#thank u for giving me an excuse to talk about it!!

[leah2eroes]

not here for theriotyping, just genuinely curious-

what does being therian mean to you and how did you first start realizing/exploring that identity for yourself? :3

ok so im not gonna go too much into who i am and what my life has been like in the last, say, 8 years? but being therian has been a pretty important part of who i am!

yk the classic stereotypical trans "oh ive known since i was a kid" thing that like not a lot of trans folks actually relate to? yeah well i have that but for being a wolf. it was brushed off as childlike roleplay when i was a kid (and was thoroughly bullied/pressured out of me as i grew up around guys who thought i was a freak for not being one of them) but i think when i was maybe 14 or 15 it definitely struck me that its a pretty fundamental part of who i am and has influenced my personality and development for as long as i can remember! it kinda went hand in hand with my gender questioning stuff; the reason my gender was so foggy in my head is because im not a human woman; im a fuckin wolf.

whenever i would tell people, i would get one of 4 responses:

-"what are you talking about i dont really understand..." (which is fine on its own but its always followed by one of the others) -"*laughter* ok weirdo" -"kinda sounds like bestiality to me thats kinda fucked up" -"...that explains a lot about you, thank u for telling me i love u"

and at this point anyone who responds with something that isnt the lattermost is just not someone i want to hang out with. like to claim that this is some elaborate roleplay on my end, is basically the same as saying im a crossdresser; its blatantly incorrect and ive had a lifetime of learning who i am to back myself up on it

and even if in reality its somehow some autistic delusional rp, being therian undeniably explains who and what i am better than literally anything else. no amount of "but youre clearly human" is gonna like help me figure myself out, yk?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

just here to say that I loveee the way you have doodled jin ling. squeaky toy golden boy. the most nephew to ever nephew. thank you for delightful comics, that's all, mwah

I simply think the Jin DNA is full of lil guy potential; like sugar ants on a peony B*)

[astrobei]

bandaging/stitching up an injury with stonathan PLEASE i need more of them

The first thing Jonathan does when he sees him is let out a long, slow whistle.

“Jesus,” he mutters, crossing the living room in three quick steps. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“Got beat up by a racist piece of shit,” Steve mutters, leaning back against the sofa cushions and holding a bag of frozen peas to his face. Ow. “But don’t tell anyone. It can’t be good for my street cred.”

Steve’s got his eyes mostly closed, still, but he sees Jonathan’s face do a funny twitching thing, like he was about to laugh. “What street cred,” Jonathan says, and he doesn’t laugh, exactly, but Steve hears one in his voice anyway. “Your street cred died out a long time ago.”

“Yeah, okay, very funny. Chuff it up, Byers,” Steve grumbles, adjusting the bag of peas and trying to find another cold spot. It’s mostly room temperature now, sloshing around wetly with each movement, which is more disgusting than anything else. Steve lets out a frustrated noise. “Great. And now my peas are warm.”

“I’ll get you another bag,” Jonathan says, because right, this is his house, and Steve is getting blood all over his couch like the world’s actual worst houseguest. If his parents saw his appalling lack of manners, there would be some words to be said.

Well maybe about the bloody face first. And then the manners.

Maybe.

Jonathan opens the freezer door and stops dead in his tracks. “Steve?”

“Mm?”

“Why is there a– Jesus, I don’t even know what this is, and I’m a little afraid to ask– why is there a thing in my fridge?”

Ah. Right. 

“Listen,” Steve starts apologetically. “Henderson was just shooting me these giant puppy eyes and going on and on about scientific discovery or some shit and honestly I didn’t really want to have to deal with taking it outside. Like, what do you even do with the bodies? Burn ‘em? Bury ‘em? Ritual sacrifice?”

Jonathan peers at him over the refrigerator door, and blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ritual sacrifice,” Steve says again, waving a noncommittal hand in the air. “You know. You’re always listening to those broody, scary guys with the weird hair and the– uh, the guitars. You know.”

“I think you’re concussed,” Jonathan says simply, pulling a face as he presumably reaches around the Demodog’s body for the peas. “Did you hit your head?”

“I hit a lot of things,” Steve laughs, which is maybe answering Jonathan’s question.

“You ruined the good quilt,” Jonathan frowns, letting the door fall shut. “You owe me a new one.”

Steve extends his arm as Jonathan walks back, pressing the new bag to his face with a relieved sigh as he says, “Sure, yeah, come over to mine and take your pick. My aunt just took up quilting actually.”

Jonathan peers down at him. He’s still standing up, hovering, somehow managing to look uncomfortable in the middle of his own living room. “Did she really?”

“No idea,” Steve admits. “Haven’t heard from her since last December. I think she got cancer and died.”

“Steve,” Jonathan laughs, a little shocked, “that’s morbid,” and, okay, maybe Steve is a little concussed after all.

“Whatever,” he says, then pats the sofa next to him. “Sit down, man, it’s your house.”

Jonathan sits. Steve tilts his head back, presses the peas to the bruise he knows is blossoming a dark and vibrant purple around his eye. Jonathan’s watching him, silently observant like he always is. It should be unsettling. It used to be unsettling, back before Steve exchanged a proper, actual sentence with him. Now it’s kind of comforting, knowing that he doesn’t need to fill up the silence with meaningless blabbering.

Doesn’t mean he won’t do it anyway.

“You look like shit,” he blurts out, eyeing the way Jonathan’s shirt has gone all streaked with dirt and is still a little patchy with sweat. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and he looks like he’s been up for three days straight, but he still seems more awake than Steve is feeling. Alert. The usual slouchiness to his posture is gone, replaced by something less, uh, tortured. A little calmer, maybe. “How much do you sweat?”

“Well, we had to sweat the Mind Flayer out of Will,” Jonathan says casually, like he’s recounting a Saturday afternoon out on the town. “And we cranked the heat up to, like, a hundred thirty or something so yeah, I’m a little sweaty.”

Steve stares. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“So he’s– he’s okay then? Where is he?”

Jonathan plucks at a stray thread sticking out of the couch. It’s old upholstery, and Steve can see a smattering of old, faded stains across the cushions, but it’s soft and worn and comfortable, and nothing like the ones in Steve’s own living room. “Well, Owens is hurt so he had to call someone in and it’s a whole mess that basically means the fewer people the better for tonight.”

Steve isn't really sure who Owens is, and he can't really discern from Jonathan’s tone whether or not he’s supposed to be happy about this guy being unexpectedly incapacitated. “Ah,” he says anyway. “Is he okay?”

“Yes?” Jonathan offers. Steve watches him out of the corner of his eye. He fiddles with his thumbs. Steve wants to reach out and grab his hands, just to still them, calm him down. “I can go first thing in the morning, it’s just– Hopper has some pull and my mom is– well, she’s our mom, and– I don’t know, okay, I just look at him and I see this thing that had its hands around my mom’s throat and I think to myself, hey, that’s my little brother. You know?”

