#this and not having materials is the only thing stopping me but its. kinda a big one ngl i kinda need to give him hair

[thefatcat-13]

HELL YEAHH

first: better pic of the bag

front

back

now: materials i used

- old jean shorts that didnt fit (the flap thing)

- a hood off of a hoodie (the camo fabric, the part that actually holds stuff)

- straps off of a tote bag i got at a local pride event (blue strap)

- hoodie fabric that was previously cut up for another project (the shoulder rest)

- stuffing from a busted pillow (the shoulder rest)

- floss as thread

- a thick embroidery needle

- pliers (you’re gonna need em for sewing through the denim)

- knowledge of how to do a whipstich and a running stich. if a project uses more than these stitches the i dont fw it.

okay so step one: the strap

i just used a seam ripper and snatched both straps off of this tote bag i got for free and never used. i sewed both of the straps together to make one longer strap.

after the strap is longer, i used the hoodie fabric to make a kind of tube thing for the shoulder rest. make sure it can fit around your strap and have a bit of extra room to fit stuffing.

DONT SEW THIS ONTO THE STRAP YET

it will be so much easier to make it in the right place when the straps are actually sewn on the bag.

STEP TWO: the actual holding part

okay so the important part. cut the hood off of your least favorite hoodie. i got mine bc it was on my battle jacket but the hood not only looked weird it covered any design i put on the back so i ditched it.

you just need to sew up the side you cut off. heres what the inside of my bag looks like if that helps

sew the part next to the red line

STEP THREE: attach straps to bag

um pretty self explanatory tbh. i safety pinned mine in place before sewing so i could see is the strap was long enough or too long. just play around with the length of the strap until you like it basically.

i sewed it like this so the strap was pretty secure

not the cleanest but eh who cares

STEP FOUR: put on shoulder rest

(idk if its called a shoulder rest who cares anymore language is made up anyways and you know what i mean)

anyways just safety pin it on, fuck around with the positioning like you did with the strap and sew it on ONE side

we use the other side to shove fluff in there, use a pencil to push it to the other side. god knows how much to put in but this is how much i put in mine

bada bing bada boom you got a perfectly functional bag. if you’re like me you can stop here and procrastinate actually putting the flap on because “oh well it worksss its fine” knowing damn well your floppy bag kinda sucks and you dont take it anywhere.

oh you actually want to add the flap? cool

STEP FIVE: the flap

calling it the flap sounds weird but idc its the flap.

take some old jeans and choose weather or not you want the front or back pockets. i choose back because idk aesthetics? i genuinely dont remember why back was the better option for me.

anyways cut the back out in a way that covers the hood well and keeps the pocket in tact. you can leave room to hem the edges so they dont fray or you can be a loser like me who didnt feel like doing that.

make sure to leave notches like this so the strap can have room to sit or wtv

the red marks are where i left notches btw.

and then take a second to pray to whatever you believe in to give you strength. arm yourself with a thick ass embroidery needle and pliers because we are sewing through the thickest part of both the denim and the bag. i believe in you.

i just sewed it like the picture above, i didnt have floss so i just took embroidery thread and rubbed it on a candle to get waxed embroidery thread.

now your punk ass has a bag made of fabric scraps and a solid 3 ish hours of your time

and maybe some blood sweat and tears from sewing through that denim.

ask me questions if you’re confused ive never name a tutorial before

have fun :]

i made this bag out of basically fabric scraps follow your dreams kids

[sunshineram]

i wanna make a puppet/plushie(OR SOMETHING. IDK I WANNA MAKE SOMETHING) of stu but im. so confused about how his hair lays. in some sprites and art it looks like its put up loosely and others it looks completely loose? we also have not seen what the back, or really side, of his hair looks like so. idk man im kinda lost. dude can you turn around for a second i need to look at your hair

[winxanity-ii]

FOXED IN [2/2]

ship: fem!fennec fox!reader x various!beastar warnings: non-explicit ( maybe cursing/profanity; sorry y'all I gotta loose mouth) word count: 4.4k a/n: lolol y'all tell me why it took me like 3 weeks to write just 4k words?? i swear school work got my ass writing like 150 words a day/whenever i can 😭😭 coutning down to christmas break mwah... Part 1

★·.·´🇧‌🇪‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇸‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You were staring at yourself in the bottom-left corner of the mirror, crouched like you were hiding from your own reflection.

It wasn't like the rest of you had changed. Same face, same skin, same... everything.

Except for those. The ears. And the tail.

You ran your hand over your head for the fifth time in ten minutes, fingertips grazing your human ears where they'd always been, before trailing upward to the new set. Secondary ears, perched high on your head, covered in soft, velvety fur. They flicked lightly at your touch, like they were alive—like they could feel you.

And then there was the tail. You could feel its weight behind you, swishing gently across the floor like it had been there your whole life.

"Calm down, ____. Calm the fuck down," you muttered, your voice tight as your hands dropped into your lap. "You're not a freak. You're just—"

You paused, staring at your reflection. Your tail swished in your peripheral vision, as if taunting you.

"—just... anthropomorphically challenged," you finished, deadpan. "Yeah, no, that doesn't help."

You tilted your head, the new ears moving along with the motion, twitching at the sound of your voice echoing softly off the dorm room walls. Twitching. Like they had their own independent nervous system or something.

"Oh my gods, I'm like a walking FurryCon booth," you hissed under your breath. Your tail wagged again, making a soft thump against the floor. "Cut it out!" you snapped, glaring at it.

The tail stopped, curling slightly like it was offended.

For a moment, you just stared at yourself, breathing slow and deep, trying to will away the rising panic. But the longer you looked, the harder it was to ignore how... not normal this was.

You reached up again, brushing your fingers over the fur. Soft, velvety. Honestly, they felt kinda nice—like luxury pillow material—but that only made it worse.

You could feel the touch through the ears, every stroke and tug sending tingles down your spine, all the way to your toes.

It wasn't bad, exactly, but it wasn't something you were used to, either.

You squinted at your reflection. "Okay. Pros and cons. Pros and cons." You tapped a finger to your chin like you were about to make a PowerPoint presentation to yourself.

"Pro: I didn't, like, fully mutate. Still got my face. I'm still me. Kinda." You gave your reflection a once-over. "Con: I now look like I could be fan-casted into a BTS Hybird AU fic."

Another pause. Your tail thumped lightly again, this time like it was trying to soothe you. Oh, we're friends now? you thought bitterly.

You straightened up from your crouch, squaring your shoulders as you stared yourself down. "I'm still me. This is fine. You're fine, ____. Nobody even knows you're... this."

Except that was a lie, wasn't it? Blond Labrador Boy had seen you.

Your 'cousin' had definitely seen you, tackling you like a rugby player on the street and announcing your new school enrollment to the entire city.

And who knew how many other people were out there, casually walking around with ears and tails like this was a thing?

The thought sent a chill down your spine. Your tail swished again, making another faint thump.

"Oh, so now you're nervous too?" you hissed at it. The tail stopped mid-swish, freezing awkwardly in the air like a guilty child caught red-handed.

You sighed, finally breaking eye contact with your reflection and dropping into the chair beside your bed.

The ears twitched at the sound of faint chatter outside your door, catching snippets of distant conversations you wouldn't have been able to hear before.

It was a weird feeling, hearing things so clearly and intimately.

You groaned, flopping back against the chair. "Great. Super hearing. Now I'm a discount superhero too."

Your gaze flicked to the mirror again, to the reflection of your tail, curled awkwardly around your chair like it didn't know where it was supposed to go. It looked so out of place, just hanging there, like someone had pasted a sticker on a portrait.

"This is fine," you said again, more to convince yourself than anything. You leaned forward, running a hand through your hair and tugging gently at the ears again. They flattened slightly, and you sighed.

"Totally fine," you muttered. "I just need to figure out how the hell I ended up in a whole-ass Disney movie."

You dropped your hand, letting out a shaky breath. Your tail twitched again, brushing against your ankle like it was trying to reassure you. Yeah, sure. That's comforting.

"Okay, think," you said aloud. "I was at the pool. There were kids—too many kids. Somebody's wet-ass croc sent me flying. I hit the water. And now I'm..."

You trailed off, looking at yourself again. The reflection didn't offer answers, just more questions.

"Maybe I hit my head," you tried, your words shaky but gaining confidence as you spoke. "Yeah, that's it. Smacked it real good on the bottom of the pool. This is a concussion thing. Right? This is my brain making stuff up. Any second now, I'm gonna wake up in the shallow end with chlorine in my nose and my baddass nieces and nephews laughing at me."

The tail swished again. Your ears twitched, catching faint noises outside the door—muffled voices, footsteps, distant laughter.

"It's fine, ____," you told yourself, your tone sharper now. "You're gonna figure this out. One step at a time."

That's when you smelled it.

A soft, flowery scent filled your senses; it was faint at first but grew stronger, making your nose twitch involuntarily and your new ears perk up.

Before you could puzzle it out, a knock came at the door.

The voice was muffled but clear enough to make you freeze. Your ears caught the sound of footsteps shuffling just outside, even before the knock—a light, hesitant rhythm that matched the voice perfectly. You blinked, the scent hitting you again. Your tail twitched, matching the rhythm of your thudding heart.

"Uh, ____, your cousin Vox is waiting for you outside the dorms... he said something about beating the lunch rush?"

The voice was soft and kind of awkward, carrying an airy quality to it.

You stared at the door for a moment, your reflection forgotten. "Yeah," you called out, your voice a little higher than you wanted it to be. "I'm... Uh, thank you! I'll be right there."

"You're welcome," the voice replied, followed by the soft shuffle of footsteps retreating, the scent fading with them. You exhaled, realizing you'd been holding your breath.

"Right," you muttered to yourself, standing up and brushing your clothes down like that would somehow help you feel normal. "Pay attention later. Deal with this... whatever this is."

You froze mid-brush, cursing under your breath. "I should've asked how to get outside."

You glanced around your room, biting your lip as you remembered how confusing it had been just getting here. The winding halls and staircases that twisted in ways that didn't quite make sense.

You were pretty sure you'd passed the same painting of a sunflower three times before you finally found the door marked with your room number—901.

In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of your reflection again—this time, ears drooping slightly. You frowned, then made a face at yourself, sticking out your tongue. "Yeah, real helpful," you muttered, shaking your head before deciding to just thug it out and go.

You stepped out of your room, closing the door behind you and taking a deep breath. "Okay. Just... find the exit. How hard can it be?"

As you started walking, you quickly realized you were surrounded by others—just girls. Your eyes flicked around, taking in the different forms.

You remembered your 'cousin' rambling about gender-segregated dorms, so you chalked it up to being in the girls' dorm.

But as you kept walking, something else began to dawn on you. You weren't just surrounded by other girls; you were surrounded by other, like, carnivorous girls. Sharp eyes, pointed ears, and an aura that made the small hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

And they weren't your size. They were big—taller, broader, more imposing. Compared to them, you felt almost comically small; it was rare, only a few times did you spot someone smaller than you.

You glanced nervously at a nearby group chatting against the wall. One of them—a towering girl with long dark, glossy hair—laughed loudly, her sharp teeth catching the light. Another girl, smaller but just as intimidating, flicked a sleek, striped tail that looked distinctly feline.

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting around as you tried not to look too out of place as you walked past.

You barely noticed when you stepped outside, the warm sunlight hitting your face and momentarily distracting you from the strangeness of it all.

The building behind you was large and imposing, with a plaque above the entrance that read: Female Carnivore Dorm.

You blinked up at it, the words sinking in slowly.

Female. Carnivore. Dorm.

As you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a familiar figure standing a little way down the dorm steps. The boy from earlier—the small fox boy, Vox, if you remembered right. He was by himself, his ears perking up as soon as he spotted you.

He beamed, his tail wagging excitedly as he ran over to you, crashing into you with another hug. "I missed you so much, cuz! Can't believe you're really here! This year is gonna be so awesome!!"

He hooked an arm around you, tugging you along before you could even react. "Come on, let's meet up with the guys! We gotta beat the lunch rush!"

You barely managed a grunt in response, your arms pinned awkwardly to your sides. Despite his short stature, he was still taller than you, his enthusiasm making him feel even larger.

As you followed him, or more accurately, were dragged by him, you started noticing the others lounging around.

It was a mixture of herbivorous and carnivorous features. "...and there's a ton of clubs you can join!" your cousin rambled, oblivious to your growing unease. "I can help you pick one out later, but for now, let's just get to lunch before all the good stuff's gone!"

His voice grounded you, if only a little. You focused on his words, nodding absently as your eyes darted around the courtyard. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, but you didn't have time to dwell on it.

Vox was still tugging you along like it was his life's mission to get you fed.

