#that being said he very much understands that choosing one of those and expressing it will influence the world

[olliepurples]

mdarc chapter 4 spoilers

i'm a couple of doors into the mystery labyrinth, and it's getting a little annoying having shinigami and yuma go "but how could this have happened? who could have done this?" when i literally knew it was yakou as soon as the game told me that the poison had a delay. this is so silly like "how could anyone have got past this, they would have died in thirty minutes!" ok! narrow your suspect pool to people who die in the next thirty minutes then! damn!!!

[laroserie]

— Various x-men characters dating a non-mutant!reader

— characters ; Scott Summers, Peter Maximoff, Kurt Wagner, Hank McCoy

— version with others characters ; not out yet

— warning ; no particular tw. talk about self estimee and doubt. (as always author has not started reading the comics and their knowledge come from the different xmen cartoon and my hazy memories of the film <3) ( also no cartoon gif for peter because i couldn't find any ... is he even in any of the xmen cartoons ), author decided that Peter has self-confidence issues, also Peter part kinda slide tracked and has more about Peter and his struggle than him dating reader whose a human ... sorry! (his part is also a bit short ...)

— Scott Summers

Scott has no particular qualm around you being a regular human, he loves you just as you are, and nothing can change that. That said, Scott cannot help himself but be, patronising at time. In his mind, you being a human just make you be at risks, you can't defend yourself if you get attacked, by others humans or mutants. He doesn't view you as weak, but, he know how fleeting life is. He isn't the greatest at expressing his feelings, and notably his worry for you.

He will also be more protective than if he was with a mutant. And it show in him being at first very against you befriending any others x-men, he very much care for most of them and he loves you very much, but he doesn't want to have those two part of his life mix up. He doesn't want you to get in dangers because of his job, but he also doesn't want you to possibly endanger one of his mission, he wasn't capable of choosing between you and one of his mission. Not to say, you are as or more important than his mission, but he was responsibilities as a X-Men and he cannot forget about them. But that said, with enough asking and pleading, making him crack and let you meet his friends and fellow X-Men.

Talking about you interacting with mutants, Scott will not let any remarks about you - well not being one - slide. He knows and understand why his friends may feel wary of humans, he get it, but you are different. You are quite literally dating him - a mutant, it couldn't make any sense for you to be against them. Scott may let it slide the first time actually, but anymore than that, and he's making them do extra session in danger room - or they aren't allowed in it, depending on who.

In general, there isn't that much of a different between how he treat his mutant or non-mutant partner, he just will be more protective and worried for them. He doesn't feel particularly insecure in your relationship - because of his mutation or your lack of mutation.

Again, he doesn't have any problems with you not being a mutant - he more so has problem being a mutant, not in general of course, but in your relationship yes. Peter can't really give an answer as to why, but if he had to guess it was probably due to this father, and the fact that he didn't want to do anything like his father did, to you. The worst is, he know damn well he isn't anything like him but he can't help but think that way.

He feels like he's going to mess your relationship up, because of what he is. He try to play it off as if it was nothing, but it's a feeling that lingers in the back of his mind often. He never truly wished to be a regular human before, and he still doesn't, but he just want your relationship to be more normal. Which isn't really possible. Peter knows that, he also knows that you don't care, about that kind of thing.

He can mask his doubts and awful self-confidence with his quirky attitude, he can fool most people pretty easily - expect you. At some point, it get to point, where you have to sit down with Peter and try to have a conversation about it, at first he will just act dumb and pretend he doesn't get what you are talking about, but his facade cracks relatively fast.

You listen, his fears and doubts. You comfort him, and assure him, that everything is fine, you reassure him that weither your relationship is 'normal' or not it's the last of your problem. You love him, he loves you and that all that matter in your eyes.

Now, Kurt could be the one that has the most difficulty dating someone that is not a mutant. He could be scared to hurt you more than anything. He's stressing out about doing or saying the worst thing, that will just break everything. One of the reason why he is friend, with his friends is because they share at least one thing - they can all relate on one crucial part of their identity - them being mutant, it's one thing that link them all together and make it at least a little bit easier to connect. You lacking that, make it hard for him. He still loves you all the same of course, but he feels like not being able to share something so crucial is sad.

So he desperately try to make it up in some way, he looks everything he can about your interests to be able to share that with you, everytime you share something about your interests Kurt will make mental note of it. And he will share a lot about what interest him in return. If you speak an another language that he doesn't know, he'll try to learn it, after all what is better than learning the language of your lover! Kurt can even teach you some german if you want to!

He wants something to link the two of you together even more. It's something he heavily crave. To be linked to you, by more than just, your love for each others.

Kurt may feel insecure at time, that you may leave him for well, a regular human, that isn't blue, has five fingers on each hands - he will try to keep it to himself, but he isn't really good at that. His insecurity just overflow and he end up offhandedly asking you while you are hanging out, if you could prefer to be dating a human rather than him. Obviously, you tell him that you don't, and ask where did this idea came from. He feels reluctant to admit as to why he asked. He feels, ashamed ? After seeing your reaction, he feels a bit silly, and even more when you comfort him and tell him that you very much prefer and could always choose to date him more than anyone else just because they are human.

On a more happy note Kurt loves seeing how amazed you are by his mutation, you never really were around mutants before - there isn't actually a ton of opportunity to meet mutants and to know that they are mutants, even if antis mutant politicians like to make people believe the contrary - most humans he met, weren't exactly thrilled by his, but you are the exactly opposite. Even after being together for a while and getting used to his mutation, there is still this curiosity and shine in your eyes when he teleport for example.

He is by far, the most chill about your relationship and you not being a mutant while he is. Well, that is if we are talking about Hank, after he accepted his entire mutation and all, which we are, Hank pre-self acceptance is different deal.

But once, Hank is settled as a scientific and has member of the X-Men, and has fully accepted his mutation, he doesn't personally really care. But sadly, a lot of people seemingly do and that's one thing that annoy him. The worst is it come from both fellow mutants, even his friends and colleagues sometime! And from regular humans. He doesn't really get why people care about him dating a non-mutant or you dating him - a mutant.

He personally try to not let it get to him, and if it does he will do everything but make you suffer because of it. It most often will result in him shutting himself in his lab for a bit of time, to calm down.

And like others, he feels like he needs to protect you because, you are so ... weak in his eyes, not in a bad way of course ! But in comparison to him you are so small and fragile. This cause Hank to usually like putting his arms around you, around you waist or on your back, to show you that he is there, and to show people around that you are his, and that they shouldn't try to hurt you in anyway.

[jarofstyles]

Growing Pains

Hey lovely people 🫶 here is a bit more of the Stacy’s Mom universe. Its a nice mix of angst, smut and fluff. Let me know what else you'd like to see from them if you'd like to see more!

Read Stacy’s Mom here

Check out our Patreon for early access and 180+ exclusive writings

WC- 5.9k

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, age gap relationship, cream pie, bellybulging, praise kink, use of 'mama', angst, not too long tbh, mentions of misogyny, etc

-----

Harry was really good at ignoring what other people thought. 

It had always been one of those personality traits that people said they envied, but his whole life’s philosophy is why care if you’re happy? If he wasn’t hurting anyone, if he was happy and solid in what he was doing, why did it matter what someone else thought? 

He knew there would be inevitable pushback against him being in a serious relationship with Y/N. And it was serious, as he had made abundantly clear. It wasn’t at all conventional and in their small, gossip ridden town, it wasn’t a shock in the slightest that the rumor mill began buzzing as soon as they stepped out into town together for the first time, Harry taking her to dinner at a decent place of her choosing. 

Their dates had been majority in the towns over just so they could enjoy their little bubble of happiness. Y/N spent time at his place when Stacy was home for the first few weeks, Harry going to hers when she was away, but he had to assure her that he knew Stacy would be upset and he’d talk to her himself. 

It was a hard thing to navigate considering Y/N utterly adored her daughter. She’d been pushing her mother to go out on dates , get back out there, all of the girl power stuff since the divorce was finalized- but the woman highly doubted she meant with someone in her friend group. 

All things considered, the pros and cons had been weighed and juggled and there had been no reason to keep hiding it after two months in. For a bit, Y/N had been holding on to the secrecy because she was afraid he’d tire of her. That she’d damage her relationship with her daughter and in the town for a fling that the younger man would be bored with after a bit. It was unfair to think that of Harry, she knew that, but considering her ex husband had essentially done that very thing to her? It had lingered in the back of her mind. 

To his credit, Harry had been nothing but understanding and patient with her. He didn’t push too hard to go public, but he didn’t hide his desire for it either. Y/N was his, and he wasn’t ashamed of her in the slightest. He’d go up to bat for her again and again if it meant he got to keep her. The man wasn’t stupid- he knew a lot of the backlash would fall onto her. Something he’d happily take the burden of if he could. It was a conversation they revisited quite a few times, Harry holding her against him as his fingers traced the curves of her face while she expressed her fears. Luckily, it seemed that his feelings for her had proven it a worthy risk after he started talking more about the future. 

Maybe with anyone else it would be coming on too strong. Hell- it had come on too strong at first, spooking Y/N when he’d asked if she was open to having more kids. If she wanted to get married again. Both things she hadn’t given much thought to before he brought it up. It had sent her spiraling for a few days, worried that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to give him the things he needed. That he’d be throwing away his youth for her instead of exploring, that she would be essentially trapping him. Her worst fear was him resenting her for settling him down. 

It had caused their first fight, one of their only. His jaw had been tight when he showed up to her place after being ignored all day, arms crossed as she opened the door. He’d been dirty and sweaty from work, the sun hadn’t set yet but he had been worried sick when she had stopped replying after their initial good morning messages. 

“Are you alright?” Eyes scanned her all over to observe for sickness, injury, but found nothing. His features twisted as his eye scanned her pocket, jaw ticking when he saw the phone sitting inside of it. “What's the problem?” He asked lowly. “Worried me fuckin’ sick all day, but I see the phone in your pocket. Don’t play those games with me, Y/N. You’re a grown woman and that’s part of why m’so gone for you.” 

She blanched, swallowing the lump in her throat as she dropped her eyes. “I…” a shaky inhale interrupted the chirping crickets. “I don’t want to hold you back, Harry. I don’t want you to wake up one day, thinking about how you wasted the rest of your twenties on me. How… how you jumped in feet first, landing hard and buckling your knees because I’m exciting for a while.” It hurt to even think about, let alone say out loud. “I’m terrified that you’ll hate me for it. I think we’re going too fast.” 

Harry didn’t answer for a moment. All she heard was a sharp exhale, seeing him tip his head back in her peripheral vision. Like he was exhausted, trying to collect himself before speaking. Rolling his neck, he looked back at her. “So you’ve worked yourself up over a situation that hasn’t even happened. That won’t happen, considering I’ve been thinking about having you since we fuckin’ met. Is that right?” He sounded mad because he was. Frustrated, more so, at the situation. He’d been able to feel her pulling away a little bit the last few days but he’d felt that sickness in his stomach the whole day when she had been quiet and not responsive to his messages. 

It wasn't like he was a super clingy guy. He knew that he could be in person, he liked to be touchy, but he rarely expected constant communication. Y/N was her own woman and he liked that about her, but this wasn’t something he was a fan of. 

The tone of his voice made her reel back, eyes snapping up to him at he looked at her with an irritated expression. He never spoke to her like that, let alone looks at her like she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t a nice feeling in the slightest. “Let’s be honest here, Harry.” Her irritation rose. “Yeah, I’ve worked myself up over a situation that could realistically happen. It’s one thing to fuck older women, but it’s another to settle down and be in a committed relationship with one.”

It was the wrong thing to say, simplifying their relationship like that, and she knew it. His nostrils flared as he looked at her with slight disbelief. “S’that all we’ve been doing, Y/N? Fucking?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Cause I was under the impression that you were my girlfriend and we were figuring it out. Silly fucking me then. Just a little boy, huh?” 

“No- Harry, don’t you do that.” She growled back. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I could be a lot of fun right now but later on down the line it maybe won’t be. Ill slow down faster than you, I’ll get wrinkles before you, I won’t be able to keep up-“

“And you know what I’ll do then?” He stepped closer to her. “I’ll slow down with you. I’ll get wrinkles too. I could be bald. Are you gonna leave me if my hair starts to thin?” 

“N-no.” She whispered, wind leaving her sails as she replied. 

“Yeah; I know you wouldn’t. Just like you should know I wouldn’t.” There was a pregnant pause, the warm early evening stinging her skin because, fuck. She was just terrified. 

“I wouldn’t. I’m not like him, and I know he… I know there’s that underlying trauma and stuff there. I know and m’so sorry an ass like that ever got his hands on you at all. But please try and see that I’m not him. There is no boredom. If there ever was- which there wouldn’t be- I’d come to you, I’d talk to you. I’d never cheat on you.” Stepping closer to her, his fingers curled around her cheeks, searching her face for something she couldn’t place. Apparently he found it, though, because his shoulders dropped and he nudged her face up in his grip, thumbs rubbing her the apples of her cheeks.

 “I’ve dreamed of you for years, Y/N. If I’d get tired of you, I’d have done it already. But honestly?” Licking over his bottom lip, he pinned his gaze to hers. “I don’t see how that’s even remotely fucking possible. You’ve become everything t’me so quickly it should be scary, but m’not anything but ecstatic. Giddy. Please give me some credit. I’m younger than you, but I’m not stupid. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve got the most incredible, intelligent, kind, generous, beautiful woman in my hands. Do you think I didn’t get a little nervous at first?” 

No, actually. No she didn’t. Harry hadn’t even hinted at it, but it grabbed her interest, confusion marring her features. To be truthful, he’d never seemed to waver when it came down to her and this relationship. “I didn’t.” She admitted, feeling a bit of shame for not even considering it. 

“Before I went for it, I was… it was hard to tell if you’d be alright dating someone so much younger than you. If you’d think I could handle you.” He smiled sadly. “There were a few times I was going to try and get you alone t’talk about it but fate was in my hands when you called me that night. I was over the fuckin’ moon, but still nervous. It made me feel better when I could tell you were looking at me, that I wasn’t makin’ it up in my head like I’d originally thought. And then…” his lip curled in a smirk at the memory of taking her against the counter. It was one of his favorite memories of all time. “Then I was pretty settled, but there were still nerves that you’d push me away like this. I thought I was in the clear this far along, that I’d proven how much m’utterly enamored with you but it seems I’ve got work to do.” 

The anger was gone from his body, replaced with a sadness. He didn’t like the thought of her hemming and hawing over if he would get bored of her when he constantly needed to pinch himself over the knowledge that she was his. “I just need to reassure you that since I was a kid, I’ve been set in my ways. I still like the same food as I did as a child, the same shows, the same music. If I really like something? It’s there to stay.” He wasn’t obtuse. Of course relationships had their issues and there was no expectation of perfection 24/7, but he wanted to keep it as peaceful as he could. 

Y/N’s face scrunched, bottom lip trembling as tears glossed over her eyes. It was embarrassing to cry over this, but the words were the reassurance she had desperately needed. “I’m sorry.” The apology was a little whimper before he sighed, pulling her into his body. Large hand running up and down her back, the woman leaned into the comfort of the larger man and relaxed into his form, burying her face in his neck. He still smelled like a bit of oil and sweat but his sweet and fresh soap lingered underneath, giving her the comfort she hadn’t known she needed so badly all day. 

