#to be misunderstood is an honour

[random-xpressions]

You must take pride in the matter that you're misunderstood. A fly can't encompass the magnitude of a mountain. Small minds have ever been in opposition of great minds...

Random Xpressions

[earthworms-worm]

Me when I'm in a competition for being the most misunderstood bird and my opponent is a Vulture

Oh White-Headed Vulture, we're really in it now

[yh-hjabs]

Zenitsu fanart because he’s my favourite ❤️

[kittycrumb]

Whats ur favorite twdg character and why?

HALLO! thankyou for the ask.. a have a couple, clementine for obvious reasons, she’s the goat. her character is so strong and soo well written. seeing her grow up and develop makes any sane person enjoy her, she’s awesome. i don’t think i need to explain much further, i could go on and on but no one will disagree with me so no one needs to hear it. heh.

other than clem i really (really) like violet, i love her… so. much.. her being “mean” and cold is one of the reasons why i like her as much as i do, she has so much to her if you break down her character. people dull her down to this mean harsh person that was an after thought of a love interest and has no place acting the way she does, she acts the way she does because she’s realistic, her lines and emotions are so well thought out. she’s so sweet and cheesy i fear im going to implode, the way she acts around clementine is soo 😆😆 i love clemvi so much, i think it’s sooo perfect and cute and oh wow. the dialogue options you get in like every violentine scene are so cute.. it makes me SICK. i think i’m pretty normal about them.. people who dont like vi see her and never try to understand her. when they see she gets angry and frustrated at clementine when you choose to save louis instead they say how awful she is and that why couldn’t she just be an exact copy paste of louis and that louis is better and vi is bad and this and that. if i let someone steal you, lock you up and then expect you to kiss my ass when i come save you how ever many hours later, do you think you would be able to think rationally (in that time where you are filled with so much adrenaline and fear of your safety) or do you think you would act realistically, lose control of your emotions and lash out without thinking. whatever if you’re such a hero sure you can say that you’d think rationally BUT DO NOT CALL VIOLET A VILLAIN BECAUSE SHE GETS MAD you just cannot bare to see a girl let her emotions do the talking in an apocalypse can you. people are such haters. Anyway i love clementine and violet 😆 thanks for reading.. heheh..

[akisteahouse]

I SAY, TAKE ME OUT!!

~

sypnosis: in which the phrase ‘take me out’ is misunderstood in more ways than one.

featuring: delinquent! deuce, student council president! riddle, spelldrive rival! epel,

~

Delinquent! Deuce Spade x Delinquent! Reader…

Whose face went from furrowed brows and a mean scowl to a shade of red even the Queen of Hearts would admire when you threatened to take him out after a particularly nasty spat, running with his tail in between his legs away from you - coward! He was a coward!(for not being able to properly face his feelings. Ugh, why couldn’t he just punch these mushy feelings out of his chest?)

Deuce, who went straight to his mother for the sudden curse he was sure you’d put on him, only for her to laugh and pat his head, telling him he’d get it soon, when he was older. Older? He’d have to wait a few years to get this stupid curse to go away? You’d pay for this!

Who caught himself eyeing you more times than not, quick to avert his eyes and burning face away from you whenever you called him out for it - head clouded by thoughts of you not bruised after your usual scuffle but instead smiling and laughing, eyes crinkled and lip corners upturned… wait, what?

Who wasn’t quite ready to forget you even after getting enrolled into NRC and officially deciding to become an honour student, penning many a letter meant to be sent to you, with the large majority of them being tossed into a bin - trying again and again until practically everyone in Heartslabyul knew he had a ‘secret sweetheart’, despite his many fervent protests that you weren’t dating! (Though it wasn’t like he would mind if you did…)

Deuce Spade, who, after many scrunched up balls of paper and terrible advice from his seniors, finally sent you a text, asking to finally take you out. Meeting you at the park the two of you always fought in, wearing his nicest pressed shirt and smart slacks, small bouquet of roses in hand, only to panic and start fiddling with his buttoned up sleeves at your dumbfounded expression.

“What’s with that look? I know you wanted me to take you out a long time ago, but i'm better now, and - eh? Didn't you ask to take me out first?"

~

Student Council President! Riddle Rosehearts x Troublemaker! Reader…

Who had wrangled you to detention for the nth time after you’d caused yet another distraction in class(you’d been caught climbing the window to get in class), red faced and chastising you for such a reckless act, really, when you had gotten annoyed and told him to lighten up a little, I’ll even take you out if it helps, face now red for an entirely different reason - not that you would know since you’d just been dropped off in detention, completely oblivious to the Riddle now crumpled on to floor right outside, crimson face covered by his trembling hands.

Who had tried to carry on as per normal, but failed miserably because how on earth was he meant to focus when you were always around causing trouble?! Seriously, he should’ve locked you in detention earlier when he had the chance…(where it would just be the two of you. Together.)

Riddle, who told you to stay back after school to finish writing one of your many reflection essays, under his watchful gaze in the detention room. Absolutely not staring into your eyes, tapping his finger impatiently against his thigh, wondering when you’d finally address your… earlier comment.

Who brightened up considerably after you told him you were free this weekend(under the guise of thinking he wanted to meet you after school to finish up the mountains of reflections you probably had to write), eagerly waking up early and going through one too many outfit changes, humming a quiet tune to himself as he waited for you to meet him at the park right beside your school, anxiously reading through your texts, hoping you weren’t tardy.

Riddle Rosehearts, who awkwardly cleared his throat when you approached him, fidgeting with the basket in his hands rather improperly as he began listing down the activities he’d planned, flushing pink all the way from his neck to his ears.