And his excitement was infectious, even if you were still reeling from everything. You couldn't help but think of your cousin Devon. The thought made your chest tighten, a flicker of warmth amid the chaos.

You hadn't seen Devon in ages—he'd always been the "fun cousin," the one who dragged you into trouble but somehow managed to charm everyone out of getting mad.

It was like the time Devon convinced you to climb a tree for the "best view ever," only to abandon you when the branch cracked. You'd sworn then to never trust his grin again, yet here you were, following another like it without question.

Vox seemingly had the same boundless energy, the same way of dragging you into things without a second thought. And as you trailed behind him, Vox's tail might have been wagging, but it was Devon's mischievous grin you saw every time Vox beamed at you.

Soon, he led you toward a small fountain surrounded by students.

The first to take notice of you two was the blond Labrador boy from earlier. He was standing at the center of a group of guys, and his floppy ears perked up as soon as he spotted you, his golden tail starting to wag in an eager rhythm that matched the bright grin on his face.

"Hey, you're okay!" he called out, stepping forward with an energy that was as disarming as it was sincere. His soft brown eyes met yours, and before you could even react, he reached out and gently patted your head, his hand light but reassuring. "I was worried after what happened earlier. You feeling alright?"

You blinked, struggling to find your words. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine," you mumbled, still processing the overly friendly gesture. His tail wagged faster for a second, his grin widening.

Before you could say more, your attention was pulled to someone else in the group.

A guy who immediately stole your breath. He was tall—easily the tallest person you'd seen all day—with broad shoulders and a relaxed, easy presence.

His dark brown skin contrasted sharply with his shaggy, platinum blonde locs that hung messily over his eyes, giving him an effortlessly cool vibe. His short, floppy ears rested close to his head, twitching slightly as he smiled at you beneath his thick eyebrows.

Everything about him radiated chill, from the slow sway of his tail to his unbothered posture.

He walked over with a casual stride, throwing an arm over the blond Labrador's shoulder. The height difference was almost comical—the Labrador barely reached his chest.

The taller guy chuckled, his voice deep but mellow. "Now what'd ya run off to, Jack?"

The Labrador boy—Jack—turned, laughing sheepishly before glancing back at you and Vox. The taller guy noticed you two as well, his gaze shifting. He smiled, one of his small canines poking out slightly, and leaned down at the waist to give Vox a high five.

"Wassup, Vox?"

Vox grinned, returning the high five with enthusiasm. "Nothin' much, Collot! Just showing my cuz around Cherryton."

He threw his arm around you again, pulling you in closer. Collot's eyes shifted to you, still bent at the waist, and he held his hand out for a handshake.

"Nice to meet ya. Name's Collot," he said, his voice warm.

You hesitated for a second before taking his hand. His grip was firm but not overwhelming, his palm warm against yours. "Uh, nice to meet you too. I'm ____," you replied, giving what you hoped was a confident smile.

Collot straightened up, still towering over you even from a distance. "Cool. Vox's been talking nonstop about ya since he found out you were coming," he said, his smile turning into a friendly grin.

You blinked, glancing at Vox, who just beamed up at you, oblivious to the embarrassment that was creeping up your neck. "Uh, yeah, well... it's my first day," you muttered, trying to laugh it off.

Jack gave you another reassuring smile, his tail wagging slowly behind him. "Don't worry. You'll fit right in." He gestured toward the group of guys behind him. "Come on, let's get you introduced."

Vox wasted no time, tugging you forward as Collot and Jack led the way.

Walking over to the group, a voice chimed up, drawing your attention to a smaller, wiry boy with reddish-brown hair that stuck out at wild angles. His sharp green eyes were quick, darting between you and Vox with a hint of amusement. He leaned slightly forward, his short, pointed ears twitching as if he were constantly on high alert.

"Who's the hottie?" he asked, his grin crooked, his eyes flicking toward Vox teasingly.

Vox's face scrunched in playful annoyance. "Aye, chill out, Durham! That's my cuz, alright?"

Durham snickered, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, just messing with ya."

Vox turned back to you, rolling his eyes. "That's Durham," he said, gesturing toward the coyote hybrid. Durham gave you a quick, crooked grin, his bushy tail flicking once as if punctuating his easygoing energy.

"Welcome to the chaos," Durham said with a playful lilt, his grin growing wider as he eyed Jack's wagging tail. "Speaking of chaos, you feeling okay after Jack's heroic rescue? His tail's still wagging—might take off soon."

"Hey!" Jack huffed, ears perking up indignantly. Durham's laugh only grew louder, his sharp teeth flashing.

Before you could even register Durham's teasing, another figure stepped into view. He was shorter than the others, with olive-toned skin and messy gray hair streaked with faint spots.

There was something almost wild about his energy. His round ears twitched frequently, and his curled tail swayed behind him like he was barely containing his own excitement. His sharp grin, revealing slightly larger-than-average teeth, was equal parts friendly and mischievous.

"Miguno," Vox said, introducing the spotted hyena hybrid. Miguno gave you a toothy grin, leaning casually against Collot as he waved.

"Good to see someone new around here. Don't mind the chaos—Durham's worse than me," he said, his sharp teeth flashing as his grin grew even wider. Something about his energy was electric, like he thrived on the group's chaos.

"Lies," Durham shot back, but his grin betrayed his amusement.

The rapid-fire introductions had your head spinning. Each name and face blurred together, their personalities hitting you one after another like a whirlwind you couldn't escape.

And then... you saw him.

Lanky and pale, with shaggy bluish-gray hair streaked with cream highlights, the wolf hybrid stood slightly apart from the others. His posture was hunched, his long limbs curling inward as if he were trying to take up less space.

His dark, almond-shaped eyes flickered to the group occasionally, but he mostly kept his gaze low, avoiding their chatter, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

His drooping ears twitched faintly, responding to the noise around him, and his long, scruffy tail swayed low, mirroring his awkward demeanor.

Your gaze lingered on him. Something about the way he carried himself felt off—not in a bad way, just... different.

The others were loud, energetic, owning their space. But this one? He was quiet, reserved, like he didn't want to be noticed.

Why does he seem so familiar? you thought, a strange sense of déjà vu bubbling up, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It was like you'd seen him before, but only in a dream—or maybe in the back of your mind, in some long-buried memory.

"Legoshi," Jack said, nudging the wolf with a friendly grin. "Say hi."

The name hit you like a freight train. Your breath caught as your mind scrambled to make sense of what you were seeing.

Legoshi.

Your heart thudded in your chest as pieces began to click together faster than you could stop them. Carnivores. Cherryton. Jack. Vox. Legoshi.

This can't be real. This can't—

The group's chatter seemed to fade as your pulse roared in your ears.

Am I in fucking Beastars?

☆

☆

Time seemed to blur after that revelation. One moment, you were standing by the fountain, and the next, you found yourself sitting at a lunch table.

The chatter of the cafeteria buzzed around you, the noise overwhelming—students chatting, utensils clinking, chairs scraping against the floor—but it all felt distant, like you were watching a scene play out from behind soundproof glass.

You stared blankly at the plate in front of you, slowly picking at your food—a sad, slightly overcooked egg that seemed to mock you in its mediocrity.

Vox and his friends filled the space around you, their energy bouncing back and forth like a rubber ball in a crowded room. You could hear Collot laughing loudly at something Miguno said, Durham snickering along, while Jack chimed in with his soft-spoken voice. But none of it really registered.

Your mind was too busy running a mile a minute, trying to process the impossibility of your situation.

I'm not a furry, you thought, stabbing a piece of egg with your fork. I mean, sure, I dabbled in a fanfic or two, but this? This is insane.

You glanced around the cafeteria, taking in the sight of students with human bodies but animal features—ears, tails, fur, scales. The way they moved, the way they interacted—it was surreal. 

The low murmur of a nearby conversation caught your ear—too clear, too distinct. A girl with glossy feline ears leaned over her tray, whispering something to her friend. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, the fur shimmering in the sunlight.

It should've been normal—or at least as normal as anything else here—but you couldn't look away.

Before you realized it, her sharp gaze flicked to you, catching your eye for half a second. Her pupils narrowed slightly, and a wave of heat surged up your neck as you quickly averted your gaze, your heart thudding in your chest.

Smooth, you thought bitterly, stabbing at the egg again. Real subtle.

The pressure of trying to seem normal began to creep up your spine, making your ears flick involuntarily. It felt like the entire cafeteria could see you, like every twitch of your tail screamed, "I don't belong here." You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to blend in.

Beastars is supposed to be set in a world of anthropomorphic animals, you mused, peeking open your eyes to watch the girl turn back to her friend, her feline features utterly unbothered. So what the hell is this?

It was absurd, like something out of a fever dream. And yet, here you were, surrounded by them.

Is this really Beastars?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a gentle nudge. You looked up to see Jack smiling at you, his tail wagging slightly.

"Hey, ____," he said, his voice friendly. "How was your old school? Was it anything like Cherryton?"

You blinked, your fork pausing mid-air. Old school?

Panic clawed at the back of your throat. How were you supposed to answer that? You didn't even know what your supposed background was supposed to be. And Vox was sitting right next to you. If you lied, he could easily call you out.

Before you could stammer out a response, Vox chimed in, saving you from your predicament.

"Oh, she was homeschooled," he said casually, taking a bite of his sandwich. "So she might not be as used to all this social stuff yet, you know?"

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, grateful for Vox's quick thinking. Thank god, you thought. This is perfect. I can roll with that.

You offered a sheepish smile, nodding along, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Yeah, it's... a bit overwhelming," you admitted, your voice a bit shaky, trying to sell the homeschooled bit as much as you could.

No need to drag out fake stories about classmates, teachers, or what electives you took back in the "real" world. You could just sit back and let the homeschool excuse handle all the heavy lifting.

In your head, though, the real story was much messier. You weren't homeschooled—far from it. You knew nothing about homeschooling beyond what you read in books and saw on TV; public school had been your playground and battleground.

You'd seen it all: hallway fights over nothing, the chaos of pep rallies, and those awkward group projects where you did 90% of the work.

But here? In this place, wherever the hell this was? Yeah, let's call it a coma. The pool, the slip, the whole "falling into another world" thing? It had all the makings of a good old-fashioned knock to the head.

I'm in a hospital somewhere, you told yourself, hooked up to a machine while a nurse complains about understaffing. This? This is just the brain doing brain shit.

And hey, if this was a dream, then maybe all you had to do was play along until you woke up.

But whatever it was, you decided to roll with it. You didn't have many options.

Homeschool, huh? you thought. I've seen those documentaries—unsocialized weirdos trying to find their way in the world, eating lunch alone because they don't know what the word "lit" means. You snorted softly. I can fake that if I have to.

"Hey, ____." Jack pulled you back to the conversation once again; his golden tail was wagging hard now, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

"Huh?" you asked, blinking at him.

"I said, don't worry about not being good with talking to people. We'll help you out!" His voice was so genuinely optimistic it made your chest tighten.

You were about to reply when a snicker broke the moment.

It came from one of the boys—Durham. His shoulders were shaking as he laughed, pointing lazily in Jack's direction. "By we, he means himself," the coyote said, grinning. "You know how Jack gets. Tail's wagging harder than a windshield wiper in a thunderstorm. Bet he's already got a crush."

The group erupted into laughter, and Jack's face turned a deep shade of red.

"W-What?! No!" Jack stammered, his ears twitching erratically as his tail kept wagging despite his obvious embarrassment. "That's not— I didn't mean it like that!"

Miguno burst into laughter, leaning forward to nudge Jack's shoulder. "Aw, c'mon Jack, don't be shy! We all saw how you were wagging your tail earlier, like a little puppy."

Vox, ever the instigator, patted Jack on the shoulder with a wide, toothy grin. "Yeah, relax, buddy. She's just my cousin. You don't have to marry her."

You nearly choked on your own breath, the absurdity of the situation hitting you like a freight train. "Wait, what?" you managed to say, but your voice was drowned out by more laughter from the group.

Jack covered his face with both hands, muttering something under his breath that you couldn't catch. His tail, however, kept wagging wildly, betraying every bit of his flustered state.

"Alright, alright, chill," you said, holding up a hand to quiet the chaos. "Let the man breathe before he combusts."

Durham and Miguno both chimed in with their own apologies, their expressions a mix of sheepishness and amusement.

"Yeah, our bad," Durham said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "We were just messing around."

Miguno nodded, his tail flicking behind him. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, really. Just having a bit of fun."

Jack peeked out from behind his hands, his cheeks still pink, but he managed a sheepish smile. "Thanks," he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

You raised an eyebrow at him, fighting back a grin, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your own cheeks. "No worries," you said, your voice a little softer.