“S’okay, darling. Let’s go inside and sit for a bit, hm? We’ve got t’talk a bit more about what’s bothering you.” 

And they did. They talked for hours that day, Harry holding her legs across his lap as he watched her express the fears she’d been holding back. In all honesty he knew it had needed to happen to make them stronger, and it did. 

It was showing a bit tonight, though. 

“What’s the matter?” His voice was delicate as his palm ran over her hip, curling his fingers into the soft shirt. “Hm? You’re bein’ awfully quiet tonight. Can tell something’s bothering you.” 

Y/N still was shocked at how perceptive the man could be. He seemed to know the slightest shift of her mood and  it had spooked her a bit at first, but now she realized she couldn’t hide much from him. Perhaps it was her own life lesson that she needed to trust someone, but still. 

“It’s silly.” She sighed softly, reaching a hand up to cup his stubbly chin. The comfort of his touch had only gotten stronger since they’d gotten together, the mixture of feeling delicate in his hold but empowered considering she knew he would move the moon if she asked him to. 

“Not silly if you’re thinking about it.” He clicked his tongue. “Off with it then, pretty girl.” 

“It’s… one of those women, the one you slept with from Stacy’s swim club… she was awfully bitter about us being together. Tried to tell me that I was just a phase of yours- which, I see your eyebrows, I know that isn’t true and that isn’t why I’m upset.” She laughed quietly, gently pinching his cheek. “I just couldn’t believe the audacity of her. Trying to tell me how passionate you are in bed, doing all sorts of catty things… I know she’s jealous, I’m rational enough to deduce that she’s just a bit crazy but it irritated me that she talked as if you’re some sort of object. Like you’re… an accessory or something.” 

Y/N had found herself very defensive of the man in the months they’d been together, and while she was aware he had slept with other woman, she hadn’t expected them to be so awful about him. 

“Darling…” Harry chuckled, shaking his head at the thought. “To her, I am an object. I gave her nothing of me besides physicality. And I can assure you, it wasn’t very passionate. It couldn’t hold a candle to you. In all honesty, I haven’t thought about another woman in months. Forgot about her, actually.” Harry had no woman on his radar except her. He was so utterly smitten with the woman in front of him that he knew he would never think of another woman in any sort of way again. 

“Yeah. It is silly, because I know you’re devoted to me-“

“And I am, Mama.” He purred, his hand gently tugging on the ends of her hair to lean it back to where he wanted it. “I’m completely and utterly devoted to you. You’re my goddess, didn’t you know that?” The hushed voice made her swallow thickly, the hand on her hip pushing under her shirt. “There is no one else I think about. They don’t exist to me. The only woman occupying my brain is you.” Lips pressed against her forehead, exhaling slow and heavy through his nose. “I’m obsessed with you. Don’t you know?”

“I-I do.” She stuttered. Somehow, the man years younger than her had a way of completely making her fall back into the shy younger girl she used to be. Giggly and giddy, shy when he would express such sweet things to her. Her ex had never been this verbally kind to her, let alone wax on about how much he adored her. It still shocked her. 

“Mm… good. Because I have no problem reminding you, baby. None at all.” His nose brushed hers, letting their breathing mingle. “I’ll be happy to remind you every single day that you’re the woman of my dreams and the other people I’ve been with don’t exist to me. They’re nothing compared to you. My dream girl.” 

Y/N took the first bite, pulling him down to kiss her. It was a need now, not even just a want. She needed to feel him, to taste him. It was still new to her, how adored he made her feel, and all she could do was hope he knew she felt the same. “H….” She whispered, breaking apart from their kiss as his hand slipped under the waistband of her shorts, wiggling down to cup her ass. 

“Hm?” He chuckled lowly. “Do you need me to remind you, Mama? Want me to show you just how obsessed I am with you?” 

The woman didn’t want to need that reassurance, but she really did enjoy a reminder considering she knew how he was going to give it to her. “I think I could use a refresher, yeah.” She replied, watching his grin grow before he kissed her again, hauling her body up and into his arms. Ignoring the squeal, he brought her into his bedroom, laying her on the sage green comforter and let his thumbs tug at the shorts. 

“I’ll give you as many refreshers as you need, my girl.” He hummed, letting his shirt follow and fall to the ground as Y/N followed suit. His eyes zeroed in to her panties, easily getting on his knees and grabbed her thighs to pull closer to the end of the bed. “S’been too long, hasn’t it? You’ve been mean and kept me away from my pussy.” He shook his head, kissing over the fabric. 

“I was on my period!” She squeaked, watching his fingers curl into the waistband of her panties. 

“And?” He lifted his eyes to her own. “Told you that it doesn't matter t’me. Put down a towel.” He wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Even more so because he knew it would potentially help cramps, but he respected her decision to not want to. 

“Oh god….” Her head fell back as his tongue licked over the sligh through the fabric, wetting it. “Harry… you can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He assured. “It’s your decision, but M’just saying it doesn’t gross me out and I don’t care. But now you’re off of it, and M’gonna take full advantage of that.”

Y/N gasped as the panties were tugged off in a hurry, so fast she had barely realized they were gone before his face was buried in her pussy. “Oh my g-god, H.” She laughed in shock, though it quickly melted into a moan as he pressed his tongue over her and let his nose brush her clit. 

He had never been anything but thorough when it came to oral sex, and she had the knowledge that he thoroughly enjoyed it too. She would even contemplate if he liked it more than her, but it was hard to confirm that when she had the pleasures of his mouth. 

Harry hummed at the taste of her, slowly peeling her thighs to the side and using a finger to spread her open. “There she is. I missed this pussy, baby.” He mumbled, the sheen of her and his spit on his lips. “How could you think of me with anyone else when I can barely go four days without this, hm? Don’t you know how addicted I am?”

She had some clue. A shaky exhale left her as she watched him purse his lips, a string of spit dribbling over her exposed cunt. Somehow he made it so hot, it had become one of her favorite things. A trigger of sorts. She’d never imagined herself liking any sort of spitting, but there was something so filthy and carnal about the way he did it that she found herself squirming and wanting more each time. 

“I know you like that, baby. My sweet girl, like when m’dirty and spit on this cunt to get it wet.” He crooned, repeating the action. He watched as the spit dribbled down to her asshole, humming in satisfaction. “You don’t need the help, not with how drenched this cunt gets for me but you like it when m’filthy with you.” 

Y/N loved how Harry was in bed. From going to somewhat pleasant missionary to completely and utterly wrecked by a man who wanted nothing more than her pleasure, it had been a complete 180 and quite frankly, rocked her damn world. “I do. I like when you’re dirty and you act like you… act like you can’t get enough.”

“Oh Mama, I can’t.” He cooed. “I can’t get enough of this perfect pussy. Obsessed with it, obsessed with you. You know I think about it all day?” His thumb drew slow, firm circles on her clit, making her buck into him a little bit. He ignored it. “Think about when I get to get to you, how all I want t’do is tear whatever’s covering you up and make you sit on my face. You do love when I do that.” 

Oh, did she fucking ever. The man was relentless with his tongue but he became a whole other beast when she sat on his face. In an area she’d been reluctant to, she had become reliant on.  

“Please… I want to cum.” She pleaded. Days after the cycle she was particularly sensitive and the man knew that far too well. 

“Then cum.” He smiled, licking over her entrance. “M’never going to say no to making my girl orgasm. But you’re gonna just keep cumming and cumming, so remember that.”

Y/N had found herself well acquainted with orgasms after years of being reliant on herself for them, but it never ceased to amaze her how the man could play her body like a violin and almost demand her orgasm. How he knew the right spots, the right tricks. No one had taken the time to get to know the things she liked quite like him, and she knew this was a rarity. Her stomach tightening, toes curling as he played with her body like he was the expert in all things pleasure.

The combination on his thumb rubbing her sensitive clit and his tongue pressing into her hole, she could feel the orgasm wash over her. Hands in his hair, she let out a broken moan, the first of many she assumed he’d give her tonight. And just like she suspected, even after the orgasm had dulled slightly, he kept going. 

“Harry, fuck.” She gasped, feeling fingers inside of her cunt and his mouth switching to circling her clit. One thing she’d learned was that he was relentless, especially when it came to making her cum.

“What baby?” He grinned mischievously. It didn’t matter that his face was filthy with her, he seemed to prefer it that way. “S’not my fault I need this pussy. You’re too perfect.” 

For the first time in her life, she was being doted on. There wasn’t a single question in her mind that Harry really was as obsessed with her as he portrayed because there was no way he could fake it this good. Tongue dipping into her entrance and thumbing her clit, working her through another before she successfully tugged him off to meet her mouth. 

Frantic hands tugged at his belt, yanking hard as he chuckled against her lips. “Eager, aren’t we?” He cooed. “C’mon then, Mama. Take me out so I can fuck you the way your greedy little cunt needs.” 

The filth that came out of his mouth was better than any of the sex she had prior to him. His unashamed nature and insistence on honesty had been intimidating at first but now she had come to crave the crass words that used to make her blush so hard it hurt. “I need it.” She whimpered, her own voice unfamiliar to her as she whined at him to get inside of her. Unbuttoning his trousers and slipping her hand inside, she felt how hot and hard he was on her palm. The tip wetting her skin as she stroked him under the fabric, the other hand trying to push the pants down so he was free of the confines. 

“Impatient little thing. I love it.” He grinned, helping her as he balanced over her with one arm. “Can barely let me undress, need to get your beautiful body filled up with me in every way. That’s exactly how I want you every day.” Desperate for him. His hips rubbed into her hand, breathing getting harder as she swiped her thumb over the tip and made him clench his jaw. Her little outfit had been tossed off easily and there was something so dirty about him fucking her almost clothed and her, practically naked. “Put me in, then. You can do it, baby.” 

There was that added layer of intimacy that had her preening, sticky lips connecting with hers as she felt his hips lower and gave her that little bit of control. Swiping the tip through her slickness, he inhaled sharply through his nose before she placed him at her entrance, lifting her leg around his waist. His patience was thin, not waiting more than a few moments before sinking into her. Swallowing her whine as he slipped his hand under her neck to hold it, licking into her mouth until he was balls deep in her. Filling her up to the brim with him, making her feel that sort of full that only he could provide. 

“God…” Y/N whined, leaning her head back into the bed as Harry pulled out slowly, letting her feel every ridge of his cock before pushing back in hard. “You’re…” it was hard to talk at times when he fucked her. While he could run his mouth, Y/N had her mind scrambled as soon as he slipped into her. His dick made her feel drunk and in love. 

“Mhm, I know.” He soothed, though the smug look on his face made his thoughts clear. He loved that she was cockdrunk and fuzzy from her orgasms, wet and soft for him and welcoming his thickness inside of her. It was made for him. “You don’t even have a clue of how much I thought about this, my girl. Don’t even know the filth I’d think of seeing you in those pretty fucking sundresses- fuck.” He growled, the weakness for them evident. She’d noticed it early on, how he’d been exceptionally handsy when she wore them. Maybe she had five new ones since she’d found out- he would see them eventually. 

“What did you… what did you think about?” Poking the bear wasn’t usually her thing, but his mouth was sex itself. Being fucked slow and deep as he spoke about his fantasies of her was something she couldn’t pass up. 

“Things that are so dirty, it would make you squirm.” He mumbled, grinding himself inside of her. The wet walls around him clenched up as she looked at him with her hazy eyes, fingers tangled in his necklace. “Thought about taking you to his old office and bending you over that desk. Fucking you nice and deep with my hand over your mouth while everyone else was in the pool, go back out with my dick covered in you.” The cunt around him clamped down, alerting him to just how much his girl liked that idea. “You like that? Would you have done it for me, sweet girl? Let me hike up that skirt and make you keep watch at the window to make sure no one was coming inside? Because… I really wouldn’t care if someone heard.” 

Y/N knew it was fucked up to like the idea of being caught by her daughters friends while being fucked by one, but he had  this way of framing it that made her feel it to her bones. His thick cock hitting the right places as he spoke about a fantasy she wouldn’t mind participating in. “I’d probably be shocked and- and I’d probably let you. It had been so long and you’re so gorgeous…” she swallowed. “I knew you’d be able to fuck me good when I had those hints.” 

Those catching glimpses of him eyeing her up, or seeing how he gave her all his attention when she spoke. How he’d always help her out in the kitchen and chat with her while the rest of the group was involved in other things- letting his hand brush her or his body squeeze past her. He’d given signals. 

“Fuck.” His head dropped against hers, pulling out and giving a particularly deep thrust, making her clutch his arm. “Yeah? You’d let me fuck you like that? Filthy little thing, Mama. You amaze me…” the idea of her being fucked in her ex husband’s home office was a delicious fuck you to him and empowerment to her. Let a man who could properly make her cum and multiple times at that, show her how sexy she was to him. 

Y/N connected their lips again as she nudged him, signaling him to let them roll over. Harry was never one to tell her no when she wanted something, let alone when she wanted to ride him. “Would you let me sit in his chair, ride me like this?” Hands grabbed at her plush hips, helping her grind on top of him. “I’d take you anywhere, baby. Make you feel good wherever and however you want. You don’t even know how gone I am for you.” 

In some instances Harry’s honesty had her a bit nervous, but when it came to things like this? She was ever so fucking thankful he was an open book with her. There was no shortage of reassurance, no hiding how he felt. The man was as up front and honest as someone could be and after she got over how overwhelming it could be, she relished in how she never had to guess. Harry never made her wonder how he was feeling, if he was mad, if he liked what she was doing. He let her fucking know, loud and clear, and the anxiety she used to experience in her last relationship in that regard was practically nonexistent. “Me too. I am too, I promise.” She nodded, grinding herself down on his cock. 

Harry’s thighs and balls were going to be sticky and wet by the time this was done but he was craving that. Having her traces all over his skin was something he had come to look forward to, to look at as another part of the erotic package that was his girl. Hands held her hips as he helped guide her, head tipped back to watch the pleasure flash on her face. “It’s deep, isn’t it Mama?” He crooned. “Do you feel it in there? Fuck, I can see it…” His deep groan echoed in her room as he took his hand and placed it right over her belly. Felt each time she moved on him, his mouth falling open as he tugged her hand to feel it. “Right there. That’s how deep I am. My perfect fuckin’ girl, got me tucked in your belly like that…” His voice was wrecked, trying to ignore how tight it made his balls but that was an impossible feat. 

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck, you’re so deep in me.” Y/N sulked, brows furrowing as his hand kept hers on the spot, feeling it each time she sunk back down. “You’re… Harry, please.” Her eyes budding with tears, she rocked hard on his lap and knocked her head against his. “Cum in me, right there. I want it deep, I want it to stay there. Please, please… Please, H.” 

The pleading was so fucking hot that he could have keeled over. This object of his affections getting his dick as deep as possible, pleading with him to cum in her cute little tummy and tightening her cunt over him like the idea of it was the best thing her body had ever fathomed… He was the luckiest sonofabitch that got to live. Feeling the silky, scorching walls of her cunt clenching around him like it was begging for the same thing her mouth was, he couldn’t hold it back. 