“Ahem, I thought a park picnic would be the perfect date, since many seem to find them to be the perfect mix of fun and relaxing, as well as - pardon? Well, you said you wanted to take me out, correct?”

~

Spelldrive Rival! Epel Feimer x Spelldrive Rival! Reader…

Who had been an absolute menace on the field, scoring goals left and right, making you feel like ripping hair, further worsening your urge to scream after he swiped your disc - the angry shout of promising to take him out ringing loud across the field, promptly ruining his focus, face as red as a ripe apple. “YA - YA CAN’T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!”

Who just couldn’t play his best game in Spelldrive anymore after those words left your mouth, not when you were always marking him so intensely…with sweat dripping down your brow, cheeks ruddy from extortion… wait, no focus!

Epel, who went back to his dorm room that night, screaming like a banshee into his overly stuffed pillow, much to the ire of his roommates, and Vil. (“A proper member of Pomefiore ought to retain their composure at all times,” the Housewarden had said, before quickly changing tune when Rook had informed him what had happened during Spelldrive practice. Snitch.)

Who, inevitably, found himself slipping whenever he played a game against you, even getting called out by Leona and Ruggie multiple times during the game. (“STOP MAKING LOVE EYES AT ‘EM, LOVERBOY AND FOCUS ON THE MATCH -“ “SHADDUP, LEONA!”)

Epel Feimer, who had gotten all scrubbed and exfoliated the day of your supposed ‘date’ - a practise sesh with just the two of you -, box of apple juice from Harveston and ‘healthy’ snacks from Vil in hand, awkwardly shuffling with them when you sent perhaps the most confused expression he’d ever seen from someone in his life.

“…what? You said you wanted me to take ya out, right?”

~

back to the teahouse menu?

[edensrose]

. ۫ᯓᡣ𐭩 sweetheart reader .ᐟ

˖ ꯴ ⌇ she's the girl ˚₊‧꒰ა you die for ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

sweetest girl you’ll ever meet. almost everyone she comes across is charmed. many go around dubbing her some kind of siren. she’s got this allure to her and her heart of gold shines from beneath — even if she’s a bit of a brat.

hyperfemme aesthetic and so incredibly comfortable in her femineity. always has her hair and nails done. will be late to a meeting because her manicure was that much more important.

oh, and she’s regarded as the second strongest sorcerer. that’s right, only surpassed by the honoured one. rose to top after deciphering her technique that previously was misunderstood. she’s been pushed around enough for being ‘weak’ and she’s tired of games.

don’t get on her bad side. she's a little crazy but hey — aren’t all special grades? she’s pretty anyway.

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ pinterest ⌇ sweetheart reader x character reqs open .ᐟ

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[medievalandfantasymelee]

👑🌹Queen of Love and Beauty🌹👑

Round 4: 1 of 2

The Queen of Love and Beauty shall hold the honour of presenting unto the winner of the Tournament his Champion's Coronet.

Vote for the lady who, to you, best exemplifies feminine dignity, grace and loveliness.

The two contenders with the most votes will advance.

Propaganda

Brienne of Tarth, Game of Thrones (2011-2019) Portrayed by: Gwendoline Christie

Brienne is so noble and honorable! If she makes a promise, she will not give up until she sees it through, no matter what happens along the way. She's a knight and dresses masculinely, which is very misunderstood by others, but she always asserts herself. She's a skilled swordfighter and she looks handsome in a suit of armor!

Danielle de Barbarac, Ever After: A Cinderella Story (1998) Portrayed by: Drew Barrymore

Genuinely the most beautiful woman little me had ever seen, clever, unshakeable in her ideals, AND she'll throw a man over her shoulder to save him from bandits.

Guinevere, BBC's Merlin (2008-2012) Portrayed by: Angel Coulby

She is the true people’s princess, and she puts up with the most bullshit of anyone and faces it with absolute grace and dignity. Her beauty and poise are forever unmatched.

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

For Brienne of Tarth:

"Look. She has a sword, and armor, and shield and will fight creepy men for you. Is there anything hotter than a competant tall strong woman with a sword? No. There isn't. She's also the kindest character in GoT and genuinely tries to make the world a better place."

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

You are the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; when a mix of common folk and soldiers drag you from your bed you are already resigned to whatever fate they have chosen for you. You are dragged out in your sheer silk nightwear and forced to your knees in the mud of the main road. Glancing up you see the figures opposite, the enemy, the great hulking orcs your husband angered. Above you, you hear frantic talking - frantic, useless. None of you speak their tongue.

Finally, in desperation, you crawl forward and bow your head, pulling your hair aside to bare your neck. Surely that cannot be misunderstood. You are willing to give your life for peace. The townspeople are hardly going to let you live either way.

(You are the chieftain of an orc clan reluctantly drawn into this skirmish as a matter of honour, and when the humans drag out a small, helpless one of their own and offer it you hesitate. It is dressed in silk and wears jewels at its neck and throat, which means it is important. As grotesque as the practice is to you, your sense of pride, you know they often exchange hostages between themselves. You glance at your second, who visibly rolls her eyes but nods. Any excuse to go home.)

The orcs do not kill you there and then, but take you; you cannot tell yet if that is a mercy or a misfortune. You are bound at the wrists and ankles and flung over an orc soldier's shoulder like a sack of grain, and passed between many of them during the journey. In their own language they joke and laugh as they pass you over, sometimes pinching at the bare skin of your thigh where your clothes have hitched up.