This whole situation was ridiculous, but at least it was entertaining.

As the laughter died down, Vox leaned toward you, his smile as mischievous as ever. "See? Told you we'd help you fit in. You're already the life of the party."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face.

The group continued chatting, the conversation drifting to topics like classes, clubs, and campus drama. You mostly kept to yourself, occasionally nodding along or giving short answers when prompted.

For a moment, the weirdness of everything—the ears, the tails, the everything—faded into the background.

It was surreal, like something out of a story—but it was real. As real as the egg on your plate.

And for now, you had no choice but to roll with it.

But in the back of your mind, the same thoughts kept circling.

How long am I gonna be here? And how the fuck am I going to survive it?

Whatever this was—dream, coma, or insanity—you'd have to figure it out. But for now, blending in would have to do.

One step at a time, you told yourself. Don't drown...again.

Lego

[caitchercatlady]

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Jack

It was a busy day for Jack Howl. So much so that he was experiencing unusual fatigue. He hated the idea of trying to sleep with his loud roommates (who he didn’t mind on a normal night). Jack hated to impose himself on Ramshackle, but when he told you his reasoning, the last thing you did was mind.

“I’m sorry for forcing myself into your dorm like this,” he apologized for the fifth time since he arrived at Ramshackle.

“Jack, don’t be silly,” you responded. “We’re friends. If one needs space to breathe, the other should give them that space. Besides, I got more rooms in this dorm than I need.”

Jack felt bad that you were organizing the worn out dorm by yourself. You explained that guests didn’t do the chores. He rebutted that he was the one that happened to barge in (though he only politely asked, not barged.) You couldn't even get a word out an edgewise when Jack decided that he would assist in helping you setting up the place. Although, you were thankful that Jack was able to reach the highest places. However, after all the chores were done, the wolf was even more exhausted than he was when he arrived. As thankful as you were, you made Jack promise that he was not going to do any more chores for you for the rest of the night. Though stubborn, Jack ended up swearing that he wouldn't.

As academically driven as the two of you were, you two decided that you were going to work on some homework that wasn’t due for the next few days. Whilst reading the latest chapter in your General Magic textbooks, a coat of chill brushed over you. It was nothing unusual during the nights at Ramshackle, but that didn’t make it easier to endure. Jack clearly saw it, and he couldn’t bear to see you so uncomfortable. He dug through his overnight bag, and pulled out his comfy, snowflake-designed, knit sweater. Jack tossed it over to you, insisting that you’d protect yourself from the cold.

You glided your fingers across the material, and alarms rang in your brain. “Jack, I can’t wear this. It feels expensive.”

“It’s not,” he replied. “It was a holiday gift.”

“That gives me more reason not to--”

“Prefect, I know you’re careful. It’s not like I’m letting you wear it for the hell of it or anything.” Jack’s cheeks pinkened after he said that.

There was no use arguing about it. You dressed your top in the sweater, and you felt the warmth seeping into your body already. You thanked Jack for being so generous. That only made him blush more. He shoved his face into the textbook before you could comment further.

After studying was over, it was getting pretty late. Jack almost forgot that he should take a shower before jumping into the guest room that you prepared together. You had to prepare to go to sleep yourself. You brushed your hair, got into your comfortable sleepwear, and before you jumped into the sheets, you remembered that you had to return Jack’s sweater. It was more than probable that he’d appreciate having it back. You folded it nicely and placed it at the foot of his bed as the greatest thanks you could offer.

Soon as you got cozy in your blankets, you kinda regret taking the sweater off. Despite having the windows shut, the cold still made its presence known. You try your damnedest to ignore it, but the shivers was all the sign the chill needed to win over your will. That uncomfortable feeling…you had to rest blubbering over it.

You trembled on the mattress. However, it stopped when a certain someone found you with the bedroom door open and joined you under the covers. Immediately, the warmth settled in, but so did the guilt, too.

“You should’ve kept the sweater on,” Jack said.

“It wasn’t mine though,” you answered meekly.

“But I wouldn’t have minded. I don’t mind even now.”

That familiar grin Jack was so used to seeing returned to your face. You closed your eyes and snuggled your head underneath the wolf’s chin.

The blush zoomed back onto his face. “Look. I’m doing this to help you. Not like I get any benefits out of it.”

You giggled. “Liar.”

“Oye, watch it. I’m being nice here.”

“I know. Thanks.”

The blush began to fade away at the surprise Jack felt to hear your voice become more tender than it was before. He leaned his face into your face, helping you relax even further. Perhaps, you weren’t the only one who needed something to keep you unwinded in the night.

[xhda1449x]

ok apparently 30 tags is the limit on tumblr and I'm putting it here because I couldn't put it in the tags

for my own curiosity, because my tragedy enjoying boggles the minds of a bunch of my irl social circle.

[court-jobi]

Reheat

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (support-hero!reader x teacher Izuku)

Words: 2.5k

Rating: G~

Warnings: comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, work stress (livin' vicariously), talks of the future, a few fem pronouns used, but generally gender-neutral

Summary:

Izuku letting himself into your home after a long day has become comfortable background noise, and one you love to hear while you're bogged down. Work has been following you home all week. He's proud of you, without a doubt... But equally concerned when he sees your dinner half-eaten, your mind scatterbrained and racing faster than he can anchor you, and your angel eyes in desperate need of some TLC. He's cemented his place in your heart- and sees no reason he can't make himself at home here already.

A/N: do I have bigger fics in mind? Yes. Did I write this instead of sleeping bc I love soft, encouraging Deku? Also yes. Izuku Midoriya is a motivational speaker.

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“Hey honey! I’m here!”

Over the tinny, background chatter of a podcast streaming from your phone, you call back to Izuku letting himself in.

“Hey you~” You throw interest into your voice, but still stayed tuned into your work.

“Ooo what’s this… What did you make here on the stove?”

“Risotto– it’s Italian~ has lots of veggies and good stuff in it,” you didn’t stop your typing pace, engrossed too heavily in getting an email out before you forget about it and Gmail has to ‘nudge’ you, again, “-gave it a Japanese spin with what I had in the house.”

“Oh wow– oh my gosh, honey– this is so good!”

You look up since your darling man has just appeared in your doorway, sparkly eyed to see you, but equally sated by what’s just graced his mouth. It was a meal you could babysit between taking a quick shower, getting ready for work, letting its flavors marry in the fridge throughout the day, and popping back on the stove that night.

“I’m glad, happy you like it~”

“D’you eat?” Izuku asks, midbite.

“Mhm. Little bit ago,” You motion to your bowl- but when he comes alongside you, he tuts over noting it's only half empty.

“You didn't finish- you feelin’ ok?”

Having circled back onto your screen, you double take again, this time caught by his perception check over you and feeling guilty. 

“Oh. Guess I didn't. I’ll nuke it up here in a bit.”

Izuku, setting down his bowl and starting the -normally alluring- task of rolling up his shirt sleeves to his forearms, comes to your side. However since you’re paying little mind to your peripherals, you missed the show the was making of it. A simple ask of ‘what’re you working on’ came from him, sounding no different than if he wasn't trying to make eyes at you; fact was, you just weren't paying attention.

“Just some stuff for the interns,” the sight of how many tabs are open on your split screen -and in your mind- make you sigh, “With this new role, I kinda feel like you some days. Lesson plans, processing their paperwork; it’s all the stuff you had to turn in as an intern– only now I'm the one dealing with it on the backend.”

Izuku sifted around though your training materials and your propped tablet making itself useful as a second screen. At your handwritten to-do list that’s one of the only things non-digitized nowadays, he makes an offhand comment that your handwriting is nice. It's the kind of cute, ‘blink-and-you’d-miss-it’ things he says that you just hum to, whether you were really listening or not.  

When you glance up to him again, you see he’s watching you with a caring gaze and feel caught.

 “What’re you looking at?” you tease, typing again to break the silence.

“A pretty girl…” Izuku teased lightly, “who doesn’t know when to take a break.”

You type away at his call out– the need for a night off at Izuku’s side is exactly why you've been working so hard at this. You figured you'd get some of this extra prep work under control now, so by the time he rolls around on Wednesday for your standing date n–

You freeze. 

Realizing what day it is in your planner.  It's Wednesday. For dinner.

“Oh my God- -you’re here.”

“Mhmmm~” Izuku really doesn't want to laugh, but his sucking in of a lip isn't hiding it well. 

“ohmygod imtheworst!!” you refresh your face in both hands, talking through the gaps.

“You are not!” Izuku chuckled, setting your notes down. “You just got busy with all the new tasks, because you’re just that good.” 

A faithful, scarred hand comes over to smooth over your back, pulling you over into a little half hug. You sink against him, relishing in his little forehead kiss. He can try all he likes to cure your embarrassment, but you look to him apologetically.

“I’ve never forgotten our dinner dates, ‘Zuku…”

Your darling shrugged unbothered, “Had to happen sometime. It’s no big deal.”

“Is to me,” you pressed- very much bothered.

“Honey,” Izuku chips your chin up, “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s ok, these things happen! I mean, you still made a delicious dinner; even if it was a bit of an oversight I would -in fact- be eating it.”

The pang of guilt hits you at forgetting. This was just a symptomatic sign that the brilliance of your taking on the additional role of Education Coordinator at the agency was perhaps an over-zealous one. Not only to be on-call for your base job as a linguistics quirk specialist, but to balance another full time role on the office hours end? Why did you convince Fatgum this was a good idea? It sounded like a stellar idea back at the beginning of the summer…

Now you’re forgetting not just who you’re supposed to be eating with- but also eating in general.

“I’m glad you did,” you boost Izuku’s elephant-like memory, “It feels so normal to have you here, it's not like I completely forgot I’d see you today. I just– maybe I… thought I was gonna take some to you, since I wouldn't see you till later in the week? I dunno.”

“C’mere- never got a real hug.” 

You rise at his hand’s insistence, and stretch up into his full, healing embrace. 

“Hi baby,” you cooed pitifully.

“Hi, my angel. Missed you today.”

You hummed at the affection, sinking into his neck more out of your residual misery.

Izuku simply took advantage of you being close to sway you in his wide stance- a dance, sans music.

“I appreciate you cooking so much for us,” he spoke gently from his perch over your shoulder, “I was looking forward to it all day, y’know? You’re always so thoughtful with everything you make.”

He’s pressing into you with compliments- against your hard wiring to accept…

“‘Zuku.”

“It’s true~ you’re generous! You remember what my favorites are, and leave out the stuff I don’t like; you even send me leftovers. And you make snacks and treats for when the midnight munchies strike– what can’t you do?”

“Zuku…”

“And you–” he runs a hand through your hair as he sways your shy self back and forth, “-- make for the most funny, beautiful, fascinating, most inspiring company I could ever hope to share a meal with.”

Head thunking onto his shoulder, you playfully land a closed fist on his chest with a muffled, whiny plea for him to stop.

He sighs, all in good humor.

“This streak of yours... I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? Still can’t imagine how bad it must be in that brilliant mind that my incredible girlfriend has such a hard time accepting the tiniest compliment. Maybe it’s all that late night American comedy you watch...”

You exhale then fix him with your coolest look of sarcasm, anything to show that you have a modicum of having your shit together. So you cope with humor- who doesn't?

–shame that it looks too much like a pout and makes you decidedly not threatening at all, because Izuku just beams brightly at you in response.

“Oh! Now there’s my melty princess- I was wondering where she went.”

And at that, the aloofness was gone, and you snort into a laugh and hug him tighter around the neck. He even scoops you up and gives you one little twirl for good measure. 

When he set you down, Izuku cups your face in his hands and gifts you a few more forehead kisses before demanding your sights. 

“Now. We need to get you to finish eating first. Then, what can I do to help you tonight, hm? How can I make things easier for you?”

With a softer eye to your desk’s work, you sat back down staying connected to your ever doting Izuku by way of your hand in his. You tried again to focus back. You're newly refreshed by his affections and attempt for a more positive outlook, 

“Well, my goal of doing this tonight was so that I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow. Course, if I do run myself ragged tonight, I won't be any good to anyone there– or for you, here. But I think if I pare it down to just getting these e-sigs ready and getting their time-in checklists set up for their work study onboarding, that would give me a good enough start, and I can fill in the rest of their packets tomorrow. But that means I’d need -ugh- maybe… another hour of work tonight?” you looked to him for his approval, “I have a template, so it shouldn’t take me forever.”

“Alright! You’re the boss,” Izuku supported your plan with a smile, “How about I take care of the kitchen for you while you finish up?”

“You do not have to clean my kitchen!” you spouted back, offended– causing a laugh to burst from him, “It’s not funny! I didn’t ask you to come over after a day of work yourself to just slave away at my mess.”