Steve feels a little blown away. A little– flabbergasted, maybe. He’s not sure he’s heard Jonathan Byers say this much at one time in his entire life, and as it is, he stops talking suddenly, biting down on his lower lip like he had more to say but just isn’t.

“Yeah,” Steve croaks, even though he doesn’t know. He’s an only child and he’s spent most of his childhood alone and he guesses he has the Henderson kid now, but that’s not the same. Jonathan and Will– they’re something else. He isn’t really sure what to say other than that, so he just reaches out, places a hand on Jonathan’s knee, and squeezes. Like maybe this can say something he can’t. “I’m sorry. He’ll be okay. He’s a tough kid.”

Jonathan looks down at Steve’s hand on his knee and then back up, meeting his gaze. Something flits across his face, lightning fast and then it’s gone. “Thanks,” he says, a little quieter than before. 

Steve wonders if maybe he should move his hand, but Jonathan doesn’t seem to be all that bothered by it and Steve thinks, privately, that he likes the steady weight of him under his palm. Heavy and solid. Strangely anchoring. Maybe it’s the possible concussion talking. Maybe it’s not.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers.

A moment passes like this. The house is quiet. Everyone else has gone home, to the hospital, wherever they have to go, and Steve is here because he’d taken Dustin home and then thought about his own house– dark and empty and wholly more terrifying than any of the monsters or the blood or the douchebag assholes in open-front shirts and mullets– and he’d ended up here.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Jonathan says after a second. “You’ve got– it’s a lot of dried blood.”

“Sorry about the couch,” Steve says pathetically, as if he hadn’t been getting his messed up face all over it for the last thirty minutes. “You can get the blood out of it, I think.”

Jonathan is digging something out from under the sink– a first aid kit that looks like it’s been sitting there since the first World War. “Believe me,” he says. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Steve lifts the bag of peas off his face. This one’s starting to go warm too, and he blinks blearily in the living room light as he peels his particularly sore eye open. “Be honest with me, Byers,” he calls out after Jonathan as he ducks into the bathroom, then pops back out a second later with a clean washcloth in hand. “How many murders have you committed in this house?”

Jonathan laughs at that, sudden and sharp, and then he makes a face like he’s surprised with himself for doing it. It’s unexpected, the sound, and it’s even more unexpected the way something swoops low in Steve’s chest. Like it’s some kind of victory, making Jonathan want to laugh so badly that he surprised himself by doing it, like he really just couldn’t help himself. “Zero,” he says, making his way back to the sofa. “So far. Here– come here.”

Steve isn’t really sure where here is, because then Jonathan is sitting down next to him and their knees are touching and there’s not really anywhere he can go that isn’t already as close as he can physically get to him. So he just leans his head in a little, turns his face up towards the light. “Good?”

“Shit.” Jonathan makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. He cups a hand around Steve’s jaw, tilting his face a little to the right. “He got you good, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Steve mutters, and Jonathan lets out another one of those sudden, quick laughs. Steve bites back a smile. Good, he thinks, a little absently. Good.

“I see what you mean about the street cred,” Jonathan murmurs. “Nice bandaids, by the way.”

“Courtesy of your brother’s idiot friends,” Steve sighs, and then winces as the cloth makes contact with a cut on his cheek. “Shit. Ow.”

“It’s a little one,” Jonathan smirks. “How is it that you can’t deal with a little–”

“It’s the fucking rings,” Steve bemoans, this time focusing very hard on keeping his face neutral as Jonathan dabs the dried blood away. “What kind of asshole wears that many rings on one hand?”

“The kind of asshole that goes around punching people?” Jonathan offers, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Very funny.”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan continues, ducking his head down and finding a clean spot on the towel. There’s a smile playing on his lips, even if he thinks Steve can’t see him. “I’m pretty sure I remember doing some damage even without any rings on.”

“Congratulations,” Steve says drily, “you’re better than the guy who rubs himself down with body oil before leaving the house.”

Jonathan laughs at this, a real, loud laugh, and Steve thinks, for a fleeting second, that he might like this laugh even better than the other one. “I should hope so,” Jonathan is saying, and then he’s leaning in again and dabbing at Steve’s forehead. “That doesn’t seem like a very high bar.”

“You should do that more,” Steve murmurs, watching Jonathan’s mouth twitch in concentration. 

Jonathan frowns, then glances down, meeting Steve’s gaze. “Do what?”

“Laugh,” Steve says, the single syllable halfway out of his mouth before he has any inclination to, oh, I don’t know, maybe not say that? He’s thinking about the way Jonathan had lit up for a moment there, the way the weariness he always seems to carry around him sloughed off his shoulders, even if for just a second. What comes out of his mouth though, instead of any halfway eloquent manner of saying this, is, “It makes your face look nice.”

Maybe he is concussed. In a very real, serious way, maybe Steve Harrington is currently suffering from a grade-A concussion.

Jonathan looks a little bit horrified, but mostly kind of confused. He shakes his head. “It makes my– okay, you definitely have a concussion,” he says at last, which, yeah, Steve had been coming to this conclusion himself, actually. “So try not to get any major brain damage before we can get you checked out, yeah?”

“I’m trying,” Steve says, and then, “ow, dude, you can be a little more gentle, you know.”

“Sorry,” and Jonathan does sound a bit apologetic as he says this. He’s got one hand still cupped under Steve’s chin, fingers resting lightly against his jaw.

Steady hands, Steve thinks, closing his eyes as Jonathan wipes over them. Steady hands. A more gentle touch than he would have expected from someone so rough-looking. All broad shoulders and frown lines and a piercing kind of stare. “It’s just not coming off too easy.”

“Yeah, it’s dried down,” Steve says, “it’s been a few hours.”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement and turns Steve’s face towards the light some more. “You should have cleaned it up before,” he says softly. “Your face is all swollen.”

“I told him not to hit the moneymaker,” Steve says in a deadpan. “He didn’t listen.”

Jonathan shoots him an exasperated glare, then hands him the squishy bag of peas again as he digs around in his ancient first aid kit. “Ice.”

“No, those are peas,” Steve says without thinking, and then Jonathan groans and drops his head into both hands.

“When my mom gets back with the car, you’re going to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” Steve grins, placing the peas back over his eyes. “Seriously. My dad always said I had a thick skull.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Jonathan says. He pulls out a tube of ointment, something thick and pasty, and beckons Steve forward again. “Come here.”

The ointment smells about as bad as it looks, and Steve pulls a face. “Dude,” he crinkles up his nose, “what the hell is that?”

