#war trama /

[gioscott]

Sam doesn't have a gender after the cage (negative) because it's just a body he gets to use, right now anyways.

"Hello what are your pronouns?"

"Idk I'm just a body/ I try not to think about it anymore/ I forgot about that years before I forgot English"

[theoverthinkingpumpkin]

Which is probably why Ahsoka took one look at Grogu and Mando and said “Nope! Not starting this up again!”

Watching "The Clone Wars" show now and look, I know, I KNOW it's a kids' show and that's why there's a 14yo(?) girl acting as not only a child soldier but a military commander. (I'm developing a headcanon / interpretation that legal adulthood in the Republic starts at 13. Ex: Padmé being a queen at 14, Obi-Wan nearly aging out of the Order at 13, Boba is apparently going to be sent to maximum security prison at 12??? Haven't gotten there yet.) I honestly kind of enjoy the fact that "Star Wars" depicts a Jedi Order that kind of sucks sometimes and keeps having these incredibly deadly kids who are a little fucked-up.

Nevertheless, I AM low-key judging these characters a little bit for the fact that 14yo Ahsoka has apparently also been sent to act as (21yo?) Anakin's impulse control and emotional management. Or has herself taken on that role a little bit regardless of initial intentions. (I already don't love that Padmé's key role (as the only major female character) in the prequel trilogy films is to deal with Anakin's big feelings. This threatens to become a repeat of that.) It's reminding me of Yoda throwing Obi-Wan at Qui-Gon in the "Jedi Apprentice" series; and also Obi-Wan taking Anakin on immediately after Qui-Gon's death instead of maybe claiming him but putting him in the crèche to cook for a few years first.

Like, guys, you can't just keep throwing padawans at these problems. It's giving "having a baby will fix our marriage" vibes, a little bit. It's kind of fun to see this cycle play out again and again in these stories, I am generally loving the flawed mentors and generational damage here, but I do pause every once and a while just so I can also say, "Yikes, dude. There's patterns here."

[featheredentity]

new baby girl just dropped + friends oc (the golden guy, his name is midas) Their both transmascs and incredibly gay exhibit A

+ the image the second picture is based off of (unsure of original artist sorry)

[ahalliance]

“the doctor having his no gun rule in early NuWho seasons is dumb because the classic who doctors used them without issue” it’s not like there was a very violent and long war the doctor fought in between those two versions of the show or anything

[badger-tales]

Home for the Holidays//G.W x Reader

a/n: I actually really love how this fic came out thank you for requesting.

request from @bunk12bear:

Hey I would like to request a hurt/comfort George Weasley x reader fic

The reader is a muggle-born ravenclaw chaser from Harry's year and has been friends with the twins much of their time at Hogwarts. It's the first December after the war and her family is being insensitive about her trama and driving her crazy so she stops tactful her stuff in a bag and ends up on George's doorstep. He is in the twins old flat also avoiding his family since he doesn't want to celebrate Christmas after losing Fred. They get drunk together (or not if that makes you uncomfortable) and end up having sex (you can write it out or you can just fade to Black whichever you're more comfortable with). The next morning feel free to pretend like this never happened but end up getting together anyway.

The only other note I have is that I would like the reader to choose to go back to Hogwarts so they're getting together part could be through letters or just done in a jump forward in time

I really hope I'm not overloading you with information

The icy December wind gnawed at your cheeks as you stood outside the familiar, weathered door, each gust biting deeper than the last. A shiver ran down your spine, not entirely from the cold. It was a bitter, restless night, the kind that only magnified the tightness in your chest. Every breath you took felt too shallow, too fast, as if you were trying to outrun your thoughts. You gripped the worn leather strap of your bag a little tighter, your knuckles aching as the rough edges dug into your skin. The bag itself hung heavily from your shoulder, weighted with the few possessions you'd thrown inside in your rush to leave, though it was the invisible burden that made it feel almost unbearable.

You stared at the flat’s door in front of you, the faded blue paint peeling away like old memories. For a moment, your feet felt glued to the spot, indecision creeping in. Was it too late for this? Too early to seek refuge? But the hollow ache in your chest reminded you—there was no going back, not tonight. You had to leave. You had to find some peace, and you knew exactly where to go.

The house you'd fled from had become suffocating, the walls closing in tighter each day. Ever since the war had ended, your family had tiptoed around you, clumsily offering advice and comfort that only left you feeling more isolated. Their good intentions had a way of cutting deeper than any curse, with their polite but oblivious insistence that "it’s time to move on." The words echoed in your mind like a taunt. How could they ever understand the weight you still carried, the way the shadows of that war still clung to your every thought, like an invisible bruise that hadn’t faded?

Tonight had been the breaking point. The dinner table conversation had started innocently enough—too innocently, really. They always found ways to slip in those questions, gently probing, as if healing was something you could measure by time. “Have you put all that behind you yet?” they’d asked, as if it was that simple. As if the losses, the fear, the constant grief could be packed away neatly in a box and forgotten about. Your heart had pounded in your chest, a slow burn building as you tried to keep your cool. But when they brushed it off as "a phase," your patience snapped like a brittle thread. You couldn’t stay there a second longer. 

The anger still simmered in your veins as you walked out the door, leaving behind their confused and concerned expressions. Now, standing here in front of George’s flat, your body felt spent, the fight drained from you, leaving behind only exhaustion and sorrow. He was the only one who might get it. The only one whose grief mirrored your own, though his was sharper, more tangible.

You took a steadying breath, your fingers trembling as you lifted them to knock. The sound was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it rang out into the quiet of the street, cutting through the thick, still air. For a few agonizing moments, there was only silence, and you started to second-guess yourself. Maybe he wouldn’t answer. Maybe he was fast asleep, or maybe he just wouldn’t want to see anyone tonight. 

But then the door creaked open, and there he was.