Izuku fixed you a look, as if you knew better. 

“I think I can tidy up a kitchen, no matter how busy of a day I’ve had. Yours isn't even over yet- so when precisely were you going to have the energy to hammer at it? You’ll enjoy not having that mountain waiting for you.”

You huffed, but smiled gratefully all the same. 

“Besides, it’s just me- doing something nice for the woman I love; and I happen to like doing nice things for you. You deserve a clean space, hun.” 

He cleared off your previous bowl to reheat along with your empty water cup. Shaking the hollow straw inside to where it clinks, he knows exactly what you need and tells you so.

“You are getting a screenless break first, though. Something tells me you didn’t the first time around~”

Settled with a fist propping up your face, you swooned over this darling man. 

Trusting Autosave to have done its job, you shut the laptop down blindly, “Sure didn’t~” 

Izuku just rolled his eyes and stepped out of the study. 

You neaten up the collated stack of applications laid out by you and stepped over to the couch, taking a kneeling perch on the end while you sought out a new record for the player on the side table. Setting one on, it was able to fire up and fill some new life into the room with a movie score you haven’t listened to in a while. Everything just sounds better on vinyl.

When Izuku came back in the room, he’d found his houseshoes and returned with renewed interest to your music choice- and with a pleased expression seeing you actually lounging and taking things easier than how he found you. He traded your reheated meal in exchange for your blue-light glasses, which he’d then clean with a pocket square and set back on your desk once they were smudgeless.

“Now, that’s a better sight~ here you go, all set for later.”

You enjoyed Izuku’s company while finishing dinner, listening to him outline his workday while he cradled your legs in his lap. He'd had a pleasantly eventful one, with plenty to say about it. You’d play ‘two truths and a lie’ sometimes when he didn’t want to bore you with a particularly mind-numbing schedule, which pleased you just as well. You excelled at it, while he gave away his fictions every time- a terrible liar for the game, but great for a faithful partner, you reasoned.  You truly loved hearing him talk and talk, your love only growing at the domesticity of this feeling and never wanting that to change. 

Once you were done, you were honestly content to hear him continue his tangent, but it seems his inner discipline was stronger than yours. 

“Alright, now to attack that sink~”

You bemoaned again for his sake. But since you made such a small, affected noise, Izuku paused mid-rise, and sat back down a bit closer to you. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch, encouraging you to come closer and met you for a sweet kiss in the middle.

His mere presence reverted you to a younger self sometimes– one desperate for his attention, good or bad. It wasn't the loveliest impulse, but he clearly thinks it's all part of your charm seeing as he gives in every time, anyway.

“Thing is,” Izuku spoke softly while adoring the hand now placed in his, “If things keep going the way I think they’re going -the way I hope they’re going- it’s.. not hard to imagine that there’s gonna be both our dishes to clean up all the time. In our kitchen, in our home someday. So this is just practice, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. How it should be.”

That idea bloomed in your chest, the thought of sharing a home with him- where this exchange of chores and time together could be your new normal. Only it would be a future where he didn’t have to leave at the end of the night and go back to a bed with compact, collegiate-designed storage at the campus accommodations he stays in on the instructor's wing. He’s got enough to get him by, but he noticeably prefers your home here closer to downtown.

“And what happens when we both wanna ditch the dishes?” you countered sweetly.

Izuku smirked, “That’s what a dishwasher is for. Another thing we’d own together…”

“Forward thinking, there.” You relished that idea. 

Izuku nuzzled your forehead thoughtfully. 

“You’ve been doing things on your own for a long time– and it shows, sweetheart.”

His words came carefully, from a tender place spoken in confidence between you, referring to when you’ve spent other late nights like this one fueled with hot tea and a desire to keep ignoring the clock.

“And I know you’ve been used to that since you’ve been traveling so much, not even having roommates to help keep you company or lighten the load. I keep wishing I could have known you sooner, had more time with you before you had to learn some of those things the hard way… but I’m happy I get the chance to, now. I’m here now, and you’re not alone, so I hope you’ll let me take care of you when I can.”

With another happy sigh forcing your eyes shut, the mental will it took to not let the tears of a perpetual eldest daughter leave you was intense.

Izuku Midoriya never failed to hit the nail on the head when it came to pep talks; he does the same with his students. But why his ones aimed at you had to have a Full Cowling dash of heartfelt anecdotes in it, you don't know. But you're grateful. You're so grateful for him. 

“If you don’t quit talkin’ like that, Izuku, I will never let you leave this condo.”

He chuckled again, lifting your cheek for another kiss, “Twist my arm, love.”

Ultimately, he rose to quit distracting you, but not without you watching him leave with a hunger you’d never felt for another soul before. 

[4dkellysworld]

After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

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I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

[puma-riki]

No One Noticed...

Warnings: consistent cursing, kms/kys jokes [Subject to change every chapter]

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

Taglist: @bee-the-loser @iaintseggsy @channieismylove @yangjungwonnie @luluvhs @nikiswifiee @kingofthekards @skepvids @sammie217 @sh0dor1 @sirens-dreams @starfallia @polarisjisung @minhosimthings @mochiwonz @jiiyen @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @ritzy-dream-boy @roseangelxfuma @sugarikiz @stvrriki @eczlipse @ddolleri @dangerousgardenchild @roarr-ki | Comment on any chapter from No One Noticed... saying you want to be added to the taglist!! or send me an ask !! | bold could not be tagged :c

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A/N: No header picture because there's a limit of 30 images my bad ANYWAY ENJOY OR WHATEVER There are written parts sprinkled in with the pictures!

16. 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚…

6:52pm

Ni-ki stood outside the door to your apartment, taking a steadying breath. He checked his reflection in his phone, giving himself a quick once-over. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to look a little more put together before knocking.

It took a couple of minutes before he heard rushed footsteps approaching, and he jumped slightly when he heard a sudden, dull thud from the other side.

"Shit," he heard you mutter.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the door swung open. You stood there, breathless, eyes wide with slight embarrassment.

"Hey," you said, a little flustered.

"Did you just run into the door?"

"No… must've been the wind you heard or something," you said biting your lip to stop a laugh from bubbling up and glancing to the side as your cheeks tinted pink.

Cute.

He stifled a snort, but the warmth in his smile gave him away. He liked this side of you—the side that was relaxed enough to laugh at yourself. Two months ago, you barely even looked him in the eye outside of tutoring sessions. Now, you were inviting him over, letting him into your space. And more than anything, you felt comfortable enough to make jokes with him, even silly ones like this.

"Anyway sorry, I'm still finishing getting ready, come inside!" You told him, stepping aside for him to enter.

When he did, you closed the door. He took a moment to look around from where he stood. Your place was minimalist, which he kind of expected since you were only here for college, but it still had so much of you written all over it.

Lamps scattered across the space, each unique in size, color, and style, providing a warm, almost cozy ambiance. It was so… you.

There was a single coaster on the coffee table holding a cat-themed mug that seemed to have been left there for a while. A Nintendo Switch rested in its dock below the TV. The dining area was just three bar stools facing the kitchen, simple but functional. It was clear you hadn’t lived here long, but it already had a kind of charm to it—a charm that felt uniquely yours.

Before he could look any further you rushed past him, "My rooms down this way." You turned to him to nod down the hallway, gesturing for him to follow.

He trailed after you, and by the time he entered, you were already sitting at your desk in front of a small mirror, makeup products scattered around. He couldn't help but smile to himself. Two months ago, this would’ve been unthinkable, he mused. Back then, you’d kept things strictly professional—biology, study notes, and maybe a little small talk. Now he was here, watching you get ready for a night out with him and his friends.

"Wow, I've only seen your room on Facetime. It's kinda weird being here for real," He awed as he looked around. He found it to be true that a girl's room was a museum of everything she ever loved. You had posters of different bands and music artists on the walls, your desk had piles of papers, that he assumed were a mix of schoolwork and study materials, and a bunch of random trinkets.

"Look, this is where you'd put me..." He joked in faux amazement as he stood beside your chair and touched the space you'd usually prop your phone up against when you called him (or more so when he called you)

"I know, is it everything you thought it would be?" Your tone was light as you rubbed your makeup brush in blush (?) is what Ni-ki wanted to say it was.

"Kind of, who knew you were a hoarder." he teased, picking up a small jar filled with buttons, stones, and little knick-knacks, turning it around in his hand.

"Don't insult my jar of things." You lightly elbowed his side from where you sat.

"Where do you even get this stuff, do you pick it up off the street?" Ni-ki was joking, and you knew that. He looked down at you and saw the smile you were fighting as you ran the brush over your cheeks.

"No, actually. Some of those were from my house, and some are things I just… collect" You shrugged, closing the blush pallet and moving to open a tube of mascara. "Which may or may not have been picked up off the street,"

He chuckled, but inside, his heart was doing a different sort of flip. This closeness with him standing right next to where you sat, this openness, this easygoing chatter—it was new, and it made him realize just how much he liked this version of you. He knew you were still a bit nervous about meeting his friends tonight, despite the fact that you’d messaged back and forth with them. But he also knew that this version of you, the one who could laugh about running into doors and defend jars of random knick-knacks, would be just fine.

Watching you apply your makeup, Ni-ki felt a little less nervous himself. It wasn’t just that he was here in your room; it was that you wanted him here. And though he didn’t dare voice it, he hoped you’d want him around for a while.

"Did you hear anything back from the cafe? I haven't heard anything from Jungwon about it yet." He returned the jar back to its spot next to your computer.

"I did! They actually called me a few minutes ago asking if I can come in next week for an interview." Ni-kis eyes lingered on your expression as you talked. Your smile reached your eyes and your eyes had small stars in them. "I'm really nervous, but I'm also excited because I think I'll get it- not to be egotistical." You suddenly turned away from the mirror and pointed your brush towards him as if to prove a point. Ni-ki only smiled, "I was thinking earlier."

"Yeah?" He began to leave his spot next to you and wonder towards the other side of your room.

"Mhm, I think it'll be really cute to work there during the holidays! You know how all the shops around the city set up for Christmas and whatnot, with all the lights and wreaths." You continued to ramble to him as he stopped in front of your bookshelf. You had some volumes of manga and manhwas, albums from different artists, regular books, and those figurines you'd get in blind boxes.

He picked one up and inspected it, It was a duck. Its eyes were drawn as small black circles and had overdramatic rosy cheeks. Its beak was sort of downturned into a child-like pout. To complete its dorky look it had thin silver framed glasses.

"...and I think it'd be-" You turned in your chair towards Ni-ki. You smiled seeing him holding the small duck figure with furrowed brows.

"I found that at a thrift shop, I think. Isn't he cute?"

"He looks dorky," He said disinterested and placing the duck back on the shelf,

"He's cute, you just think you're too tough to think so," You rolled your eyes and turned back to your mirror. You were done with your makeup, which was just mascara, eyeliner, and blush. Now you were focused on your hair.

Ni-ki left the bookshelf and plopped down on your bed, just behind where you sat. He leaned back on his hands and tilted his head, looking at you smooth out your hair.

For a moment, he watched you quietly, almost mesmerized by how natural this felt, just the two of you, getting ready together. He hesitated, then finally asked, “So, how are you feeling about tonight? The whole haunted Halloween event and, you know… meeting my friends?”

You paused, glancing at him in the mirror. “Honestly? I’m nervous,” you admitted, setting down the brush and fidgeting with a loose strand of hair. “I mean, I’m not exactly used to stuff like this—big group outings or… being invited anywhere, really."You spun your chair around to face him, your hands pressed together and shoved between your legs shyly. "And I want your friends to like me, even though they already seem nice online. and stuff”

You felt kind of like a loser shying away from him and admitting to Ni-ki that you didn't get invited out often, But Ni-ki was fighting cuteness aggression as you did so.

Still, he nodded, listening intently, but couldn’t help feeling a bit proud. The fact that you cared about this, about them liking you, meant something to him. He nudged your shoe with his. “Hey, you’ve already won them over. Soon enough they'll start coddling you like annoying older siblings,” he said with a grin. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, still unsure. “I’m serious—they’re really excited to meet you, and they already think you’re great.”

You gave a small, bashful smile, lowering your gaze. “I don’t know… I just... don’t want to be the one weird, quiet person in the group.”

He chuckled. “First of all, that’s kind of my job. Second, you’ll be fine. Just be you—” He sat up and leaned in slightly, voice softer. “Plus, if you get freaked out at the haunted houses, you can use me as a shield.”

"I was already planning on that, don't worry." You rolled your eyes playfully, your heart settling to a steady rhythm.