At their camp you are deposited in the tent of the chieftain. You have heard rumours of what they do with captives, and between being ravaged until broken or eaten alive you do not know what to hope for. You merely lie there, limp and trembling slightly, until you hear the sound of someone entering. The hulking orc chieftain looks at you, tusked face unreadable, then drags you upright by a fistful of your hair to briefly press a flask to your lips. When you have gulped nearly all the water he drops you, grunts and leaves. He does not return to the tent the entire night. You know this, because the low buzzing terror in the back of your mind doesn't let you sleep.

(You hardly know what to do with the little thing. Your comrades say it is easy to carry but odd, it is full grown by the look of it but doesn't struggle at all or even try to bargain in its babbling little language. Maybe it is unwell. You order it placed in your tent and give it water yourself, but it shows no more signs of life, dull-eyed and staring at nothing. You decide to let it sleep and go back outside to drink until you pass out under the stars and the warm summer skies.)

On the second night you are taken to a river before camp, and following the example of those around you, you wash yourself; as you return to the riverbank you find your clothes gone. The orcs watch you, even the smallest of them half-again your size. You swallow your fear and walk naked back to the chieftain's tent. Once there you lower yourself to your hands and knees on the bedroll, bare skin still damp from the water. You cannot stop him from taking you, but perhaps it will hurt less or be over faster if you comply.

The orcs chieftain makes a brief, almost hissing sound at the sight of you, but does not leave this time. Their hand brushes across your back and you can feel their claws retracting. They touch and inspect you like a prize hound and you keep your eyes to the ground, tears of shame welling up. Then he presses two large, blunt fingers inside you, and you brace yourself. He fingerfucks you lazily for a minute or so before suddenly growling something you don't understand and turning you on your back, so you scramble to reposition yourself and hold your legs wide. He cradles your face in both his hands as he slowly sinks his swollen cock into you, larger than you think you could ever take and stretching you painfully yet unable to look away from his face. Your husband used to force you to look at him like this only when he wanted to watch you cry, so you brace yourself for the firm hold to turn into hard slaps that leave your ears ringing.

(The little thing washes with the others and you are approaching the tent with an armful of fabric in what you hope is close to their size when you are hit with the unexpected sight of them uncovered in your tent, positioned as any orc begging to be bred would be. You have to smother a gasp and restrain yourself; it has been too long, and little thing's fragile shape and delicate features are somehow all the more appealing for their strangeness. But you were raised well, taught that all parties must agree before partners bed each other; you don't know their tongue to ask them. You seek permission from their body language instead, first touching their back, the curve of their ass and leg, then with tentative fingers in their soft tight little hole. They do not flinch or try to flee, and they wetten for your fingers. Surely you can continue? Forgetting yourself you ask out loud.)

You wait to be hit. It doesn't happen. You wait to used rough and hurt inside; it doesn't happen either.

The looming figure of the great orc warrior above you moves with an almost incongruous care, pressing into you slowly and then simply resting there until your body becomes accustomed enough to his huge cock that he can start to move without tearing you. It's almost as if his gaze on your face is tracking the small hitched breaths or softening of your expression to know when he can begin to carefully thrust. Yet that makes no sense to you. Men have never used you so gentle, why would a savage orc do so?

He is big enough it does hurt some little but that sensation is soon overwhelmed by another, unfamiliar and disorienting; a low heat building your abdomen, a curl of pleasure that makes you whimper. Another growl comes in response, so you try to quieten, but his expression - it is so hard to read, so different, but he does not look angry.

(You are confused and troubled, but the tight heat of the little thing is so perfect around your cock. They are acting like a new prospective mate, taking your body like a mate would, but when you watch their face to try and find the answers you'd normally seek out loud there is something missing. You fuck them very gently, as such delicate pretty things should be treated, and forget yourself enough to apologise out loud when they whimper. You promise them in words they don't know that you want to make them feel good, you will stop if they struggle even once, that they are safe with you.)

The orc chief finishes with a single deep thrust and you can feel your abdomen swell with how filled you are, a little of their cum already beginning to leak down your thighs. He pulls away and you instinctively curl in on yourself, protective - the sound he makes in response is urgent but more distressed than angry. He paws at you to uncurl, look at him again; as you tilt your face up and force your body to relax he huffs and lowers his great head between your legs. Before you can even process it his rough tongue is on you, and you can feel the smooth dangerous weight of his tusks against your inner thighs. The rush of banked pleasure is equally unexpected, as he coaxes a climax from you that leaves you shaking. Afterward you are gathered up like a doll in his arms, and for the first time in three days actually believe you may be safe. Very, very, tentatively, you reach for his face and pause halfway in question.

(The little thing flinches only afterwards, but it does flinch and you immediately fight back a rush of guilt and worry. Rank be damned, the clan will not stand for taking any person unwilling, even a human one. You try to comfort them with small touches, check their face for signs of what's wrong. They are unreadable. You check between their legs and can tell they did not quite find pleasure yet, so quickly duck your head to correct it. Perhaps that is what was wrong, because when their body responds they do not flinch away from being held close. They even reach for your face, and after you nod encouragingly they trace their tiny fingers over the ridges of your skin and kiss nervously at the smooth curve of your tusk. You thrill, but say nothing; maybe they have no idea what an intimate gesture that is. You just happily nestle close.)

You were the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; now, it seems, you are claimed by the warrior chief who bested him and the bedmate of a mighty orc who is gentler with you than said husband ever was and - slightly endearingly - buries his face in the crook of your neck with a low rumbling sound not unlike a purr when sleepy and post-coital.

.

