaning the fruitless direction of my life. I remember how badly I wanted to be a writer -- it's all I've ever really wanted to do -- but all of the advice I'd gotten was to write the things *you* want to read. Write what's on your insides, they'd say. And I knew in that moment, with my turn signal clicking and my heart in my shoes, that if I wrote what I really wanted, then I would lose everyone.

My world at the time was filled with religion and church expectations. I was married to a pastor, a new mother myself, and my life course felt very set. Women in my position wrote cookbooks or memoirs of their faith intended to encourage other women only -- they didn't write about girls who saw ghosts and learned magic and fought just as well as boys. Women weren't allowed to preach at our church, let alone best a man at something.

But this was my community at the time. I'd come to depend on friendships and routines and the support of my family, and all of it was built on these beliefs: that there was an order to the world, and within that order, I could not have the same kind of authority as men.

So I didn't write.

I didn't write -- and I lost everyone anyway.

It took another couple years from that moment on South Willow Street, but eventually I woke up to what I'd done to myself. The world was shifting. People I'd once respected had begun to say and support ideas that were more extreme than I'd ever been used to that I felt I had to start educating myself outside their worldview just to help myself feel less insane. And that's when I started to understand -- all of these relationships, this entire community I'd relied on my entire life, existed because people like me tolerated being used. There had never been any genuine respect for the person under the gender. Leadership was pleased with you and comfortable with you as long as you said the right things and did the right things and *were* the right things. The support I thought I couldn't bear to lose was entirely dependent on my compliance and unwavering obedience, not love and respect for me as a fellow human being. I had never really known what that would look and feel like.

The process of piecing this all together was traumatic. The woman I'd been on South Willow Street was right to fear it. Every new lightbulb moment was rage-inducing and horrifying and gut-wrenching. I spiraled briefly into madness. I needed medications and therapy, and if I hadn't had a few solid friendships outside the church in the midst of this, I don't know if I would have made it at all.

Eventually, though, I learned how to choose myself.

Eventually, I started writing again.

And this time -- oh, this time.

This time I got to experience what I'd been wanting from the start.

I got to meet people who liked the same things as me. I got to meet people who laughed at the same jokes that made me laugh. I got to be loved for who I am, not for how well I perform. I found I could withstand letting go of relationships that couldn't compare. I learned how to say No, lovingly and often. I discovered that learning to love myself exactly as I am -- the thing that I'd heard pastors decry my entire life as one of the many slippery slopes to Satan -- was actually the secret ingredient that made loving others easy. I learned the thing the church has always actually feared was never really our sins -- just the loss of control.

If I had one thing to tell that woman I was on South Willow Street, I'd whisper so gently to her to choose herself instead. I'd tell her to choose the pen and the page, which are always there for you without conditions. I'd tell her to start there -- that is your new standard, I'd say. I'd want her to know it's worth the risk. I'd want her to know the pain will be as terrible as she fears, but that she is so much stronger than she knows. I'd tell her -- and I'll tell you -- if given the choice between community and writing, choose to write. Because a community that can't accept you for you isn't a community at all.

[gleefullypolin]

Stacy's Tipsy Musings: Battle of the Stans Round 2 Colin

We are back for round 2 of Stacy's Tipsy Musings: Battle of the Stans Version

Yes you heard me, it's when one side of the ship screams louder than the other about a certain opinion. Well I wanted to tear those opinions up one by one and see what a Polin Stan thought about it.

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun, I'm not trying to start a real fight here! These are just personal opinions that I feel come from one side and should really be looked at from the middle more. Peace love and shipping!

Round 1: Penelope| Colin

Round 2: Penelope

On to Round 2

Colin Stans Round 2:

Friends or Acquaintances?

Penelope took Colin’s friendship for granted because she wrote bad things about him and didn’t respect him and cut him off.

Alright here we go…this one is interesting as it takes us to the heart of Lady Whistledown. Pen is a bad, bad girl. She did something that I’ve seen many girls do. Revenge tweet.

But let’s rewind. To the one line that every Polin fan wants to hunt down CVD and burn his house down for.

“I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife.”

It’s that line that sends a fandom into an anger frenzy right. It stopped our world at the end of Season 2 where everyone went WHEN I FIND YOU COLIN BRIDGERTON!!!

Well Pen felt the same way, didn’t she? And she said, omg I hate you, Colin. Now, I have written fic about this, as I am sure many of you have. And I have seen it taken many ways. We hate him, we loath him, we fault him, we kick him. Well Pen chose to ignore him. She was so hurt and confused by the way he was acting earlier to then hear his words, combined with Eloise finding out about LW and yelling at her that it rocked her damn world.

So, she ignored him all during his travels. Was that harsh, hell yes. Was she allowed to be in her feels about it, yes. She was going through a lot. He did pretty much make it seem like she was not worth courting to a bunch of eligible men of the ton. She had enough issues trying to attract suitors. Come on Colin! Help a girl out here!