Your eyes settled back onto Ni-ki. He pulled out his phone as it began to buzz. You assumed it was the others, asking where you were, however you felt no sense of urgency to get up and out the door. You felt perfectly content with Ni-ki, sitting on your bed in your room.

As he checked his phone, you took a quiet moment to watch him. It amazed you sometimes, just how natural it felt having him here, settled into your space as if he belonged. Not long ago, you couldn’t imagine anyone coming over, let alone Ni-ki, of all people—the one who kept showing up in your life, whether through FaceTime calls at random hours or by sliding into the seat next to you in biology. He always seemed to need your attention, as if your presence was somehow grounding for him.

It was new for you, this feeling of having someone who wanted you around, someone who not only noticed you but insisted on being close. And as you watched him now, texting away without any hurry, a soft warmth spread through you.

Ni-ki had become this steady presence, someone who didn’t mind your quieter moments or your quirks. He’d brought an energy to your life that you hadn’t expected, nudging you out of your routines and reminding you what it felt like to be seen and cared for. For the first time in a long time, you felt like your life was shifting, opening up. Maybe even expanding.

"You ready to go now?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, let's go!"

7:25pm

The moment you arrived with Ni-ki close by your side, it had been utter chaos in the best way. Jay and Sunghoon greeted you with a casual wave when they noticed you both approaching. Sunoo gave you a sweet smile, raising a hand in an overdramatic wave, his excitement visible in his eyes. Then Jungwon clasped your hands, grinning widely as he started bouncing in a circle, pulling you with him, his excitement contagious. Jake went for a dap, and though you fumbled through it with an awkward laugh, Jake chuckled, finding your attempt endearing in an older brother sort of way. Heeseung dapped you up too, then ushered you and Jake into a close circle to take a picture.

Watching the whole thing, Ni-ki had a stupid smile on his face (read: lovesick)

Now, you stand next to Ni-ki, arms crossed, trying to keep up with the chaos of everyone’s suggestions. The group has formed a loose circle just outside the amusement park entrance, and Jay holds one of the amusement park maps, pointing at different sections while everyone else bickers and talks over each other. The park is decorated with typical Halloween decorations, red and orange lights, fog that settles just above the crowd's feet, pumpkins and fake bloodies dummies scattered around the place, and of course, scare actors lurking about. You're looking all around you, taking in the scene the park has created especially for tonight. To be honest, you don't mind where you start in the park, you're just happy to be here.

Ni-ki, unbeknownst to you, has been attentive. He wants to make sure you're comfortable and not feeling left out. He wants you to have fun. He's looking at you now, your head is turned away from him, but he can still see the way your eyes flitter around in curiosity. He notices the way your mouth forms a 'o' shape when you see a guy, across the way, on stilts chug some sort of liquid and then spit out fire above the crowd, making them scream and laugh in amazement.

Ni-ki found himself fighting that feeling of cuteness aggression again. When he finally tears his eyes away from you and returns to the bickering coming from in front of him, he notices Sunoo giving him a pointed look. He raises his eyebrows at him to say 'What?'.

“Why would we go to the haunted house first? We basically get that experience out here.” Sunghoon complains, looking mildly distressed.

Heeseung grins at him, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease. “Sunghoon, just admit you’re too scared to do the haunted house right off the bat,” he smirks.

“I’m not scared,” Sunghoon protests, but his eyes dart around the park nervously, as if he’s already anticipating the jump scares lurking within.

Meanwhile, Jake is trying to rally support for the roller coasters. “Listen, if we’re going to do this right, we start with a big coaster. It’s the only way to get our adrenaline going,” he argues, but Jungwon shakes his head, muttering something about “easing into it.”

Amid all this, you notice a shadowy figure moving among the crowd at the entrance. A few feet away, a scare actor in a clown mask, wielding a chainsaw with no blade, is prowling around, clearly on the lookout for his next target. You make the mistake of locking eyes with him. Immediately, the clown tilts his head, holding your gaze for just a moment too long before raising the chainsaw and revving it with a menacing roar.

Your heart leaps, and without thinking, you latch onto Ni-ki’s arm which is shoved in the pockets of his jacket. “Riki,” you say, eyes wide as the clown starts marching toward your group, the chainsaw’s roar growing louder. Ni-ki turns to you, grinning as he realizes the source of your panic.

“Riki, Riki, Riki!” You chant his name in growing alarm, gripping his arm tighter as you try to keep your nerves in check. It’s all part of the act, you know—but the thrill of it sends a giddy sort of panic through you as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arm through the cool October air.

Ni-ki laughs, finding it funny—and maybe a little surreal—that you’re hanging onto him so tightly. His heart starts racing, not at the clown, but at the way you’ve buried your face in his arm. His mind spins with the idea that out of everyone here, it’s him you chose to cling to.

The clown is practically upon you two, revving the chainsaw inches from where you stand. You squeal, face pressed into Ni-ki’s sleeve, and he chuckles, entertained and a little breathless from the nearness of you.

The clown eventually shifts focus and charges toward the rest of the group, who’ve remained blissfully unaware until now. Jay, Sunoo, and Jungwon immediately start tripping over each other and scatter, their screams a mix of laughter and terror as they sprint in opposite directions. Jake’s laughter turns to a yelp as he dodges behind Heeseung, who starts to back away, wide-eyed. Sunghoon finally breaks his cool, darting off with a scream, Jake following close behind.

“Not scared my ass!” Jake yells as he disappears into the fog, with the clown in hot pursuit.

Ni-ki laughs, watching his friends flee in all directions. You finally look up, cheeks warm as you let out a breathless laugh, loosening your grip on his arm.

“You good?” he teases, eyebrow raised. “See? I told you I’d be your shield.”

“Wow, my hero,” you reply with an eye-roll, though you can’t quite hide your smile. “You sure did a lot to fend him off.”

Ni-ki grins, his heart still pounding as he shrugs. “Hey, that’s what I’m here for,” he says, a bit softer than usual. His gaze lingers on you, feeling almost like he’s in a Halloween movie himself—just the two of you against the night, your friends’ laughter and screams filling the cool air around you.

A few yards away, Jay calls out breathlessly, “Alright, now that we’ve all survived... haunted house first?”

The group slowly circles back, shaking off the scare as they recover, everyone laughing at Sunghoon’s earlier bravado. Despite the spooky atmosphere and haunted music echoing from the park, you feel more excited than nervous now, especially standing close to Ni-ki.

He gives you a playful nudge as the group starts to huddle closer together to walk toward the haunted house. “Still feeling brave, or do I need to keep an eye out for any more clowns?”

You grin back at him, heart a little steadier now. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Well, I'm not complaining,” he says quietly, his smile lingering as you fall into step beside him, the two of you ready to face the night together.

-

As everyone steps out of the haunted house, the group’s laughter fills the night air. You’re still riding the thrill of the scares, and Ni-ki has fallen a little behind, watching as you get pulled right into a lighthearted argument between Jay and Sunoo about who screamed the loudest.

“Oh please,” you scoff, nudging Sunoo. “That last jump scare? You practically launched yourself into the wall.”

Sunoo tries to defend himself, but Jake cuts in, backing you up with a grin. “She’s right, dude. Pretty sure the people behind us got scared just from your yell.”

Everyone laughs, and you lean into the playful teasing like you’ve been part of their group for ages.

Ni-ki, a few steps behind, watches with a quiet smile. He realizes that the little things—like the way you laugh at Sunghoon's jokes or casually tease Heeseung about screaming louder than anyone—are what he loves most. Two months ago, he couldn’t even get you to talk about anything other than school, and now here you are, effortlessly blending in with the people he’s closest to.

The others don’t seem to treat you like an outsider anymore either; Sunoo and Jungwon have practically adopted you as a new sibling, and even Sunghoon, the most reserved, has warmed up, tossing you a playful smirk whenever he catches you flinching from the lurking scare actors.

And in that moment, watching you interact with his friends, Ni-ki feels a surge of something he can’t quite name. Part of it is relief, a part of it pride—but mostly, it’s this unfamiliar warmth, knowing that you’ve somehow found a place in his life and his friends’ lives too. It hits him just how much he wants you to stay.

Just as he’s caught up in his thoughts, and mostly admiring you, You turn from side to side, like you're looking for something. You turn behind you and lock eyes with Ni-ki. You smile, having found what you're looking for.

"What are you doing all the way back there?" You stop in your tracks, letting Ni-ki catch up to you. "Scared of the roller coaster?" You tease, Ni-ki scoffs, and shakes his head.

"No, I'm not as jumpy as you are."

"Yeah right, I saw you jump a hundred times already."

[moonstruckme]

hi! i hope you're having a good day<3 i was wondering if you could write a remus x fem!reader where they aren't really dating but everyone knows they like each other (them included) where r has kinda mean friends? like, they leave her out of everything and she constantly feels bad about it. and ever time she tells remus he's like "you should drop them, you deserve better" and he's just trying to get her to see that she deserves better?

Thank you <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 736 words

Remus can feel a heaviness building where you sit on the couch next to him. 

He lets his eyes slide subtly in your direction, and you’re frowning at your phone. Not an upset frown, no pursed lips or drawn brows, just a slight downturn of the corners of your mouth. You look defeated, and Remus can’t abide it. 

“Everything alright, love?”

Predictably, you soften like butter at the endearment, and your expression as you turn to him is kind if not happy. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, and Remus pretends not to know it’s a lie. He waits. Your eyes drop to his shoulder, one thumbnail picking at the other distractedly. “I just wish…I wish that if my friends were going to hang out without me, they’d at least not post so much about it.” 

A familiar ache starts up in his chest. “Oh no. What’ve they done?” 

You shrug like it’s little to you, but he sees the way you press your lips together, the faint redness creeping up from your neck. He hopes you don’t cry, if only to spare his delicate heart. 

“They’re all at Hannah’s place, I guess. Going to go see the new movie premiere.” You laugh. It sounds raw. “I actually asked them if they wanted to go do that tonight, and they all said they were busy.” 

The frailty of your voice works like glass shards, cleaving Remus clean open. “Darling,” he says, and he doesn’t care that you’re not official enough to acknowledge the endearment in its full capacity. You both know he means it well enough. His hand slides atop yours the way one tempers one ingredient by adding a tiny bit of another before the rest. You soften at his touch, and Remus goes all the way, curling his arms under yours to give your back a firm squeeze. “I know you’re sick of hearing it from me, but they really don’t deserve you.” 

A tiny drop of warm wetness slides from your face to his shirt. His own fault, really, but if a good cry is what you need he’s ready to indulge you. “I just want to know what it is about me that makes me so terrible to be around,” you weep, and Remus crushes you to his front unthinkingly, a protective ire swelling within him. He wishes he could go to your friend’s house and give these girls a talking-to right now, but you probably wouldn’t thank him for it. He settles for dragging his palm up and down your back, hip to shoulder and back again. 

“Don’t say that,” he pleads with you. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your sigh is a stilted, shuddering thing. “I’m putting you in an awful position. I don’t mean to fish for compliments.” 

“I know,” he promises, his hand stopping where Remus can feel your heart beating through the material of your shirt. “And I’m not saying it out of any sense of obligation, but you really are lovely to be around. I mean” —he pulls back so you can see his face, hoping the sincerity in it will make some headway against your self-doubt— “would I be here if you weren’t?”

You give him a small smile, thin-lipped. “You’re very nice.” 

Remus laughs, wrapping his fingers around your upper arms and barely restraining himself from trying to shake some sense into you. “I’m not that nice. But okay, Sirius would never hang around anyone he didn’t actually like, can we agree there?” He takes your silence for acquiescence, and, with a gentle smile, goes on. “Every one of our friends sees how kind, and smart, and lovely you are. They” —he shoots a pointed look at your phone— “are the only ones who don’t. That’s how I know you’re not the problem, sweetheart,” he says, softer now. “They are.” 

You look him in the eyes as you take a deep breath. This one goes in and out steadier than the last, and some of the tension in his own chest eases. “Thank you,” you tell him. 

Remus can’t help himself; he pulls you in for another hug, selfish to his core. “No thanks necessary,” he says firmly.

“I guess the only thing to do,” you say, voice muffled against his shoulder, “is to stop trying to make plans with them and hang out exclusively with you.” 

Remus laughs. He doesn’t hate the sound of that.

[cowboyboygirl]

23 & 6 for timkon?

Love your writing!!

awww tysm :D

23 & 6 | "Can you just hold me?" & “I've got you."

If Tim were less of a good samaritan, he’d stop volunteering himself for things. This way he wouldn’t be freezing his ass off in Ontario.

An elementary school had gotten caught in the middle of the continental flash freeze that North America is currently experiencing, effectively snowed-in to the extreme. That isn’t the part he’s upset about. No, that would be the glorified babysitting that he and Supernova are currently doing.