“It’s gross but it works,” Jonathan says, frowning in concentration. He smears a thin layer of it over the cut on Steve’s forehead, all cleaned up now that the blood’s washed away. “Trust me.”

“Trust–”

The tube is almost empty. Steve swallows lightly and looks away.

It feels like he’s intruding on something, having Jonathan be so close to him. Being close enough to see the little spots where he’d nicked himself shaving, or how his hair is streaked through with a little blonde, the kind you can’t tell apart from ordinary brown until you’re really, really up close and personal. Which Steve– totally is. Oh, okay.

Steve swallows again, and closes his eyes.

“One down,” Jonathan murmurs, making his way over to a cut on Steve’s temple, “ninety nine to go.”

“He didn’t land that many hits,” Steve whispers, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. “Give me some credit.”

“Mike says you got him really good once,” Jonathan says, “so maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

It sounds like he’s smiling a little. Steve is tempted– so tempted– to open his eyes, just to see that.

He doesn’t. 

“You just got lucky, Byers,” he says instead. “You caught me off guard.”

“And then I caught you off guard again. And again, and again,” Jonathan says, and he’s definitely smiling now. “Two down.”

Steve lets out a long, slow exhale. “At this rate, I’ll have graduated by the time you’re done.”

“You should be thanking me,” Jonathan huffs, but it doesn’t sound malicious at all. He strokes a thumb over Steve’s cheekbone, and Steve fights back a shiver.

“Thank you,” he says, as genuinely as he can muster, then opens his eyes. Jonathan is staring straight at him, eyes a little wide, cheeks a little red. Steve grabs his wrist, the one that’s right up by his face, and says, “That’s– I’m being serious, by the way. I’m not trying to fuck with you.”

“Sure,” Jonathan gets out. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry I made you hit me,” Steve goes on, and if he has a concussion after all, he can blame whatever he’s saying on that. And he must be, because it’s getting hard to think in a straight line, and every train of thought just keeps circling back around to this. Warm fingertips moving over his face. So gently, like Steve is– like he’s something delicate. Something to be handled with care.

“I– it’s okay.”

Jonathan doesn’t blink. It should be more unnerving than it is. He’s got pretty eyes, Steve thinks, from a little bit out of his body. They’ve got some green in them. A little gold, too.

“I was an ass,” Steve says, and Jonathan’s eyes dart between his. Trying to see, maybe, if Steve is trying to fuck with him. If there’s a punchline at the end of this, somewhere, and whether or not that punchline is him.

Whatever he’s searching for, he must not find it, because he sighs and says, “I know.”

“You–! Okay,” Steve mutters. “Low blow, but I guess I’m the one apologizing here, so I should be able to take it and not expect a–”

“I’m not mad,” Jonathan interrupts, and then moves down to Steve’s jaw. He hadn’t even known he got hurt there, but because he’s him, of course he did. “That’s five.”

Steve blinks. “You’re not?”

“We’re different people now.” Jonathan shrugs, dips a finger through the ointment and smears it across the skin there. The smell of something strong and medicinal hits Steve head-on, and he wrinkles up his nose. “You, me. You’re not a total piece of work, and I’m not a–”

“Brooding loser,” Steve cuts in, and Jonathan gives him a look.

“I was going to say guy whose brother went missing,” Jonathan says, and then he rubs the pad of his finger over a particularly tender spot– a deep part of the cut underlaid with a bruise Steve doesn’t even have to see to know is there– and Steve lets out a startled hiss of pain.

“Ah–”

“Sorry!” And he really does sound sorry, and Steve figures they’d just been having a nice little talk so it wasn’t, like, mean or an act of petty revenge or anything. “Shit, yeah, let’s get you a bandaid for that one.”

“No Star Wars?” Steve jokes, as Jonathan comes up with– thank god– a plain beige one.

Jonathan squints at him, peeling the paper backing off. “Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

“Not once,” Steve admits. “No one I know is into that sort of thing.”

“You know me,” Jonathan says easily, running a finger over the bandaid and then pausing. “I mean–”

“Whoa,” Steve laughs. He tries to go for casual, for good-natured, but it comes out a little too overeager, stilted. “Are you asking me out, Byers?”

Jonathan blanches. “I– no.”

Belatedly, Steve realizes that this joke might have been marginally more funny if it came from anyone but him. “I didn’t mean–”

“I know what you meant.” Jonathan traces his thumb over to the last cut, sideways across Steve’s upper lip. “And you didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Hey, man, look–”

“You can probably deal with this last one on your own,” Jonathan says, but doesn’t move his hand away. “Your lip is busted, but it’s not too bad.”

“Okay,” Steve whispers. He doesn’t move either. “Thanks for patching me up.”

“Thanks for being there today,” Jonathan says back. “I saw you with the kids. You’re good with them.”

Steve huffs out a small laugh, and it gets caught there, somewhere along the line between Jonathan’s thumb and wrist, still snagged onto the curve of his upper lip. “Oh that? It was nothing.”

Jonathan shakes his head. It’s minute, barely noticeable. “They look up to you. Dustin, especially. It’s sweet.”

“Yeah, well, someone had to step up. Not everyone can have a–”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “A what?”

You, Steve thinks, heart picking up pace suddenly. Not everyone can have you. 

“They can’t all have–”

The word you never makes it out of his mouth, because then Jonathan is kissing him.

Steve gasps, because he has an open fucking wound on his lip and this is probably a thousand different kinds of unhygienic and an excellent way to spread another thousand different kinds of germs. And then Jonathan’s hands cup either side of his face and he’s pressing in so hard that it can’t be fueled by anything other than instinct and desperation, and then all thoughts regarding germs and sanitation and wow I’m glad he washed his hands before getting all up in my busted face fly right out of Steve’s head.

He’s warm, is the first thing Steve notices. The second and third are, in order, that he’s very broad and he’s very solid. It’s nothing like kissing a girl. There’s no give to him, no softness to the rigid muscles of his arms that Steve had no idea even existed. He’s gripping onto Jonathan’s forearms, apparently, which he doesn’t remember doing but he can’t find the state of mind to do literally anything else.

Jonathan’s arms are solid and rough and the muscles flex gently under Steve’s palms. He’s so solid, anchoring, and he’s holding Steve’s face like that again– like Steve is a delicate thing. Something that needs to be handled with a ginger touch, with appreciation, with trace amounts of tenderness.

Jonathan’s lips press into his once, then twice, like he just couldn’t help himself, and Steve makes what is maybe the most embarrassing noise he’s made in his life to date. This is good, he thinks. And he knows good. He’s Steve Harrington, okay, he basically invented it. But where the hell did Jonathan Byers learn how to kiss?