[christinesficrecs]

Running a little behind, so here is April's frf. 🥰

An Apple's Blossom by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 62.5K | Explicit

Derek had an aura about him—one that drew you into his orbit despite the warning of an imminent threat.

It was like a dream, more than Stiles realized at first.

Because it wasn’t real.

Nothing about the man Stiles had started to fall in love with—romanticize—was real. ~*~ Stiles is a recently graduated art student who agrees to marry his family's rival, only to realize that maybe love is a little more complicated than he first thought.

My Name is Derek Hale by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 74.9K | Mature

“What day is it?” Derek demanded.

“What?”

“The day! What day is today?!” Derek let Stiles go, but only so he could reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. He tapped at the home screen, and then went so perfectly still that Stiles was pretty sure this guy wasn’t human. No human could stand that still.

When it was clear Derek wasn’t going to move again without some prompting, Stiles said, “It’s Wednesday.”

“That’s impossible,” Derek whispered.

“Not really, it comes around every seven days.”

“This is impossible,” Derek said again, looking around himself, as if he was searching for something.

another name for love by endversed | 36.9K | Explicit

Derek is a single parent to a teenager. He's given up on love since losing his daughter's mother.

Stiles is an FBI agent in town on the hunt for a feral omega. He might have something to say about Derek's stance on love.

Waiting In The Wings by stereksterek | 19.8K | Explicit

Melissa folded her arms and stared at Stiles, “I’m still having a hard time believing that Derek Hale, of all people, is your boyfriend now.”

��Yep! Derek’s my boyfriend! We’re totally rocking the whole relationship thing. I mean, we’re no Scott and Allison when it comes to PDA, but we’re both very affectionate behind closed doors. It’s kind of hilarious actually, because some people think that Derek doesn’t even like me when we’re in public, just because he growls or glares at me from time to time. But we’re just a misunderstood couple, y’know… Kind of like other star-crossed lovers out there. We’re basically this generation’s Romeo and… Miguel.”

Melissa was grinning so wide that her face almost hurt. Stiles had wildly overcompensated, and now she knew he was lying.

“If you and Derek are boyfriends, you won’t have a problem inviting him over for dinner then.”

Stiles malfunctioned for a full second before squawking like a dying bird, “Dinner?!”

I spent every evening praying for the dawn by WeAreTheLuckyOnes | 9.6K | Explicit

Stiles leaves the FBI after a traumatic case and returns to Beacon Hills after being gone for ten years, only to find that Derek has somehow magically acquired a tiny baby with a shock of dark hair that looks too much like Derek to belong to anyone else, but feels like Stiles's too.

Alternatively, the one with a magical Nemeton baby where Stiles and Derek realise they've both been dancing around the fact they each know they love the other and they're just too stupid to admit it.

*** Honourable Mention 🩷

One Dollar Yoda by exclamation | 10.7K | Mature

Stiles is an unbonded spark, so he’s been dealing with courting alphas since he was ten. It’s gotten a lot worse since he turned sixteen. Some are assholes, some are nice, but Stiles hasn’t wanted to spend the rest of his life bound to any of them.

When Derek Hale shows up at his school, Stiles expects him to be just another asshole alpha attempting to buy him with expensive gifts. But Derek Hale puts no effort whatsoever into his courtship gifts. Stiles ought to be offended but instead he finds it refreshing.

[makedonsgriva]

No book moment would ever come to the absolute raw intensity of the scene where Laurent and Damen make love for the first time as princes. When Laurent can no longer deny who Damen is and what he has done and how that it is an absolute, irrefutable fact that Damen would always be the person who took Laurent's most important person from his life and was indirectly responsible for Laurent's S.A that lasted for years. When Damen knows Laurent is the enemy prince who had him flogged almost to death, humiliated him on every occasion he could and forced him to partake in the sick entertainments of the Veretian court.

The absolute hurt, anger, anguish, all between them as the starkest reminder of their reality as the princes of two enemy nations and yet they come together as one because Damen fought off assassins in Laurent's chambers even though he had no reason to. Because Laurent fought against his uncle and against his own welfare to save Damen simply because it was fair. Because through out the month long journey from Arles to Ravenel all they did was learn to trust, respect and understand each other. Because somewhere along the line Damen understood that Laurent was not the ice cold prince but someone who has been deeply hurt and misunderstood and he has all the compassion in the world and is the truest man he has ever known. Because somewhere along the line Laurent understood that Auguste's death at Damen's hands was something that could not have been helped because Damen's options were to kill or be killed and that Damen was not the barbarian and monster he thought him to be but instead was an honourable, brave and compassionate man. Because somewhere along the line they both fell in love with each other against all odds imaginable.

Anyways I have a lot of feelings for these two.

[berrybeca]

random headcanons i have about this little bastard — most are stupid but it’s okay cuz i’m sickkk

theo the kind of guy to let out weird sighs out of nowhere. like a previously neglected shelter dog. he just sighs his brains out. annoyed? sigh. relaxing? sigh. smoking, pulling away from a kiss, finishing his plate? sigh. those pathetic little sighs are already earning him some mockery from his friends, but bro really doesn’t do it on purpose.

theo the kind of guy to always have a runny nose. could be middle of spring, and he’s clinging to his kleenexes like they’re a drug. but he also takes advantage of that fact, sneezing right in the middle of a teacher’s explanation, just to earn some chuckles throughout the classroom. (he’s definitely the type of class clown that almost never pipes up, but when he does, it’s funny as fuck)

theo the kind of guy to wear socks and sandals religiously when outside of class. he struts around the common room in them, and shoots people the dirtiest of looks when they themselves side eye him - which shuts them up right the hell up. (sandals i mean those like adidas sliders ones that literally every boy has… you know what i mean?)