Look, he doesn’t dislike kids. In fact, he doesn’t mind these ones at all. He does, however, dislike standing out in the cold with nothing more than his under armor for his winter suit because one of the kid’s warm layers got torn.

Obviously he’s been through much worse; however, he was just cuddled next to Kon in the farmhouse living room, head on Kon's shoulder, on the verge of passing out with his mug of hot chocolate still in his hands. Now, he feels like his legs are turning into icicles. The whole thing is just cruel. Gotham may have its chilly nights, but it’s got nothing on Canada. It takes a lot of willpower to keep his teeth from chattering.

Seemingly taking a break from entertaining the children, Kon waltzes over. He must notice Tim's jittery demeanor; he cocks his head to the side. “You cold, Robbie?” His winter attire consists of a single striped scarf. Damn Kryptonian thermoregulation.

Tim purses his lips. “…No.”

Kon nods. “Alright. I believe you.” He shrugs off his jacket and hands it off to Tim. “Could you keep an eye on my jacket though? For no particular reason.”

“I dunno, I wouldn't want to mess up something so delicate. It is your favorite jacket after all.”

Smirking, Kon moves in closer. “Well, I could always show you how to take care of it. With you being my favorite Robin and all.” He drapes the jacket over Tim's shoulders, smoothing the material as he goes. It sort of swamps him—and probably looks a bit ridiculous over his cape—but Kon smiles like he’s satisfied with his work.

Tim tips his head back to look up at him. “Thanks.” Cowl or not, he’s sure his expression is awfully tender.

Kon finds his hand and squeezes. “Don't mention it.”

“Um, Mr. Nova.” One of the kids has wandered over to them. Tim can only see her eyes over her giant, lime green puffer-coat. Kon does an over-exaggerated sidestep and Tim has to hide his smile in the jacket’s cuff.

“Oh hey, Gabi! Wassup?” Kon sets his hands on his hips and leans forward the slightest bit.

“Well, Rimi told Arti that they were better at four-square than him, and now they’re kinda fighting. So, I was wondering if you could use your magic to make them stop.” Behind her is the telltale sign of a fight; a group of children stand in a circle that Tim can only assume is completely obscuring the squabbling.

Tim raises an eyebrow (not that anyone can see it) as he turns to Kon. “…Your magic?”

“Yeah.” Gabi continues before Kon can interject, “his tact—tack. Uh. His title tetanus…”

“My tactile telekinesis?” Kon offers, looking thoroughly amused.

Gabi nods. “Uh-huh, that. Can you help please?”

Kon smirks. “‘Course I can.” He very dramatically stamps his boot down onto the pavement; Tim sees the crowd disperse as the two children are slid back and away from each other. As soon as they’re set down, one of them scrambles over.

“Gabi, you snitch!” They exclaim as they charge at her, barely catching themself before they barrel over.

Gabi throws her arms out. “You guys could’ve gotten hurt! I was being responsible!”

“Whatever,” they scowl, folding their arms over their chest, "I hope scary-bird-man gets you. And Supernova won’t even save you because that’s his friend.”

“His name is Red Robin, stupid.” The second kid skids to stop behind the first. He turns his nose up. “He said it earlier.”

“I’ll show you stupid—“ They start before Kon pulls them up by their hood. They immediately deflate and stare at him with awe in their eyes; it’s honestly very cute. “Hey, so, let’s not hit Arti. Again.”

“Yeah!” Arti seconds. Now that Tim looks, he recognizes him from earlier. He informed Tim that he reminds him of his cat, and that he should invest in cat ears for his getup.

Gabi frowns. “You literally hit them first.”

He should probably say something instead of standing here awkwardly. “Violence should be a last resort.” Tim tries, causing all the kids to turn their attention to him.

Kon sets the other kid (presumably Rimi) back down. They wrinkle their nose. “Why do you have on Supernova’s jacket?”

Tim blinks, taken aback. Kids can move on from a subject shockingly fast.

Thankfully, Kon answers for him. “Oh, don’t worry. Red was just grouchy because he doesn’t know how to properly bundle up and I had to help him out.” All the kids laugh when Tim scowls in response.

He huffs and raises his shoulders higher for effect. Kon throws him a smaller smile—more personal, just for him—and Tim is very grateful for the fact his cowl covers so much of his face. “Well, not everyone is a solar-powered alien.”

Kon shrugs. “What can I say? I'm so cool, the cold simply doesn’t phase me.”

“Woah, Supernova doesn’t even need his jacket?” Rimi says, “That is pretty cool. Bird man, is it hard being friends with someone cooler than you?”

“I just told you that his name is Red—“ Arti starts; Gabi covers his mouth.

“Eh, you get used to it.” Tim admits. Kon’s face looks slightly surprised before melting into an extremely smug grin.

“Must be hard when you’re bald, though.” Rimi shakes their head. “‘Specially when Supernova has really pretty hair.”

Kon snickers into his hands before, “Aw, thank you! You know, it takes one to know one. Your hair is pretty sick too.”

They smile so wide that Tim knows their cheeks must hurt. “Really?!” Rimi whips their head around. “You hear that, Arti? Supernova complimented me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Duh, I heard him. I'm right here.”

Tim snorts; he’s extremely entertained right now. Arti blinks up at him. “My cat also makes that face whenever he sneezes,” he looks down at his boots as one scuffs the ground, "I miss my cat so so so much...”

“Hopefully you’ll get to see your cat very soon.” Tim tells him. (Last he and Kon checked, there were a few traffic jams that are getting cleared up about now.) He paws through one of his utility belt compartments before he finds what he’s looking for; a single lollipop with a shittily drawn bat emblem on it. “Think this’ll hold you over till then?”

He smiles wide. “Yes! Thank you, Mr. Red Robin!” he very enthusiastically pops it into his mouth before he attempts to tell Rimi what Tim thinks roughly translates to “Who’s winning now?”

Rimi grins at him, all teeth. “Still me!”

Arti frowns. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.” Rimi insists.

Gabi drops her head, places her hands over it. “Guys. Guys, I really can’t do this again.”

The other two completely ignore her, moving back towards the others as they continue. She follows them, whether it’s because she secretly enjoys it or out of obligation if up for debate; either way, she throws Tim and Kon a tired looking expression before she goes.

Tim readjusts the jacket around himself. “That was… something.”

Kon snorts. “Truly. I believe the lovely ladies that frequent bingo would refer to them as ‘a hoot and a half.’”

“I don’t know how you deal with them so easily.” Tim shakes his head.

“Reading stories to kindergarteners a few times a week makes fifth graders seem like a breeze. No hate to the kindergarteners, of course.”

A particularly strong gush of wind comes through and Tim can’t hold back his shiver. Yeah, okay, thanks wind. He remembers why he was hating life earlier. Kon turns to him, cocky as ever. “Still not cold, Rob?”

“Nope.” Tim says through gritted teeth. Another breeze and—he gives up. Before Kon can even say anything, “Whatever. Fine. Just—hold me. Since you’re so cold resistant.”

Kon wraps his arms around him and squeezes; he immediately feels ten times better. But—he doesn’t let himself melt just yet, lest Kon's ego be fed. “Yeah, I got you.”

Tim lets his smile be extremely dorky, knowing that it’s properly covered. “I know.”

[rae-writes]

familiars

Mammon, Satan, Asmo || 0.8k wc || crack post [to make up for all the angst recently] ft. menace mc (Tannie's is my favorite bc that's literally me)

Mammon

The second born was on his way to Lucifer’s office again when he saw you plopped on the common room floor

You had tons of materials surrounding you : scissors, needles, thread, fabric, small stickers— even glitter glue! 

Mammon didn’t have the time to stop and ask why, he just chalked it up to his little human just doing their weird little human things

After he was dismissed from Lucifer’s office (and after a 3 fucking hour long lecture), he made his way back to the common room, but you were gone

In your place was a yellow sticky note that read “Hey Mammon! Don’t freak out, I just went outside for a bit <3” 

And that made him freak out even more

Because it was raining like all fuck out there

So he scrambles to the entrance hall and throws open the front door, ready to yell, when he just stops 

You’re crouched down on the steps with an umbrella over you while his crow familiars hop around your feet

They’re all decked out in tiny rain hats, rain coats, and some of his older ones even have small rain boots

Currently, you’re putting a glittery gold lookin set on Mammon’s youngest crow and the demon’s heart swells

The crows notice him fairly quickly and begin to jump around even more, making you look back and beam 

“Hi Mamoney! Alright little fella, you’re all good to go now! Go say hi to Mammon!” 

He could cry. Literally sob at how fucking cute this is

“Aw, guys! Look at ya!” He pets them over their hats, grinnin’ ear to ear, “Mc. You didn’t tell me you wanted to parent the kids with me.” 

You laughed, making him grin even more. “You mentioned them getting cold when they got rained on so I figured I’d help out! Don’t they just look so cute?!” 

Mammon’s eyes were practically heart shaped, “y-yeah…”

(he absolutely gets you and him a rain set so you can all go out in them like a big family) 

(and yes his brothers made fun of him for it and no he didn’t care— especially not when you slapped them with your wet rain hat)

Satan 

You and Satan were out on a simple walk. A relaxing, uneventful walk

That is until you get approached by a fucking unicorn

You don’t know what the hell to do or say- you just kinda stand there staring for a minute while Satan pets his uh…friend. He chuckles at your response, raising an eyebrow when you hold a single finger up

“Someone either slipped me some severe drugs or you’re just a stone cold traitor who did not tell me he was bffs with this gorgeous creature. Both of which I will take offense to.” 

“I deeply apologize for my transgressions, my love.” 

You glanced at the unicorn with a look of ‘can you fucking believe this guy’ before raising a hand, “May I?” 

You received a neigh, to which you leaned in closer and stroked up its nose, where you then received a delighted huff 

“I would die for you.” 

Satan snorted, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. His laughter only got louder when his familiar looked at him with the equivalent expression of ‘how dare you keep this human from me’ 

“Yes, yes, I should’ve introduced you two sooner. Are we done pouting now?” 

You and the unicorn looked at eachother. Then at Satan. Then back to each other. “No.”

He smiled, still amused, “then how about a ride through town? I’ll walk beside you.”

“Like the peasant you are. Alright- onward, Uni! Let’s go kick a guy in the gut.”

...perhaps Satan had been leaving you alone with Belphie for too long

Asmo 

For once (though not for long), the House of Lamentation was peacefully quiet

Most of them were doing their own thing in the common room, existing without a hitch beside each other— a perfect day, in Lucifer’s opinion 

“EEEEKKK!”

The sound was extremely high pitched and cracked, but it was written off as ‘just Mammon doing something stupid again’ 

Yeah…until he walked through the door asking what the hell that noise was. Then they all did a headcount- you were the only one not present 

Asmo turned into the world’s biggest track star in that moment and made his way to you first, finding you floating in mid air at the entrance hall

And on the floor was a sleek black scorpion just…sitting there

“Hon…don’t tell me you’re scared of my gorgeous little baby?!” 

You stared at him like he was fucking nuts— which you thought so in that moment. “I’m sorry, I was a bit too focused on the stINGER!” 

“He doesn’t sting anyone unless I tell him too, Hon, no worries!” 

…’no worries’ he says, as if the creepy thing wasn’t among the most dangerous animals to humans. And a human, you were 

In fairness, the scorpion was not so horrible looking. It’s tail faded into a hot pink like Azzy’s horns and it’s feet(?) we’re tipped with gold. And it had a faint sparkly coat. Of course. 

“Okay…I can deal with this…I guess he is..kind of..pretty..?” 

“Indeed he is! I shine him myself! You wanna hold him?” 

“No, that’s alrig— STOP BRINGING IT CLOSER!”

[ganondoodle]

it may not look like it but this took a long time to make

heres a rough ability breakdown for the totk rewrite project (i know its hard to read in the pic so let me clear it up and add some extra info)

theres two ability wheels now, sages are not frame rate killing glitch ghosts around you but their abilities are selected through the wheel on the right (pic is rough concept, it is clearer what is selected and what isnt + it has names in final version, symbols are placeholders as well) and bound to the player, when you acitvate it an aura appears similar to the arm abilities and their ghostly form appears besides you, charging or firing when you hit A while the ability is active

SHIEKAH ARM WHEEL

ANALYZE: zelda tells you info about targeted enemy/NPC, it gives you info about it and informs you more dynamically about important things than the foto-entries do

FOTO its fotos :) zelda joins selfies tho and does silly poses with you

REWIND: functions like the time recall in canon, but this time it is a more developed version of stasis instead

AMIIBO: its ... amiibo

HOOKSHOT: grab onto anything (perhaps restricted but not yet decided), you pull yourself+zelda to heavy stuff, light weight objects are pulled to you (including light enemies like bats or small slimes) grab onto something and hold onto it, usable like a vine (think, ww grappling hook) but with limited duration (battery power?)