So, then he comes home and he’s different, he’s acting different, he looks different, he’s an even bigger flirt than when he left, and Pen, who knows him very well knows that he’s acting a fool. So, when he tracks her down with his, “I miss you boo!” line, she’s had enough of him.

Now I was thankful she told him immediately why she was mad at dear Mister Bridgerton. I didn’t want that hanging over his head the whole damn season as to why. But it clocked him quickly. And then she did what I said, she went home and did the Regency revenge tweet. She Lady Whistledown’d him.

Now…does that mean at any time that she didn’t respect him. I would argue with you that she respected the hell out of Colin and was angry at him for not respecting HER for saying what he did and not respecting himself for acting a fool for talking about her like that and for coming home acting a fool.

Did she have a right to judge the way he came home. No, she did not. Colin had every right to come home acting however he wanted. Was that the real Colin...Oh that’s for a different round, ladies, and gents. However, I do not think the issue was respect.

Pen respected their friendship, but she respected herself also. She had every right not to write to him after he spoke about her. She was wrong to write about him in Whistledown after being angry at him but that does not mean she immediately cancelled her membership to her Colin monthly friendship foundation.

Polin Fan Knockout Punch: Friendship is built on a foundation and as long as it’s a solid one it can withstand a few mistakes. And mistakes were made by both parties.

Pen made mistakes by tarnishing his name in her column. Whether there was truth to what she wrote, writing about him while she was angry at him, might not have been a shining Penelope moment. Colin’s words were made while drunk and full of male ego and stupidity. He harmed his friend while making himself feel good. Neither meant to hurt the other, but they both did.

However, they both had a solid friendship built out of love that was able to survive those mistakes.

[trendinginterestingblog]

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[mug-of-beans]

Legitimately can’t remember if I’ve ever posted these thoughts, so doing it, maybe for the second time.

My hot/cold take for My Hero Academia is that Momo Yaoyorozu should be fat.

To preface, there’s a lot of factors here that should be considered before lobbing criticism around, and there is legitimate criticism to be made of the depiction of girls in a lot of anime and manga. A lot of that can be chalked up to the society these stories come from and the cultural norms therein, and that’s a far more complicated discussion than I’m looking to have right this second. I’m a generally left-leaning American with opinions about body-positivity, and that puts me in a very different environment than the one in which My Hero Academia was written, and gives me very different preconceptions.

So that’s all to say, this is less a criticism of what My Hero Academia is, and more a dream of what it could be/could have been.

NOW THEN

Why Momo Yaoyorozu Should be Fat

Momo is an interesting character with an interesting power. She can create objects that she knows the molecular makeup of by generating the relevant matter from her fat cells, and expelling the created object from her body.

The story uses this as a pretense to give her what I call “anime-sexy-figure.” The justification being she’s always using her body fat to make stuff, and that keeps her skinny (her boobs and butt withstanding, obviously).

I’m going to argue that the opposite should be true. As someone who is always using her body fat to power her quirk, Momo should have a large amount of fat on her - specifically I think she should be built like a healthy sumo wrestler, since she would be constantly training and replacing that fat with new fat. She can get skinny after a long fight, specifically to indicate that she’s at the end of her rope; ie, this should be a bad thing. Another character who uses his fat to power his quirk, Fatgum, is already depicted like this, so there is precedence.

As for narrative implications, you can do a lot with a character like this, whether she’s sensitive about her body, or just outright confident about it, or maybe even learning to just like herself the way she is. Maybe she ends up letting someone down in an exercise because she ran out of fuel for her quirk because she was sensitive about gaining weight and has to consider whether she wants to be conventionally attractive or healthy in her work as a hero. Maybe she does work with her quirk properly, but is anxious about how she looks and needs to learn a lesson in self-love - choosing to wear her figure rather than letting her figure wear her. There’s a lot you can do with that. Heck, give her an internship with Fatgum and she can learn a bit through that, maybe explore the difference in how the world treats fat men versus fat women.

My point here is that this is an interesting idea for the character, and while the story is not bad for missing it, I think more could have been done with a character like Momo. Of course, she’s a side character in a plot that is already VERY crowded, so I won’t try to argue that the story should have been about this, but again… it’s fun to just consider something that could have been.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Fluffuary 2023 Day 11: Fireplace- Dwalin x OC

Dwalin x Astrea

Description: After Astrea spends just a bit too long outside in the snow she comes home to her displeased husband.

Word Count: 1.3k

Challenge made by the lovely @darthglitterfanfiction

Winter was already coming in strong for the people of Erebor. The snow had already begun to fall, and it was only November! It was the people’s first winter back in the kingdom and everyone was more than excited to experience snowfall in their homes again (or for the first time in some cases). Dwarves were naturally built to withstand such low temperatures. At most they just wore a few layers and they were all good. Astrea, being a Hobbit, was unfortunately not. That meant she could only be outside for a few minutes before she had to go back inside lest she catch hypothermia. 