George stood in the doorway, the light from inside casting a warm, golden glow behind him, though it barely touched the shadows in his eyes. His red hair was tousled as though he’d been lying down, and his face, usually so animated, was etched with lines of weariness. His jumper hung loosely off his lanky frame, more like a relic from better days than a piece of clothing. The void where Fred used to stand beside him seemed to loom larger than ever.

"Hey," you managed, your voice coming out softer than you’d intended, as if speaking too loudly would break something fragile between you.

"Hey," he echoed, his brow furrowing in surprise. His voice was rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in hours. "What’re you doing here?"

You dropped your gaze to the ground, suddenly unsure. What had seemed so urgent just minutes ago now felt raw, exposed. “I—I couldn’t stay at home,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “They don’t understand... how bad it still is. They keep saying I should move on, but... I can’t. I needed to get out, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

George’s gaze softened as he looked at you, really looked at you, as if he could see the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders. He didn’t speak right away, but you could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes. He understood, even if he didn’t say it out loud. After all, he carried that same grief with him every day. You weren’t the only one haunted by loss.

After a long pause, he stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.

Without hesitation, you stepped into the warmth of the flat, the door closing behind you with a soft click. 

You shuffled inside, the warmth of the flat wrapping around you like a blanket, though it couldn’t quite chase away the chill that clung to your bones. The room smelled faintly of dust and something faintly spicy, like leftover takeout that had been forgotten on a distant counter. It was cluttered, the kind of disarray that only happens when someone stops caring about keeping things neat. Piles of newspapers were stacked precariously on a chair, the surfaces crowded with half-finished projects and bits of magical odds and ends. Yet despite the mess, there was an undeniable comfort to it. This place had been a home once—filled with laughter, mischief, and a brotherhood so strong it was palpable. But now, it felt more like a shrine to what used to be. George wasn’t just living in this flat; he was living in the shadow of a time that had frozen the moment Fred died.

With a sigh, you dropped your bag onto the floor, the soft thud sounding louder than it should have in the stillness. You stood there for a second, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders, making it hard to breathe. “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced,” you murmured, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. “I just couldn’t… I couldn’t take it anymore.”

George didn’t look surprised. He shook his head, the corners of his mouth tightening into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t far from it either. “Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I get it.” He pushed the door shut behind you with a quiet click, sealing out the biting cold of the night. His eyes flickered downward, the weariness in his face deepening. “I’ve been avoiding my family, too. The thought of Christmas without him…” His voice trailed off, the sentence unfinished, but you didn’t need him to complete it. You both knew what was left unsaid. The empty chair, the missing laugh, the ache that gnawed at everyone when they pretended it was just another holiday. “It’s hard,” he finished, his gaze distant.

You nodded, the lump in your throat swelling painfully. The Weasleys had always been like a second family to you, especially during the holidays. The Burrow had been a place of warmth and noise, filled with endless chatter, endless love. But this year, that same house felt like a reminder of everything that was gone. The war hadn’t just taken lives; it had taken the sense of safety, of belonging. And Fred’s absence was a wound that no amount of time seemed to heal.

Desperate to cut through the heaviness between you, you cleared your throat awkwardly. “I, uh, brought whiskey,” you blurted out, fumbling through your bag before producing the bottle and holding it up like a peace offering. It felt ridiculous, but you had no other ideas. “I figured if anyone could use a drink right now, it’d be you.”

For the first time that night, a flicker of something like amusement crossed George’s face. His lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close enough to warm you a little. “You know me too well,” he said, his voice touched with a hint of gratitude. Without another word, he moved to a cupboard, pulling out two mismatched glasses. They clinked softly as he set them down, then gestured toward the sagging couch. “Sit.”

You both sank into the well-worn cushions, the sofa protesting under the weight of years of use. The familiar creak seemed to settle the space between you, making it easier to breathe. George poured the first glass, the amber liquid swirling as it hit the glass, and handed it to you. When your glasses met with a soft clink, the sound seemed to echo in the quiet flat, louder than either of you expected.

“To… whatever this is,” you said, your voice trembling just slightly, as if you weren’t sure what you were toasting to—grief, survival, or just the fact that you were still here.

“To whatever this is,” George echoed, his voice equally uncertain, but he raised his glass all the same and took a long, slow sip.

---

The two of you drank in near silence for a while, the warmth of the whiskey gradually spreading through your chest, dulling the sharp edges of your grief. It was a quiet that neither of you seemed in a rush to fill, as if both of you understood that sometimes silence said more than words ever could. Yet as the minutes passed, the tension in the room began to thaw, melting under the warmth of shared company and the familiar burn of alcohol. Slowly, the conversation began to flow, trickling at first, then spilling over as you both gave in to the need to remember.

You found yourself laughing softly as you recalled old memories—stories that felt like lifelines in a sea of sadness. “Do you remember those Quidditch matches we had at The Burrow?” you asked, your voice brightening despite yourself. “Fred always had some kind of ridiculous scheme to make me Keeper, even though I was horrible at it.”

George’s smile widened, a genuine one this time, though there was still that lingering sadness in his eyes. “Yeah, and he always rigged it so you’d win, even when you had no idea what was going on.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He was relentless. Thought he was some kind of matchmaker, too. Kept trying to set me up with random people. I swear, half the dates I went on were his doing.”

George chuckled softly, the sound a balm to the heavy air. “Yeah, Fred had a way of meddling in people’s lives. But it always came from a good place, you know? He just wanted everyone to be happy.”

The conversation drifted into silence again, but this time it wasn’t strained. It was the kind of silence born from shared understanding, from a connection that didn’t need words to be felt. You both sat there, the weight of everything that had been lost hanging in the air between you, but somehow, in this small moment, it felt bearable. For the first time in a long while, it felt like you weren’t alone in your grief.