“Okay,” Steve hears himself say the second Jonathan pulls back. “What was–”

“Don’t freak out,” Jonathan says, sounding like he’s on the verge of freaking out himself. “Please don’t freak out. I need you to not freak out.”

“Who, me?” If Steve’s voice cracks, just a little, neither of them say anything. “I would never. Never ever ever ever– um. So why did you– not that I’m– yeah.”

“Like I said,” Jonathan says, “we’re different people now,” and he looks nowhere near as totally and completely thrown for a loop as Steve feels at the moment. His ears are bright red, though, and there’s a light dusting of pink across the tops of his cheekbones, and it feels like another victory, getting Jonathan Byers to blush. 

“Cool,” Steve says faintly. His lip is throbbing, and he brings a hand up to his mouth and pulls it away to see red on his fingers. “Ah, great,” he winces. “Look what you did, man. You fucked my lip up again.”

[cats-of-eden-valley]

Your tags made me realize I didn't send an ask when I meant to. What Is the deal with Yarrow? Is he just a donor for one or both mollies? Is he cheating? Is it an open relationship?

OKAY SO

Morning Glory and Yarrow were together first. Yarrow was originally from Bogden, but he made all these vows and proclamations of love to Morning Glory, even agreeing to change his name and more or less join Goldspring to help her raise kittens, etc etc

Well, when said kittens, Cypress and Aster, are the equivalent of preteens, Morning Glory dies in battle and Yarrow just. Totally withdraws as a father figure. He was already distant with them (very clearly only here for Glory) but after she died it was like the girls stopped existing.

And who does he turn his sights on? Myrtle. (For reference, Myrtle and Hollyhock are the litter born the season before Cypress and Aster. She's the equivalent of like. 16/17 at this point. He's basically ogling the girls in his teenage daughters gym class.)

So the moment Myrtle becomes a full adult, they hook up. Very convenient, because Yarrow was being asked by the Matrons if he would be rejoining the Coalitions once Cypress and Aster were old enough. Well, now he's staying for his new mate.

Nobody Liked That.

Cypress and Aster are mad, Hollyhock is mad, basically the entire pride is mad, but Myrtle's an adult! She can do what she wants! No laws are broken, and the pair are left to do what they want.

Though by this point, the mask is starting to slip and Yarrow is reallyy showing his uglier side. He gets disavowed by his daughters, who want nothing to do with the litter he has with Myrtle. He kinda stops paying any mind to Myrtle in general, especially once he slides into retirement age and oh no law says you can't kick me out after so many years of committment :(:(:( guess i have to stay:(:(:(

Yarrow dies a year before the story during the bad drought year, but a lot of Goldspring wishes he'd gone a lot sooner lol

Unfortunately the damage is still done, Myrtle isn't liked by anyone in the pride, and her litter was only toms, who both leave for the coalitions. Only one of them comes home now.

[musings-of-miss-j]

Hi!

Firstly, I hope college is going well, I know how stressful it can be😭 make sure to take care!

I’ve been wondering for a while - where in the timeline is nrftw set in, especially in terms of the archon quests etc - or is it divergent from the canon timeline? We know that the traveler is very much alive and kicking (especially weekly boss childe in the golden house), and so if it is the canon timeline and is set before the events in Inazuma with Signora, then I’m so intrigued on how the events surrounding it all will turn out.

I hope my rambling thoughts made sense lmao, and I hope you have a good day!

heyyy thank u for your well-wishes :] college is indeed an Event That Is Happening but don't let my complaining fool you im having the time of my life

your question makes perfect sense dw!! nrftw is set after mondstadt's archon quest, the traveler has a reputation at this point, their goals are known (trixy toys with the prospect of selling information about the cryo archon to them in the beginning of the fic) and liyue's archon quest hasn't happened yet as childe is repeatedly shown to be ignoring his duty to track down the geo gnosis. admittedly my understanding and application of genshin's canon events and lore is questionable at best and downright atrocious at worst, but in my defense i thought nrftw would be like. a max 10k words little thing that wouldn't need to fit into the canon timeline. beyond that i can't really say much because spoilers for the fic i guess?? but don't worry i definitely won't be killing off any of our leading ladies or gents so i suppose it classifies as canon divergence lol. lots of things about the fic don't add up from a lore/timeline perspective but im having too much fun throwing the harbingers into awkward situations to care

[ziracona]

So with my second read-through of my favorite chapters I think I finally figured out that Julie was essentially just dissassociating the whole time, or did I read that wrong? Also for the legion im curious if things will go differently than ILM did, speaking of which- Would Julie and Frank have caved and joined the survivors eventually? What do you think really would have convinced them?

More or less, although not like in a way where she doesn’t know what is going on. I think she just lightly dissociates constantly. She’s got a personality disorder, but she lies if I try to figure out which one. 🤷🏻‍♀️ So. I know how she behaves but not why. She’s very aware, she just…’unplugs’ as it were, from feeling it, so it’s easier to do, and has for years. Even the fun parts. That’s why she harps so much on things Frank says being nice because he talks about her like she’s a ‘real person’ or a ‘whole person.’ She’s very self aware. She knows she is not normal. She just chooses mostly not to think about that. Girl represses everything, always. Her brain is plugged in, her feelings are off, and so is any reasoning she doesn’t want to do.

Yes. Every timeline ends differently, especially for the realm killers and the Entity. NDF, ILM, FtEoNR, and HL (even ODE) would have some very significant changes. Some things always stay, the strongest ties as it were, like Nea and Min finding each other, but the ones more up to chance remain…butterfly effected.

But on to the exciting answer! (For me). A chance to talk about the chapter that never was for ILM! The answer is yes, they would have joined not long after the events of Oak, if the Entity hadn’t pushed a confrontation with Philip. I considered letting the story run longer to include the newest two releases (Yui and ST, I believe?). If I had, there would have been a chapter called Pheidippides that I was deeply fond of, and don’t think I’ve ever gotten to talk about before. Essentially, the short summary was the Clown ended up in an area beside Legion, and lured one of them (Julie) in with audio recorded bait. She got caught and tortured, with Joey swapping with her to protect her. The Clown tried to force him to switch back, because he prefers doing what he does to girls, and Joey refused. Using drugs on them to try and force him fucked them up, and made them temporarily lose the ability to switch back and forth, trapping Joey in the body. Jeff heard things going on, and attempted to help, and ended up trapped too, then got severely injured trying to draw fire off Joey. Eventually, drugs wear off enough Frank and Susie are able to swap and she (thin wrists) tag teams to get an arm free, and he stabs the Clown through the ear with a scalpel and kills him (outside a trial).