theo the kind of guy to do crossword puzzles in the great hall. no further explanation, your honour. but you bet your ass this boy knows the most random of facts ever.

theo the kind of guy that will always be giving someone the stink eye. as if they had personally offended him. when you ask him why, he just acts confused. he has the biggest resting bitch face but brushes off whenever someone points it out to him.

theo the kind of guy have always been close to people from other houses, but in a like “oh he has so many friends” way, but in a “he knows the name of every ravenclaw that ever passed his gaze”. he’s observant, but misunderstood. people always think that he has crushes on them, just cause he looks at their face for more than five seconds.

i re watched baby today… going crazy over his voice omg

[thecubspeaks]

Intimacy prompts:

1, 11 or 51 - you choose :)

a palm kiss (prompts here)

"She's like that with everyone."

"She is not," her father says, firm. "It troubles me, Isobel."

"It needn't." She puts aside her book, impatient for this conversation to be over, impatient to stop her father's inadvertent needling at a very sore spot in her heart. Dame Aylin is like that with everyone: grand and courtly. She's seen her kiss other ladies' hands just the way she kisses Isobel's in greeting, like a knight from a story. It's simply how Dame Aylin is. It's neither Dame Aylin nor Isobel's father's fault that Isobel is in love with her. But that doesn't mean she has to enjoy talking about it.

"You're being silly, Father," she says as she stands, in her most prim, dismissive, Young-Mistress-Thorm tone. "It's enough of an honour that Dame Aylin is here at all. I for one would never dare imagine we could be worthy of more."

And before her father can protest, she hurries out of the room.

A day or two later, staring idly out from her balcony, it is Dame Aylin who comes to her. Isobel hastens to bow, but Aylin stops her, as she always does--not, as she always does, with an elegantly raised hand, but rushing forward to catch Isobel by the elbows. It's as if a shock passes between them at the touch, and for a moment Isobel can only stare, and Aylin stares back--then backs away with a start, as if the very touch burned.

Well, Isobel thinks. And so it did, in a way. Even that brief touch kindled a heat that she can feel rising up into her cheeks. And elsewhere.

"My apologies, Mistress Thorm," Dame Aylin says, sweeping into a bow of her own. "I have come to make amends, and already I overstep."

"Amends?" Isobel echoes. "But you've done nothing wrong."

"That is not so," Dame Aylin says gravely. "Your father has spoken to me. Master Thorm has made it plain that I have misunderstood you. My manner towards you is unwelcome, my feelings unrequited." She bows again, and this time stays that way, head bowed. Anyone else, and Isobel might dare to think they were ashamed to meet her eye. "I can but beg your forgiveness, Mistress Thorm. I allowed my hope to blind me to the truth."

"Your hope? Your... feelings? Dame Aylin, I--" That heat rushes through her again--heat, and a dizzying joy. Relief, almost. She takes a stumbling step forward, to close the distance Dame Aylin made. "My Father had no right to say those things. He doesn't speak for me. Especially not to say things that aren't true."

Dame Aylin peeks up, still not quite lifting her head. "You-- you mean to say...?"

"I've done quite the opposite of you, I think." She laughs, breathless. "I didn't dare hope. So I didn't let myself see..."

Dame Aylin's head snaps up, but just as swiftly she drops to her knees. "Mistress Thorm. As the sword of my mother, I have never doubted I am beloved of her followers, just as I love them. But you-- never has my heart stirred as it does in your presence-- at your sight, at the sound of your voice. Mistress Thorm-- Isobel--"

For the first time she has ever seen it-- for what Isobel allows her to suspect may be the first time ever-- Dame Aylin's proud, ringing voice fails her. Eyes shining, fixed on Isobel's face with a look that has no other name except devotion-- and was she really looking at Isobel that way all this time? Did she really not see it?-- she extends a hand.

Giddiness has receded into a haze. Perhaps this is a dream, just her sleeping mind tormenting her in her state of pathetic pining. People must fall in love with Aylin everywhere she goes, there's no reason she of all people is the one who has actually brought the daughter of the Moonmaiden to her knees, here on a stone balcony in a little town of little consequence, on a greyish spring day that might threaten rain.

But there's only one way to know.

Carefully, almost trembling, Isobel places her hand in Aylin's.

Aylin seizes it, an almost convulsive enthusiasm, and Isobel can't hold back a brief gasp at the pinch of Aylin's gauntlets. Aylin's eyes go wide, but this time she doesn't pull away. She loosens her grip and, gentle as anything, turns over Isobel's hand, cradling it like some fragile, precious thing. Her pale lashes sweep downwards, and she lowers her lips to press them, cool and soft as moonlight, against Isobel's upturned palm.

[stalkyarsen-ebook]

dang already? i guess i'll have to brainstorm then

first and foremost, i must say that i didn't read FSYY. i plan to read it someday but i know some bits about the story and the general idea for nezha's background. I still don't get some details too because i don't have the cultural understanding either (i have a european vision in case you wanna know.) that being said...

I think it is not a surprise for anyone who knows me that I'm really interested in psychological horror. And I want to lean in that direction. And so, if I were to adapt Nezha's story, I would want to talk about cultural and philosophical clash between each characters, and most importantly how everyone sees Nezha.

Because you mean to tell me a child with herculian forces, that can bend the elements to his will, that kills extremely powerful creatures isn't a scary thing, and no one is even terrified by this monster of a child ??? Li Jing is terrified as fuck for sure but you know what I mean.