The broken groan left the man’s mouth while she hurriedly humped over him, Whimpering against his cheek, her mouth fell open as she felt each and every ribbon of cum heat her up, slicking up her insides with his orgasm. Her hand fell away and covered his as he felt her grinding get sloppy, her clit rubbing against the thatch of hair right above his cock. It was messy, sloppy, unpracticed, but so fucking good she felt like she could pass out. Repeating his name as she came, her nails scratched over his bicep, using his cock like a toy to work herself through the orgasm. 

“There you go, baby. You’re so perfect.” He whispered, pulling her back and licking into her mouth. There was no denying that the man could kiss in any scenario, but when he was balls deep and she was full of his cum, his kisses were some of the hottest she had ever felt. In truth, she hadn’t realized a kiss could be that hot until he’d done it the first time. She whined as he sucked over her tongue, keening into his mouth as her tired body started to slow her grinds and sat with him snug inside of her. Even with a taste of him, she wasn’t properly done with him. “Fuck- stay there. Keep my cock warm.” He muttered, stroking the messy hair from her cheeks with his fingers. His body was sticky with sweat and her arousal, his own mix leaking from her and onto the bed, but there was no rush to go anywhere. 

“God.” Y/N exhaled shakily, resting her head against his neck. Words escaped her as she tried not to get too excited again with the weak twitches of his prick she could feel.

“That’s okay, but I prefer Harry.” The smirk was audible in his voice, but she didn’t have the energy to roll her eyes. The large paw of a hand ran up and down her back, the heartbeat still felt in her ears. “I’ll never get tired of that.” The second sentence was sincere. The man always did seem in awe after they finished having sex, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten to this point. 

“Me either.” She muttered, keeping her eyes closed as she cuddled into him. He still had the scent of coffee on him, maybe a hint of cigarettes, but the comforting one outweighed the rest of them. Y/N hadn’t had a man like him before but she knew now that he was exactly what she’d been missing. Even if he had grease on his tee shirts, sometimes smelled like oil, and had a bit of a grumpy attitude- he’d always put her first. He’d work with his hands to build up the world for her instead of buying it. He had the skill and follow through to do so. “I wanna do it again.” 

“Christ, woman. I’ve made a monster out of you, haven’t I?” His tired chuckle made her grin against his throat, pecking over the hollow of it. “You’re gonna regret that later, but m’not gonna say no.” Flipping her over to lay on her back, her eyes met his again as he smiled down at her. “C’mon, Mama. Tell me what you want me to do next.”

[neverenoughmarauders]

Lily's meaningless sacrifice

One thing that irks me is when people suggest that in canon, Lily had any idea that Harry would survive (this is merely a canon post, nothing to do with fanfiction). It irks me, partly because it's just incorrect and that's the sort of person I am. More importantly, however, it irks me because Lily not stepping aside when she had nothing to gain from dying is fundamental to the story.

Let's start with JKR own words from an interview in 2005:

MA: Did she know anything about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry? JKR: No - because as I've tried to make clear in the series, it never happened before. No one ever survived before. And no one, therefore, knew that could happen.

Lily knew nothing about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry. Lily was faced with this choice:

Scenario 1: Steps aside, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 2: Be killed, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 1 is (on the surface) objectively better (unless you're a DE and thus want less muggle-borns around). To Voldemort, it's a simple choice: In both scenarios Harry will die, in one, Lily will survive. In fact, this is what makes a lot of people defend Severus' choice to only ask Voldemort to spare Lily. Severus could not save Harry (and apparently it's totally cool not trying to save others if they bullied you).

Lily could not save Harry.

Lily's choice, as far as she is aware, is not whether to save Harry or not, but whether to save herself. And yet, Lily cannot stand aside. As JKR points out earlier in the interview, what Lily did is not that surprising to us readers ("I don't think any mother would stand aside from their child"). Why? Love. Because, as Dumbledore reminds us on multiple occasions: there are worse things than death - most notably in DH:

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."

Love, and life with and without love is an undercurrent in the story. Lily's sacrifice is meaningless when made, and yet it's the biggest and most understandable expression of love anyone can show someone else. Lily cannot, and does not want to, live in a world where she has witnessed her son being murdered - especially when her husband has been murdered too. A world without Harry and James is no world for Lily Potter.

It is also - bear with me - not that different from what it was like to be in the Order at that time:

[Y]ou weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one...

“He — he was taking over everywhere!” gasped Pettigrew. “Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?”

The Order operated against the odds and were being picked off one by one. As Peter asks - what was there to be gained by refusing him? What was there to be gained from standing (metaphorically or not) in front of Voldemort's victims? I've said this before and I'll say it again, Sirius' answer is powerful:

“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Black, with a terribly fury in his face. “Only innocent lives, Peter!” “You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!” “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black.

Only innocent lives. They weren't fighting this war because they were winning. In fact they were very much losing. But they were fighting because it was right thing to do. Many Order members chose to die, rather than to step aside and let Voldemort take over. Only in their case it didn't make a difference - or at least, it didn't feel like it at the time. Members were murdered, and Voldemort was just getting stronger and stronger.

What was there to be gained by refusing Voldemort?

I firmly believe this is a theme that is repeated throughout the book: not just love and choice, but the obligation to choose what is right, no matter the odds (the irony that this was written by JKR will never be lost on me), and how love is a powerful motivator to do just that. Doing the right thing might seem hopeless in the moment - wasteful even - but that doesn't mean it's not worth doing, or that in the end, it won't add up.

Imagine what Harry felt like at the end of PS/SS when he risked his life to stop Voldemort, only to realise that Voldemort would keep trying to come back:

“Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?” “No, Harry, he has not. (...) Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.”

Harry Potter isn't about doing the right thing because it will bring you rewards, but because it is the right thing.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

This speech doesn't sit well with a few people because it sounds like you're asked to remember what happened to someone who did do the right thing (spoiler: he died). But that's not the point, of course. Cedric wasn't killed for doing the right thing or making a hard choice - Dumbledore asks the students to remember Cedric because the enemy is willing to kill innocent people indiscriminately. Standing aside will not be good enough against people like Voldemort. There is, as Dumbledore put it, a need to keep fighting what seems a losing battle. Why? Only innocent lives.

Both James and Lily die that evening because they are unwilling to let Voldemort near their innocent son as long as there is breath in their bodies. James had no choice (this irks me because he did, he could have run away - he could have not fought Voldemort in the Order to being with. They all had a choice, but not the point). Lily had a choice. And she chose, like many had before her, to fight what seemed like a losing battle. She died, not knowing that she had saved her son. Her sacrifice was meaningless - like so many before her - and yet her sacrifice changed the world.

In the end, by choosing to do what was right, she was granted the wish she most desired: Her son lived.

[edamette]

Analyzing König's presonality

Original post made in TikTok by shikided, published here with their permission.

Let’s start with the fact that König is not shy or self-conscious.

Social anxiety in his case is expressed rather by aggression towards others. Aggression is his defense mechanism (it is different for all people, for some may be a smile, for example).

He can treat people coldly, as well as rudely, out of a subconscious fear of getting into an awkward situation, of being in a vulnerable position. Of course, he is unlikely to like being in a crowd, but this does not mean that he will start to panic and blush, after all, he is a disciplined soldier.

However, König is active and restless, as evidenced by the fact that he was not accepted as a sniper not only because of his height, but also because of his inability to stay in place for a long time. (This is suits his stormy temper)

His expressiveness is especially noticeable in the way he speaks, and Jim Boeven conveys this perfectly. Just compare the original voice acting by Konig and, for example, the Russian one. In Russian, his voice is much calmer and more direct, more balanced, which is out of character.

König is impudent, proud, sharp-tongued. “Pick your guts off the floor” or “and they said that I couldn’t be a sniper” – he’s literally spitting bile, and this still hurts him, as a consequence of the fact that he’s trying to look like a sniper, making himself a mask with his own hands. This desire meant a lot to him, and this is to some extent his personal protest. König did not fully accept the refusal, did not resign himself.

König is brave, even somewhat passionate, not afraid to rush straight into the heat: “get me back into the fight”, “I’m ready for another round”, “don’t worry, leave the heavy lifting to me”.

However, he understands the advantage his height and build give him and uses it. Moreover, he knows how good he is on the battlefield, and does not hesitate to say about it: “finally, some worthy adversaries”, “they are no match for me”. These phrases reveal a need for personal self-affirmation due to his childhood bullying and humiliation. König compensates for the lack of recognition with arrogance and pride, as even his name (King in German) suggests.

This, like his defense mechanism, can cause a disdainful attitude towards other soldiers: “who taught you to shoot?”, “not bad, I’ve seen better”, “let’s be honest, it’s better off in my hands”, “hands off, it’s mine”, curses are also present.

Some fans for some reason see him as a big child, few others as a brutal killer.

König is a fighting unit, a man trained to kill, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean he’ll kill you for some little thing. He can, of course, but he won’t. König is a hostage rescue specialist, His task is not only to eliminate, but also to save.

Pay attention to his pose in the menu. König does not look shy and cute. On the contrary, his movements are calm, even relaxed, he demonstrates confidence and strength. He raises his hand and points at the player, as if to say “Pikachu, I choose you”, or “we’re gonna make this day”

His phrases sound friendly towards us, like “together we should be victorious”, or “you can be in my team any day” and even “with you until the end”

He seems to be encouraging his comrade, with whom he is now leading a mission. König is closed and cold, but loyal and kind towards his people. Due to his character, I doubt that he has many people whom he truly values, such a person will be very attentive and selective towards those who surround him, therefore he seems to me be a loyal and reliable friend to those whom he truly considers them his loved ones.

Summary: König is an interesting character with a psychological point of view, with his own bee in his bonnet.

Closed, arrogant, cocky, loyal, devoted.

[moonselune]

Hi! May I request dealers choice on the crew + Astarion with a VERY minimally verbal, minimally expressive Tav and them realizing that Tav is actually /incredibly/ sweet and kind and understanding, they're just a lil strange and extra quiet <3 if this request doesn't interest you then feel free to disregard

I did the boys for this one and I love the concept!!

Gale:

The evening was quiet, the kind of stillness that comes after a hard-won victory. Gale sat beside you near the campfire, the flames casting golden shadows on his thoughtful face. It had been a long day of travel, and the others were scattered about—some chatting, others already asleep. But here you were, seated together in a comfortable, companionable silence.

Gale had always been one to fill silences with musings or stories, often eager to share his thoughts with those around him. But tonight, he found himself glancing your way, curiously watching as you poked absentmindedly at the fire with a stick. You were so quiet, so restrained, and it fascinated him.

He had initially mistaken your silence for indifference, or perhaps shyness. But as the days stretched into weeks, he had begun to see the subtleties of your demeanor—the way your gaze lingered on the stars when the camp was asleep, the gentle attentiveness in your movements when someone needed help but didn’t ask. And tonight, as you sat beside him, he saw it again: that quiet care in the way you positioned yourself slightly closer to him than necessary, as though offering your presence without demanding his attention.

“I’ve noticed something about you,” Gale said softly, breaking the silence but keeping his tone gentle.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression unreadable but curious, your eyes reflecting the firelight like pools of still water.

“You’re… different,” he continued, choosing his words carefully. “Quieter than most. But not unfeeling, not cold. If anything, I think you might be the kindest person here. It’s just—well, you show it in ways I wasn’t prepared for.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, as though unsure how to take the observation, but you didn’t interrupt him.

He gestured toward the campfire. “For example, you always make sure the fire’s built just right so it lasts through the night. And earlier today, I saw you stop to pick up Karlach’s glove when she dropped it—she didn’t even notice, but you made sure it was back in her pack.”

Gale hesitated, then smiled. “And you brought me a cup of tea yesterday without saying a word. Just placed it beside me and walked away, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.”

Your lips quirked into a faint smile, one that he might have missed if he hadn’t been watching you so closely. You looked down, fiddling with the stick in your hand, clearly unused to such direct attention.

“It’s… endearing,” Gale added softly. “You’re endearing. And I think I’ve come to admire you all the more for it.”

For a moment, you didn’t respond, your gaze distant as you considered his words. Then, in your own quiet way, you leaned closer to him, just enough that your shoulder brushed against his. It wasn’t much, but for you, it was deliberate—a gesture of connection, of trust.

Gale felt his chest tighten, a warmth spreading through him that had little to do with the fire. He had expected words, perhaps an explanation or a deflection, but this—this understated act of affection—spoke volumes. You didn’t need grand declarations or elaborate displays. You simply… were. And that, he realized, was what made you so remarkable.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with sincerity. “For being you.”

You glanced at him, your lips curving into a small, soft smile, and nodded once before returning your gaze to the fire. Gale felt a grin tug at his own lips as he settled back beside you. In that moment, he understood: your sweetness, your kindness—they were there, just waiting to be noticed. And he would spend however long it took learning to see every quiet, wonderful part of you.

Astarion:

The night was calm, the camp quiet save for the distant chirping of crickets and the crackle of the fire. Astarion sat nearby, nursing a goblet of wine he’d stolen from the cellar of a long-forgotten ruin. It was more for the ritual than the taste—old habits, as he’d said with a faint smile. You were nearby, as always, your presence an anchor in the strange and often chaotic life the group led.

He wasn’t sure when he started speaking. Perhaps it was the comfortable silence, the way you sat there, calm and unhurried, that encouraged him. He’d been thinking about Cazador again—he so often was—and without quite realizing it, the words began to spill out.

“I suppose it’s strange,” he mused, his voice light but carrying an edge of bitterness. “Being free after so long under his shadow. It feels like… I’m still carrying him, in some way. Every decision, every thought—I can’t seem to separate them from him.”

He glanced at you, half-expecting a response. Most people, he’d learned, couldn’t resist cutting in. A platitude, a suggestion, a counterpoint. But you didn’t. You simply looked at him, your expression calm and open, as though urging him to go on.

It was unnerving at first. He was used to fighting for attention, for control over conversations, to prove he was clever or charming or worth listening to. But with you, none of that seemed necessary. He paused, testing the silence, and when you still didn’t speak, he continued.

“You know,” he said, his tone softer now, “when I first escaped, I thought freedom would feel… lighter. Like I’d cast off some great weight. But it’s heavier in some ways. The choices, the possibilities—they’re endless. And I’m not sure I trust myself to make the right ones.”

Again, he stopped, waiting. Your eyes met his, steady and clear, and though you didn’t say a word, he felt understood. It was a strange sensation, one he hadn’t experienced often—if ever. You weren’t dissecting him or trying to fix him. You were just… there, present and listening.

“You’re awfully quiet, aren’t you?” he said after a moment, tilting his head as he studied you. There was no malice in his tone, only curiosity.

You shrugged lightly, the movement almost imperceptible. When you finally spoke, your voice was soft, measured. “I like hearing you.”

He blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of your words. “You like hearing me?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “You have a lot to say. It’s worth listening to.”

Astarion stared at you for a moment, unsure of how to respond. People had listened to him before, of course—but it was always performative, a game of courtly flirtation or manipulation. They listened to what they wanted to hear, not to him. But you… you listened like his words mattered, like he mattered.