Her husband Dwalin always made sure to remind her of that when she was layering up to go outside. Despite his gruff demeanor, he was actually a very caring and attentive husband. She would even say that it was a bit overbearing at times because his urge to keep her away from any and all potential harm was impalpable. It was unfortunate and even a bit annoying, she knew that he was just worried about her because he loved her. And she appreciated it, so she dealt with it and always made sure not to stay out for long. 

Today was different, however. As winter began to set in, snow had fallen several inches overnight and people were ecstatic to play in the snow. Astrea’s daily chores had been interrupted by none other than Fili and Kili, who had decided to invite her to join them as well as Celeste and Nessa in the snow while Dwalin was at work in the palace. 

“It’s not like you’ll have anything else to do,” Kili pointed out eagerly. “All you do is sit at home waiting for your darling husband to return.” There was a teasing lilt to his voice when he said ‘darling husband’ that made the Hobbit roll her eyes playfully, though she ultimately found herself nodding. 

“Oh, very well. Let me get into something warmer.” The Dwarves cheered as she headed to her and Dwalin’s shared bedroom to get dressed. 

She ultimately changed into some warm pants and a long sleeve shirt. After slipping on a coat and scarf she decided she was ready. Of course it probably wasn’t actually enough to keep her warm, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The prospect of actually being outside for more than a few minutes was much too exciting for her to think about it for long. Instead she followed the Princes (or, at least tried to, considering her legs were much shorter than theirs) out to where the girls were waiting for them. 

“Well, it’s about time you showed up,” Celeste joked. Kili began to make (what he probably thought would be) a witty response, but he was interrupted when Nessa suddenly scooped up a snowball and threw it at him. It nailed him directly in the face, making the others burst into laughter as he stared at her in shock. After a moment he got over it as an idea seemed to hit him (based on the look on his face). 

“Oh yeah?” He asked with a mischievous smile on his face, dipping down to make a snowball of his own and throw it at her. It hit Nessa in the chest and slid down her tunic, making her gasp and shudder as she tried to wipe it off. She paused when she heard Astrea laughing at her, and she faced the Hobbit girl. 

“And what are you laughing at?” She asked, scooping the snow off her tunic and flicking it at her. 

“Oh you are so going to pay for that!” She laughed jovially, also crouching down to make a snowball and throwing it back at her. Both Kili and Nessa ducked so it ended up hitting Celeste, who stood on the other side of the Elf. This continued between them until it turned into a full blown snowball fight. 

They stayed outside for hours. When they got bored of the snowball fight they decided to make a snowman. And when they finished that they continued finding things to do. It was the most fun Astrea ever had. She hadn’t realized how long they’d spent time outside until Fili pointed out that the sun was already setting. Her eyes widened when she realized he was right. Oh no, Dwalin always got home around this time. There was no way she’d be able to warm herself up before he sees her.

“Would you like us to walk you home, Mrs. Astrea?” Celeste asked the Hobbit, interrupting her thoughts. Immediately she put on a smile and shook her head. 

“Oh, no dear. I’ll be okay. It’s less than five minutes, I’ll likely be home before the sun has fully set,” she brushed off. The others looked unsure at first, but at her urging they wished her goodnight and headed back to the palace. Once she was alone Astrea sighed and turned, trudging her way home. 

There was smoke coming out of the chimney when she walked up to the house, which confirmed her theory of her husband being home. Once at the door she took a moment to prepare herself for the lecture she was about to receive, then finally opened the door as quietly as she could and stepped inside. Dwalin sat by the fireplace, where a fire roared in front of him as he moved the embers around. He didn’t face her as he spoke. 

“I’ve run your bath. Go warm yourself up,” he instructed, grabbing a few more logs and feeding them to the fire. Astrea wanted to retort that she wasn’t a child, and that he didn’t need to talk to her like one. But by that point she was too tired to argue, so she did as he said and walked to their bathroom. 

It didn’t take her long to clean up and warm herself, but she still spent quite a while in the bath. She didn’t want to face her husband and see his disappointed face. Eventually her water started getting cold, so she got out and dried off, changing into the warm pajamas that Dwalin had set out for her before finally walking out to the living room. Dwalin was staring at the fire in front of him as he waited for her once again, but this time he actually looked at her when she walked in. 

“I’m not mad,” was the first thing he said as she took a seat beside him. “I don’t wish for you to believe that I am. I just worry about you, Astrea. Winters here are colder than they were back in the Blue Mountains and I don’t want you to catch your death from it. You’re much smaller than the other inhabitants of Erebor.” Astrea stayed silent for a minute as she thought over his words. 

“I understand your concern, my love,” she started slowly. “But you cannot expect me to just stay cooped up in the house all winter as if I am a bear hibernating. I wish to go outside and have fun with our friends. And I understand that I am smaller than almost everyone else, but that does not mean that I’ve no common sense. I know my limits, and I know when to come inside or how much I should layer up. I am not a child, I am your wife, and I think you should have a little more faith in me.” Now it was Dwalin’s turn to remain silent. He stared at the fire for a minute or two, then he sighed. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t be treating you like this,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.” A small smile formed on the girl’s face as she scooted closer to him. She was practically nestled into his side, prompting him to wrap his arm around her. 