I want Nezha's mentor Taiyi that decides to take him as his pupil because he wants him under his control, I want Li Jing to have a paternal crisis because his third son is someone he can't understand unlike his other children. I want Yin Shi to be horrified at every atrocities her son made and still love him which terrifies her even more. I even want Nezha questions his own actions.

You may think that I want it to be an edgy story with blood and gore. But I assure you, these kind of things happens in real life with real children. I know that because I work with children. I know how they are and they can be super scary sometimes. And that's normal, they are in a phase where they learn morality and social norms, we can't despise them for being clueless.

Nezha is exactly that case times 10. He is a kid that learns about the world with the adults around him. But the adults in question are scared of what he is capable of. And he doesn't understand because of their apprehensions.

One thing I also want to talk about, the elephant in the room, is also his relationships with Ao Bing (and possibly more.)

Ao Bing should be the exact opposite of Nezha, a well educated child and an honourable dragon. Big emphasis on the dragon part, he lacks human social norms and morality. He is still a good person but why ask a dragon to treat a human as an equal? Humans are pets to them.

With this way of thinking, Ao Bing is able to connect with a misunderstood Nezha while still disagree with him, and vice-versa. And like the children they are, they can play and fight each other. Speaking of it...

Ao Bing's death is relatively the same as in the original story, Nezha made chaos while playing causing the destruction of the dragon palace. Ao Bing is seriously mad at him this time and they both fight. What differs here is the fact that Nezha doesn't control his emotions and force, he always fights with Ao Bing so it doesn't change from what he is used to. He is still in the playing games mindset and his impulses and emotions overwhelms him. So when he rips Ao Bing's spine, it is both intentional and accidental. Once he calms down and realizes what he's done, he panics and doesn't know what to do.

I mentioned Taiyi trying to control Nezha. It exactly what it sounds like. Not that he is power hungry but he does have a certain ego. Controlling a calamity like Nezha would be extremely gratifying. It sure is difficult but Taiyi would think it's all worth it. He would even manipulate him if he deems he needs to.

I think so far I've covered what I wanted to do with the original story.

I also would like to explore their story once Nezha grew up after FSYY events. How he feels about himself about what he has done in his childhood and how war affected him.

I'm also thinking about an Adult Ao Bing, I know that Jiang Ziya gives him a divine title of a constellation, and so I guess that he became a constellation just like some greek heroes ? (according to wikipedia, he is assigned the constellation Cassiopea? Or maybe a star of this specific constellation.)

Can someone more specialized than me clear that up? I' not sure of myself.

Back to the topic, if I were to bring back Ao Bing as a star deity, I would still him being paralyzed and hating Nezha for what he had done to him.

(i sometime want Nezha to feel so guilty for what he has done that he decided to stay by Ao Bing's side to take care of him and support his constant burst of anger against him. It can have angst, fluff and even fucked up things. it's just perfect.)

but yeah that's all i have right now. if i have more ideas, i'll share them. if you have any questions or suggestions, i'm all ears.

[colrell]

Will Graham is a Hyena.

Now, please hear me out on this because I've been sitting on for a while. I love those misunderstood animals more than anything... and I love Will Graham with almost the same amount of veracity. So.

Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens | 1922 | dir. F.W. Murnau

Will is ostracised by society.

Hyenas, just like Will, have been rejected by humans and painted as monsters. Seen as simple, stupid scavengers who will do anything for a scrap of meat. I think we've all seen how they have been depicted in media such as The Lion King: dumb, cruel idiots whose only desire is to steal and destroy what other, more royal animals (lions: productive members of society) have built for themselves.

They are regarded as savages with no brains. Only capable of acting if under guidance of a firm fist of a leader and sometimes pitied by others... meanwhile, Hyenas are actually highly intelligent, social predators who hunt in groups and share their kills much more often than they scavenge. They remember faces and can identify friend from foe. They live in clans that get up to hundreds of members: but this fact goes unmentioned in most media.

Will isn't seen as somebody capable of caring for his own life because. Just like hyenas, he is treated as an outsider in his own home. Alan pitied him because she didn't think he could take care of himself. She saw him as a dependant and troubled man because he showed signs of being autistic. Jack treated him as a tool and lead him into destructions because he didn't think Will could make good decisions on his own and in his eyes, if Will were to be left to his own devised— he could stop being useful.

This image of hyenas— of Will — wasn't entirely undeserved, of course. They are, after all, a little bit weird. They look weird, act weird, and refuse to conform even when this refusal leads them to the outskirts of society... even before Will Grahams' encephalitis, he was as different. Everybody knew there was something 'other about him, which is experience shared by many people withing the queer and autistic-spectrum community. Some of us deliberately choose to mask because this is just a more comfortable way of existing day-to-day. We recognise that if we were to act as ourselves: the 'typicals might see it as an affront to themselves.

Others, however, take a different approach. They embrace this otherness as a badge of honour despite what others wish for them. Will Graham is one of those people, and just like Hyenas, he paid the price of it in ostricisment.

They reject judgement.

This brings us to how Hyenas are unapologetically themselves. Of course, an animal cannot be aware of what we as humans see them as, but in a way, they still are, and Will is much the same on that regard: doing his thing and refusing to follow others' ideas of himself.

Will Graham, for all the talk about how lost and confused he was before Hannibal, actually knew about the darkness within himself and he had accepted it.

It is very evident in the first episodes of the series, where he states this over and over again— others aren't allowed to judge. He is what he is. He is rude, he avoids eye contact, and he reconstruction murderers' minds and won't allow others to stand beside him while doing it because he won't take their judging glances for it.