A slow smile spread across his face, softening the sharp angles of his features.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” he murmured, almost to himself. “So quiet, so… strange. But kind. Far kinder than I deserve, I think.”

He expected you to deny it, to reassure him, but instead, you simply offered a small, almost shy smile. It was disarming, the way you gave so little and yet managed to say so much.

For the first time in a long while, Astarion felt no need to fill the silence. He sat back, letting it settle around you both, a comfortable sort of quiet that he hadn’t realized he craved. After a while, he glanced at you again, his expression thoughtful.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, his voice lighter now, a hint of teasing in his tone.

You tilted your head slightly, a silent question.

“Most people are so… loud,” he explained with a wry smile. “Always trying to prove themselves, to take up space. But you—” He gestured toward you, the motion almost reverent. “You don’t need to do any of that, do you? You’re just… you.”

Your smile widened just a fraction, and you gave a small shake of your head, as if to say you didn’t know how to be anything else. Astarion chuckled softly, a sound warm and genuine.

“I think I’m beginning to like it,” he admitted, leaning back against the log he’d claimed as his seat. “Though I’ll warn you—I’m not used to people being so sweet to me, or me reciprocating. You might ruin my reputation.”

Your eyes sparkled with amusement, though you didn’t reply. Instead, you simply reached over, your hand brushing lightly against his. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes—offering comfort, understanding, and a quiet kind of care that made Astarion’s chest ache in the best possible way.

For the first time in years, he felt seen. And it was terrifying, yes, but also… wonderful.

Wyll:

The camp had grown quieter as the evening stretched on, the crackling fire the only sound breaking the stillness. Wyll sat a little apart from the group, his polished boots resting near the fire’s warmth, his arms draped loosely over his knees. His usual mask of confident charm was absent tonight, replaced by something quieter, more introspective.

You sat nearby, as you often did, a steady presence that didn’t demand much from him. For weeks now, you had been close in proximity but distant in words, an enigma of sorts. Wyll wasn’t quite sure what to make of you at first—your silence had seemed aloof, even uninterested. But gradually, as the days bled into nights, he began to notice the things you didn’t say.

You didn’t speak over others in conversation, but you always seemed to listen deeply, your gaze steady and intent. You rarely offered compliments, but when you did, they were startlingly heartfelt. And when Wyll had stumbled in the aftermath of a fight, bruised and frustrated, it was you who had handed him a bandage, your hand brushing his briefly before you moved on without a word.

Now, as he sat by the fire, you approached, your steps soft but deliberate. You didn’t ask if you could join him—one of the many things he appreciated about you. Instead, you lowered yourself onto the log beside him, sitting close enough to feel the fire’s warmth but not crowding his space.

“You’re quiet tonight, reserved,” he said after a moment, his voice breaking the silence but staying low. "Well, more than usual."

You glanced at him, your expression unreadable, then nodded once. A faint gesture of acknowledgment.

Wyll let out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “That makes two of us, I suppose. A rare thing for the Blade of Frontiers, isn’t it?”

The title rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, but there was a flicker of something behind his words—weariness, perhaps, or a longing for something simpler. People were always eager to heap praise upon him, to listen to his heroic tales of vanquishing monsters and saving the innocent. They admired him for his bravery, for his charisma, for his relentless drive to do good. And while he appreciated it, there were moments when it felt like a weight he couldn’t set down.

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes fixed on the fire. But then you reached into your pack and pulled something out—a small, neatly folded cloth. You placed it on the log between you and gently nudged it toward him with your fingertips.

Wyll blinked, curious, and unfolded it. Inside was a simple piece of bread and a chunk of cheese, nothing extravagant but clearly set aside with care. He glanced at you, his brows lifting in surprise.

“For me?” he asked softly.

You nodded, your expression still calm but your gaze steady. There was no grand explanation, no flowery words about why you’d thought to do it. Just the quiet act itself, unspoken but deeply thoughtful. Wyll found himself smiling, something warm unfurling in his chest.

“You know, people often throw grand gestures my way,” he said, turning the small meal over in his hands. “Praise, gifts, promises of favor. But this… this feels different. Better, somehow.”

Your lips quirked faintly, the smallest smile, and you gave a slight shrug, as if to say, It’s nothing.

“No,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “It’s not nothing. It’s… exactly what I needed.”

He tore a piece of the bread, savoring it as much for the taste as for the gesture behind it. Then he glanced at you again, his dark eyes filled with something unspoken.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve met before,” he admitted. “And I think that’s a gift, even if it’s one I’m still learning to understand.”

You tilted your head slightly, considering his words, and then reached out—tentative, deliberate—to place a hand briefly over his. Your touch was warm, grounding, and though you pulled away quickly, the gesture lingered in the space between you.

Wyll chuckled again, softer this time. “You don’t need to say much, do you? Somehow, you always seem to know exactly what to do.”

For a long moment, the two of you sat there, the fire casting flickering shadows over your faces. Wyll found himself relaxing in a way he rarely did, the weight of his heroic persona slipping away. With you, he wasn’t the Blade of Frontiers or the hero of ballads. He was just Wyll—a man who had been given a moment of peace in your quiet, steady company.

Halsin:

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the forest clearing. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the earthy scent of moss and pine. Halsin stood by a small stream, his hands resting on his hips as he watched the water bubble over smooth stones. He had led you here, eager to share one of his favorite places—a spot untouched by the chaos of the world, a place of pure serenity.

You sat nearby, your back against the wide trunk of an ancient tree, watching the interplay of light and shadow as the sun filtered through the canopy. You hadn’t said much since arriving, but then, you rarely did. Halsin had grown accustomed to your quiet nature, though it had taken him some time to understand it. At first, he had worried his stories or insights were unwelcome, his efforts to connect unreciprocated. But the longer he spent in your company, the clearer it became that your silence was not indifference but something else entirely.

You simply… listened. And you noticed things—details others might overlook. Like now, as your gaze lingered on a cluster of wildflowers swaying in the breeze, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Halsin said, his deep voice gentle as he followed your gaze. “I’ve always admired how the simplest things—flowers, sunlight, the song of a bird—can bring such joy.”

You turned your head toward him, your expression calm but thoughtful. Then, without a word, you stood and stepped toward the wildflowers. Kneeling carefully, you reached out to brush your fingers over the delicate petals, your touch reverent.

Halsin watched you, his heart swelling with something he couldn’t quite name. It was rare to find someone who shared his love for the natural world with such quiet intensity. Most people saw beauty in nature, yes, but few seemed to feel it the way you did—as though you were attuned to its rhythms, its quiet wisdom.

After a moment, you plucked one of the flowers—a pale blue blossom with a star-shaped center—and stood, turning back to him. You held it out, your movements unhurried, and waited for him to take it.

Halsin blinked, surprised, before stepping closer and accepting the flower.

“For me?” he asked, his voice touched with warmth.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his briefly before drifting back to the stream. There was no grand declaration, no explanation for the gesture. Just the flower, freely given, and the quiet companionship of the moment.

Halsin turned the bloom over in his hands, studying it as though it were a rare treasure.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “It’s… beautiful. As is this moment.”

He meant it. There was a simplicity to your company that he hadn’t realized he needed. So much of his life had been spent in action—protecting, leading, fighting. With you, there was no pressure to be anything more than himself, no expectation to fill the silence with words.

“You have a way of seeing the world,” he said after a moment, his gaze lingering on you. “A quiet reverence, as though every small thing matters. It’s… humbling. And it reminds me of why I do what I do.”

You glanced at him again, tilting your head slightly as though considering his words. Then, without speaking, you gestured toward a patch of sunlight filtering through the trees, where a family of deer grazed in the distance.

Halsin smiled, following your lead. Together, you stood in silence, watching the deer move through the clearing. The world felt still, alive yet peaceful, and he realized how rare such moments were.

“You’re a gift,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Not just to me, but to the world around you. You see it for what it is—whole and sacred.”

Your gaze flicked to him again, and this time, your lips curved into a soft, fleeting smile. It was a small thing, but to Halsin, it felt like a gift in itself—a glimpse of the sweetness that lay beneath your quiet exterior.

Hope you guys enjoyed this and it wasn't too repetitive, I did try to differentiate them - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

This is a very long post!

These last couple of months, it’s been interesting to talk about Nesta as a character and how her subsequent characterization is so integral to pointing out the problems in the series. Whether or not you view Nesta to be ‘real’ or ‘good’ character is one thing, and often subjective. Our own personal backgrounds may muddle or influence whether we like these characters or not.

The reason why I think Nesta is an interesting character is because of how she kind of…ruins the story, or the illusion of a story we are given. There are many times in the story where I think SJM could have elaborated on the qualities that she gushes about, but she intentionally chooses not to. For example, if SJM kept Rhysand consistent, I could see him disliking Nesta and wanting to actually hurt her, but have him think about Feyre and her wants and ultimately relent to Feyre’s want. One thing about Tamlin’s abuse that I think was done well was the fact that he genuinely seems broken up by the fact he can’t control his anger, and he feels something akin to guilt, but he doesn’t stop the abuse. It highlights the effect of the victim, not the intention of the abuser. I don’t know if it was intentionally done, but I liked that element of his abuse. I also liked that the dangers that Tamlin are worried about are real – the threat is real. Why? Because I think it proves, to some extent, that we should not justify abuse, even if the abuse seems rational. It proves that in this world, these men should still adhere to the fact of self-control. How can Feyre in a relationship with Tamlin if he can’t regulate his emotions around her?

But then the story does something weird – it embodies Rhysand with these very same qualities. It also recreates Tamlin’s abuse of Feyre with…Nesta – and then justifies it. Nesta arrives in a similar position as Feyre, yet the story goes to great lengths to vilify her for not reaching out; this is a far-cry from how the story (and stans) think about Feyre. (paint scene, fire scene, solstice scene, and hiking scene). We're supposed to sympathize with the decisions being made; so much rides on the fact that the IC are doing this out of the kindness of their heart:

Did Nesta notice the faint glimmer of worry in Amren’s smoky eyes—understand how rare it was? More than that, did Nesta understand that this meeting wasn’t to condemn her, but instead came from a place of concern? Her simmering stare told him she considered this purely an attack.

We're supposed to think about the worry of the Inner Circle and not think about the way they've decided to express their worry. Its similar to this scene that we get with Lucien to Feyre about Tamlin:

“I’ve given him time,” I said. “I can’t stay cooped up in the house forever.” “He knows that—he doesn’t say it, but he knows it. Trust me. You will forgive him if his family’s own slaughter keeps him from being so … liberal with your safety. He’s lost those he cares for too many times. We all have.” Every word was like fuel added to the simmering pit in my gut. “I don’t want to marry a High Lord. I just want to marry him.”“One doesn’t exist without the other. He is what he is. He will always, always seek to protect you, whether you like it or not. Talk to him about it—really talk to him, Feyre. You’ll figure it out.” Our gazes met. A muscle feathered in Lucien’s jaw. “Don’t ask me to pick.” “But you’re deliberately not telling me things.” “He is my High Lord. His word is law. We have this one chance, Feyre, to rebuild and make the world as it should be. I will not begin that new world by breaking his trust. Even if you …”

Lucien is continually asking Feyre to place Tamlin over her own happiness; he is asking her to consider his feelings before she considers his own - partially because this is the way Lucien is characterized to handle Tamlin's abuse himself. Cassian is asking Nesta to consider the Inner Circle's intention over how she feels. Amren and Rhys immediately shame and threaten Nesta - she is valid in her anger. She has interpreted this meeting as an attack...because it was. I think its especially telling that the later scene is asking Nesta to have empathy for Amren who is arguably the most abusive, abrasive, and unproductive person in that entire meeting. The second part of Lucien's monologue end's up being true for Nesta as the Inner Circle end up doing the same thing to control Nesta's behavior -- whether that be by leveraging Elain, outright forcing her, or even the decision to withhold Nesta's power from her -- these echo the exact same plot points we see in MAF with Feyre.

Let’s compare some scenes:

It was worse than a crown, actually. Built into the box were compartments and sleeves and holders, all full of brushes and paints and charcoal and sheets of paper. A traveling painting kit. Red—the red paint inside the glass vial was so bright, the blue as stunning as the eyes of that faerie woman I’d slaughtered— “I thought you might want it to take around the grounds with you. Rather than lug all those bags like you always do.” The brushes were fresh, gleaming—the bristles soft and clean. Looking at that box, at what was inside, felt like examining a crow-picked corpse. I tried to smile. Tried to will some brightness to my eyes. He said, “You don’t like it.” (MAF: Chapter 9)

“You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian’s lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library.” Nesta blocked out the memory—of the dark depths of that library, the ancient monster that had dwelled there. It had saved them from Hybern’s cronies, yes, but … She refused to think of it. “You will respect her, and the other priestesses in the library,” Feyre said, “and you will never give them a moment’s trouble. Any free time is yours to spend as you wish. In the House.” Hot rage pumped through her, so loud Nesta could barely hear the real fire before which her sister paced. Was glad of the roaring in her head when the sound of wood cracking as it burned was so much like her father’s breaking neck that she couldn’t stand to light a fire in her own home. “You had no right to close up my apartment, to take my things—” (Silver Flames; Chapter 2)

She could barely stand to hear the crack and pop of the wood. Had barely been able to endure it in Feyre’s town house. Snap; crunch. (FAS: Chapter 21)

"He had Enough of the coldness, the sharpness. Enough of the sword-straight spine and razor-sharp stare that had only honed itself these months"

He understood. He really did. It had taken him months—years—after his first battles to readjust. To cope. Hell, he was still reeling from what had happened in that final battle with Hybern, too

Another grin as he lifted the small, wrapped parcel. “Your Solstice present.” “I don’t want one (FAS)

“Nesta forged a new Trove,” Cassian said, reining in his rage at the truth of Azriel’s words. “She could create anything.” He nodded to Rhys. “She could fill our arsenals with weapons that would win us any war.” Briallyn, Koschei, and Beron wouldn’t stand a chance. “Which is why Nesta must not learn about it,” Amren said. Cassian demanded, “What?” Amren’s gray eyes held steady. “She cannot know.” Rhys said, “That seems like a risk. What if, unaware, she creates more?” “What if, in one of her moods,” Amren challenged, “Nesta creates what she pleases just to spite us…’ (SF)

He appealed to Rhys, “You’re all right with this? Because I’m sure as hell not.” “Amren’s order holds,” Rhys said, and for a heartbeat, Cassian hated him. Hated the mistrust and wariness he beheld on Rhys’s face.(SF

“No. She knows the labor will be difficult, but I haven’t told her yet that it might very well claim her life.” Rhys spoke into their minds, as if he couldn’t say it aloud, I haven’t told her that the nightmares that now send me lurching from sleep aren’t ones of the past, but of the future. Cassian squeezed Rhys’s shoulder. “Why won’t you tell her?” Rhys’s throat worked. “Because I can’t bring myself to give her that fear. To take away one bit of the joy in her eyes every time she puts a hand on her belly.” His voice shook. “It is fucking eating me alive, this terror. I keep myself busy, but … there is no one to bargain with for her life, no amount of wealth to buy it, nothing that I can do to save her.