Frank immediately flips out and calls the Entity to be like “control your fucking killers what the hell?!? Two of us are in critical condition, and this survivor is one missed ER from dead!” But the Entity’s concern is immediately recovering its favorite killer, Kenneth, who was not insured at the moment, so it ejects them from Kenneth’s realm and makes it closed off while it tries to fix it. Frank keeps shouting about it needing to fix them them, which he can’t do because they’re in one body and thus can’t treat each other, so it just rips them back into four and basically tells him to fix it himself, and vanishes to rescue the Clown.

Frank and Susie are left mostly unharmed, with a traumatized and injured Julie, and a more severely injured and traumatized Joey, and an almost dead Jeff who has been getting tortured for them for the last hour. They have no medical supplies or experience, the Entity won’t come, everyone is going completely breakdown. The survivors have meds and expertise, and since Jeff entered Kenneth’s realm, while that’s impassible, it means the survivors /must/ be one away from them, with the ST Lab and Demogorgons, in the way.

Frank realizes Jeff’s only hope of survival is getting through the lab, to the survivors, and bringing them back. It’s the only way to help Joey and Julie either, who while not actively dying, are sincerely fucked. But they despise and won’t listen to him, so he can’t be the one to do it. He might get killed on sight. They’ll think it’s a trap. They won’t beleive. Which means Susie /has/ to. She’s the only one they’ll not hurt, and might believe. She’s terrified to do it, but going to, alone, but he tells her he’s not going to make her do it alone. He’ll go to protect her, and they’ll do it together.

They leave Julie and Joey to recuperate and try to care for Jeff best and long as they can, and then, knowing death outside a game is death for them (and this is a hell of a risk—they’re tough, but in the end they’re young adults with small knives, vs well, the destructive power of a demogorgon, and ILM verse while there’s only one demogorgon per trial, there are many in the Lab, so the lab is a death zone), and their odds are bad but there is just no other way, they together make a mad dash through the lab to the other side to get help.

And yeah I loved that idea it didn’t end up working for the over-arching narrative flow but maybe someday I’ll find a way to reuse it.

They would have become solid and continuing allies after the event, given the length of the Entity fucking them over, and survivors risking themselves to help. They’re flawed people, but they love their own deeply and sincerely. (Which is the exact situation the Entity is working to avoid during the events of NDF)

[definitelynotshouting]

Hi! This has nothing to do with hermitcraft at all, but I think you’re a great writer so I’d like your opinion on something for my passion project! ((If you’re willing Ofc))

What do you think about the prophecy trope?

Like- “a great saviour will appear! The prophecy says so!” For example.

Furthermore; how would you go about improving the trope / making it more unique?

- binge reader

OOOOOH BINGE READER ANON I LOVE THIS QUESTION!!!! its very flattering that you would ask this of me, and for what its worth, its actually exactly in my wheelhouse-- im a professional editor who often works substantive edits, so youve found a good person to ask :]

Because of that, im gonna answer this in two ways: one as a writer, and one as an actual editor

So beyond my own personal opinion, which we'll get to later, the general rule of thumb in writing is that you can make pretty much anything work so long as you put in the effort. This includes things like characterization that would otherwise come off as ooc-- if you take the time to make it believable, to see what it would take to make this character act a certain way, that can absolutely work!!! And likewise, the same goes for tropes. You can generally make almost any trope work-- even if its typically viewed as clichéd-- so long as you put that work in, and weave it well into your storyline!!

For this trope in particular, it absolutely has its place. If your story is centered around that, then that is perfectly fine!! All writing boils down to what the author wants to depict, portray, and show you, and sometimes that involves a prophecy!! What i would recommend to make this an effective prophecy, however, is making sure it slots in well with the surrounding world and storyline-- tropes like The Chosen One tend to be the crucial hinge on which the story operates, so you'll want to structure stuff around that so that it feels properly baked in. To do this, i'd recommend figuring out what you want from the prophecy in general first-- is this an accurate prophecy?? Is divination a known aspect of this world?? Is magic?? Or is this closer to a self-fulfilling prophecy, where no magic or divination exists but events have been manipulated so that it still comes true??? These are super good questions to ask yourself because they heavily impact the approach you take with your worldbuilding, and i find that rippling outward from one central plot point/plot device can do a ton to make your story feel more cohesive overall.

Now personally, as a writer, im not generally super interested in writing a garden variety prophecy trope. But something i do love to do is take tropes and twist them around, turn them on their heads, and shake things up so it feels a bit more fresh and keeps my personal interest while writing. The way i see it, you have a sort of bell curve/spectrum to reference here: on one end its "the prophecy is true and the story is informed by it wholesale," and on the other end, you've got "the prophecy is bullshit and actually means nothing" 😂😂😂😂

Both of these feel too extreme for me. There are a few ways i would take this, depending on the overall story and its message/themes, but something that i find personally entertaining is the sort of middle ground of "half-true, half–self-fulfilled." I find it deeply compelling to have a character yank their own fate into their hands and start wielding it like a weapon-- there's something incredibly powerful about a narrative where a character sees a prophecy and chooses to make it come true. Sometimes this is written as the character stepping up to the plate for other people. Sometimes it's written as the character just being clever, and doing some social engineering-- whether that be for power, ambition, responsibility, or pure survival. But the end result is the same: the prophecy is ultimately fulfilled, and on a meta level, you pose a question to both your character and your readers-- was it real? And does that matter??? Were the choices taken by your protagonist what shaped the story, or were they shaped BY it, and just didn't know it?? Does choosing to abide by a prophecy make it true, make it inevitable, or is it all just a sham??? Is there a middle ground here as well?? What does that mean for the events that happened????

These are all EXCELLENT questions you can use to make a genuinely gripping narrative, one that makes your readers really think after they've read it and come to conclusions of their own. They're also part of tropes i personally like, which involve the power of choice, and very clever characters (i love clever characters, im a little trickster at heart), and rules-lawyering, and often some interplay between the concepts of freedom and fate. These questions may not work for your story, though, and thats okay!! Your story is ultimately for you, and i think asking yourself what you ultimately want out of it is the first step towards finding an effective way to tell it. Some people just want to write the trope wholesale with nothing else added in and that is perfectly fine. Some people, like me, enjoy writing very complex thinkpieces and will want to change it up a bit to better fit that structure 😂😂😂😂 At the end of the day, ask yourself what it is you're trying to tell, and then start asking yourself what will help you tell it best :] and then you can start changing things up from there!!

Hopefully this made sense, anon!!! Again, im deeply flattered you've asked my opinion on this, and i wanted to make sure i took the time to answer it thoroughly. I'm so interested in your passion project already!! If you ever want to share more, or just want to ask more questions of editor-TJ, absolutely hit me up!!! I love love LOVE talking about the mechanics of storytelling, its my passion and my career, so i will never get tired of infodumping about it :DDD i hope this helped!! Thanks again for asking!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[hollow-prey]

💖 + Grimmjow

oh!!! thank you so much!! 💙💙

Send  💖 to my asks + an F/O and I’ll spew random headcanons about our relationship.