He doesn't want to be psychoanalysed. Hannibal 'won't like him when he's psychoanalysed'. Nobody ever does because he won't let them change him. He doesn't want to change: he just wants to be left alone.

The reason for his fear during the first season wasn't his empathy. Will Graham knew what he was since the very beginning. He knew he's different. He knew of this dark side of himself, which craved to kill before encephalitis came along, and that is what made Hannibal so enamoured with the man.

I know that many people believe Hannibal to be the reason for why Will started to kill or fantasise about it... but he did it since before knowing Hannibal. The reason why Will was so petrified wasn't because he started seeing himself kill. It wasn't the fantasies or Hannibals manipulations that brought him to this state of hysteria because Will knew what he was already.

It was a lack of control, which brought him over the edge. Fear of losing composure, of killing and not knowing it. Not the act of killing itself. Until the sickness came for him, Will perhaps wasn't doing well... but he was content with how things were. He never wanted to be helped or changed. He merely wished to be accepted.

Will is a scavenger... and predator.

Yes, I know that we all see the agent as a fisherman— luring and waiting for prey to come to him, but that is not all that he does.

Hyenas are hunters first, which is another thing that media often gets wrong.

They hunt for their own food, and they do it successfully, collectively, and cruelly. Funfact: most of the videos featuring hyenas hanging around corpses, which are being eaten by lions, are actually hyena kills that were falsely attributed to their enemies.

Much in likeness to how Will fantasises about his own work, hyenas murder with beautiful personality. Their hunts are bloody, wild, and brutal. They are savage in how they kill, chasing the weak and biting them until the inevitable collapse. They don't wait for their victim to die. There is no need to.

But they can scavenge— and scavenge they do. It reminds me of how Will continues to eat Hannibals' own prey even after learning about what it is; How he waits for Chiyoh to kill the prisoner herself and creates art out of the corpse because his curiosity was more important than the act itself. How he was fine with Matthew doing his dirty work for him. How simple act of threatening Hannibal with a gun brings out a vicious smile... he liked the idea of having Hannibal at his mercy, of the psychiatrist not knowing if he will die tonight (being sure he shall).

There is a lot of cruelty within Will Graham, which he never attempted to hide. It was simply overlooked because of his desire for bringing justice that came alongside it.

Hyenas and Will are queer icons.

Not only for how gay his relashionship with Hannibal is.

Our fandom is full of trans and gender nonconforning people. Will is heavily autistic-coded, and transgender people can identify with him for a huge variety of reasons. We see his struggles, the way he suffers with his own identity in comparison to how others see him, and we empathise because it mirrors our own experiences in the world that does not and nefariously refuses to understand us.

Hyenas, as some of you may know (and others are learning about it in this post), spotted hyenas in particular, have been viewed as "double-sexed" since before the times of ancient Greece. The reason for this is that females of the species sport a genitalia that looks indistinguishably like the males'. For ages, humans believed them to be either all bigenital or constantly sex-changing animals. They are plenty of myths and stories about this fact.

They do not change their sex, of course. Either on a whim or based on necessity— female spotted hyenas are born, age and die as females just as the males remain just that for the entirety of their lives... however: this does not change how they were (and still are, for some) perceived.

Reasons for this state are multiple. For one, spotted hyenas are a matriarchal species. They are much bigger, stronger and dominant towards the males. They have thick skulls, powerful jaws and brute bodies. This uniqueness is ensured by a large amount of androgens their bodies produce during growing up: making them stronger... and also causing their (already naturally big) clitorises to grow to sizes comparable to a males'. They will even mount the males (and other females) at times as a form of domination tactic. This intersex-like feature is found in ALL female spotted hyenas.

In recent years (or decades), they have become one of the symbols for the transgender community. Indeed, hyenas are unique and beautiful gender-benders.

And just as members of the queer community, they are hated by the mainstream media— and loved by those who took the time necessary to understand them. Sounds awfully like Will, doesn't it.

Hyenas have been misinterpreted by us for centuries. And so is Will Graham by almost everybody in his community.

They are notoriously called ugly, much like Dolarhyde's claim of Will not being attractive. It is not true: Hyena's beauty is a matter of opinion. They have a distinct, heavy smell which they spread all over their territory, however people who live amongst them often like to remind sceptics that they actually do not smell any worse than their natural enemies: lions, do. They're claimed as ugly because humans don't understand them, because they're demonised and 'obviously', evil can not be beautiful— it must be ugly, stinky, disgusting...

Aren't those all epithet given to the people in the queer community? To Will, in a sense?

Hyenas— and Will, are victims of abuse.

There is a group of African people known as The Hyena Men, the Gadawan Kura. They group travels throughout Nigeria with their half-tamed hyenas and other animals and make them perform various tricks in order to make a living.

Which— here we go to the point:

Hyenas are social animals and just like dogs, can be socialised and trained. They actually make wonderful friends, if you have the resources and enough persistence within you to try. Those people, the Gadawan Kura, recognised it and use it to their gain. There has been a photographer who documented some of this relashionship between those hyenas and their men. It's a very fascinating and interesting tale to read about.

Until you learn that said hyenas weren't brought to this point with love but through abuse.

There is a very painful parallel to how Jack treats Will thought the whole story, and before it, and how the Gadawan Kura train their hyenas through beatings and scraps of food. They are rewarded for good behaviour... barely.

Doing tricks (profiling), brought along traveling (dragged around to crimescenes even when he doesn't want to), given rewards in food (told he's doing good work though said work is breaking him).