So much is happening here – there’s actually more scenes, but I don’t want to go and find them all. I wanted to include more similarities between Feyre and Nesta (I might make a separate post with all of those). To some extent, I think a lot of these quotes, even without elaboration echo the point I’m about to make. In quote #4, Cassian’s narration berates Nesta for not being integrated into the family and not being happy at Solsitice, but we the audience know that Nesta (1) isn’t being talked to, (2) she can barely stand the sound of the fire, (3) Feyre forced Nesta to come by essentially holding her rent over her head. And there’s just way to many parallels between how Nesta feels at the NC and how Feyre felt at the Spring Court. Nesta is drowning; she tells us that – Rhysand’s subtle anger is something she not only notices, but internalizes. She specifically mentions that she doesn’t take any of Rhysand’s positions because they were pity offerings; he’s only doing it because of Feyre. The story then decides to let him spearhead the conversations around Nesta’s autonomy. In the first quote, Tamlin's overall ignorance regarding Feyre's mental state, and her aversion to things such as the color Red were considered red flags; yet when Nesta has an aversion to fire, when she is neglected and nearly dies the story spends so much time trying to tell the audience that Cassian simply didn't know - it doesn't say anything about him.

But one of the biggest indicators of this ruin of the story is the fact that Amren and Rhys believe that Nesta should not have her power because ““What if, in one of her moods,” Amren challenged, “Nesta creates what she pleases just to spite us?” (Maas). The issue, as consistently reiterated, is a control one. They don’t trust Nesta simply because they cannot control her – that is what is highlighted as the issue in the story. Furthermore, Feyre doesn’t let Nesta know, she defers to a process that she doesn’t have to. She outranks everyone in that room; if she wanted to tell Nesta was rules would stop her – that’s literally been the way Feyre has characterized (see: Wraiths, the HL meeting attacking Beron, Tarquin and the BoB, Mor/Feyre w/ the Suriel), yet in this moment when she disagrees with Rhys – she essentially defers to his command. She simply expresses a subtle wariness and then moves on. Feyre has the power to just tell Nesta is the point that I am making here. It’s Nesta’s power; they forced her to do these tasks, and when she has one moment of autonomy in making the sword – they are argue that Rhys should make himself High King and Cassian, despite his earlier provocations, believes in this. He agrees with it. And even though I am going on this long, wordy analysis, I think a lot of what I am saying is kind of really clear In these quotes even without explaining.

To bring this back, Rhys (and Feyre somewhat) are only excused because the story believes their intentions were good (see quote #7), which conflicts with what we’ve already seen. These are…the exact same justifications we get about Tamlin; he truly believes that by making her safe, he is making her happy – but we know Feyre values truth over safety. And so the story undermines its lessons by not condemning the actions of its characters and instead leans into moralistic reasons. The argument now isn't even that Nesta isn't being abused, but stans and even the story (subtextually) believe that Nesta deserves the abuse - or that it's purely a consequence of her own immaturity, yet this is a far-cry to how Feyre is perceived in similar situations. The story argues that these characters understand that Nesta is not in her right mind - but constantly the story expects her act functionally in the face of her depression, even though the very reason the decided to lock her up is because they all unanimously believed she could not function by herself. She's expected to respond appropriately to their jabs, do missions on their behalf, train, and work at the library with no pay. She cannot leave Velaris without a Chaperone and all of her Chaporene are employed officials who are gone for the entirety of the book. No one ever actually offers to ever take Nesta out to see the town. I am seriously tired, and really concerned with the way Nesta's abuse is talked about.

[trashfangirlsworld]

I'm gonna attempt to make another post talking about stuff I've seen after q's stream, because I saw people say that the last one I made made them feel better, so here we go:

why is he speaking spanish: this is not something I necesserly saw after yesterday, but I did see it last time he streamed a statement regarding qsmp and the fact that he had to start this stream fucking explaining why he's speaking his native language to formulate what he wants to say better is fucking vile to me and anyone that said that last time does not have a right to stay in this fandom or to even talk about this situation.

he does not have a right to sound mad: i'm sorry, but he has every right to sound frustrated, he is not mad at the admins that choose to leave the project, he explicitly says he understand their decision and wishes them the best, he is frustrated at those that have caused damage to the server in the first place and are still the reason why he can't be more open about what's happening. We are talking about his passion project here, of course he's frustrated that this is happening, even if he completely understands why some admins are leaving.

he is enabling hate against lea and others! (people that have leaked information): quackity has every right to cite the reason as to why he can't openly communicate the way he wants to, especially when those leaks have been twisted and used against him by the people that were initially harming the server in the first place (those he fired). He openly says the he doesn't necesserly think that the people that are leaking stuff are aware of how those leaks are actually being used, so he's not blaming any specific person. Actions have consequences, no one is the exception to this rule in this situation.

he says any criticism is invalid!: no he just straight up doesn't. He says he's not bothered by people that give non-constructive critcism and whose goal is clearly to see the project destroyed. If you feel like this statement is a call out to what you have been saying, then maybe you should reflect on what you actually want here and potentially leave. If you have constructive criticism you want to say, once again keep in mind that quackity does not have twitter on his phone and the best way to commuincate something to him is through his public email.

As quackity himself said multiple times, if you're not happy with how things are going and don't want to wait for visible change it's fine, but do not twist and nitpick stuff because you don't want to step away from something if you don't have a "moral" reason to do so. I said this multiple times, but this is just a shitty fucking situation that does not have an easy and quick solution to it, and people will make decisions or mistakes that you will not like on all sides, it does not mean there is malicious intent behind those decisions. Again, we may not know their names and how many there were, but we know who is actually to blame for all of this and I hope quackity is in the process/is gonna be able to sue them. The admins that choose to leave because of any reason have every right to do so, something that quackity himself also expressed on his stream. It is very possible to support them completely while understanding why things are the way they are, as much as everyone fucking dislikes it.

I genuinely hope qsmp is able to come back stronger, however long it takes, because I personally think this project is good and does not deserve to end this way. Much love to everyone, once again remember to have empathy to everyone.

[lorei-writes]

Amberian Demonology AU Headcanons feat. Ikemen OC Community ~3.95k

Thank you for allowing me to write your OCs! When I asked to see who'd trust me, I never expected so many replies >///< I hope that the little something I've come up with is a fun surprise... I'd say you can think about it as of a Dark Fairytale AU as well >:)

Amberian folklore introduces a hierarchy of supernatural beings. At the bottom of it are dushki, generally kind-hearted spirits of little power who co-exist with humans in symbiosis, often for their own safety. Then, there are s’lna dusha – this class consists of spirits of various powers, but unlimited freedom. They can and generally do exist independently of any other beings, although there exists a substantial disparity in level of might between them. At the top of the hierarchy exist minor gods and goddesses, idit. They are the most powerful among all of the spirits, however, they lack freedom. Each of them has a duty which completely binds them. Their lives are not their own to live for as long as it remains unfulfilled. They are not worshipped; rather, they are the expression of the laws binding the universe and introducing the order to it.

The introduction of monotheistic fate to Amber did not fully erase the old beliefs; rather, it turned them into superstition and beings of lesser importance, placing the God-Father as the only true deity, the maker and the architect of all order.

Dragini – Melinda @dododrawsstuff

Find her at the crossroads, sitting alone on a stone or staring at the sign with unseeing eyes. Which way should she choose? Dragini does not know. Hopefully, the coming of the next traveller will bring the end to her struggle… Until then, until that yet unseen person arrives, she will bless those who meet her on their journeys.

A kind protector spirit – meeting a dragini is a sure sign that a traveller will reach their destination safely.

The Dragini are no stranger to homesickness and at times, will appear before the lonesome souls who long to return home. They can take them there, or gift them a piece of it – although it may be realised in a rather unexpected form.

Some of the legends claim that draginins are born from spirits of women who died away from home and were not granted a proper burial. Often accident or war victims.

A polyglot, although her preferred language seems not to be of this world. Only few are humoured and have a conversation with her, and even fewer can recount it. It is alleged that they’re the ones to escort a dragini back where she belongs.

Generally seen wearing outfits from faraway lands, a different one each time she is spotted.

Glodomer – Oliver @evansnoir

He lurks in the corners of barns, in mice nests, in the buzzing of flies. He lives in every ear of wheat, rocked by winds as in a cradle, and dutifully observes the human hands. Dare not disrespect him – to waste food is a sin. A punishment will await those who fail to understand as much.

The Glodomer is a powerful spirit of dual nature – usually a gentle observer, he is capable of calling various plagues upon a region if he so desires.

He lives among the smallest of beings, just barely out of the sight of human eyes. His stealth allows him to come close without being noticed, which he uses to satiate his bottomless curiosity. A glodomer can bring hunger, but he is also hungry and craves to expand his knowledge.

However, glodomers not an omnibenevolent dusha – do not disrespect them or those they rule over. A glodomer is the king of all that lives despite being invisible, including the sick air. With one uttered curse, he can poison an entire village. It is said that he can be appeased with a hefty offering of freshly butchered beef.

Very few people have seen him, but the legend says he can be found napping in black hollyhocks.

Usually portrayed as an androgynous man around the size of a walnut.

Le’shni – Maeve @keithsandwich

Whenever you cut down an elden oak tree, place an offering at the stump. Spare no expense. The feast must be lavish – ready your goat milk, and cheese, and the freshly brewed beer. Raise your cups and praise Le’shni, and leave some bread for her as well. It is only due to her generosity that you are able to celebrate. Do not take it for granted.

A spirit protector of the forests.

The Le’shni are the force of nature personified, they arethe life and soul of the forest they inhabits. A le’shni cannot ever leave it, for their existence is tightly interwoven. She is its mother.

She takes on the appearance of a woman and wields the human speech. However, be not deceived – the aura of gentle helplessness is but a deception. To protect what is dearest to her, a le’shni will cast away all pretence of humanity.

It is believed that for every cut down tree one must hold a feast to appease the local Le’shni and help her replenish her strength. The alternative offerings include a pot of berries or a mug of warm tea, planting a bush or a tree, or… leaving a child alone in the forest at night, to give the le’shni some solace as she mourns her lost offspring.

Lay-la-lay – Beatrice @bicayaya

Lay la luli lalalala lay, sleep, my sun, stay asleep, may kind people live within your dreams, the rain is pelting right outside, lay la luli lalala, lay-la-lay…

A household spirit, the bringer of many blessings.

Fairy-like in appearance, female or feminine, with butterfly wings and usually light hair.

It is believed that lay-la-lays are minor nature spirits who, in their kindness, have chosen to watch over the children. They arrive at human houses soon after a baby is born to ward off any beings who’d like to consume their vitality. However, it temporarily severs the spirit’s connection with nature. As such, a domestic lay-la-lay depends on their hosts for sustenance.

Good parents – and by extension, hosts – will offer their lay-la-lay a saucer of milk or heavy cream, a slice of bread, and something sweet to go with it (depending on the season: berries, or a spoonful of jam or honey). If they fail to do so, she may have to move out.

A well-fed lay-la-lay may choose to remain with her family well after the child comes of age. Humans lose the ability to see them with age; in that case, a feline companion must be obtained, to ensure that the lay-la-lay does not feel lonely and will continue on blessing the household.

Each lay-la-lay possesses a pleasant voice. Her melodies are thought to heal and to be particularly effective against colic.

Rusla – Leyla @violettduchess

Beware of the sudden cold and the mist that follows. One must retreat indoors [once it starts], however, were that not possible… he shall say “Our Father” until he reaches safety, spitting over his left shoulder at the end of every last verse. If that too fails and one begins to hear music, he shall confess his sins while waiting for Rusla to pass her judgement. The innocent will be found safely asleep on the shore. The bodies of the guilty will float at sea until currents carry them into the shallows. [As believed in northern Amber.]

A minor deity, the paragon of justice watching over the coastal regions of northern Amber.

Rusla takes on a form of a naked young woman with long, flowing hair, always surrounded by mist. Whoever hears her call falls into a trance and follows her into the sea, where she draws the crimson thread from their heart to appraise its purity. Only the innocent need not fear – Rusla will call upon the waves to deliver them to the shore.

The legend says a man has once avoided Rusla’s judgement by stuffing his ears with flax tow and wax. He followed her to the sea of his own will and they both disappeared for precisely a year. Not a word had left his lips since.

Epoha – Iris @yarnnerdally

Tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac, the spinning wheel turns. Epoha’s hands are gentle and dexterous as they pull at the roving. She’s done it for all eternity, and for all eternity she shall continue, the patient mother of all time.

A minor deity, responsible for the cycles of time.

A young woman or a mother, sometimes described as pregnant, usually portrayed by a spinning wheel or with a spindle in her hand; less often – with weaving tablets.

Epoha rarely appears of her own volition, however, it is believed that she can be invited over for dinner. To do that, one must prepare a feast of sweets. Anything less than twenty eggs for a sponge cake is insufficient. Cream and pudding, kutia, and poppyseed roulades… Once everything is ready, the shutters must be parted. A cloaked woman should arrive within the next hour.

One may dine with Epoha and ask her questions about his future. She is a compassionate deity and will answer them truthfully, but only until the first moths arrive, lured inside by the light.

She disappears at the sight of the insects, together with the food that has been so thoughtfully prepared for her. Worry not if not much information has been obtained – she may spin the thread more favourably still, thankful for the refreshing meal.

Zorana & Nichna – Viva & Esther @lorei-writes

[…] And so it would be known as the equinox, for the day split as they were born. Zorana, that dedicated to the red glow of morning skies, and Nichna, that weaving silver constellations on the night sky. Together they are locked in an eternal game, passing the sun and the moon between each other so that they do not ever get lost. [As told in the story of the Father’s creation of the world.]

Minor deities, recognised in the entirety of Amber. Their other names include: Porana & Nechna, J’sna & C’mna, Zorja & Stra.

Twins, usually depicted as naked women throwing the sun and the moon between each other as if the celestial bodies were balls. Their eyes are said to be as dark as the starless nights, spun light the hair over their heads.

Although none have ever seen them, it is commonly believed that every new moon the twins come to the Krasnawe Oka lakes, where the sky and the ground meet as one. Their laughter carries over the water as they play, more human than divine, yet undeniably unreal.

It is believed that it is the only time the moon or the sun – or either of the celestial sisters – could be stolen. To have a chance of succeeding at that, however, one must brave the marsh in the dark, without the guidance of any light. Cursed be those who fail.

Banialuka – Katsuko @the12thnightproject

Hear not a word in a crowd unless you know which mouth bore it. Discord and venom all but fly over the instigator’s heads; there is one even above them, however. Do not trust the talking birds.

A shapeshifting spirit that can take on a form of any flying bird, although cases of small rodents have also been reported.

The Banialukas are seen as rather self-serving, although nobody knows their true intentions. Free as the wind itself, they fly above cities and towns, instigating mischief wherever they go. A master manipulator and an adept liar, a banialuka capable of mimicking any voice she has heard – and using that for her own purposes.

According to the legends, she traverses the world in search of treasure, to then return to her castle-nest in faraway mountains. It is said to be built entirely of twigs, dawn and hard, cold stone. Only those willing to brave the steep slopes it oversees can hope to browse through its treasury.