Grimm.jow is both less like a cat and more like a cat than you think at the same time. he will not chase a laser pointer (he can clearly see that I'm holding the source, and he's not stupid). but he also may try to fight his reflection at first, not understanding how mirrors work. he will try to get my attention by pressing against me more and more insistently while i'm busy, trying to disrupt my view (like when cats sit on your keyboard or book), or even just. fucking biting me. like when cats latch onto your hand and just start attacking/play-biting. he's a bitey little freak when he gets agitated sometimes

ok actually while we're on the subject of cat behaviors, you know when cats gently bump their head against you to get your attention and/or be affectionate? the two of us do the same thing. it's actually a primary method of communication for me. if I'm tired and want some affection I'll just gently bump my head against his arm/wherever I can reach. it functions as both a nonverbal "I love you" and a way to say "I need some love and affection Immediately or I will perish"

I know what the popular fanon interpretations say about Grimm.jow in the main fandom, and most of them are simply untrue for my self ship. And in this house he loves to cuddle. Yeah, I said that right. It took forever to get to that point because he's not going to trust and let himself be vulnerable with just anyone overnight, but once we got there, there was no going back. The best way to relax before bed is to sit back with some big pillows and squishmallows against the headboard, watching something or playing video games, while Grimm.jow's sort of pressed up along my side, arms around my waist, using me as a pillow, and one of my arms is loosely draped over him and I periodically pet his hair. or he sits behind me with his arms around my waist or over my shoulders and I lean back against him.

Grimm.jow is, by far, the BEST form of stress relief and blowing off steam I've ever encountered. One of my more cathartic headcanons involves us going out and sparring with each other whenever I'm angry, irritated, or otherwise fed up from things in my human life and itching for some kind of release. Obviously in this scenario we're both evenly matched (or, at the very least, I'm strong enough that I won't die instantly or get seriously injured from the first blow), and I'm allowed to fuck shit up and attack with all my strength, putting all my anger and frustration behind each strike. And we keep going until I feel like I've gotten all my rage out, or until I'm too exhausted and worn out to continue (or some combination of the two). it's free stress relief/anger outlet for me, and it's enrichment for Grimm.jow, as he obviously loves any excuse to fight or spar, especially when it's with (or, against, I suppose) me, and it's not like I can do much damage to him anyway.

thank you once again for sending this!!

[mumblesplash]

i saw your tags on your minecraft post and i was wondering if they keep skeleton horses do the horses also have to wear muffling shoes or are silent hooves part of the necromancy package

ohh interesting question, and i do actually have kind of a hand wavy answer within my own personal Sculk Lore.

see with the way the game mechanics work currently, sculk sensors can detect any vibrations within an 8 block radius, but only *player caused* vibrations are relayed to nearby shriekers. makes sense from a gameplay standpoint, but why might this be the case in-universe? glad you asked so now it’s more or less established at this point that the sculk eats souls/xp (argument to be had about whether the two are interchangeable), and if you look inside a sculk shrieker, you will see this:

yep it’s tortured souls again.

see my theory is that from an energy expenditure standpoint it’s usually most efficient for the sculk to lie dormant and sort of wait for nearby entities to die so it can absorb their souls, but fully sentient beings are a threat and/or extremely high value food source, so when it detects players it switches strategies and goes on the offensive by spawning a warden.

the thing is, sculk can’t see, and even if it could that wouldn’t be all that useful because it already knows where everything is and it doesn’t want to eat what you look like, it wants to eat what you are. so what it’s done is it’s saved imprints of the sentient souls it’s encountered, and only summons wardens when the vibrations it detects come from something with a sufficiently similar idk Soul Frequency as these echoes it remembers (and yes i also think this is related to why echo shards can be used to craft compasses that point to the last place you died but that’s yet another whole thing)

basically to answer your actual question: neither, the horses never needed to be quiet in the first place. also i haven’t actually checked but if it’s technically possible to summon the warden by riding a horse in-game no it isn’t

[direwombat]

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers 🖤

waaa thank you skelly and also @confidentandgood, who sent this as i was answering this fal;kdfjsd adding commentary too because i need to tell you why these are my faves

fragile creatures (on collision with our judgement day) | M | WIP (currently on haitus rip)

out of everything on ao3 this fic is the one i'm most proud of, if only because it's the one that i've put the most amount of thought in and because it stemmed from a time in my life where i was going through a lot of heartache and (while what's published doesn't address that yet) even just plotting it helped me work through quite a bit of that. it means a lot to me and i want to come back to it eventually (i just need to exorcise the demon of syb's fic from my brain first i think...or get to a point where i can bounce back and forth between the two)

paperwork | E 🔞

look. this is on here kind of because i like the smut, but also the banter was fun to write as was syb flipping jacob off after he bends her over his desk

wrapped (not in linen or lace, but leather) | E 🔞

syb in collar sexy. that's really all there is to this one

prompt fill | E 🔞 | sybille surrenders herself to jacob

this one was such a fun exploration of syb and her emotions at her breaking point. idk how much of this will change in the final version towards the end of her fic, but it was such a fun emotional study.

prompt fill | T | 💤 A few extra hours of sleep and ✋ A hand carding gently through their hair + jakesyb

look. this one is just very soft and sweet and i'm pleased with how it came out. syb gets some sleep and cuddles because she deserves it <3

[canongf]

What current f/o thoughts are on your mind? —Nic

@me-myself-and-my-fos - they're eddie thoughts!!! they're always eddie thoughts!!!

i'm just thinking about the way eddie loves. i'm thinking about the way eddie loves me, specifically. he's so unashamed and uninhibited and he loves me the same way. he's so passionate and he loves me the same way. there are no limits.

i think of the fact that the song 'master of puppets' came out just a few weeks before he played it on top of that trailer, which means for weeks eddie sat in his room and he practiced, and he practiced, and he practiced, because he just wanted to learn. and how he's learned me as well as he learned that song.

and he loves me. he loves me at the rawest version of myself. he loves me when i don't wear makeup and he loves me when i wear his jeans with an oversized hoodie. he loves me when i haven't washed my face or brushed my teeth. he compliments the things i'm insecure about and he lovingly pats my belly after i eat, reminding me that i'm doing good by feeding my body.

he loves me when i'm happy and he loves me when i'm not. he doesn't mind that i get sad when i'm tired, because it means he gets to hold me. he thinks i'm cute when i'm crying 'cause my cheeks get all pink, and he wipes my nose for me on his own sleeve. he tells me stories to help me sleep at night. some he reads from a book, some he makes up on the spot (usually about a princess and a knight; me and him).

he puts everything he has into our relationship. he is my best friend and my boyfriend, my protector, my comfort, my heart and soul. he is the best thing to ever happen to me. he loves me. i am so lucky to be loved by him.