Your gaze lingered on George, tracing the deep lines of weariness etched into his face, the hollow spaces beneath his eyes where laughter used to live. His grief wasn’t something he could hide—no one who knew him would miss the way it hung over him, heavy and unrelenting, evident in the slump of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw. The silence between you felt thick, filled with all the things neither of you had the courage to say. Without thinking, your hand drifted over to his, your fingers brushing the back of his hand before settling on top of it, a gentle but solid connection.

“George,” you began, your voice barely more than a whisper, “it’s okay to not be okay right now.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you worried you might have overstepped. But then, his fingers tightened around yours, a subtle but deliberate response. When he looked at you, his eyes were filled with something raw—something vulnerable that you hadn’t seen from him before. It was as though the mask he had been wearing for months had cracked just a little, allowing you to see the depth of his pain.

“You too,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

And in that brief exchange, something shifted between you, something unspoken but undeniable. Maybe it was the whiskey warming your veins, dissolving your usual hesitations. Maybe it was the sheer weight of loneliness that both of you had been carrying, so heavy that it had pushed you together in this quiet moment of shared hurt. Either way, before you knew it, you were leaning in, closing the space between you, and George was meeting you halfway.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if neither of you were entirely sure what you were doing or why. But then it deepened, the tentative caution giving way to something more urgent, more desperate. It wasn’t about romance, or attraction, or even desire—it was about finding solace in each other, even if just for a moment. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself fall into him, into the warmth of his embrace, into the comfort of being understood. 

The kiss was messy, imperfect, filled with the unspoken grief and tangled emotions you both had been bottling up for months. And in the way you pressed against each other, seeking comfort and connection, you knew this wasn’t a solution to either of your pain. It wasn’t going to fix what had been broken by the war, by Fred’s death, by all the things that had been stolen from you both. But for tonight, it was enough. 

---

The early morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room. The air was still, heavy with the weight of the previous night’s unspoken emotions. You blinked awake slowly, your head resting on George’s chest, rising and falling with each of his steady breaths. His arm was draped loosely over your waist, his body warm and solid beside you, and for a few fleeting moments, you simply lay there in the quiet, letting the memories of last night drift back to you.

You weren’t entirely sure how to feel. There was a strange sense of comfort in the warmth of his body next to yours, but it was mixed with the undeniable heaviness of reality pressing down on you. Whatever had happened between you hadn’t been planned, and now, in the gentle light of morning, it seemed even more complicated. The ache of grief hadn’t disappeared, and the connection you had found last night felt fragile in the daylight.

As you shifted slightly, George stirred beneath you, his chest rising a little deeper as his eyes fluttered open. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the soft rustle of the sheets and the faint sounds of the world waking up outside. Finally, he let out a slow breath, running a hand through his messy hair as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Well,” he muttered, his voice still rough from sleep, “that wasn’t exactly how I expected the night to go.”

You let out a small laugh, though it was tinged with nervousness, a weak attempt to cut through the tension. “Yeah… same.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was an unspoken understanding, a mutual acknowledgment that neither of you were quite ready to dissect what had happened. George turned to face you, his expression serious, but his eyes were gentle. 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his gaze searching yours for any sign of regret.

You took a breath, considering his question. Strangely, you did feel alright—calmer than you had expected. “Yeah,” you answered, nodding slightly. “I think I am.”

George studied you for a second longer before he nodded, as if satisfied with your answer. He let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the pillow, his voice quieter now. “We don’t have to talk about it. Not right now, at least.”

You smiled faintly, feeling a wave of relief at his words. There was no pressure here, no demand for answers or explanations. Just the quiet understanding that whatever this was, it didn’t need to be picked apart just yet. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice soft in the morning stillness.

The day stretched ahead, and though the heaviness in the air still lingered, for now, it was enough to know that you weren’t facing it alone.

Over the next few weeks, you and George moved through an unspoken dance, both aware of the intimacy you had shared but careful not to tread too close to it. The memory of that night lingered in the back of your minds, a quiet echo of something deeper, but neither of you rushed to define it. There was no pressure, no expectation—just a shared understanding that whatever had happened between you was something fragile and precious, best left unspoken for now.

Instead, you found comfort in your friendship. You spent more time together, often in comfortable silence, sometimes in quiet conversation about things that didn’t matter but made the heaviness of grief seem lighter. George had become a refuge, a safe space where you didn’t have to pretend you were okay when you weren’t. You could see it in him, too—that same need for connection, for someone who understood the raw ache left behind after the war. 

But even as the bond between you deepened, the inevitable approached. The new year was fast approaching, and with it, your decision to return to Hogwarts. When you finally told George, the words were heavy on your tongue, bittersweet. 

“I think I need to go back,” you said one evening, sitting across from him in the dim light of his flat. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you spoke. “I just… I need to finish things there. It feels like the right place to sort through everything.”

George, who had been quiet, nodded slowly. His expression was thoughtful, but there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “I get it,” he said softly. “Hogwarts was always a place for healing. Makes sense you’d want to go back.” He paused, glancing down at the floor, then added with a small, lopsided smile, “But I’m going to miss you. You’ve been the best company I’ve had in a long time.”

You smiled at his words, though the thought of leaving tugged at something deep inside you. “I’ll miss you, too. But it’s not forever. I just… need some time.”

His gaze met yours, understanding in the depths of his eyes. “Take all the time you need,” he said, his voice warm and genuine. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

---

The weeks at Hogwarts passed slowly at first, each day feeling like a step into an old life you weren’t quite sure you fit into anymore. But as the familiar walls and halls began to work their magic, the knot in your chest started to loosen. You spent time with old friends, caught up on classes, and found solace in the quiet moments alone. Yet, even with the comfort Hogwarts brought, there was always a small part of you that missed George.

That’s when the letters began.

It started with something small—just a casual note from him, asking how you were settling in, teasing you about returning to school when you could have stayed and worked at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, “learning how to properly set off fireworks.” You had laughed at that, and replied with a quip about not wanting to clean up the shop after he inevitably set something on fire.