Be careful, however. A banialuka’s tongue is sharp, but it is hardly the only weapon in her arsenal.

When in human form, she usually assumes the appearance of a mildly eccentric-looking woman. What gives her true identity away are the brightly coloured streaks in her hair – some claim they resemble rooster’s tail feathers.

Skrzyp – Romarin @ikeprinces-stuff

Come to the moorlands at dawn to find the common horsetail. Break its stem thrice, each time with an audible creek, and throw it over your right shoulder. Clap your hands three times and bow as deeply as if the most renowned violinist stood before you. If the heathers hum, the skrzyp has arrived. Otherwise, try another day. [As believed in the central regions of Amber.]

A lonesome spirit that is believed to spend the majority of her life in the form of a cricket. However, she can take up the appearance of a young woman in an intricately embroidered (sometimes with emerald-looking insect wings) gown, usually with long hair let loose down her back.

The Skrzyp are virtuosos of music. She can play nearly any instrument, however, she is most adept at the art of violin – the notes she conjures have arcane properties, and so, many seek her in hopes of hearing her song for their own benefit. Some also hope to become her apprentice… Or to convince her to grant them her gift.

However, everything comes at a price. It is believed one can make a request of a skrzyp, but only if they pass her trial. Those who play even one false note will be turned into escargots.

Gon – Aino @dicenete

They ride on the nights of the full moon, the bellowing of a splendid war horn the signal for their arrival. Close the shutters. Close the doors. Do not let any passing visitors into your house, however innocent they may seem… It is the hunt, and the sinners are the hunted. Hide until they pass.

Gon is one of the minor deities at the head of the hunt, infamous for the duality of her nature – usually a warrior, she can appear as an innocent woman to lure her prey out of its hiding.

She leads the party of spirits together with her lover and his twin brother, the deities of the cycle of rebirth.

It is believed that the hunt targets those who have sinned and have shown no remorse nor will to change their ways. As such, they will be followed through the nation, from woods to the ballrooms of the royal castle. No place will be safe and their torment will know no end until they are hunted and their souls are handed over to the deities of rebirth, to be reshaped and forced to start over in their new lives.

Commonly pictured as either riding an enormous warhorse with a crossbow on her back, or as dancing gracefully in a ballroom, dressed in the finest of velvets.

Didko – Sigfrit @wordycheeseblob

Young men should be especially cautious when they notice a mysterious woman sitting alone in an inn. Do not tell her a word of any weight until you look into her eyes and hold her gaze – if the briefly change colour or shimmer unnaturally, it is not a woman you are talking to, but a didko. Do not talk to her.

A spirit commonly found traversing the roads and lounging in the inns, among other places where information can be found. It is uncertain what she does with the acquired knowledge, however, it is known it will bring forth mischief. By the end of the torment, the matter will be resolved favourably… for the person the didko sides with.

Didkos are infamous for their charming personalities and adaptability. Some believe them to be living false mirrors that reflect precisely that which one longs to be.

Observant and highly adept at reading people, didkos are susceptible to bribery. Offer her a night of blissful gluttony to win her favour… Be careful, however, as your tongue may unravel, thus revealing many more secrets than you have originally intended to.

Commonly seen among merchants and pilgrims, especially during the Lent.

Brzdęk – Ciel @floydsteeth

If you hear the metallic jangle of coins out in the middle of nowhere, you ought to stop. Any horse you may have with you will not take a step forward – you, however, should follow the sound. Those quick enough will be rewarded with finding the brzdęk’s liar, where all sorts of treasures are kept. Catch the little spirit before they enter it to demand a hefty ransom. [As believed in eastern-most regions of Amber.]

A lesser spirit commonly found living on the steppe.

Brzdęks tend to share their liars with mice – in exchange for protection, the rodents provide the spirits with food and company. The bottommost chamber of their nest thus becomes the brzdęk’s treasury, filled with precious stones, cut glass, coins, and other marvels big and small.

Their aversion towards horses is infamous – a brzdęk will go to any lengths to prevent the animal from coming anywhere near them. Usually that means casting spells and preparing enchanted rings, however, traps may also be employed.

Commonly depicted while riding on tops of mice and rats… or flying on magpies’ backs. The elder brzdęks may have special saddles made for them as well.

It is believed that they are born out of magpie eggs hatched by hens that are yet to have their own chicks.

Ohenna – Ava @writingwhimsey

Burn dried grass from wild flower fields to summon her; Ohanna will dance in the bonfires, her body made of flames. Hold her fiery gaze and utter the name of your enemy five times. If you can withstand her scorching breath, you will have your revenge; however, if you falter but once, you will known Ohenna’s wrath. She is the just anger. Do not think you can deceive her. [As believed in the mountains of south-western Amber.]

A minor deity, the embodiment of rightful anger.

Ohenna is not somebody you can stumble into – her existence is tied strictly to the fire. Unless she’s been summoned to talk, she dwells in each flame equally, silently watching over the world through them. She’s the executor, the one to deliver justice to those who have been otherwise wronged and forgotten.

Her will is stronger than iron that she smelts. Ohenna’s judgement is absolute.

One is advised to pick his words carefully while pleading with Ohanna, for she is known for her intelligence and strong feelings.

It is believed any summer or fall fires are Ohanna’s war dance. Many young men gather to witness it, although few manage to follow her movements.

Bza – Yara @fang-and-feather

If you see forget-me-nots growing by the side of an abandoned house, wipe the soles of your shoes clean upon entering it. One shall never be too certain that a bza does not inhabit it. Do not be rude to her – it is those spirits that prevent the decay.

A timid spirit that generally prefers solitude. Can be found dwelling in abandoned buildings or old houses, less often – in attics, among drying herbs, or in hospital wards.

Despite keeping to themselves, bzas are rather friendly and helpful spirits. They maintain properties and prevent the decay and rot from seeping inside – they keep the space clean and adorned in fresh flowers. It is believed that their presence soothes plants.

One is considered fortunate if he manages to invite a bza to live at his house. To do that, he must press three dozens of pansy flowers and then sew them into a garland. Once hanged above the entryway, it will signal that bzas are welcome in the house; however, it is only an invitation. It is only the spirit’s good will if she accepts it.

Appears as a semi-translucent woman with, at times, vividly coloured hair. She invites the smell of fresh herbs, mint, irises, or – often – jasmine.

Deshen’na – Caroline @coral-relevium

Find her in every drop of rain, from a warm spring mizzle to a summer thunderstorm. Look closely – she passes through the fields in her long gown, dark against the surrounding greenery. One ought not to talk with Deshen’na, however, just meeting her gaze is enough to ward off a draught from one’s crop for the following months. [As believed in north-eastern regions of Amber.]

A minor deity, commonly associated with the coming of rain and mourning. (The latter is not the case in north-eastern regions of Amber, which are often stricken with droughts. There she becomes a sign of impending good fortune and everlasting love.)

It is believed that the rain is the tears Deshen’na shed while mourning the death of her husband. Her duty is to walk the land and nourish it with her grief, in a loving memory of the deity of deceit.

A few men believe that draughts haunt north-eastern Amber as it is Deshen’na’s last stop during her pilgrimage to her husband’s grave, where they can briefly reunite once every year. It is said he has tricked even the death itself.

Pale, generally seen in intricate black gowns, giving her the appearance of a noblewoman.

Ne’zvana – Adria @eternallyfrustratedwriter

Do not say her true name lest you wish to summon her; one who does so willingly shall be cursed out, for it is only chaos that follows her. One ought not to even think of her nor picture her in his mind.

An infamous spirit, commonly considered to be the bringer of misfortune or broadly understood chaos.

A ne’zvana is hardly welcomed anywhere, however, it does not mean she lives in solitude. Rather, she hides her existence from those around her. It is said that a person followed by bad luck or otherwise surrounded by unusual events may be haunted, possessed, or in fact be a ne’zvana.

It is believed that a ne’zvana is born when a child grows too moody. Chastising them is one of the few instances when the ne’zvana get brought up.

Due to the fear of summoning her, her original name was used so rarely it has since fallen into complete obscurity. Similarly, hardly any records of her appearance remain, although many believe her to take on a form of a traveller or an insect, such as a bee.

It is said that a ne’zvana can be recognised by her smile. The exact specifics of how, however, are unclear.

Kania – Marigold @violettduchess

Be careful while in the forest – a batting of powerful wings above your head and a high-pitched screeching are no things to be ignored. Stand still whenever you hear them and take three deep breaths. If no voice comes, you are safe to go on as you were. However, if a stranger woman extends her greetings, you must leave immediately. Do not answer Kania unless you consider yourself the master of riddles.

A shapeshifter spirit inhabiting Amber, generally taking on the appearance of a kite (bird) or a scholarly woman with thin-wire-rimmed glasses.

Kania is a voracious spirit that enjoys toying with her prey. That being said, she is also honest and stays true to her word – as per the agreement from days gone by, she can target only those who acknowledge her presence.

Once that is done, one is given another chance to save his life. He must answer three riddles correctly. Achieving that is said to gain the respect of the spirit who then releases her prey.

It is believed that Kania’s appetite is directly connected with her hunger for knowledge. Feasting on humans during the day, she sneaks into noblemen’s libraries and church archives at night to indulge in the consumption of knowledge.

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @solacedeer @keithsandwich @bicayaya @faustianfascination

@sh0jun @queengiuliettafirstlady

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Lovers That Went Wrong

Pairing: psycho!Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings: soft!yandere, kidnapping, threats, non-consensual confinement, manipulation, allusion to noncon, hurt/comfort.

Words: 2.4k

Summary: You flinch involuntarily as you watch him open the door to your room and take a cautious step inside as if he's keeping a dangerous animal as a pet, not a whole other human being. His eyes light up at the sight of you immediately when he sees you at the very same spot where he left you in the morning, still chained, no signs of misbehaving like throwing things around and destroying the furniture. You're not the type.

P.S. Our reader is safe and sound, no physical harm whatsoever.

P.P.S. It's not me, it's those yandere ASMRs on Youtube!

_________

He's here.

You've heard the key turning in the lock. Then, one more key in one more lock. Finally, the third lock has been opened, and then he goes to unlatch the second door before you hear him step inside, carrying something.

Is he going to kill you today?

Trying not to move, you take a shaky breath, eyes on the door. He's going to come in any second, and you don't know how to act to keep him happy. Is there a way to keep someone like him content at all? He's... not normal, that's for sure. Even if you smile and pretend to be fine, chained to his bed with so little room to move left you can't even reach the door, you think he'll see right through it and become angry at you for lying.

Not that ignoring or, god, getting angry at him gonna work either. If anything, making him mad at you is probably the most stupid option you can choose. So you don't. Albeit you wouldn't have the courage for that even if it did change anything for the better.

"I'm home."

You flinch involuntarily as you watch him open the door to your room and take a cautious step inside as if he's keeping a dangerous animal as a pet, not a whole other human being. His eyes light up at the sight of you immediately when he sees you at the very same spot where he left you in the morning, still chained, no signs of misbehaving like throwing things around and destroying the furniture. You're not the type. You're the type to sit and shake in the corner and cry till you feel like your head will explode.

"Hello," you murmur quietly, showing neither anger nor happiness at his return. Keeping the most neutral expression at times when you feel like a rabbit in front of a snake is torture, but better this than having him turn psychotic again.

He smiles at you, exhaling loudly like he was worried you'd start messing things up in his absence. "I see you've been good. That's nice. Thank you."

Nodding, you make yourself eat your words about all anxiety and fear you've had to endure today just to stay sane and stop crying. Being good, huh? Does he have any idea what it feels like to be locked in an apartment of someone who threatened to kill your classmates if you didn't go with him? What it felt like when he had pulled out a knife out of his backpack with a manic gleam right in front of your face and said he needed you to come with him if you didn't want anyone hurt?

You still don't understand how everything happened out of the blue. Aemond... never seemed unstable. He was quiet, sure, and he didn't hang out with other classmates much, but neither did you. He often sat at the back of the classroom, listening to professors with a blank look on his face, and seemed to slack off, then somehow miraculously pass the exams. You've never seen him doing anything special like playing sports or taking part in any university activity. He was just a quiet loner who didn't seem to enjoy studying. At one point, you thought he would drop out or change his major, but he didn't. After more than 3 years, he was still there, at the back of the classroom, sitting with a blank expression as the professors preached about the importance of the thesis for your successfull graduation and future work life.

Then, one day, he just walked up to you after the last lesson had finished while you were gathering your stuff and asked you to stay behind for a short talk. He said he needed to tell you something important. Considering you had spoken maybe five words to him throughout the whole year, you had no clue what he wanted to say, but maybe he needed help or something? You have always been good at studying, so, perhaps, he just needed your advice on his thesis.

He didn't.

Instead, he confessed he liked you and that he was concerned you were going to date someone else from your class - he gave you names of several students you had never even hanged out with - and then he pulled a huge, sharp knife out of his backpack. When you panicked, he grabbed your hand and whispered with that crazed look on his face that he would go and stab your classmates hanging out in the hallway if you didn't go with him.

So you did. You let him take you away, shaking at the thought that he put a knife in the large sewn-in picket inside his heavy bomber, ready to take it the moment you went back on your promise. He was going to stab someone, wasn't he? Given his height and strength, he might have even murdered someone. All because you refused to go with him.

When you think of it now, you wonder what would have happened if you attracted the attention of someone's on the way. Would Aemond really stab them with a knife, given the psychotic state he was in? Would he put a knife through your stomach? Or was it just bluff, and he'd drop the knife and run away, never to bother you again?

You'll never know now. You were so concerned about someone getting hurt you ended up in the apartment of a psychopath with your leg chained to his bed. It seems surreal, like it's all one big prank that's been going for far too long.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," he says, placing a plastic bag with what smells like pasta or lasagna on a little table next to the door. "Work has been hectic, but I'm cutting down my hours to spend more time with you, so you don't have to worry."

You nod, trying not to tremble like a leaf. Spending more time with you? Great. He will kill you soon once he has enough. Don't this kind of guys always do that? They catch their prey, have fun, and then finish them off only to fixate on somebody else again.

That's what's going to happen to you.

"I'll go take a shower real quick, alright?" He asks as if your opinion actually matters, walking by the bed as you instantly move further away on the floor, your back bumping against the bed.

He pauses, turning to you fully as you bite down on your tongue not to let out a sound.

"What is it, baby?" He coos, getting down to you while you stare at your knees, afraid to lift your head and see him staring you in the face. "What happened?"

You flinch as he stretches his hand to you, and he has to pause for a second again before his palm gently lands on the top of your head. He doesn't beat you. Or, well, not yet. Despite him not hurting you within the two days you've been here, you expect him to get violent at one point. Psychos always are, right?

You mumble, worried you'll make him upset, "I'm sorry. It's nothing."

He sighs, to your horror, sitting down right in front of you. He smells like coffee and French fries, and you bite down on your lower lip, remembering he works at some café. Like other people, he has a life outside of this stuffy and yet nearly empty apartment, and in this moment, it seems so strange. That someone like him smells like another human being.

"Are you scared?" He asks in a hushed voice, careful and calm like some sort of therapist. "Is that it?"

Despite all your attempts, you feel like you will cry if he touches you again. Your throat is tight, and you can't speak, so you just nod again, head bowed so you can't see his face.