“You’re forgiven. I love you, Dwalin.” A fond smile appeared on her husband’s face. 

“I love you too.” With that, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before the two of them faced the fireplace once again, ready to spend the rest of the night in front of it with each other. 

[sherlokiness]

I think Jon and Sansa will have 2 weddings. First, a secret wedding during the war and another public one years later that involve the consummation of said marriage. We already have a precedent for two weddings by a famously in love sibling couple with Jahaerys and Alysanne. And I remember something in the earlier season Sansa talking about her marriage to Joff happening after "all the fighting's done" so there's that. Maybe a clue? The Eyrie thing proves true if Sansa stays a virgin during the fighting. There's also Sansa's virginity being linked to WF's gates/walls.

"Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?"

WF's walls could withstand giant LF so it could certainly stand the WW. Again. HAHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAH. Sansa's chastity is really something. I really do not like the idea of Jon fathering a bastard on her.

Benjicot should learn to keep his fool's mouth shut. "Is that what you would have from me? A bastard?" She pulled her fingers from his grasp. "Would you dishonor me that way?"

Would Jon dishonor her? You do not honor a highborn girl by putting a bastard in her belly.

"The Others take your honor!" Robert swore. "What did any Targaryen ever know of honor? Go down into your crypt and ask Lyanna about the dragon's honor!" "You avenged Lyanna at the Trident," Ned said, halting beside the king. Promise me, Ned, she had whispered.

The dragon's honor would compel R to marry L and that's why Jon is not a bastard but the dragon's heir.Honor is also the reason Robb chose to marry. Granted, it is the end of the world and they may not care but that reeks too much of what happened to JD in the show. Is this where we apply what is honor compared to a woman's love? But we are talking about the girl's honor.

As for Jonsa having kids, I completely agree. We have a King Jon Stark who built the Wolf's Den and a den is something made to care for pups. The last book was supposed to be called A Time for Wolves so this tracks.

This might sound crackpot but there is also another clue that jonsa will marry and that's... a chicken.

The bitch growled low in her throat and moved closer. Ghost looked up, silent, and fixed the dog with those hot red eyes. The bitch snapped an angry challenge. She was three times the size of the direwolf pup. Ghost did not move. He stood over his prize and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. The bitch tensed, barked again, then thought better of this fight. She turned and slunk away, with one last defiant snap to save her pride. Ghost went back to his meal.

Jon and Ramsay will have the Battle of the Bastards with Jon's army outnumbered but he will win. His prize will be WF and with it comes a Sansa as we have established the gates of WF=Sansa's chastity.

"Hungry again?" he asked. There was still half a honeyed chicken in the center of the table. Jon reached out to tear off a leg, then had a better idea. He knifed the bird whole and let the carcass slide to the floor between his legs

It's a honeyed chicken. Something sweet.😉😉 I think there's a meta out there about the song that involves honey and bears.

"They'll find her," said Polliver. "If it takes half the gold in Casterly Rock."

"A pretty girl, I hear," said the Tickler. "Honey sweet." He smacked his lips and smiled.

Sansa is honey sweet. She is also Jon's sweet sister not little sister.

Septon Cellador sucked in his breath. "The king's prize. His Grace will be most wroth to find her gone."

She's gone Beyond the Wall and came back blue eyed with dark honey hair.

God grant that I never know true winter, then. Asha herself was spared the worst of it; she was the king's prize, after all.Whilst others hungered, she was fed. Whilst others shivered, she was warm. Whilst others struggled through the snows atop weary horses, she rode upon a bed of furs inside a wayn, with a stiff canvas roof to keep the snow off, comfortable in her chains.

Doesn't that sound like Sansa too?

Only the wind answered her, sighing endlessly around the seven slim white towers and rattling the Moon Door every time it gusted. It will be even worse in winter, she knew. In winter this will be a cold white prison.

They're both prisoners albeit comfortable in their chains. Why are both Asha and Val called the King's prize? Because they are being used by Stannis as tools to control Winterfell and who is the ultimate prize if not Sansa? The eldest true born daughter of Eddard and Catelyn. Literally betrothed multiple times so they could control Winterfell.

Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth.

"Do you blame me, my lord? Such a prize is not easily won. A nubile girl, I hear, and not hard to look upon. Good hips, good breasts, well made for whelping children."

"Why do you take so much bloody interest in where I put my cock?" Tyrion demanded. "Sansa is too young." "She is old enough to be Lady of Winterfell once her brother is dead. Claim her maidenhood and you will be one step closer to claiming the north. Get her with child, and the prize is all but won. Do I need to remind you that a marriage that has not been consummated can be set aside?"