From there, the letters flowed easily, back and forth. His words became a lifeline, weaving a connection between you across the distance. His notes were a mix of playful banter, the kind you had always shared, but beneath the teasing, there was something else—a tenderness, a genuine care that made your heart skip a beat each time you saw his familiar handwriting. He’d ask about your day, tell you about his, sometimes sharing memories of Fred or opening up in ways he hadn’t before.

In return, you found yourself confiding in him, writing about the ups and downs of your days at Hogwarts, about how some nights you missed the way things had been, missed the comfort of his presence. With every letter, the bond between you grew stronger, until it became undeniable that this was more than friendship.

---

By the time summer arrived, you were practically counting down the days until you could visit George again. The train ride back home felt endless, your mind racing with anticipation. And when you finally arrived at his door, heart pounding in your chest, George greeted you with a grin that told you he had been just as eager to see you.

The first few days together were easy, familiar, slipping back into the rhythm of your friendship. But this time, the air between you felt charged, the tension that had simmered beneath the surface for months finally bubbling to the top.

One evening, after a particularly quiet dinner, you both sat on the couch, the room dimly lit by the fading light of dusk. George leaned back, his head resting on the cushions as he stared up at the ceiling, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Y’know,” he began, his voice quiet, “we’ve never really talked about that night.”

You froze for a moment, your heart thudding in your chest. You knew exactly what he meant, and a part of you had been expecting this conversation. You turned to him, your stomach twisting with nervousness, but also with a strange sense of relief.

“No,” you agreed softly, “we haven’t.”

He sat up then, turning to face you, his expression serious but not tense. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, something he did when he was nervous. “About what happened between us. I didn’t want to push you, or make things weird, but…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “But I don’t think it was just a one-time thing for me.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your pulse quicken. You swallowed, trying to gather your thoughts. “It wasn’t just a one-time thing for me either,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. “I think… I think I’ve been feeling something for a while now. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the weight of what had been left unsaid for so long, and the slow realization that neither of you were alone in how you felt.

George reached for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt so natural, so right. “So… what do we do now?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips, though his eyes were serious.

You smiled back, a soft warmth spreading through your chest. “I think we call it what it is,” you said, your heart feeling lighter than it had in months. “I think we stop pretending it’s just friendship.”

George’s grin widened, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I can do that,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet certainty.

And this time, neither of you were afraid to name what had been blossoming between you all along.

[epsilon-13]

I'm sorry to anyone that saw this and thought this child is a adorable, this is the only one I have drawn right now, (That and I scarred the crap out of older them) but at least this version is actually the easiest to draw.

Here have the baby cadet version of the clone OC I accidentally made. (that I'm still working on but eh)

[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight pt2

Cassian x f!reader

Part 1

AN: Thanks for the love for part 1. I hope you enjoy this next part

Summary: Cassian has questions about the female living with him for the next six months. As it turns out, you have a few questions of your own.

Warnings: implied trama, references to war and gore, sexual tension

Word count: 2416

Cassian watched you in the days that followed that first meeting in the depths of the library. He watched for any sign of that slithering piece of daylight, so like his brother's shadows, as you breezed in and out of the House of Wind. You never stayed for long, only bothering to make a short appearance each morning for breakfast before disappearing into the dust covered stacks. You would emerge hours later to very quickly eat dinner and then retire to the bedroom he and Azriel had cleaned out for you all those weeks ago; when Rhys had told them about the Day Court researcher who would be staying with them at the house for six months at Helion's request. The Day Lord didn't say why he wanted you to come to the Night Court when his many libraries were said to be far more impressive than the one you now worked in. Or, at least, if he did, then Rhys had decided not to share that information. And he supposed it didn't matter, not really, as your presence had proven to be more or less inconsequential to the General.

Still, he couldn't help but idly wonder at the reasons your High Lord had ordered you here. If it was really for research purposes or some other, potentially sensitive, reason. If it was the former, then you were being remarkably secretive about your interests. Even Gwen couldn't make heads or tails of what you could possibly be looking into when she'd taken a sly glance at the titles of books you'd gathered on your table one day. It ranged anywhere from the creation myths of the world, to personal memoirs of seemingly random individuals, to even children's stories. It peaked all the female's interests during their morning training sessions and had been a topic of debate through their opening stretches more often than he cared for.

And, if it was the latter… if there was potentially a secret, sensitive reason for your presence, then he supposed it wasn't his business to pry. Mother knew he sometimes needed the space and time to deal with his own shit. He just hoped that when you were ready, you had someone to talk to about whatever it was that left your gaze vacant most nights when he sat across from you at dinner. Someone who understood whatever it was that sent you into the dark.

“Good morning…” he trailed off as he entered the dining room one morning, about a week after that first meeting. He looked to your usual spot at the table only to find it empty, not even a whiff of your scent to let him know if you had simply gotten an early start. But, before the frown could fully set on his face, a glimmer in the corner caught his eye. Turning towards the window, he saw that slip of daylight drift across the floor towards the veranda that overlooked the city far below and…

Cassian's breath caught in his chest, and he shifted onto his back foot. You had dragged a small table and a chair out to the railing and were sunning your perfect face in the early morning light. The golden rays of the sun that you alway glowed with seemed to almost sparkle as sunbeams danced across your skin.The wind gently flowing through your hair carried your scent to him where he now stood in the doorway, watching you. It was impossible for someone to be that stunning, that unendingly beautiful, and yet he found himself mesmerized every time he saw you.

“Are you going to stand there gawking all morning?” Your question came out as a sigh, your voice like a melody he once heard.

Cassian shifted on his feet, his wings tucking in. “I didn't mean to stare.” He hadn't, but he often found he couldn't help himself when it came to you.

“Males never do,” your voice was dry as you opened up your eyes to look towards him. “It would seem that your entire species is incapable of restraint.”