He sighs again, and you hear him shifting, crawling closer to you like a spider as you squeeze your eyes shut. Will he hit you? Rape you? Do something worse? It's only logical to suppose that. In the end, that's what they do in the movies, don't they? Since Aemond is clearly insane, that's what he'll do to you.

But then, when he sits next to you with his back pressed against the bed's leg, you feel his hands on your shoulder nudging you tenderly towards him, and you don't fight him when he makes you put your head on his chest. Today he wears a long, soft black hoodie that smells like fries, too. It's nice to the touch.

"It's alright," he whispers, making you lean onto him until you are nearly on top of him while he caresses your head. "I know it's sudden for you. You probably don't even know who I am, and then I just come and confess to you like that. It's unfair, I know. I'm sorry I couldn't wait a bit longer."

Yeah, as if it's the problem.

But you don't say anything, eyes closed, as you freeze against his hoodie.

"But, you know, it got so much better. Today a customer splashed me with coffee and sad some really hurtful things, and I didn't even care," you can nearly sense him greening before he drops a quick kiss to the top of your head. "Because I was thinking of you. Waiting for me home, sleeping in my bed, wearing my clothes. I don't remember when anyone last waited me home, you know? And now there's you."

You feel his breath on your skin before he leaves a chaste kiss on your brow, and you curl into yourself even more.

"Thank you for being here with me. I know it wasn't easy for you to trust me, but you still did." He exhales slowly, probably tired after the day in the university and at work, his other hand resting on your back, caressing you through the thick tissue of his dark green sweatshirt he gave you this morning. "Thank you."

You're glad he can't see your face because you are ready to cry any second now. You are scared, and your legs hurt from staying in this position for too long, but Aemond's touch is still comforting, and you yearn someone's body warmth just to ground yourself in this moment to keep you sane.

You are so, so tired. You don't want to die. You want to believe the things he said, the promises he made to you, but he's mad, and so are you if you really want to trust him.

Minutes fly by. You have no idea how much time you spend in his arms, but Aemond seems content, arms still wrapped around you. What is he thinking now? What does he want to do to you? He didn't force himself on you yesterday, but he can tonight. It's just a matter of time, really. And when he finds it's enough, what's gonna happen then?

"Please, don't kill me," you mutter quietly in his chest, eyes squeezed shut.

Your voice startles him awake. Apparently, he was almost lulled to sleep, and now he bends his head towards you again, taking your face in his palms to make you look at him. "What was that? Baby?"

It's torture to open your eyes when his face is inches away from yours, but you do, and then you cry. "Please, don't kill me."

The next second, he opens his pretty blue eyes wide as if you've just slapped him, discomfort clear on his pretty face. What? Is he unhappy you ruined his idyllic evening? Why does he look at you so distressed?

He puts some distance between you two, hands on your shoulders while he looks at you as you're sniffing, tears running down your face. You can't stand it. How long do you have to play his sweetheart before he cuts you in pieces and puts your remains in black plastic bags to dump somewhere deserted? Will he kill you quickly? Will he taunt you and mock you for not even looking at him at university? Will he try to prolong your suffering with drugs?

He shakes when he starts to speak, "I've never wanted to kill you. Never. Why would you think that?"

You let out a laugh at that, hands grasping his black hoodie you like so much. Why would you think a guy who threatened to kill your classmates wouldn't cut you in pieces, too? You have been chained to his bed for two days. It's nice to still be able to go to the bathroom, but that's about it. You have only a couple of books he brought for you to keep you company when he's gone, and god knows how long it's all going to last.

His grip on you gets tighter. "I swear I've never wanted to hurt you. Why did you think that? It's the knife thing yesterday, right? You got scared because I said I'm gonna cut Josh and Matteo." He gets more frantic, and you feel like you're struggling to breathe. "But I wouldn't do that to you. No! I swear. I've never wanted to make you feel bad. And the chain... I-I'm sorry about the chain and everything, but I wasn't going to keep you like this forever! It's... it's just for a couple of months, you know? So you get to know me better. I'm never going to hurt you! You're not my pet to discipline you or something. You're... "

He realizes the state he's in and makes himself stop, lips pressed tightly as he waits, regaining his composure as he's awkwardly trying to wipe away your tears with his sleeve.

Making some small soft noises, he sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck before he's ready to speak. God, why do you want to believe him so badly? Why would anything he say make any sense at all? Why are you hoping he really won't do anything when you have just been kidnapped and imprisoned in his home?

When he speaks again, his soothing voice makes you want to hide your face in his hoodie despite all the things he's done. "I really, really like you, baby. I know it's not much, but it's true. You never have to worry about getting hurt again as long as you're with me. It's a promise."

He coos at you, craddling you in his lap, and you have no strength left to do anything but lean closer to him and hide your face in his soft hoodie.

__________

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

[iridescentdove]

👏I👏AM👏TIRED

of seeing so many Yandere! BSD x Reader, and it’s always the character or everyone being Yandere for Reader, I have to request a Platonic! BSD x Yandere! Teen! Reader, in which Reader is in any organization of your choice, and since Reader is underage, they see said organization as their family, precious people that they hold dear to their hearts, and don’t wish for any of them to die or leave and abandon them. This triggers their Yandere instincts, and ultimately they kill anybody who’s hurt their darlings in any way or attempts to "steal" their attention or worse, guide them away from Reader.

LONELINESS NO MORE.

platonic!bsd x yandere!teen!reader

A/N: It's nice to go a bit gruesome sometimes lol- anyways, so I just decided to choose the PM for this.

Let's just say you were similar to Dazai in a way. As a homeless young child, you had no home or family and friends to even call your own.

And to say the least? It was a little lonely.

This was something rather different, as you grew up to have an understanding that the world is never fair. Even before being taken into the Port Mafia by MORI, you were already much of an unhinged criminal yourself.

In a way, it was bad due to how young you were, but given this was a wretched world on it's own – many things can happen.

You killed, you stole, you did many things. At some point you probably rivaled Dazai's crime list because yours looked like an entire fucking receipt.

And that is what lesd you to the mafia.

MORI had found you, and went 'fuck it', deciding to just grab you and take you back with him to the base.

Well at first – you got a bit defensive, not knowing his real intention and thinking of fighting back yourself. But it was when he gave you new clothes, gave you food, and actually took responsibility of you was when you realized.

This man was just ... taking care of you.

And for the first time? You were really excited. It didn't take very long for you to grow accustomed to the Port Mafia.

Sure they made you do dangerous and gruesome missions, but you were used to it honestly. So it didn't matter that much. You met new faces and grew very attached to them, the dreaded loneliness that creeped into your heart grew into–

Obsession.

Yes, that's right. You found no other reason to dislike them at all, and they treated you like no one else ever did.

Like family.

CHUUYA was rather nice to you, despite his aggression and the rough edges he seems to pull off. Since you're underage, he drinks grape juice with you. Lmao ye, we love that shit. You liked being around him, defending him against accusations and giving him a shoulder to lean on.

He was like a brother to you. You adored most things about the fancy hat man. Scratch that, everything about him.

He releases one of those rare genuine smiles – mostly only to you, and he just thought you were the sweetest.

Oh, how wrong he was.

It was only one simple conversation. CHUUYA was talking to another mafia members in the lower ranks, discussing about the topic for the next PM meeting at hand.

Of course at first glance, they didn't look close at all. Just a normal chat between acquaintances. But did it make you mad?

Obviouely it did.

The very next day, the orange haired-man was looking for the same said man he spoke with the day before. Yet he was rather confused to see he wasn't around.

What the hell? Well that was weird, he could have sworn that he asked to meet them in this same spot right now.

Well, guess he wouldn't be meeting with them after all. In the distance, you were smiling – hiding that dead, cold expression on your face as you wiped the blood off the saw, a few splashee of blood and guts on the weapon.

But of course, you wouldn't let him know anything~ ♡

And simply, KOUYOU made it much easier. She was like a sweet, elder sister that spoiled you and taught you everything that you needed to know.

You simply loved her, and loved the times when you'd just hang around each other and dress one another up in various clothes. Be it trendy outfits or putting makeup on one another.

She took care of you as she should, and she grew very attached as well. KOUYOU was rather protective and sweet.

So when you saw her spoiling another girl in the picture, you were fucking livid.

How dare she pay more attention to another kid than you?

She was treating KYOUKA in private as if she was more important than you ever were. And it began to hardem your heart once more, growing angry at your elder sis paying more attention to some useless assassin.

You were way better than her, stronger even.

So imagine how relieved and prideful you felt when that girl had left the mafia to be with the detective agency instead. She wasn't even loyal! She doesn't deserve to be in the PM!

It left KOUYOU feeling agitated and sad, so you did what a younger sibling would do. You were the one comforting her, even manipulating her with your sweet words. You lured her in and had her give you more attention than before.

Just like how you wanted it to be.

AKUTAGAWA was honestly a tough nut to crack. You can easily tell he doesn't care about you at all. Well, he'd acknowledge your abilities a little but that's all you're getting.

But that won't stop you from killing those who tried to get even the slightest close to him.

After all, family members must stay with one another forever.

You didn't really mind much about that blonde girl who admires him and follows him around. It's not like she can take him away, he doesn't give a damn about her.

Plus, his sister was very nice! She gave you the love you needed, and she actually cared. Even though her brother was pretty cold, you'd think she also was – but in reality, GIN is a sweet, somewhat shy girl who gave you gifts and attention.

No matter which mafia member it was – wheneve ryou were with them, you were so sweet and caring, such an adorable teen who looks out for all of them and their wellbeing.

Yet behind closed doors, while they weren't looking, you glared daggers at other kids or people they payed attention to, your greedy self wanting all of it to yourself.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't!

You never held back. You spilled their guts out, you ripped out those fools' hearts – crushing it under your foot, knowing you deserved the love more than their ignorants asses ever did.

And most of all? No one noticed a thing. MORI had continued to send you out mission after mission. He didn't notice the desperate pleads of those immature adults, the heartbreaking cries of those innocent children.

If it was for family, you'd do anything.

After doing all that – you give them a sickly sweet smile, as you pull them to hang out and play with you, no questions asked.

They never noticed.

And quite clear, you were a sadistic young teen. After being so pissed seeing those people getting close to them, it's like a breath of fresh air when you hear the bloodcurdling screams coming from their mouths.

TACHIHARA wasn't that observant, but he could tell that there was something not right about you at all. Yet, he himself was not free from the depths of your pure, honest love. He'll find himself spoiling you, loving you – like you're his very own sister.

He was going to fall into the trap whenever he likes it or not, because you love them way too much.

If someone else tries to destroy that happiness,

They'll just have to dissapear like the rest.

[kaiser1ns]

so today i rewatched disney descendants and the characteristics of ben just straight up gave me ume vibes. so there you go my lovelies. not using the usual layout because this is just a silly quick idea that i had to post.

You, the daughter of Maleficent, and Umemiya, the son of Belle and the Beast, come from very different backgrounds. Wanting to prove yourself that you are cruel enough to your mother, as you use a love potion on him to ensure he falls for you so you can steal the wand of the Fairy Godmother, and him just wanting to prove you that good exits in everyone, as they should choose their own path and storyline.

"Hey, Umemiya~"

"Hey, Y/N."

"I just made these cookies, double chocolate chips, want one?"

"Oh, that's so kind of you but I've got a big game and I don't eat before it. Thank you so much, I would like to try it some other time, though!"

"Ah, yeah. I completely understand" you sighed, lowering the bag, faking the sad expression to achieve more real effect, "Be careful of the treats offered by kids of villains, right?"

"No,no, no. You got it wrong."

"Im sure everyone in Auradon knows that too. I get it you are cautious, that's smart." you open the small plastic bag getting ready to take a bite, "Oh,well, more for me then."

"No, hey —" he grabs the cookie out of your hand and gave it a big bite "See, that. I totally trust you."

"How are they?" you ask, tilting your head out of curiosity to see if the effect of the potion would hit in, "Amazing! Is that walnuts, I love walnuts." he starts to ramble about the texture, how nice the chocolate melts, so warm and soft, and super sweet.

"Y/N, have you always had such beautiful eyes, and pretty smile too?" you can't believe it, the love potion worked incredibly well. Jay, son of Jafar, comes behind him putting an arm around his shoulder, "How are you feeling, bro?"

"In love..." Umemiya said, as he stared into your eyes, hand cupping your cheek as he stroked it gently with his thumb, blush making its way to your face.

As both of you get to know each other, Umemiya's kindness, fairness, good nature and did i mention the love he has for you is ridiculous? He starts to influence you hard, making you question your mother's teachings about evil and the world. If only you knew what your heart was telling you as you don't know what you are feeling or is it just a dream about someone loving you, someone who doesn't see you just as the daughter of Maleficent.

And the moments comes when Umemiya who drinks an anti-love potion before the coronation, confesses that he has genuinely fallen in love with you for who you truly are, not because of any magic or poisoned cookie.

"I know about the love spell." your eyes widen, surprised, as your smile drops, "You... you do?"

"Yeah. And, um, it's worn off." Looking down, a bit saddened, as you played with your hands, "Oh."

"But here's the thing. I haven't loved you because of the spell. I loved you because of you." tears welling up, genuinely touched by his words, by his whole being, and you felt guilty for what is about to come, "Ume, I..."

Umemiya took your hand, squeezing it tightly, to assure you that's everything is okay, "I don't know what the future holds. But I do know that I want to be with you."

Smiling trough the tears, not wanting to appear vulnerable, but there's no point in hiding anymore, "Really?"

"Really." and he looked at you with the same love stare, with those eyes who saw everything you tried to suppress.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[battleonthebigbridge]

I want to talk about Argenti and my personal interpretation of his character after the companion quest.

SPOILERS FOR COMPANION QUEST BELOW!!!!!

Honestly like a huge fan of Argenti being played for laughs through the majority of the quest, making comments about hallucinations and delusions but then Argenti truly reveals his faith to us. For what it means to him and the length that his faith goes to in order to self sacrifice, that he had only known the express crew for a very short amount of time and he willingly said he would die for the crew three times.

Knowing that Argenti came from a world ravaged by war and loneliness, him seeing this group of people, this family who adore each other and want to help each other and deciding that he would be willing to die in order to protect that family, even if it was not his own, even though he has been a lone traveller for Idrila knows how long.

And in that, his faith in Idrila itself. That his only wish is to see them, that even if his visions are all but hallucinations he chooses to believe in the beauty's grace, he continues to pursue that wish, that desire

The beauty who has passed from the world but their knights continue to pursue that ideal across the universe. "Each time I wander closer to death, it gets me closer to the path the Beauty once walked." The path to demise, to a beautiful death clad in honour and virtue, fighting for the better of the universe and not allowing one to fall into sin and corruption. A noble death, protecting a family who value each other above all else, the beauty found in those bonds of love, and dying to protect that, in Argenti's eyes is no exaggeration out of being worthwhile. He was completely willing to pass on, to perhaps finally see the beauty that he has pursued, to finally witness the aeon he has devoted everything to.