AUTOBUILD: like in canon but it uses luminous stones if material isnt all there (or other material you put out to so its more versatile and you are more aware of what you have, no accidental spending then)

BUILD: similar to canon, but no glue (it kinda just fuses with no extra graphic unless pehaps like a bolt or sth), you put stuff together anyway you want; build is also used for weapons (no extra ability needed), you just build a weapon on the ground and pick it up afterwards (it has to be a weapon handle part and then sth else to it, otherwise it wont turn into a weapon)

INFUSE: infuse somethign with ancient energy, useless on normal objects usually(?) but reactivates broken or deactivated tech like elevators and doors; used to dynamically access caves and especially labs (labs serve a similar function as shrines, they are old shiekah labs that broke over time, puzzles are diverse things like traversal and little quests in which you help the researcher ghosts of the people that died in these labs (by the calamity, earthquakes, accidents, or killed by the royal army when their tech was banned and they refused to give it up)

SAGE WHEEL:

WIND GUST: same as in canon

LIGHT SHIELD/LIGHT LASER: zelda uses a shield of light to protect herself in combat, it does not affect the player (or perhaps only when you happen to be within range, which is small, this is more a character thing for her than useful for you) for the player through the selection wheel; aim and tell her to shoot a light laser like rauru did in the moldora cutscene in canon totk (a bit more dynamic) it deals very high damage to anything hit but has the highest cooldown of all abilities; deals extra damage to miasma enemies

THUNDERSTRIKE: similar as in canon, it charges through you however (so the charging only gets stopped if YOU shoot an arrow or get hit)

FIRE .. BOOM THING: similar as in canon but yuno has a little animation of daruks shield around him again :)

YIGA TELEPORT/KOGA CLONES (undecided yet): A: target a location in range and koga grabs you like a naughty kitten and teleports you both to the targetted location, you spawn in a little above ground giving you time to either perform a bullet time move or a sword attack from above B: summons a bunch of koga clones that serve as a distraction for enemies and combat support, they die in one hit (reference to kogas and monk moz kyoshias similar moveset; since there are no sage ghosts around you all the time and a max of two companions (zelda always, sage in sage dungeon) it serves as a replacment for that)

WATER ...WELL(?): sidon gives you a shield of water, elemental effect is applied to weapon and lasts as long as the shield does no matter how many times you attack; if it is hit by an enemy it breaks but you dont take damage; if the shield lasts it entire duration without getting hit it it grants you a percentage of your missing health back upon dissolving (ref to mipha healing powers anyone??)

im open to constructive feedback but overall im quite happy of makign it work out like that, although there are quite a few things that need polish i think this is both realistic and works well with what else i have been writing; remember tho, this is my rewrite so im undoing the things i dont like, like riju never being there when you need her bc she runs right up to the enemy and her losing her charge bc she keeps getting knocked over + overall uselessness of minerus robot (to me)

(totk rewritten project)

[trashogram]

Dicentra

Husk/Reader

WARNING: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Includes Cheating/Infidelity, Heartbreak, Mental Breakdown, Betrayal, Despair, Alcoholism/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Not Huskerdust Friendly, Pretentious Title

(I kinda lost motivation to finish the ending, apologies. Oh also I cried.)

You stood there in silence.

      The cool mahogany of the door and its frame held you in place. The doorjamb dug into your side, the only thing grounding you. It was a minor discomfort that kept you fixed to the floor of the hotel rather than sinking through it the way your heart had sunk down from your chest. 

Husk and Angel seemed none the wiser to your accidental voyeurism, so caught up in the moment were they. You might’ve expected as much, given how unapologetically loud the spider demon was being. His vocalizations were what led you to this room. 

To listen at the door.

     Husk’s expression was one of concentration, eyes closed as he took the pornstar from behind, almost punishingly. 

The doorstop. 

Digging into you.

It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds that you stood there. Less than that. Maybe less than 20 seconds with your whole world crashing down around you. 

     The door closed without a sound before you walked away. 

-*- 

You took the elevator down to the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel in a trance. Everything was eerily quiet as the normally raucous area proved to be vacant when you arrived. 

   ��  It was so quiet. The lobby, yes, but also inside of you. There was no rush of thought or pounding heart to remind you that you still existed. You walked through space and time without feeling. 

A gentle susurration of whispers stopped you, and your eyes slid to Alastor materializing from his living shadow to greet you. 

       His ever-present smile did not waver, but his claret eyes were knowing. The cluck of his tongue was the closest signal to pity that he seemed capable of, though the sincerity behind it was suspect. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” He said. The words were sticky with overly-exaggerated compassion. “It’s unfortunate that you had to find out this way.” 

The Overlord’s words caused not so much as a twinge of surprise. It slotted into place in your mind the way pieces of a puzzle did. If anyone knew Husk’s deepest, darkest secrets, it would be Alastor. 

“…Do you know… for how long?” You asked, emotionless. 

“I wouldn’t waste my time keeping a record of how my pets carry on outside of their duties.” Alastor’s tone curdled with disgust. “But, I think the time for playing pretend is over my dear. You know very well that this isn’t the first time he’s betrayed you.”

You looked past Alastor, taken by an instant of dismay — Husk had been cutting back on the booze for you. He hadn’t done it as a grand gesture or even verbalized it, but the gradual change wasn’t unnoticeable. 

     It made you proud. Happy. To have that effect on someone, especially someone you cared for so dearly. Someone you loved. 

    A month ago you’d felt a flash of concern as he emptied a second party-sized bottle of hard liquor. It had been a long time since he’d needed more than one to get through the day since you and he had started dating. At the time, you hadn’t said anything. There were numerous possibilities as to why he might need another pick-me-up. And you’d convinced yourself that pushing him on the subject would only inspire an argument. 

     You hated to argue. So you kept your worries to yourself as that instance turned into multiple. 

“Yes.” You said softly. “I do.” 

Alastor’s head cocked to the side as he studied you. 

He sighed. 

“Naturally I detest meddling with affairs of the heart.” He informed you. “But, if you’re willing to make a deal with me, I may be able to help you. Memory charms aren’t as difficult as you may think and I—”

“Thank you, Alastor.” You cut him off. “… For your honesty.” 

Numbly, you turned your back on him and continued your journey out of the hotel. 

-*-

Tangled up in warm fur, face pressed into the white stripe of his chest. You breathed in the scent of vodka and faded cherrywood that had become such a staple in your afterlife. You couldn’t imagine going a day without it now. 

It was absurd to say in Hell, but you swore to yourself that you’d never felt safer than you did here. In Husk’s arms. 

You peered up at him, meeting his luminous yellow gaze before you pulled away briefly. 

“I love you.” 

-*-

     Angel took a deep drag of his cigarette, eyes scanning the room for the hundredth time. It was an exact copy of the room that he and Husk had used last time on the 3rd floor, and the time before that on the 10th floor. 

“Would it kill Charlie to use a different theme for these rooms once in a while?” Angel Dust thought aloud. “All that remodelin’ just to get Deja vú no mattah where ya go...” 

He inhaled another before glancing at Husk. The cat demon was facing away from Angel while he sat on the edge of the bed, a bottle of nondescript alcohol clutched like a lifeline at his side. His head was hung so low it nearly disappeared behind his slumped shoulders, ears peeled back in shame.

      “Aw, come on babe.” The spider quipped. “Ya bein’ too hard on ya’self again. I told ya, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘er.” 

Not even a grunt to acknowledge what Angel said. Husk didn’t move, just sat with his wings tucked against his back tightly. 

The pornstar frowned, finally crushing the cig on the nightstand. “You ain’t the first guy that had somethin’ on the side while he was already spoken for, ya know. Lotta people don’t got it in ‘em to be faithful, dead or alive.” 

    Angel Dust sat up straight, knees pulled up from beneath the covers. The urge to stroke Husk’s feathers as his wings quivered just the slightest bit went untouched. 

“‘Specially in Hell. All the stuff that goes on down here; this is like nothin’. Bet even Y/N would agree wit’ me.”

Husk flinched at the mention of you, and internally Angel Dust swore. He was babbling and breaking the rules (Don’t talk about the Missus) like some kinda hourly amateur, but he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not a bad guy—”

“Yeah.” Husk replied brusquely. 

The mattress sprung back into place as Husk stood up and began to gather up his things from the floor.  

-*-

You were a shivering mess when you arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, but you still responded amiably as Charlie offered you an enthusiastic hand in greeting. 

The bar, and subsequently the bartender, was one of the highlights of the tour that new residents received. You had been perfectly polite — warm, even, when you greeted him. And if Husk had given a shit, he might’ve been suspicious of your sugary front. 

Instead he muttered a ‘hello’ and went to bed that night with the image of your eyes looking up at him through damp locks, and the curve of your lips when you gifted him with a small smile.

-*-

     He headed for the bar as soon as he was done showering, and settled in with an inaudible sigh. 

Niffty was pitter-pattering around with a dustpan, eye to the ground as she searched for insects to torture. A few newer residents milled around as well, putting the time at or around early noon. The bartender noticed that all of them were glued to the screens of their phones. 

Husker grabbed his own, stuffed in his pocket. He’d forgotten to turn it off Airplane mode (one of the weirder pointless things that Hell had to offer, since commercial air travel didn’t exist here). 

The mix of joy and dread that filled him at seeing a notification from you left him mildly nauseous. Previous messages from you lit up his screen: 

‘Sorry I forgot to say good morning!’

                                                             ‘You just did.’

‘I meant in person sourpuss.’

                                                        ‘😒 I resent that.’ 

‘Awww, poor baby you’re proving my point.’

‘Here i'll make it better’

‘❤️❤️❤️ Good Morning ❤️❤️❤️’

               The cat demon smiled as he reread them. 

‘Feel better now?’ 

                                         ‘Yeah, yeah, like a million bucks. Thanks kid.’

‘☺️ yay’ 

        Husk scrolled, smile waning at himself from just a few hours ago. 

                           ‘How long you gonna be gone for?’

‘Bleh, probably all morning. Charlie gave me a list. A LIST!’

                                                      ‘I’m sorry baby.’

‘No sorries. I volunteered. Just gotta get it over with. I’ll let you know when I’m almost home!’ 

‘Love you!’ 

                                                                           ‘❤️’

     His own cowardice staring back at him, Husk scrubbed a hand down his face. You hadn’t messaged him since that morning and the notification was merely you ‘heart-ing’ his reply. Like it was worth a damn. 

What he wouldn’t give to go back to bed and never wake up. 

-*- 

“You can do a lot better than me.” Husk told you one night, nonchalantly. 

You perked up from where you sat, blinking rapidly to dispel the sleep from your eyes. “Huh?”

The bartender’s maw quirked up into a smirk as he watched you from the corner of your eye. The ice in your drink had already melted, barely touched since you’d hopped up onto a stool and ordered it. 

The pretense was adorable. You were a sweet kid with a crush, thinking Husk didn’t notice how you stared and sighed in his direction everyday. 

“‘Said you can do better ‘an me. Unless you got a Daddy you’re lookin’ to piss off by bringin’ an older guy home with you.” 

Your eyes crinkled with your grin. “Noooo. No daddy.” 

“But if you’re offering, I might be in the market for one.” 

Husk turned to you fully, brows raised as you giggled. 

-*- 

         The afternoon passed slowly, ramping up only slightly as it got later. He’d made himself more than a few drinks, and it did nothing to dull the prickling at his spine. Residents trickled in and out, Charlie and Vaggie had returned from whatever outing they’d planned that morning, Angel Dust had just left for work (not a word, not even a shared look, like it never happened), and Alastor was — well who fucking cared where that asshole was. Husk sure didn’t. 

But you hadn’t texted or called. You were nowhere to be found. 

Husk had tried messaging you a couple times, holding off on a call because… because… 

Paranoia had its claws deep inside the old cat, eating him up to the point of hissing with his hackles raised as Charlie appeared on the other side of the bar. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Husk!” The Princess exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to startle you!” 

Husk patted his fur back down, shaking his head. “‘S fine! It’s fine. What can I do for you Princess?” 

Charlie’s expression changed from remorseful back to peppy so fast it gave Husk whiplash. 

“Oh right! Yeah, I was gonna ask if you knew where Y/N was!” The blonde said, “She was helping me out big time this morning, but I haven’t heard from her so I was just coming by to check…” 

     Charlie paused, her words trailing away at the look on Husk’s face. His fur was raising again along his arms as he leaned heavily against the tabletop. 