Since Ghost will end up with the prize then *cough* Jonsa *cough*Sansa's hand is not easily won. The hero would need to slay a dragon to marry the princess.

Queen Cersei and Queen Margaery are fighting over the little king like two bitches with a chicken bone, and both have been accused of treason and debauchery.

There's also symbolism about chicken being related to the IT or at least Queenship.

How Jonsa will happen?

Most likely like Sansa predicted, in Book One:

"I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."

In Case no one knows it, these love stories are inworld Songs about tragic and unfulfilled Love. Naerys was the Wife of Aegon IV and gave him Children, although she loved their Brother Aemon (according to this Song) and Jonquil and Ser Florian are Songs which are described as Sad in AFFC. So when Sansa says this in Book ONE, she thinks she is in Love with Joffrey, but given her relatively naive Outlook on Life, I would say she is more in Love with the thought of being in Love than with Joffrey.

I expect Jon and Sansa to happen with the realisation that their Love is not for the Best, in the middle of Winter, during a Food Crisis, with the Others on their Way, etc. And that won't miraculously change. And no, Daenerys won't be the solution to that problem, because what Jon and Sansa need is Food and/or Money, Daenerys has neither. So the best and easiest solution would be Marriage. Sansa marrying someone who can solve their problems, either someone with Money or someone with Food. The ideal would be both but in Westeros, there are either People indebted or soon will be indebted because Food will be needed and most likely will be bought.

And Sansa will marry someone, with one of these Things (I expect Littlefinger will be long dead by that point, so no luckily for all of us, this Creep won't be it) If Littlefinger dies without issue (because Sansa is revealed as Sansa stark and not Alayne Stone), it is most likely that Sansa will marry Sweet Robin, because, I think Harry the Heir will die, but Sweet robin will survive (mostly because Robin is the Reason that Baelish has Power in the Vale, not the Harding-Boy)

And because the Wall will be totally destroyed and never be rebuilt, Jon won't be at the Wall at the End of this Story, he most likely will become either Sansa's or Rikkon's Sworn Sword something similar to a Kingsguard. And what that means, I won't describe, but it will be very bitter-sweet. And Sansa will be in Love unfulfilled and married to someone else. And Jon will have his family back and only father Bastards, the very thing he never wanted to do.

[the-faultofdaedalus]

I had a dream that the king and the queen of a small country had a daughter. They needed a son, a first-born son, so in secret, without telling anyone of their child’s gender, they travelled to the nearby woods that were rumoured to house a witch.

They made a deal with that witch. They wanted a son, and they got one. A son, one made out of clay and wood, flexible enough to grow but sturdy enough to withstand its destined path, enchanted to look like a human child. The witch asked for only one thing, and that was for their daughter.

They left the girl readily.

The witch raised her as her own, and called her Thyme. The princess grew up unknowing of her heritage, grew up calling the witch Mama, and the witch did her very best to earn that title.

She was taught magic, and how to forage in the woods, how to build sturdy wooden structures and how to make the most delicious stews. The girl had a good life, and the witch was pleased.

The girl grew into a woman, and learned more and more powerful magics, grew stronger from hauling wood and stones and animals to cook, grew smarter as the witch taught her more.

She learned to deal with the people in the villages nearby, learned how to brew remedies and medicines and how to treat illness and injury, and learned how to tell when someone was lying. 

Every time the pair went into town, the people would remark at just how similar Thyme was to her mother. 

(Thyme does not know who and what she is. She does not know that she was born a princess, that she was sold. She only knows that one night after her mother read her a story about princesses and dragons, her mother had asked her if she ever wanted to be a princess.)

((Thyme only knows that she very quickly answered no. She likes being a witch, thank you very much, she likes the power that comes with it and the way that she can look at things and know their true nature.))

The witch starts preparing the ritual early, starts collecting the necessities in the winter so they can be ready by the fall equinox. Her daughter helps, and does not ask what this is for, just knows that it is important.

The witch looks at Thyme, both their hands raised into the air over a complicated array of plants, tended carefully to grow into a circle, and says, sorry.

Thyme wakes up in a clearing she recognizes well. Her mother is not there. 

The house she had grown up in is a pile of logs on the ground, destroyed and broken and in disarray, and Thyme is afraid. She calls for her mother, once, twice, and then rolls up her sleeves and begins the trek towards town. 

Her home is not here, she has neither her bow nor her knife, and if she means to figure out what happened she needs supplies. People are always in need of a witch, she knows, and her mother taught her long ago the value of a silver tongue. 

Except.

She walks out of the woods, and the town is... different. Smaller. The mill she knew so fondly, that she used to climb in with the other children of the village, isn’t there. 

There’s no indication it was ever there, and all at once, Thyme realizes what the ritual was for. 

It was a time-spell, and now she is in the past. The house is in ruins because her mother has not repaired it yet, the mill is gone because it has not been built yet. 

She is here, because...

She does not know. 

And now, it is up to her to take care of herself.