Despite being played as a comic relief it's so infinitely sad, a blindness in faith but a faith so pure and good that you cannot call him on his delusions, because deep in his heart he already knows the truth, but he will keep his vow as a knight until he reaches his end, to tread the path that Idrila once walked.

And this line from Himeko in particular really hit me

And this follow-up from March

While played as a comedy relief for the majority of things he has appeared in his character is very down to earth and surprisingly deep, especially if you read his character stories and understand the true prospects of his journey and his duty.

I don't have anything to say about this, I believe this confession speaks for himself.

I love Argenti, so much.

[writeyouin]

Greetings! I would like to request something from wonderful you! How about a scenario with the Jettwins (you can choose if poly or not) were they have a bot-reader thats carrying their sparkling? Like from when they find out and when the Sparkling is 'born'. It would be hilarious if the Sparkling ended up being not one but two, twin sparklings and they're the most mischief little things in the world. Sentinel fears them. They know that. They use it as their advantage. Thank you for your time! :D

Poly-Jetfire & Jetstorm X Bot-Reader – Sparklings

A/N – For those of you who don’t know, a solar-cycle is 1 day, and a Deca-cycle is 10 days.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Not too fast.”

“Be going easy now.”

“Don’t try transforming.”

“Let me carry that.”

You sighed, giving up on the box that you were supposed to take to Sentinel’s office aboard the ship he now commanded in Magnus’ temporary absence. Jetstorm rushed in to grab it, grinning proudly and opening his mouth to add another comment about what you should or shouldn’t do now that you were carrying sparklings.

Jetfire, who had been just as bad, nodded sagely as you tuned them out, closing your optics for a moment while you vented out some air, trying to keep your composure.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do as Jetstorm threw the box down and both twins rushed to your side, holding on to you as if you keep you from falling.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you feeling the sick?”

“Are you needing a stasis nap?”

“Should we be calling the doctor-bot?”

“Careful brother, they might be missing the Earth climate.”

“Yes, that must be it!”

You held up your servos, “Alright, that’s enough.”

“Yes, enough for the solar-cycle,” Jetfire agreed.

Jetstorm nodded vigorously, “Yes, you will be needing a rest now.”

“Boys please,” You groaned, then when forced to look upon their concerned expressions, your face melted into a gentle smile as you held out a servo for each of them to hold, bringing the three of you into a small circle.

“Jetfire, Jetstorm, you know you are everything to me. You are the spark that powers me, the circuitry inside, the wind beneath my wings,” You concluded, borrowing an idiom from Earth.

“But you don’t have wings,” They said in unison, sharing a perplexed look.

You ignored their confusion, soldiering on. “I love you both very much, and I’m just as excited to be carrying your sparklings, but I need to be able to continue living my life, just like before.”

“But the Decepticons!” The twins cried out earnestly.

“Alright, almost like before. Look, if I promise I won’t fight any more Decepticons until after the Sparklings are born, but in return, you two have to let me do my other jobs, okay? If it all gets too much, I promise that I’ll ask you for help.”

Jetfire and Jetstorm took a minute to contemplate your request, then they nodded in unison.

“Okay,” Jetstorm kissed your cheek-plate, “We promise.”

“Ja,” Jetfire pressed a servo against your carrying chamber, aiming his promise at the two lifeforms inside. “Promise.”

You vented out some air in relief, “Thank you.”

Throughout the remainder of your carrying term, Jetfire and Jetstorm kept their word, no longer treating you as if you were made from glass. They were still very attentive to your needs, bringing you extra energon rations, and ensuring that Sentinel was extra nice to you (primarily by playing Gorrila-warfare against him, Jetfire pranking him while Jetstorm rested, and vice versa if Sentinel ever acted less than nicely to you), but they also gave you space when you asked for it, and let you set the bar for what you could and couldn’t do.

Then, when it came time to birth the sparklings, the twins were glad to be part of a duo. How anyone could help their partner through birth alone was impossible for them to understand. While Jetstorm stayed with you in the Medical Bay, Jetfire transformed, flying stupidly fast to get the ship’s medical bot.

There was no argument as to who would get to stay, and who would go; they seemed to have worked that out among themselves beforehand. Then, when Jetfire returned with a shell-shocked doc-bot clinging onto the outside of his cockpit, the pair combined into Safeguard to hold your servo.

The birth was relatively standard as far as Cybertronian births went. There was little pain, and the doc-bot ensured that you were as comfortable as could be and that the sparklings were healthy. The one thing that nobody expected was that you weren’t carrying two sparklings like the preliminary scans had shown, but four; the other two hiding behind their siblings. They were considerably smaller, mini-bots by right.

For that alone, Safeguard disbanded, becoming Jetfire and Jetstorm so they could each hold one sparkling while you laid on the berth, holding the remaining two, one in each arm.

“This is incredible, brother,” Jetfire grinned ecstatically.

“That is being the understatement,” Jetstorm laughed.

“I cannot wait to be telling everybody, right (Y/N)!”

You didn’t reply, staying quiet as you looked from one sparkling to the other, your gaze darting around the room.

“(Y/N)?” The twins tried.

“What if…” You mused. “What if we didn’t tell people?”

“You do not want the people to know about our sparklings?” Jetfire said, his brow-plate furrowing in confusion.

“Just give it a few solar-cycles.”

Jetstorm looked down at the bronze sparkling in his arms, a perfect combination of his and Jetfire’s colours. “Why?”

“Think of it,” You said, your eyes aglow with mischief. “Tomorrow, Sentinel’s gonna come in, expecting two new sparklings on his ship, which he, as the Commanding Officer, has to oversee during the naming ceremony.”

The twins looked at each other, suddenly sharing your wicked grin. Yes, Sentinel would certainly be surprised.

As it was, with Sentinel’s work as head of the ship, he was a great deal busier than expected, especially with new reports from Cybertron arriving, informing him of surges in Decepticon activity. Although he was supposed to come in the next solar-cycle, it was actually a Deca-cycle till he could make it to the naming ceremony.

In that time, the sparklings had grown very slightly, and though they couldn’t walk yet, they were proficient in crawling, and they had nice strong grips, allowing them to hold onto their creator of choice.

And so the day came, with you and the twins standing proudly at the ship’s helm, Jetfire and Jetstorm each holding a sparkling, with Jazz hidden behind a control panel, struggling to hold onto the other two sparklings as they tried to escape his grip and make their way over to you.

“Easy now nuts and bolts,” He said cheerfully, using the nicknames he’d provided them, upon having been let into the prank. “You’ll go to your creator’s soon, but just hold on for a few klicks. You may be nuts and bolts, but Sentinel’s nuts and dolts, and he’s gonna get the fright of his life.”

Jazz played a low lullaby from his speakers, soothing the tiny Cybertronians, who looked so much like you. He had hold of one mini-bot and one regular bot.

Finally, Sentinel graced you with his presence and he hurriedly began his speech, taking little notice of the sparklings. All he wanted was to be as far from the new twins as possible; if they were anything like their parental twins, or you, he wanted nothing to do with them.

“And so we mark their creation, yada, yada, yada,” Sentinel huffed half-heartedly, “In the name of Primus, and so on… Skipping past the long rites, I as Captain of this ship welcome the new Cybertronians to the universe. ”

He held out his hands for the first sparkling which Jetfire brought forward.

“We named him Crosswind.”

“Right, right, Crosswind, welcome to existence,” Sentinel said, rolling his optics.

As was custom, he had to keep hold of Crosswind while he was handed the other sparkling.

“And this is his sister, Delta.”

“Right, right, Delta’s alive too,” Sentinel gabbled in a downplayed greeting, hardly fulfilling his duty as Captain. “And now, you can take your glitches back.”

He held them out to you, but you frowned, “Hang on, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No, I am not,” Sentinel seethed, “Now, take them back!”

“Oh you’re right,” You slapped your helm comically, “You’re not forgetting something, I am.”

At this point, Jazz snuck up behind Sentinel and placed the other two sparklings on his shoulders. They gripped on and the one on Sentinel’s left pawed at his face with a chubby servo, pulling at his mouth.

“WA IN UNCONS NAME S IS!” Sentinel garbled.

You supposed it was meant to be something along the lines of ‘What in Unicron’s name is this?!’ However, with your sparkling now trying to grab his glossa, it was much more difficult for him to say.

“These,” You answered triumphantly, holding back laughter while Jetfire and Jetstorm lost it behind you, their laughter crackling with static as they doubled over, holding onto one another for support, “are our other two boys. Throttle & Wing Walker.”

Sentinel, after regaining his composure hurried out a quick welcome and then practically hurled the sparklings at the three of you.

“Double the ship’s speed,” He ordered Jazz on the way out of the room. “I want them all on Cybertron and far, far away from me.”

And so it was that you held your sparklings and the twins having been brought into a group hug by them, as the seven of you made your way back home, ready to start your life as a new family.

[dyrewrites]

Learning that a friend of mine had to be taught to recognize emotions and body language, because he didn't understand them, brought about an interesting conversation.

He was convinced this was unusual and he was weird for needing to learn something that everyone else just 'got', and he has other reasons to believe this is odd. Other reasons to believe he's working on another wavelength.

But everyone has to learn emotions. They are not inherent. You should feel them without needing to learn, but you're not born knowing what those feelings are or how to see them in others.

So I am going to yammer a bit about emotions and body language and probably other things because my brain is everywhere.

--

We're supposed to learn emotions as kids.

It is not inherent that one understands and processes the emotions of those around them. If someone says it is, they likely grew up in an environment of expressive people who were overt in their emotions. They were able to see and experience them more, so they learned them quickly.

But it is learned.

There's even little books and charts to help teach kids what the major emotions are, and their corresponding facial expressions. I know because I bought them for my son, I spoke to doctors about how best to teach him, as I didn't want him to have to figure this out on his own like I did.

I also made a concentrated effort to be more expressive around him, which I wasn't really before he was born. Many of my emotions are too much and have been as long as I can remember. I grew up with loud, angry voices telling me to calm down, be quiet or you're too sensitive. So I subdued and subdued until I didn't express much at all. Even now it's difficult to get my face to move or voice to alter unless I'm around other people, people who might find it unsettling if I didn't. For a very long time I didn't even laugh unless around others, when expected, because I'd forgotten how.

So when I tell you that emotions are important to me, body language is important to me, and I obsess about them...I want you to understand why.

As for learning them, as said, we learn from watching. With most things, we learn from watching. Even tiny babies are learning how to behave by watching those around them. We also mimic to show we understand, and that we belong.

Which means when you're struggling to understand what someone is feeling, by their expression or body language, it is likely due to a lack of examples. Not just examples but clear ones with actual explanation of what is being felt and shown.

You need someone to smile and say, "I'm happy." So that you know a smile like that means happy.

After a while you learn to see it on your own, to look for those smiles and notice that some of them are different. There are so many smiles and not all of them are happy.

I think more kids should be taught nuance, personally, but we don't really do that. We're expected to work it out on our own and learn through trial and error. Error often coming with pain, or mockery, because school is stress and everyone is learning and it's far too easy to choose anger over understanding.

I firmly believe that the only reason I understand body language so well, and can guess a conversation by it alone with regular success, is because of my 'too much'. Bipolar is a hell of a thing, and if you grow up not knowing why you feel everything louder than everyone else...and hating yourself for it...you might get quiet. You might stop feeling, stop interacting and start watching instead. So you can learn how you're supposed to feel, how loud you're supposed to be and maybe get a heads up on how others are feeling so you don't say too much or do too much or be too much.

...like I'm doing now.

My point is emotions are learned. Everyone has to learn them and if you feel like maybe you don't understand them as well as you should there's no shame in that. You can learn, even if you have to find the kids books and go through each one individually. You can sit in public spaces and just observe people. People watching is a popular activity, no one will judge you for that. Even if you need charts of facial expressions on your phone to help you, you can learn.

And if the people around you can't handle what you need to interact with them, they're not worth the effort.

And if the world around you can't handle how loud you are...be louder until they learn.

[twin-disaster-tutel-brainrot]

So I wanted to write a short post about Splinter's relationship with Donnie, but I realised I need to give it more context, so here we are. This is going to be an analysis on the similarities between Splinter and Donnie, and how those similarities affect their relationship.

Let's start with the easiest example, given to us in "Breaking purple":

(sorry for the bad quality gif)

Donnie, as we know, isn't good at understanding his own emotions and expressing them, and he's also not that good at understanding other's emotions. This video essay explains his low empathy really well.

Donnie doesn't know how to deal with emotions, so he does the next best thing - looks at adult example and copies it.

Splinter, while loving his sons and wanting the best for them, is objectively not the best father. He was thrown into fatherhood with no preparation after being imprisoned for over a decade and turning into a rat. He clearly has depression, has no friends, no support system, etc. And the only reference he has for parenting is his grandpa.

So similarity one, they're not good at dealing with emotions.

The second similarity is they're both bad at lying. And, more importantly, bad at noticing when they're being lied to:

(Arguably, you can say they were all too focused on trying to get away with their own lie, but I digress.)

Donnie needs to be said stuff directly. He's shown to not get sarcasm quite often:

And Splinter is shown multiple times to be quite unobservant:

Like, this gif is from when he grounds them, and he just accepts that those four flour sacks are his sons and moves on.

Which leads us to the third similarity, of them both missing obvious social cues. Donnie because of his social skills, and Splinter because he's unobservant.

There's more similarities, like their love of dancing for example, but the reason I gave those similarities is because I want to talk about their relationship.

Splinter, again, wasn't a very good father. He didn't know how to raise his children, but you can see he did make an effort. They all never hesitate to hug him, to call him Dad, and even when they find out Lou Jitsu is their biological father, they never doubt his role as their dad for a second. Which shows that even though he was neglectful, he did have a positive impact on their lives. They love him, and he loves them.

But, one line stood out to me the most, and that's this Donnie line:

Why? Because Splinter always looks extremely proud of his sons, and it sounds odd that he never told Donnie he's proud of him. And we know he desperately want to hear him say it:

So Splinter never told him he's proud of him, but he's also going to say it three times in this episode, only finishing the sentence once when Donnie isn't close enough to hear. Not only that, but the first instance is because Donnie made him a booster, which looks like a very minor thing, so he has no issue saying he's proud of them even because of the tiniest thing.

If so, then why is Donnie missing the verbal validation so much?

Splinter is not good with knowing when to express his feelings and how, and he's not really observant. Just like he never actually said he's proud of Donnie to Donnie's face in this episode, my guess he never said it to his face in the past too. Like, he tried, but he never actually finished the sentences when Donnie could hear, and he probably didn't even notice.

I'm also guessing he used acts to show how proud he is (for example, the fact he didn't hesitate to choose the Turtle Tank for the demolition derby shows how proud he is of Donnie's work), but because of Donnie's need to be told everything literally, he didn't feel the validation from him at all.

I feel like out of the four turtles, Donnie has the rockiest relationship with Splinter. He logs every interaction they have, doesn't immediately trust him when he offers to spend time together, gets mad at him the most often out of the four of them, etc. But you can also see he loves his dad, and he outright tells him this in "Turtle-dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man":

Anyways, I'm just really passionate about showing Splinter isn't just an abusive uncaring father, and showing that the turtles know this.

(Just learned there's an "alt text" option for images so I just removed the image id and turned it into alt text instead.)