He gave you a halfway cocky grin, “Are all Day Court females so full of themselves? Or are you just a special case?”

That earned him a smirk, “Sit, General. Eat with me.” He looked down to see another chair, this one with a low back to accommodate his wings, appear opposite yours. A plate of his preferred breakfast was already waiting for him.

You went back to warming your face in the gentle morning light as he took his seat. Head tipped back, eyes closed, all emotions drained from your features as the sunbeams flitted across them. Warm and welcoming, you breathed into the wind as Cassian ate his food. A sort of comforting quiet passing between you for a time.

“I never thanked you,” you spoke when he was nearly finished with his breakfast.

He looked up at you slowly, “What for?”

“Coming to check on me,” you admitted, almost sheepishly. “It was a kindness. I should have thanked you.”

He shrugged as he resumed eating, “Clotho asked me too. Plus, it's not like it was terribly difficult to just pop in.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sort of thoughtful confusion in your eyes, “Do you not fear the lower levels?” He went still for a moment, “I heard that you and the High Lady had a terrible experience down there.”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Have you been asking about me, Y/N?” You blushed and Cauldron damn him if it wasn't the most lovely thing he'd seen in the last decade, at least.

You waved off his question, “I merely overheard a few of the Priestesses speaking about it when I was fetching another book for my research.”

He studied you for a moment. His gaze was far more assessing than you thought the General was capable of before he set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. For a moment, you thought maybe you had offended him, that you had brought up some terrible thing he'd rather not speak on. But he offered you an easy smile even as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How about this,” he began, a spark of mischief in those hazel eyes. “A question for a question. If you're so curious, we can get to know each other that way.”

You let out a laugh, “Are you bargaining with me, General?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching up, “I see no reason to bring magic into it, but I will admit I have questions, and you've hardly been available for me to ask.”

Your eyes flashed, and for a moment, he worried if he'd pushed too far, if he'd overstepped in some way. But you just settled into your chair, a sort of challenge in your features that had not been there a moment ago. “My research is off limits.”

He nodded once, “Fair enough. Do you want to go first?” You only raised an eyebrow, a pointed look on your face as he recalled your earlier question. “Right, the lower levels.” He told you about Bryaxis, the creature of nightmares that once dwelled in the darkest parts of the library. He told you of how they hunted for it still after it failed to return after the war. And he told you of the presence the Priestesses sometimes felt when they ventured into the deepest levels. As if something still lurked in the dark.

“I see,” you bit your lip as you thought, and he tipped his head to the side.

“Have you ever felt anything like that? When you're reading in the lowest levels?”

“No,” you sighed, meeting his gaze, “but creatures like that don't usually care for individuals such as I.” A gesture to your body and the faint glow you emitted at all times. “It's hard to lurk in the dark when there is always light.”

“True.” he let his eyes drop, respectfully, to your neck, your collarbone, your- He snapped his eyes back to yours. A knowing smirk on your lips. “Right, my question now-”

“Actually,” you smiled like a cat toying with its dinner, and he raised an eyebrow, “You asked a question, so it's my turn again.”

“Wha-” he frowned, replaying the conversation before letting out a long breath. “Right. Go on then.”

You laughed once before your expression shifted. Your face softened, and your eyes dropped to the table as you seemed to think over your words carefully, “Have you ever heard a swan song?”

He blinked once, the corners of his lips tugging down, “Uh, no. I didn't know swans were song birds.”

You didn't meet his eyes, “They're not, except for right at the end. Just before they die, they make the most beautiful music. At least, that's what some legends say. Some say that they are always singing their songs, and only when we are on the brink of death might we hear the melody. I just wondered if you, a prolific warrior and General, might have… heard it.”

Cassian frowned now as he thought. He'd been in plenty of difficult battles and nearly died more times than he or his family cared to think about. But had there been music? He always thought of battles as a dance, the clashing of blades and beating of wings like a song in his soul. A war drum that called to his very blood. Did that change when he went down? When the enemy closed in and his strength was not enough- When Az was carrying him through the mud, his guts hanging out of his body- did the music shift then? Was there a different song in his head? In his heart?

“Yes,” he answered finally, and your eyes snapped to his, “Yes, I think I might have.”

You held his gaze intently, as if looking for the honest truth in his words and fearing you might find a bitter lie. He didn't look away, didn't falter as you assessed him. That golden gaze drinking in everything that he was and is and would be as if you would never see it again. The moment felt charged in a way he had not anticipated. Like a live wire had connected the two of you, and his blood was electric in his veins. His skin was too tight, and gods, he was hot, and you- you were just sitting there watching him. An unruffled goddess glowing in the morning light.

“Y/N-”

A noise behind him broke the tension as he turned to see Nesta standing in the door to the dining room. Arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised she smirked at him as if catching him in the act of something uncouth. Cassian only raised a hand as if to ask ‘what?’ before he turned back to where you sat.

Only your seat was empty. Your plates were gone, and not even your scent lingered to prove you had been there to begin with. He looked around, even going so far as to glance over the railing in case you had jumped, but there was nothing.

“Good meal?” Nesta asked, leaning against the door frame. The delighted, wicked smile on her face told Cassian all he needed to know about how this morning's lesson with the Valkyries would go.

He cleared his throat, “You didn't happen to see a certain Day Court female jump off the veranda, did you?”

Nesta's grin only grew, “Oh no, Cassian. As far as I could tell, you were sitting here all by yourself.”

“Right,” he stood up, placing his napkin on his now empty plate. “Shall we go? The other will be waiting on us.”

“Oh don't hurry on our account,” she teased him, “You seemed to be staring quite intensely at nothing. We wouldn't want to interrupt whatever it was you were thinking so hard about.”

He only leveled his gaze at her, “Keep talking, Nes. Cause it sounds to me like you want to do five extra sets of squats today. I'm sure your fellow Valkyries will thank you for it.”