She learns the date from the villagers, gets herself a room at the inn and a good hot meal in exchange for looking at the innkeeper’s son, who has been wracked with cough for weeks now, apparently. 

His face is one Thyme knows, one that in her days were covered in wrinkles and laugh-lines, and as she goes back out into the woods to collect the herbs she needs to cure the boy, she thinks.

The boy will take the inn over from his father, and he will always welcome Thyme’s mother in with open arms for saving him when he was a child. Either the story had been wrong, or Thyme has already broken things. 

Thyme does not know which one she fears more.

She waits in the village for a full turn of the moon for her mother to come. She knows that this is when she should have come in to town. She knows that she should show up here, any day. 

The boy’s cough gets better and when it’s gone completely Thyme buys herself a knife at the blacksmith’s and returns to the woods, to the clearing she calls home. Hands on her hips, she surveys the once-cottage, and makes a plan. 

The house takes a long time to build. She buys an axe, makes a bow, and sleeps under the stars while the house is very slowly built back up. Walls, roof, floors, and then a fireplace, big and wide enough to fit a cauldron, built from special bluestone she hauls from a nearby hill one lump at a time, all the better to brew inside. 

Mama, she thinks wryly, you better be grateful for this. 

She hunts for herself, mostly, snares rabbits and shoots down deer, strips them of their skin, treats it and leaves the fur out to dry. They’ll be good blankets, a good winter cloak, someday. She knows what plants she can eat, what plants will be good, and she survives. She builds. 

She does not tell the villagers her name, and they know her only as “the witch.” 

Thyme eventually stops waiting for her mother. She watches herself in the mirror, and aches at how much they look the same. How much she’s turning out like her mother. 

She helps the villagers, occasionally travels further to heal illnesses in other villages, but mostly stays to herself, in the woods, collecting books and herbs and the house grows more and more as she remembers it. Her hair, that used to be so dark, raven’s hair, her mother would say, braiding it back for her before she learned to do it herself, gets shot through with white and goes grey. 

There’s wrinkles on her face that didn’t used to be there. 

Thyme stops waiting, and becomes the witch of the these woods.

And then. 

The King and Queen of these lands show up at her door, and they are holding a baby girl. 

Please, they say, We need a son. Give us a son. 

And Thyme, who now has a scar on her cheek from a branch whipping at her too fast to avoid, who knows that her mother had had the same scar, looks at the baby, meets her eyes, and knows that they are her eyes. 

I’ll give you a son, Thyme tells them, as if through a trance, but the cost will be your daughter.

They agree, as she knew they would, and she makes a boy out of clay and wood and she remembers learning how to make constructs like these with her mother, she breaths life into it and sends it off with the King and Queen and she holds their baby in her arms. 

Black hair. Dark eyes. A quiet baby, who looks up at her with a solemness that Thyme’s not entirely sure babies are supposed to have. 

Hello, little one, Thyme says, holds out her finger for the baby to grasp, feels her voice crack down the centre like a burnt-out log when the infant holds her finger in her chubby little hand. 

She’s a princess. This baby is a princess, and this baby is her, and her mother has never existed. She knows all these things now, but the thing that she knows most strongly is that she will protect this child, and not only because this child is her. 

(It is alright to be selfish, Thyme, she remembers her mother telling her, it is alright to take things for yourself. You do not need to give yourself away, remember that.)

She has to build a crib and cradle for the baby, and until it’s finished, until she knows that the birchwood and blanket is as comfortable as it can be, she sleeps with the baby -- with Thyme, her name will be Thyme, and she smiles as she thinks it -- on her chest. 

She goes into the village, walking through the woods as baby Thyme looks at the trees and the plants with wide eyes, brings her to a farmer who has raised three girls, knocks at her door, and says, help me. 

The witch doesn’t know how to care for a child, and she is going to learn. She must learn. 

The farmer helps her gladly, something in her eyes that tells the witch that she misses having children, that however much she loves her girls, grown and adventurous, sun-browned and strong from working the fields with her mother, she misses caring for an infant. 

She learns how to make formula out of goat’s milk, how to burp the baby, how to change and wash her. She learns how to tell why the baby might be crying -- even though baby Thyme rarely cries, prefers to watch the world with her big, dark eyes -- and how to fix what might be wrong. 

She sits with the farmer as Thyme plays with a doll carved from a cow’s bone, and learns how to thresh wheat. 

The farmer never asks where the baby came from, but does remark how alike they look, that Thyme looks just like her mother, and the witch smiles at that. 

Thyme seems to grow quickly, learning to crawl, and then to toddle around while hanging off the furniture, and the witch cries at Thyme’s first, unsteady and unsupported steps, even as she builds high shelves into the rafters of her home so that Thyme won’t end up eating things she shouldn’t.

The witch takes Thyme into the village more and more, first in a bag tucked up close against her chest, and when Thyme grows more, holding her hand as she runs through the woods as fast as her little legs will carry her. Every time Thyme runs off to bring back a flower, the witch feels a surge of fondness she refuses to suppress. 