[aftokrator-official]

more ship ask meme responses for @freshdickies!

Ranbanein/Azuma:

4. Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

They're both pretty physically affectionate, I think, but I think Ranbanein in particular would constantly be touching Azuma even in just casual little ways, an arm around his shoulders or leaning on him or a little kiss to greet him. It's just who he is. Azuma's very willing to indulge his cuddly golden retriever of a partner, but I do think it takes some getting used to for him, since physical affection usually involved or led into sex with his previous relationships, and that's very much not the case with Ranbanein. Once he gets used to it, though, I think Azuma would enjoy the frequent casual physical intimacy, and finds it reassuring.

14. Do they enjoy PDA, or are they more private with affection?

Ranbanein is very affectionate regardless of circumstance. He doesn't mind! Everyone should know how much he loves Azuma and how wonderful Azuma is!! Azuma… is far more private, and very easily embarrassed by this, even though Ranbanein's PDA is all pretty innocent in nature. When he's more comfortable in their relationship, I think Azuma could actually turn the tables on him and get Ranbanein flustered if he's being seductive in public or getting Ranbanein turned on - as physically affectionate as he is, Ranbanein doesn't have too much experience in sexual relationships, so it doesn't take much to get him blushing and awkward about it. 

42. What’s their relationship like with each other’s friends/families?

Honestly pretty good, in both directions. Azuma and Hyrein get along, though I think (at least early on) they'd be tremendously awkward when left alone together, before they know each other well. But Hyrein both respects him as a combatant and tactician, and is tremendously glad his brother has found someone who makes him so happy, so he has a generally positive impression of Azuma. I think Azuma would also respect Hyrein and recognize the difficulties he faces in a command position, though he'd also be harder on him than on Ranbanein when it comes to… Afto cultural practices he doesn't approve of. After all, Hyrein is in a position of authority and Ranbanein isn't.

Ranbanein wouldn't find it hard to endear himself to Azuma's "kids" in Border, for the most part. Most of them would be wary of him at first, but Ranbanein truly doesn't take offense at this and considers it a worthy challenge to earn their trust and respect. In situations that don't involve anyone being captured Koarai and Okudera would come around pretty quickly and get along with him like a house on fire. Miwa, on the other hand… would have a really hard time, for obvious reasons. I think he'd get past it, but it'll take a long time, and a lot of patience on ranazu's parts.

I haven't fully solidified my headcanons for Azuma's parents… but I do have the vague sense that even just learning he's gay was a huge hurdle for them, so "I'm getting married to a man from another dimension, also he's nobility" is PROBABLY A STRETCH lol. If their relationship survives it's probably fairly strained and distant, but that's not Ranbanein's fault, or even particularly related to him personally - it's just inevitable. I feel like Azuma was always closer to his mom, and she might be more likely to come around on her surprise son-in-law and develop a good relationship with him eventually.

---

Hyrein/Izumi:

2. Who wakes up early/Who sleeps in late?

Hyrein is definitely the early riser of the two, Izumi likes to sleep in. Usually Hyrein is waking up early to work, but I think he'd really enjoy a quiet, relaxing early morning routine when he has time for it - listen to the birds, watch the sunrise, have breakfast. Izumi thinks that's all well and good but he'd rather be sleeping all the same. I think a leisurely morning for them usually looks like Hyrein enjoying a quiet, contemplative moment while Izumi uses him as a pillow and continues to sleep. 💖

4. Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

In the beginning it was Hyrein, but overall it tends to be Izumi. Hyrein is… not repressed, but keenly aware of his position and the propriety expected of him. Izumi has no such qualms, and a higher sex drive besides, so he's pretty shameless about getting up in Hyrein's personal space and putting his hands all over him. He'll also very casually lean on Hyrein or even fall asleep on him, and I think this makes Hyrein feel things - the trust it shows Izumi has in him now, after how hard won it was, and the fact that almost no one else in his life is this casually affectionate with him (probably only Ranbanein).

11. How do they feel about nicknames/pet names? If they like them, what pet names do they use? If they hate them, why do they feel that way?

I think Hyrein is more likely to use pet names - things like "my love" and "my dear", and I also really like the idea of him calling Izumi "fledgling" ;u; Izumi… is easily embarrassed by it, I think, but secretly really likes it. I don't think he calls Hyrein by anything but his name as much, but one GUARANTEED to fluster Hyrein and turn him on is when Izumi calls him "my lord" after they're in a relationship. It was a perfectly normal way for Izumi to address him when he was simply his apprentice, but as his lover/husband… for some reason Hyrein can't handle it in this context, and Izumi thinks it's adorable (and a fun way to wind him up).

19. Do they wear each other’s clothes/jewelry?

Izumi is a boyfriend's-clothes-stealer for SURE. After the first time seeing Izumi wearing nothing but a shirt of his, slipping off his shoulder, Hyrein does not mind in the least. Hyrein's taller and broader than Izumi and doesn't fit in his clothes as easily, but Izumi does enjoy it very much on the rare occasions he can get Hyrein to wear Meeden clothes. (Izumi thinks he looks adorably awkward in casual wear, and very hot in formal attire.)

22. Are they comfortable joking around with each other and being silly/playful?

Hyrein is a fairly serious person, but I think being around Izumi helps him loosen up a lot. Early on, catching glimpses of a lighter, gentler side to Hyrein is a big part of why Izumi fell for him - seeing him play around with Alektor's animal bullets or being soft for cute animals. Hyrein's sense of humor is subtle, but Izumi is pretty good at picking up on it and thoroughly enjoys it, and Hyrein feels incredibly pleased every time he makes Izumi laugh. Izumi jokes around with him a lot, more and more as he becomes more comfortable with him and more confident that he doesn't need to maintain a stiff formality all the time.

42. What’s their relationship like with each other’s friends/families?

Izumi does fine - he gets along great with Ranbanein, and probably Viza as well. Hyrein, though... has a harder time, for obvious reasons. Izumi forgives him for the invasion and capturing him far more easily than most of Izumi's friends and family. Out of everyone Karasuma would probably come to terms with it most easily - he's seen Hyuse's struggles with being in a fairly similar position to Izumi, and understands that Izumi's emotions are far more complicated than most people expect them to be. He's probably heard a lot about Hyrein and House Beltiston from Hyuse, too, and is more willing to believe that Hyrein truly isn't abusing or manipulating Izumi because of it. Midorikawa also forgives Hyrein and Izumi fairly easily, mostly just glad to have Izumi back in his life even if circumstances are different. He has no idea how to interact with Hyrein, though, and vice versa - I think seeing his friends, and especially Midorikawa interacting with Hyrein would be a stark reminder to Izumi of the age gap between them, haha.