Abdullahi Mohammed with Gumu | Ogere-Remo | Nigeria | 2007

... and there is also the fact that Hyenas closest relatives are the meerkat and mongoose.

And we all know Hannibals' stance on that one.

[weavergrovedevotional]

When the Altar Changed: My Journey from Protestant to Catholic

I never thought I would be writing these words.

For most of my life, I breathed Protestant air. I sang hymns under the warm glow of stained glass, took communion once a month, and found deep community in small groups. I memorised Scripture from the NIV, and fell in love with Jesus in the front row of a church during a sermon on grace. My spiritual roots were deep in the Reformation soil. I honoured men like Luther and Calvin, and I honestly never gave Catholicism much thought—other than as something distant, ritualistic, maybe even a little misguided.

But God has a way of moving in unexpected directions.

This isn’t a story of theological arguments that “won me over”—though yes, I wrestled with authority, the sacraments, the Eucharist, Mary, and more. What ultimately led me to cross the Tiber wasn’t a single issue. It was something far more mysterious, far more painful, and yet strangely beautiful: I began to hunger for something more. Not more excitement. Not more music. Not more relevance. But more roots. More depth. More wholeness. A faith that didn’t begin with me and my interpretation, but reached back through centuries of saints and suffering and truth preserved.

And so, with trembling hands, I stepped into a Catholic church.

The smell of incense was foreign. The rosary felt awkward in my fingers. I didn’t know when to kneel, or what to say after “The Lord be with you.” Everything felt strange. Everything except the Presence. It was as if the Holy Spirit whispered, “You’re home.” And yet, what followed wasn’t peace—but pain.

You see, no one really tells you about the heartbreak of leaving your spiritual family.

I lost friends. Some thought I was deceived. Others politely backed away. Invitations stopped coming. I was unfollowed, unfriended, and—perhaps most painfully—misunderstood. People assumed I had turned my back on grace, on Jesus, on the Gospel itself. That stung the most. Because in my heart, I wasn’t leaving Jesus—I was running toward Him. I wasn’t rejecting the Gospel—I was discovering its fullness. I wasn’t abandoning the Church—I was embracing its wholeness.

But how do you explain that to those you love?

There were nights I cried, asking God if I’d made a mistake. There were Sundays I walked into Mass with a heavy heart, remembering the ease of worship with friends who no longer spoke my name. I missed the familiar choruses, the spontaneous prayers, the shared language of “quiet time” and “accountability.” Sometimes I still miss them.

And yet… the Eucharist.

I don’t have words for what it’s like to see worshippers kneel at the altar and receive Christ—not symbolically, not metaphorically, but really, wholly, fully. The intimacy, the reverence, the trembling reality of “This is My Body.” It undid me. It continues to undo me. I can’t partake yet, but I long for the day that I can.

Catholicism hasn’t solved all my problems. In fact, it’s given me new ones—harder disciplines, longer fasts, deeper examinations of conscience. But it has also given me more: more silence, more awe, more mystery, more reverence, more communion—not just with God, but with the whole Body of Christ, living and dead.

I don’t expect everyone to understand. I didn’t, for most of my life.

But if you’re someone walking this road—torn between love for where you’ve been and a call to where you’re going—know this: You’re not alone. Your tears are seen. Your confusion is understood. Your courage is not in vain.

God is bigger than our boundaries. And sometimes, to follow Him, we have to let go of the comfort of certainty to cling to the cross in a new way.

Even if it hurts.

Especially if it hurts.

And in the end, that pain is often the price of coming home.

—A Former Protestant, Forever a Christian

[moonastrogirl]

Jyestha nakshatra

Credit @moonastrogirl

This post is in honour of jyestha season and for all Jyestha natives ☂️

Jyestha natives are often misunderstood, also they trigger people easily but do they care ? Not even a single bit. Because at the end of the day this world is cold, it’s a constant battle and it’s everyone for themselves first.

We live in an animalistic world and the spiritual world is even worse. Spirits of people are also hungry. We need to defend ourselves against intruders physically and spiritually who want to feed off our energy or our ressources and that’s what jyestha natives do best. The umbrella, their symbol, protects them from physical and spiritual attacks and intruders. Plus the talisman which gives them this spiritual barrier for their power.

Jyestha is the nakshatra of those who have immense power and a huge spiritual presence. And with great power comes great responsibility. It’s so cliché yet it’s so true for Jyesthas.

That’s why this nakshatra gives better results once the native is grown and quits being childish. Young jyestha natives just play with their power and think they can get away with everything which they absolutely don’t. What they don’t know is karma remembers and karma will be served one way or another and sometimes in the most ridiculous way. It’s a must for them to respect the laws of karma.

Jyestha is the nakshatra where everything coming into the mind can materialise into the physical world. Natives thus have great manifestation abilities. Whether they realise it or not. They do. Every little thing they think or say they will receive it one way or another. It’s like they have a direct communication line with the universe. The power of their words and thoughts is unbelievable. So it’s best if they are careful about what they say or think especially about themselves and the people they love. This quote says it all.

« I got the power of life and death coming out my tongue »- Nicki Minaj (Jyestha sun being her soul planet, atmakaraka)

This power and this presence intimidates people with or without jyestha natives saying a thing. People just don’t know what to do with it sometimes. Jyestha must learn how to let their spirit speaks and fights for them. They don’t need to react all the time. The universe is always working in their favour. Especially jyestha moons. Natives just need to say the least to make the best impact around them. Plus manifest, manifest and manifest again for their highest good.

If this post resonates with you, like, comment or reblog it, it will show me what I do is useful to you and thank you for reading me 💜

Credit @moonastrogirl