The mill is built, and the witch watches as Thyme runs off to play with the other village kids, brave and fearless and so, so curious. 

She teaches Thyme her first charm when the girl is eight, and Thyme takes to the craft like she takes to memorizing the names and uses of plants, like she takes to a bow and knife, like she takes to books, exactly as the witch knew she would. 

Sometimes, the witch hates the lie she’s made Thyme into. She agonizes over it, over she should tell the girl her true parentage, should spill this secret like a cut bag of wheat, but--

She does not want Thyme to know that she was traded away so easily. She does not want Thyme to know that to her birth parents, she was worthless. 

She asks, though. Asks, do you want to be like the girls in the books? a princess? and is warmed to the core when Thyme answers no. 

Yes, the witch had known what she had answered. Yes, the witch knows that Thyme loves her life, her studies, the woods, her home. 

(Yes, the witch knows that Thyme loves her mother, because the witch loved her mother. She knows this, and still, she asks.)

The witch teaches Thyme how to make constructs, how to animate them, is proud beyond words when on her fifth try, casting over a wood skeleton covered in clay, the shape of a rabbit, the thing shivers to life, and hops over to push it’s nose into Thyme’s outstreached hands, the girl beaming so brightly that the witch thinks the woods might be glowing with it. The rabbit-construct is lumpy, and uneven, it’s movements slow and unnatural, and she has not yet taught Thyme how to cast the illusion spell onto it that will make it look real, and alive, but Thyme looks so happy that the witch nearly, nearly, forgets her guilt at the purpose of this spell.

Thyme grows, first into a teen, skinny and narrow from how she had shot taller like a willow tree, bony and sharp and lean, and into a woman, growing broad from good food and hard work, takes to hiking into the woods for days at a time with only her knife and her bow and a pouch of herbs, returns home with wild hair the witch combs out for her as Thyme tells her of her adventures.

It matters not that the witch knows all of these stories, knows them because she lived them herself, when she was a girl. She listens to her daughter, dragging the comb through her tangled hair, asks about the falls she found, the cliffs, the animals, the herbs, makes sure that Thyme knows that she will be listened to, that she deserves to be listened to. She listens, because she knows that no matter how much Thyme loves going on these adventures, she also loves coming home, and sharing in these simple, cozy moments.

Winter comes. With the cold comes a grief, a guilt, that weighs heavy on the witch’s heart. She begins preparing for the ritual, for the time-spell that will send her daughter backwards and into loneliness and into the position to save herself from what her true parents would force her to become, backwards to learn the truth, backwards to become her.

She knows why she must do this. She has scryed on her construct, the prince, the soon-to-be-king, every moon since she sent him away and took herself in his place. She sees what he has grown into, she sees what the power has done to him, she sees and she knows that she and her daughter would have suffered greatly in that role. She sees him make hard choices.

She sees him go to war.

She sees the illusion she cast over branch and clay bleed. She sees him, bandages around his torso, arm hanging awkwardly by his side, leave the castle, and wade into the lake outside of it’s walls. She sees the clay in the lakebed melt towards him, heal the wounds, make him fit to wield a sword the very next day.

She does not want that. She does not want that for her daughter.

It is alright to be selfish, Thyme, she remembers her mother saying to her, remembers saying to her Thyme, bleeding for others is a gift. It is valued, but it is up to you to give it.

Spring comes. Reedy plants are tended into a circle. Summer comes. Fires are burned over the dirt, ash mixed with soil. Fall comes. The heart of a boar is buried under the circle, placed to rest with gentle words. The witch and her daughter, Thyme and Thyme, stand together, hands raised, looking at each other.

The witch whispers, I’m sorry.

And her daughter disappears.

[solarsleepless]

Hello good sir.

Please rant to me about avian hybrid/ Lion hybrid/ enderman hybrid c!Niki headcanons and au's. I NEED MORE of your c!niki banter cs I have already read your fics 3times over and over again.

SHJHJSHJSHJSHJSH GIVE ME GENDER EUPHORIA AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

i'll give some hcs for each

Avian Niki

niki is either a crow hybrid or an angel hybrid. on one hand crow niki is funny to me on the other hand badass angel

her feathers, ironically, stay white during her 'villain' arc because yaknow symbolism

when she was going out with puffy, she'd let puffy preen them

because she was the only other winged hybrid, quackity trusted her to preen his own wings

in return he preened hers while she was in jail

she used to fly with puffy because love <3

during her isolation arc, she takes out feathers as an unhealthy coping mechanism, reasoning to herself that there's no need to preen if she doesn't have any feathers left (yes it's morbid)

eventually tho she just. doesnt even wear clothes for her wings

she just hides them underneath, which is of course VERY uncomfortable

they get worse and worse and ache more and more and she wants to fly so badly but she can't unless she preens them and she can't because she just can't!