“You haven’t heard from her?” He asked, a lump rising in his throat. 

“Um, no… not-not since this morning…” Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Uh… and I’m getting the feeling that you haven’t either…?”

Husk swallowed, staring at the polished wood beneath his claws. “No.”

Vaggie had appeared by Charlie’s side in time to listen to the tail-end of their exchange. She looked from her girlfriend to Husk with a frown. 

“We can call her again.” Vaggie stated. “If one of you wants to try that, I can round up our other patrons and ask if anybody’s seen her.” 

“Good idea!” Charlie said, plucking her phone from her coat pocket. “I’m sure everything is fine! Maybe the FMV requires people to turn off their phones!”

-*-

“I don’t think it’s possible to ‘lose the ability to love’.” You sighed with your head on his shoulders. 

      You could almost see the other side of the Pride Ring with this view. Husk hadn’t been lying when he carried you up to the very top of the hotel on sure wings. 

His arm had wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer. You laid your head on his shoulder contentedly. 

“You’d be surprised how much you can lose when you live long enough, babydoll.” Husk said. 

There was something about the silence after that that made you hold your breath. The air between you two felt oddly electric, buzzing with something on the tip of the tongue. 

“I used to be an Overlord, ya know.” 

-*- 

Husk’s eyes bore into his phone. The flurry of activity around him had become a dull roar as he stayed frozen. 

     All the messages he’d sent you simply showed as ‘delivered’. You hadn’t read any of them. 

He’d called you. 

And called you.

And called you. 

     Adrenaline would coarse through him before each attempt, heart hammering at the chance to hear you finally pick up. Every single one had gone straight to voicemail. 

-*- 

“What’s‘a matter?” Husk’s smooth voice, and the way he lifted your face up to his own, soothed your soul. 

“It’s stupid.” You shook your head. “Angel Dust snapped at me today and I just… still feel bad about it. I wish I knew why he didn’t like me.” 

-*-

“Now what’s all the hullabaloo about?” Alastor manifested without warning, surveying the lobby as a small but determined search party began to file out of the hotel.

Night had fallen, and Husk was still trapped by his phone. The screen remained dark. 

-*-

      Your whimper was swallowed up by Husk as he darted forward to kiss you. He lifted your leg to hook it around his waist, feathers tickling your knee as they fluttered excitedly. The move allowed him to go deeper, to crush you against him until you moved in-sync as one being. 

Heat pulsed inside, prompting an involuntary squeeze from you that elicited cries and long, drawn-out moans. You were left spent, head lolling in bliss.

Husk refused to let you go, face buried in your neck as he shuddered. You didn’t question it. 

-*-

Husk made the drink for Alastor robotically. Half-formed thoughts of how he should be the one leading the search party for you, not Charlie, wouldn’t develop properly. 

      The cat demon’s hatred for the ghoul that owned his soul felt like a drop in a bucket compared to the fear that had been growing steadily throughout the day. 

Husk gripped the latticework at his knees, tips of his claws clinking against the good liquor bottles tucked inside.

“You seen Y/N today?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Ah,” Alastor chimed. “Yes, I did in fact. We crossed paths earlier today in the lobby.” 

“This morning?” Husk said.

Alastor tipped his glass back and let the drink spill over his tongue. He took his time appreciating the taste before setting it back down and returning Husk’s gaze, his hands folded beneath his chin. 

Ruby red eyes glittered. “Not quite. I’d say it was nearly noon when I found her coming down the elevator. She was a tad green around the gills, but I thought it impolite to mention.”

[menaceoffandoms]

LMK analysis rant: Mei

I said I was gonna do this and I'm keeping to my word! The only thing that may stop me is my procrastinating... and the fic I'm slowly writing but uhhhhh-

ANYWAY- We're here to talk about Mei, our favourite white horse dragon pepper girl!

Mei stands out as the most different from her inspiration, something the writers perfectly portray in the yellow-robed demon episode of s4, which is likely to do with how little they had to go off of. Despite being one of the pilgrims in jttw, Ao Lie dose very little in the novel. His most notable chapters being when he's introduced and when the group faces the yellow-robed demon, which is why we met him in that memory in the scroll. Combined with my belief that Mei isn't a reincarnation of Ao Lie -- just his descendent -- means that Mei is one of the most unique characters in the entire show.

There's just less source material for her to draw from, it let's the writers have more fun and do more things. It's not that they don't make the others characters unique -- they like to play very fast and loose with things over all -- but Mei feel like her own complete and original character. She's inspired by Ao Lie in the same way Mk is inspired by Monkie King basically and she all the better for it.

Being the female lead (isn't it interesting how most of the female characters in this show are villans?), Mei is a refreshingly strong, confident girl who begins the show as the most powerful cast member. Being a descendent of the great dragon gives her amazing powers that no other cast members have, a birth right that leads to her being the most protective of her friends and the first to help out in any fight.

What she has in power, however, she lacks in experience. Mei has no mentor -- other than her parents, but I believe its safe to assume they weren't very focused on teaching her combat -- which leads her to trust her gut more, rush into things and learn through observation, like when she mimics what her great x1000 uncle did in s3.

Overall Mei is an excitable, energetic and loving person with a "You only live once" kinda attitude, for lack of a better explanation. Even still, she has her own insecurities and flaws which make her all the more interesting. Due to the shows run time, Mei and many of the other main characters don't really get explored as much as Mk, however what we do see of these struggles and fears is incredibly interesting even on a surface level.

Her tendency to rush head first into danger without first examining the situation or creating a plan, truthfully, tends to work out for her, but it can't always. It's something shown perfectly in s4, when Mei is the only member of the group to not get a star from Master Subohdi, however what a lot of people seem to miss is how Mei actually did earn that star eventually.

When they leave the temple and head to the celestial realm to try and stop Azure, Mei leads them there with no plan at all. As such, they fail and need to be saved by Mk. Faced with proof of Subohdi's criticism, Mei makes the more important amendment to Mk's plan in the s4 special. I don't think we've even seen Mei make a serious plan until this point, which feeds back in to another one of her flaws: being unable to take things seriously.

This isn't something I see said about Mei often, but when watching her character I think it's externally obvious. Don't get me wrong, Mei can be serious, but usually only in moments of vulnerability or high stress. For example: when talking with her pearents, after she gained the Samahdi fire and whilst imprisoned by the Yellow-robed demon.

I think this flaw is Mei's own version of Mk playing dumb. They both behave this way to lessen the emotional impact of serious things, to protect themselves and help those around them deal with trauma or difficult topics. Mei and Mk really are two sides of the same coin and I'd love for them to do more with that in the show.

Going back to Mei's parents, one of her biggest struggles is reconciling who she is with who she's meant to be. She is a noble dragon, a descendent of the great dragon of the West Sea and practically the successor to Ao Lie. It's a lot to live up to and -- evident in episode 3 of season 1; Welcome home -- she doesn't believe she dose.

Mei is confident in her abilities, she's sure of her strength and quick to help those around her, but in the face of her legacy she stands uncertain. It's another thing her and Mk have in common, though in vastly different flavours, and it's interesting how this legacy colours Mei as a character.

She wields the dragon blade, proving herself as a worthy part of her family and gaining the approval of her parents, however the stark difference between her and the rest of her clan is more blatant than ever. We see this perfectly in season 3 when they visit the great Dragon of the East Sea, Mei being put into fancy clothes she instantly ruins in order to have a place to hold her sword. She fights against her uncle, fights against her family, because she knows they'll never understand her. But even still, she knows she's still one of them and she's so proud to be.

Becoming the vessel of the Samahdi fire is only more proof of Mei's legacy and connection to her family. It gives her a moment of pure vulnerability where she vents her frustrations and fears before rushing away, wanting nothing more than to protect the people she cares about.

When Red Son finds her she's still serious, but even with just a basic understanding of the fire within her Mei falls back to her normal nature; a silly excitable girl not taking things seriously. We see this after Red Son attacks her with the spears and when she's eating later on, but even if her attitude doesn't show it, she's still listening and taking the training seriously. She just needs to be silly so she won't freak out again.

Since we're on the topic of the Samahdi fire, I think most people can agree that the way it was handled post s3 was very poor. With only one mention of it in s4, by Master Subohdi no less, I assumed that the fire had been resealed, this time correctly. Something that dangerous should be locked up, even if a capable wielder is around. It would also prevent power creep and stop the show from having another Wukong predicament, by which I mean a character so powerful they need to find a way to prevent them from trivialising whatever threat they have to face in the plot. Wukong will get his own post soon don't you worry...

Instead, we learn in s5 that Mei still has the fire, she just kinda forgot? She learned to fully master it when breaking out of LBDs mech, so since the fire was no longer a raging uncontrollable inferno she just didn't realise it was still there... for an entire season. Yeah it feels lazy and honestly is probably the worse written choice the show has even made. Even still, it dose lead to a very interesting and in character moment for Mei.

When attempting to seal the willow wisp with Red Son, Mei loses her confidence, believing that she lost the Samahdi fire and thinking she's lacking. Mk getting Monkie Kings powers was one thing, but the rest of her friends now having cool weapons and magic? If their all so strong and only getting stronger, then what's the point in Mei? She was the strongest but now she might be the weakest, and that terrifies her cause if she's weak she can't protect people. How can she act when she's powerless to do so?

This dilemma is quickly resolved by Red Son telling her she's had the fire the whole time, amending it's use to Mei's lightning motif she's had since s1 -- I know fire benders in ATLA use lighting but come on -- and basically saying she's been using the fire the whole time. It takes away from Mei's whole struggle to be honest, but I do think there's potential for her to relearn this now tamed Samahdi fire so she can better use it. Just depends if the show wants to do that...

Moving on from my thinly veiled complaints about season 5 (I like it I swear but it is the weakest seasons to me so far), let's talk about Mei's role in the group a bit. Aside from being the token girl, she's also Mk's best friend and the only other character his age and acts around the same age as the shows target audience. Mk's the main character and leader, Tang is the lazy historian smart guy, Sandy the loveable giant, Pigsy the cynical brute and Mei's youthful and silly power house.

I would love to go into some narrative tropes, specifically the 5 man band since jttw is one of the primary bases of the trope, but I've realised I have far too many thoughts about that to fit here. This is the 21sh paragraph and I'm sure at least some of this is a mess, but I hope I'm getting my point across! Overall, Mei is an extremely compelling character how often gets side-lined due to run time and other stuff, but is honestly one of my favourite characters in the show.

[cinnamonest]

Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

[laurefindele-thegolden]

I've seen so many posts the past few days where people are asking if it's worth continuing The Rings of Power or even starting it.

And as someone who hated this show with a burning passion to start with (but then had a complete 180) let me give you a few pointerss

1. STOP COMPARING IT TO PETER JACKSONS WORK!

This is like the key point. They're two separate works of art, by different people. One is focused on specific books as source material, the other is using an overall story as its source material with a few passages or pages from other books. So they have to maybe twist things a bit, add stories to stretch it out. I mean HELL PJ himself did that, removed many things from LOTR changed things up. Like Arwen did fuck all in the books really, but PJ decided to change that and give her things to do. And I don't think I have to delve into the mess that was the Hobbit. What I'm saying is, they're two different works of art, made by different people, set during different ages in ME, and it's different source material.

2. "oh but the inaccuracies!"

This kinda also goes with the above, even Peter Jackson's works have inaccuracies and they had the rights to the whole text. And if it will help you to separate the two maybe view the Rings of Power as a fanfic? Or just a completely different thing, a work of fiction in its own right, ignoring the previous lore.

3. The Hair??!!

Okay sure that was one of the things for me, what do you mean that's Finrod? (To be fair that one sill hurts). However, for the majority of elves Tolkien never specified that all elves have long hair. And second of all, I am not sure if this is true cause I've only seen it mentioned on twitter but allegedly there were wig shortages after the pandemic so the production team got wigs for key characters and asked other actors to grow out their hair. And now they just kinda have to roll with it

4. It's Boring

Okay the first two episodes were also a bit of a slow burn for me but just get through it because it gets better. Also the costumes and cinematography is fantastic in the show. So really it is worth watching especially that S2 is looking to be intense and amazing.

5. Oh but why is this character acting like this?

This goes to part 1, don't compare to Peter Jackson movie characters. I mean even they had their flaws! But this is the second age, these characters are at different points in their lives, dealing with other things that you know in the long run teach them things and in turn could lead to make them become the way they are in the third age. And also if your only knowledge about these characters comes from LOTR maybe it's worth trying to delve into the Silmarillion and other texts about the First Age because it explains a lot

To add to this at the end, don't discredit TROP because it is a great show.