The two of them walked away, playfully sparing with their words as they disappeared through the dining room and into the hall. You watched them go, a sort of wistfulness filling your chest as you dropped the glamor that had concealed you from sight. It was a rare magic, true invisibility. One you were only able to wield due to the light based nature of your magic. And one you used so selectively, not even Helion knew you could do it.

You felt bad, letting Cassian look like a fool staring into nothing and then vanishing so even he couldn't see you, but it had been instinct. A reflex you couldn't stop to conceal yourself from view the moment your daylight whispered that someone was approaching and you found yourself trapped within his hazel gaze. It had been almost hypnotic, the way he looked at you. Admiringly. Reverently. It made your heart beat fast, and your blood run hot, and something in your chest twisted with pain. Perhaps it was dangerous, allowing the General to get close to you. Perhaps you should return to the library depths and not return until your High Lord came to fetch you. But even as the thoughts crossed your mind, you dismissed them. Clotho had sent him after you once for that nonsense. You didn't see the female having any qualms about doing it again.

Still, some distance might be a good idea. You chewed on your bottom lip as you looked out to the city so far below and sighed. Not too much, but enough so that that, whatever had passed between you, did not happen again.

Your daylight circled your ankle, a cat begging for attention. Your smile turned soft as you dropped a hand to let the light pool in your palm before bringing it to rest in your lap. It was a beautiful day in the Night Court, so like the warm comfort you were used to back home and yet also foreign and new. Perhaps you would explore the city a while. Take in the sights and delights of your temporary residence. Rhysand had offered to give you a tour upon arrival. To show you all his favorite spots in Velaris. Maybe it was time to accept.

After all, there were many ways to keep a male at bay.

Part 3

[ifeelgeek]

NOVEDADES ROLERAS

FOROS NUEVOS (desde que actualizamos) ¡Nos alegra ver que ya esten aquí, les deseamos todo el éxito!

• Savage Garden : Sobrenatural : Año 1837 - Pb real • Next Life Online : Realidad virtual de fantasía - pb animado • Jujutsu Kaisen You are my special z : Anime - pb animado • Golden Blood : Canción de Hielo y Fuego - pb real • Fragments of the Masks : Sobrenatural - pb animado • Blinding Dreams : Realista - pb real • Synnara rpg : Sobrenatural - Pb animado • Pokemon Astria : Pokemon - Pb animado • Yugitest : Reapertura • Harry Potter Head

CAMBIOS Y ACTUALIZACIONES ¡No se pierdan las novedades!

• Yu gi test : Cambio de Skin • Sempiternus : Qué linda está la mañana En vengo a saludarte Venimos todos con gusto Y placer a felicitarte ♪ ¡Felices 2 añitos! • The cosmos Aftermath : ¡Que los cumplas feliz, Que los cumplas feliz , Que los cumplas The cosmos aftermath Que los cumplas feliz! ♪ • Arcanum Legio : ¡Feliz, feliz en tu día amiguito que dios y mr shadow te bendigan, que reine el rol en tu vida y que cumplas muchos más más ! • God Save the king : ¡Feliz feliz en tu día ójala que no te pise un tranvía que no te den torta podrida y que Sí cumplas muchos más! • Kasiopea Valerian : ¡FELICIDADES POR ESOS 7 AÑOS!

TRAMAS ¡Que viva el rol!

• Rails of Cosmos : Inscripción a la trama global hasta el 6 de octubre • Tokyo Revengers rol : Inscripción a la trama global hasta el día 22/09 ¡Corre!

FOROS PRÓXIMOS ¡Esperamos que lleguen pronto y les vaya de maravilla!

Marvel Eden : Superheroes - Seguir para conseguir los chimichangas y conocer más del proyecto @marveleden The greatest : Realista - 22/09 se abren sus reservas de fcs - @thegreatestrp The spiral Dance Rpg : 28/09 REAPERTURA @thespiraldancerpg Star Wars Dawn of the galaxy : Ciencia ficción - Reservas abiertas - @dawnofthegalaxy Neidan : Foro de tématica yuri / Girls Love : Reservas abiertas - @neidanrol

Harold Harrison : Community College - pb real - ¡Abre hoy! @haroldharrisoncollege-rpg

[pookielious]

Tech/5 eugene roe , one of easys companys medics, remembered the multiple cases of frostbite for the remainder of his life. The situation was so bad that Roe often took the morphine ampoules that every soldier carried and transferred the vials from dead soldiers to those who still manned the foxholes. Additionally, virtually every trooper suffered.

I'm forever gonna think about this paragraph in the memoirs of dick winter because the trama these guys had to go through in the war, like roe was only 19 can't even imagine what all of the medics and medical staffing had to see or Had to deal with due to how crazy some of the injuries would be, it's heart breaking

[flightfoot]

got any fic focusing on marinette's trauma? all i can find are adrien trama fics

That makes sense. All Hawk Moth related trauma is stuff that Adrien would also have, and who it would be ten times worse for. Still, I'll see what I can do. I'm gonna stick to ones where the trauma Marinette suffers is derived at least somewhat from canon, and not like, from being captured and tortured, or having a fatal illness, or her mom dying, or anything like that. I'm assuming you want ones that are at least close-ish to canon, instead of just "Marinette angst" fics.

---

A Small but Stubborn Fire by @cardiac-agreste

What if you were the parent of a teenage superhero, but didn't know they were? All you know is the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the bruises. She's missing school, she's disappearing on you, and she's not telling you anything. So you assume the worst: Assault. Depression. A permanent rift in the family. And what do you do when you realize you weren't thinking dark enough? Because your fourteen-year old daughter is the hero who flirts with death on the nightly news. -- Come inside and read about one mother's struggles to raise her daughter in a dangerous world while avoiding the mistakes her own mother made with her.