when she joins the syndicate, the first thing phil says during their second meeting is: "hey niki didn't you have wings? what happened to them?"

his voice is tinged with sympathy; he knows what it's like to not be able to fly

she freezes, just stops moving, then starts to cry

phil is worried he's done something wrong, but then she reveals that she's kept her wings hidden under wil's coat and cloak all that time (note the symbolism)

he immediately is like "what the FUCK" when he sees them because there are feathers falling when it's not even shedding season yet?? also there are a few in places they shouldn't be at all? there are some fucking missing?????

long story short it takes multiple hours to get them back in place

niki passes out during it because it's been so long since she hasn't been in constant pain

when she wakes up, phil insists on keeping her there to preen her wings

also the syndicate has a long discussion about what happened and they promise each other and themselves to help her get better

Lion Hybrid Niki

she purrs end tweet

no but seriously this girl will purr to end and back

she purrs louder than ranboo which is SAYING something

she loves the scritchy scratches behind the ears. like REALLY loves 'em. she'll just- once you give her scritches she just. surrenders and leans into it. her purring sounds like a fucking jet plane when she gets the scritchies

she can roar, she only uses it to intimidate people tho

her self-worth is just. deeper than bedrock. she has no self-worth

she and puffy are working on it but she still... needs help

sometimes she gets phantom pain from her declawed fingers. she's found out it hurts less when she massages it, but she can't actually reach it, so she asks puffy to do it, and puffy can't help but feel guilty each time she sees the stumps

also niki hates getting her nails trimmed. like HATES it. even if she doesn't want them growing as long as they did before, the idea of something sharp near her fingers after what happened just makes her blanch

eventually tho she does have to do it

she hugs puffy while ant cuts her nails, and puffy whispers sweet, reassuring comments to her.

like

"you're doing so good. i'm so proud of you" and "we're almost there. you okay? we're gonna get through this."

sometimes tho niki just.. can't handle it. but she doesn't want to disappoint puffy either so she tries to just get through it anyways.

puffy notices her discomfort and asks her if she wants to stop. niki hesitates before nodding.

"niki, you being comfortable is so much more important than this. we can do it tomorrow, okay?"

Enderman Hybrid Niki

makes littol enderman noises. sometimes when she's stressed, sometimes just idly, sometimes when she's happy!

she has a tail because how can i not give her one

also she has pawsies and hands like magpiebur by @/nightferns (BECAUSE I LOVE THE WAY THEY DRAW WILBUR'S PAWWWS)

can withstand water a little better than ranboo, being more human than him

it still burns though

she just has higher pain tolerance lul

also can touch snow unlike ranboo because she's half human, half enderman

her ears and tail twitch whenever she's anxious

didn't really like eye contact, and the l'manbergians respected that (esp eret who didnt like people staring at their eyes either) until schlatt came along and basically forced it, so she kinda forced herself to do it from then on

unlike ranboo however, she doesnt go into enderwalk. she actually hasn't got an enderwalk because ranboo got it from nervous habit and it 'evolved' from there (my hc anyway), she instead literally gets hurt

like it hurts her to make eye contact

ranboo sees that she makes eye contact despite being an enderman hybrid and is like: "...HOW???"

she's just like "oh i force myself to do it lul. cause everyone expects me to anyways. it hurts after a while but its fine"

he just goes completely silent after that, then tells phil and techno at the syndicate meeting (while niki is admiring steve) not to hold eye contact w/niki because it hurts her

techno: "HEHH??? she seemed fine when i visited her!!" ranboo: "yeah she's been hiding it this whole time because society expects her to do it." techno, an adhd fella: "..phil where are the adoption papers-"

niki's confused by the end. why did nobody look at her? why did nobody maintain eye contact with her??? did they not like her?

but at the end phil explains that they thought that because she was an enderman hybrid she wouldn't like it (they're lying to not throw ranboo under the bus)

niki just stares, then starts to cry because holy Shit they are so nice

"nIKI NO YOU'RE BURNING-"

used to bite her tail as a way of self-harm. techno was VERY concerned when he saw the bite marks, but niki just lied and said that it was a dog attack

he knows for a fact it wasn't a dog because he's been bitten and his furniture has bites and it didnt look like that

more like that One Time when Ranboo bit him while he was in his enderwalk state

cue him connecting the dots and being like "...WAIT"

niki also really likes blocks. like we all know her city is weird in some parts because it's built with different blocks, signifying niki's jumbled up mind while planning to kill tommy. but in the enderman hybrid niki hc, its also partly because blocks feel nice and she wanted to feel different ones

her tail curls around the legs of people she likes. so far, it's gone around: wilbur, tommy n tubbo (those two specifically during pogtopia), fundy, eret, puffy and the rest of the syndicate

whenever puffy made her flustered she'd blush either green or pink. no inbetween. puffy was very confused and thought niki was disgusted by her at first and was all :(( before niki explained her wack biology

that's all i got for now im afraid!