Yoneya has a harder time. He's an easygoing type who doesn't hold grudges easily, but Hyrein took his best friend and then his best friend chose to stay. It's hard for him to understand that and I think he'd be bitter for a while, though he makes an effort to get past it for Izumi's sake. He really leans on Miwa for support after Izumi is taken and Miwa's own emotional state is... not the greatest influence on him. I think he would definitely be able to reconcile with Izumi in time. Miwa, though... I'm not sure his relationship with Izumi would ever recover? That feeling of betrayal would cut deep for him, especially after watching Yoneya fall apart over losing Izumi, and I think it'd leave a scar.

Tachikawa also has a really hard time. He's really protective of Izumi, was single-mindedly determined to rescue him after he was taken, and Izumi's eventual reconciliation with and marriage to Hyrein feels like a horrible blow after he thought it was all over. He's not just angry at Izumi for leaving, he's also half-convinced that Hyrein has somehow brainwashed or manipulated him into this, not trusting him even after most others have come around on their relationship. But Izumi stubbornly fights to maintain a relationship with Tachikawa anyway. I think it's when Hyrein and Izumi's first kids are born that things really start to heal between Izumi and Tachikawa, because Izumi very much wants "Uncle Kei" to be a part of their lives and Tachikawa, in spite of everything, adores them. It's always a little strained between him and Hyrein, but they both do their best to set that aside for Izumi's sake.

[baladric]

any blades in the dark tips? i've had a session zero for a game (but we haven't started playing just yet) and made a character, but I'm a pretty basic bitch when it comes to ttrpgs (5e, one MOTW one-shot, skull wizards three times, warriors cat ttrpg once).

oh Hell yeah, my main one is don't be scared of failing rolls!! d&d trains us to view failures as, you know. failures—but in games like blades, and with a good gm, a failure is honestly the most interesting and compelling part of a session! so roll them bones and cackle about your threes and your twos and watch the shit break bad.

also: the flashback mechanic in blades is a huge huge gift, so use the hell out of it!! this being, like, you roll up to do your crime of the day and realize you want to be able to say that you know, like. idk the exact layout of the Red Sash Academy. so you say i want a flashback and you flashback to two days ago, when you failed to break into the city planner's office to look at blueprints, only to then manage to sway the guard on duty with a well-timed wink or something—and boom, you've got the layout to do the job, and you got a silly little scene to get you there!! it's such a fun and engaging way to get resources, full ocean's eleven bullshit while also being rife with fun character moments.

thirdly, you don't need to be super precious about taking stress, but do weigh your decisions about it! when you get nine stress, you gain a Trauma that permanently alters (read: worsens) how you roll in specific situations, and it's very fun narratively, but it's also very much the hindrance it wants to be!

and as with all games, it gets easier and snappier the more you play, so if things feel slow or dull, it'll definitely definitely pick up! be patient with yourself and your table and it's just like the best and funnest game!!!!!!!

[belovedblabber]

🌲for the oc ask meme thanks

Finally answering this, thank you for the ask this is a fun one!

I am going with my oc Riel, from a fantasy story I write with my partner (although I also want to repurpose him for other settings as well, like a fantasy western setting idea I have)

He's a mess, I love him

🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?

Riel feels VERY deeply, but is also so traumatized from his experiences in the army and so messed up emotionally from his years of being off on his own and holding in his trauma and grief and such that he often pushes his true feelings. He's spent years expecting his luck to run out at any moment, and he views himself as a dead man running on borrowed time who needs to make himself useful and throw himself on every sword until he finally dies like he was 'supposed' to and this plays into how he presents his own emotions.

However he is also very good at reading people and very empathetic, and despite the fact that he is never kind to himself about his issues, he tends to be very gentle and affirming to those he cares about when it comes to their own struggles, and gives very good advice about people's ways of treating themselves (even if he doesn't take his own advice. He'll tell someone not to blame themself for something that happened, then turn around and blame himself for everything). He can sometimes be a massive asshole though, depending, because he is VERy stubborn and is used to being on his own after years of that (other than his periods spent with Hypatia) and making his own decisions, so when people go against his decisions he can be shitty, because he will decide on his course of action after careful thought, even if that careful thought occurs over the span of like, a minute, and once he's decided the course of action, he is convinced it is the way to go and gets frustrated when others question this/go against it etc. So he can be shitty in situations like that.

When offering support and comfort to someone he cares for, he's very gentle, encourages people to be kind to themselves, and will listen without trying to push, and then try to meet people where they're at. He is also a very physical person, so physical affection as comfort is something he tends towards

[yunalai]

a fun fact about qiqi ? uwu

— Though Qiyana avoids doing this in meetings and any settings with people around her, she has a constant vocal stim that started in childhood and followed her into adulthood.

If one does not announce their presence, it won't be odd to find Qiyana tapping her fingers on wood and softly going "pa, parururu, pa, parururu" repeatedly. "Paru" comes from the verb "to tap", so in a rough translation she would be chanting "Tap, taptap away".

[marshalforgotten]

things to say to immortals … sentence starters | “How old is this? It belongs in a museum, not your living room.” / Noburu to Alkebu-lan

Immortal Queries

"What? I cannot swipe some souvenir, every now and then?" Alkebu-lan asked, taken aback.

Very rare it was, for an individual to be allowed into her home. Rarer still that such a person be from so far away. However the lady had fallen into one of hidden baboon's portals and luckily did not get stuck amidst white void.

The two were currently situated at her abode; a massive tree, magically hollowed out and taking on an even bigger appearance inside. Roped nets that glowed upon being pressed hung off the sides of platforms which lead to various rooms and only flattened protrusions that spiraled up towards top presented some staircase. Crude but colorful paintings also adorned walls, which appeared to move upon Alkebu-lan's touch.

The room they were in took on the look of a study, as bookshelves adorned walls with light from a widespread window coming through; showing jungle despite being hidden from outside view. Scrolls, tablets and pieces of literature were splayed across the floor carelessly. Finally, in its center lied a wooden desk, with pen and parchment neatly placed in spite of clutter around.

Another situation concerning the underground travel agency had cropped up and simian was currently sorting through things so she might find something which would assist. Hence the other's delay to return home. Noburu's comment caught her attention, as other lady was eyeing a rusty sphere with arcs encircling it. This prompted Alkebu-lan's reply, before she hopped down after finding what scroll was needed.

"Besides, that in particular was a gift and I could not well refuse. I believe it is Atlantian in origin, so it is likely eons old," she added, stuffing rolled parchment into the In-Between.