This is a more serious take on the consequences of Hawk Moth's war on Paris, with actual bloody, painful deaths as a consequence of many akumas, and Parisians developing PTSD because of what they've gone through. Ladybug can fix all the physical scars, but not the mental ones, including her own.

I love the focus on Sabine here. She's not just presented as being a mom - though of course that IS an important role she has. But she's explored as a character in her own right, one with a lot of emotional baggage as a result of her abusive mother, and trying to not fall into her mistakes, but sometimes doing so anyway out of fear for Marinette's safety. She's a really fleshed out, humanly flawed character, sometimes admitting that she would do something selfish if it means protecting the people she cares most about, like her daughter, even if its at others expense. She grows and changes a lot throughout the course of the story, her perspective on many matters changing multiple times as a result of getting new information or seeing the consequences of her previous approaches, and adjusting as a result.

If you want a fic that more realistically explores the dark consequences of Miraculous's setting, that fleshes out Sabine, or just develops a character in a complex way, then I highly recommend you check "A Small but Stubborn Fire" out!

---

In Pursuit of the Uneatable by @nemaliwrites

Who do you trust when your own reflection becomes a stranger? In a Paris where Lila weaves tales that blind the city, Marinette stands accused, isolated. Her parents' trust is shattered, her friends distant, and in battle, illusions blur the line between ally and enemy. As the shadows and uncertainty threaten to close in, Marinette finds herself turning to the last person who claims to be on her side: a boy in a white mask who calls himself a fox hunter.

THIS IS NOT A BASHING FIC. Well, Lila bashing, I guess, but even then she gets a lot more consideration than usual. Anyway, there's no animosity towards Marinette's friends and family here. Instead, the fic has more of this melancholy, contemplative tone, with Marinette feeling boxed in by Lila, and trying to figure out how to navigate her circumstances, especially being around Lila. Even when there isn't any particular threat against her, just having Lila around, knowing that she could pull something else to make Marinette's life worse, and thinking that there's no way to counter her, that she always wins... you can feel how suffocating it is. But she does have a way out, a mysterious boy who she's seen around, who completely has her back as far as Lila's concerned... but she might not want him to, to the extent that he goes.

By the way, this IS a Lovesquare fic, the thing with the boy... well, that'll make sense once you read the fic. But it's not romantic, I can tell you that.

Anyway, it's this interesting psychological, low-key sort of fic. If you want a look at the more emotional consequences of Lila's brand of bullying and isolation WITHOUT any sort of demonization or bashing towards anyone else, but just exploring the effects on Marinette and how to respond to it, then this fic is worth a look.

Oh, also, this is rated M, though I'm honestly not sure why. Marinette's not in the best headspace, but it's not a "this isn't appropriate for teens" headspace, there's nothing sexual, and the most that is present in the story as far as violence and gore goes are some bruises that were acquired under indeterminate (though probably abusive) circumstances, and the breaking of an arm and being bludgeoned in the head, and neither of them are described particularly graphically. So long as you're 13+, this fic's probably fine.

---

Stop Time by @liiinerle

— she put her hand on the page, blocking it so the words wouldn’t scream so loudly at her. They had screamed more than enough already. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her fingers together, crumpling the paper slightly — just enough that it didn’t look so pristine and mocking. It needed to be full of despair, in every possible way. “Marinette —” started Mullo. “No! Never again. Marinette is… gone, forever.” She let go of the paper. Now it lay alone in the light, as the last thing she could ever tell them. That she loved them, that she’d miss them, that she would never talk to them again. A suicide note. Of sorts. ----- Fu accidentally names Marinette as the new guardian, and not Ladybug. She's forced to fake her own death and go into hiding in order to get away from Hawk Moth. She finds a hiding spot in the Louvre, but there she's forced to face the effects of her going away by a very unexpected source: her friend Alix.

Definitely mind the tags on this one! But if it ain't triggering to you, then I highly recommend reading it. You can really feel Marinette's struggles here, with basically making herself homeless, unable to reach out to her friends and family, needing to steal just to feed herself and the kwamis, and then dealing with everyone in her life grieving... and then moving on. Except for a few people who don't...

It's just... it's really good, really heart-wrenching.

---

Bend the World Around It by @kasienda

“Tell me it was real." She can’t look at him. She can barely stand the pain in his voice. She definitely can’t face it. “It wasn’t.” He shakes his head, and turns to her - his eyes swirling in their intensity. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Tell me that you were there. We were there together, having the same dream.” She squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to lie to him. She needs to lie to him. But she can’t. Lying would be like it never happened. But it did happen. And if it’s all they get to have, she wants him to know it. “I think we were having the same dream,” she whispers, unable to meet his eyes.

So this is an adorable Jubilation aftermath fic, with Ladybug and Chat Noir both mourning the loss of what only they remember, of a dream that never was. And them deciding that screw it, it may not have been real to anyone else, but it was real to them. They remember those years together, and they want to live together, if only during the times when they can afford to be missing from home. They remember being happily married, and crave that life.

---

I (Wish I) Knew You by @buggachat

University has been hard on Marinette. Making new friends and maintaining her grades is a lot easier said than done when she has to disappear at odd times to fight akumas. She's struggling, and with Alya away with family and Adrien painfully out of reach, she's never felt lonelier.

If only she could talk to someone who really understood her struggles... but it's not like Chat Noir would know anything about loneliness. Right?

Nice aged-up Ladynoir fic here! Marinette’s struggling with losing friends and lovers because of her flakiness due to her superhero activities, until at last she breaks down. Thankfully, Chat Noir’s there at least - and it soon turns out he’s got problems of his own that he’s been hiding.

There’s some fluff and angst, it’s mostly just the two of them navigating life, dealing with their feelings and talking things out.

---

Accidents Are Also Miracles by @liiinerle

After a few turbulent days where four new people discover her secret identity, Marinette loses faith in her ability to keep the secret hidden. Wracked with doubts and insecurities, she pleads with Alya to take over as Scarabella, but she still can't let those worries go. Especially not once Monarch starts taking a particular, and personal, interest in her.

Along the way, she also starts to date Kagami, and has to deal with changing feelings about herself, Adrien, Alya, Kagami, and the idea of being Ladybug. At the same time, Alya works to uncover Monarch's secret identity, while Kagami struggles against a controlling parent, and a girlfriend who seems bent on destroying herself - with or without Monarch's involvement.

Fantastic Marigami fic here! You’ve got three major POVs in this fic: Marinette, Kagami, and to my delight, Alya. I loved getting to see Alya cope with taking over as Scarabella especially.

But of course, this fic centers more around Marinette and Kagami, with Marinette struggling with Monarch targeting her, and Kagami struggling against her abusive parent, as well as both of them trying to navigate their relationship together when they know that not everyone will approve. 

There’s also some other plots going on in here, like Sabrina breaking away from Chloe and becoming more independent (and closer to Adrien in fact), as well as a Lila takedown plot, though thankfully not one that involves demonizing other characters. While there are conversations about people believing Lila and siding with her, no one’s actually attacked for it except for Lila herself.

Oh yeah, and while this fic may not have much focus on Adrien, he’s still treated fairly and with respect, even when he messes up. He can make mistakes, but people understand where he’s coming from, and are still kind to him and want things to be okay, and to help him escape his abusive circumstances.

[divine0rdainment]

Paradise Found Au

Michael and Lucifer are assigned as guardian angels over Lilith and Adam, Lucifer is to watch over Adam specificly while Michael is to look over Lilith. In the garden, obviously, things go as before with Lilith seeking independence from Adam, and Adam being frustrated she won't ever listen to him about anything. And the two becoming too incompatible to stay together. Michael and Lucifer argued over this too, Michael defending his ward as Lucifer defended his. Eve is made and Guarded by Sera as Michael is tasked with keeping Lilith away from Adam and Eve on the boarder of the garden.

Michael and Lilith actually start talking and she helps pull him out of his shell and be more independent and willing to break rules. Do things he's always wanted, but was too scared to do. Michael feels free for the first time. Lilith asks if there's a way to free humans from following the angels orders and gods plan, Michael suggests the Apple of Knowlege. He brings the apple to the humans when Sera and Lilith are away and, well you know how it goes. Darkness comes. Eve and Adam are punished with being sent to earth to survive on their own, breaking Sera and Lucifers hearts to see their humans go. (And occasionally granting miracles to keep them alive, but what the high council doesn't know won't kill them)

Michael and Lilith are sent to hell, and down there they make a Kingdome, the sins, have a daughter named Emily. And everything is perfect. But not for Adam, for when he gets to Heaven, Eve is not there with him. But Lucifer is, and having missed his human, was very happy to show him around heaven and teach him all there is. He gave Adam anything he could, helped him through the trama of survival and the losses of his sons. Forming a strong loving bond with him

In a few years, Lucifer and Adam get married. Soon after, Hell rebels against Heaven thanks to Liliths leadership, and in doing so, Lucifer and Michael are forced to fight. And it's dramatic to say the least, (lots of dead Sinners and some angels) and at the end of the war, Sera suggests exterminations for a way to keep Hell from Rebelling a second time, and Michael agrees as hellborns and his family are spared the genocide.

Adam is pushed to be the leader of these exterminators by the high council's orders, and Lucifer, ever the loving husband, helps him through the pain of having to kill his own descendents, even encourages him to make a game out of it. Anything to make what he has to do hurt less. Lucifer and Adam always did like to play games...

After a few years, Adam and Lucifer created two daughters. The first being Charlie, who works under Sera as the one responsible for bringing joy to all the winners in heaven. She knows the exterminators exist but believe they only go down to hell to release souls from hell, putting them to rest. A twisted version of what is actually happening. But Lute, The youngest daughter, follows Adam to hell, and enjoys slaughtering sinners with her dad as his second in command. She's amazing at it. She even scares her father sometimes with her excitement for murdering sinners.

Tho Adam won't admit it, killing sinners continues to weigh on him heavily. Without Lucifer, he's not sure who he'd be anymore. Lucifer is his rock, and Lucifer happily keeps Adam as mentally well as he can, even when he's busy working as a Arch Angel, is part of the High Angelic Council, and also guiding Charlie to one day take his place on the council.

Despite the exterminations, Adam and Lucifer are happy. Their happy ending... Till Seven years ago, Vaggie, Charlie's girlfriend, and an exterminator, didn't come back from hell with the others. Lute claimed Vaggie broke the rules and thus had to be left in hell, cussing a big fight between the sisters for a full seven years, much to the dads heart break. They didn't know how to help or fix it.

And then Lilith came to heaven to make a deal. A deal Adam accepted without telling Lucifer about it or even that she was in heaven at all, only Lute. And then the exterminations were moved to twice a year instead of once a year, and only because one of Adams girls had been killed by a demon. Sera panicked and demanded this be taken care of before the demons figure out how to kill them again.

Then Michaels kid, Emily, meets with Adam one meeting after an extermination, asking to set up a hotel that would redeem sinners and send them to heaven one day. Adam called the girl stupid left without giving the idea much thought. But when she shows up in heaven and reveals the secret to everyone, things got worse for the family. Extremely worse.

Charlie now believes in redemption, is mad at her dads and sisters for not telling her what the exterminations were really like, Lute wants to go down and kill everyone, and Adam is being treated terribly by the Winners for killing their family members who where sent to hell. Lucifer is having arguments with Sera and the council about how to fix all of this and its getting nowhere...Things are not looking good for any of them.

(sall I got for the idea so far. It's still a work in progress to being a full idea)

[polter-graphs]

Búsqueda de partner (¿o no?)

¡Advertencia de mucho texto! Son las 4AM y lo que hay a continuación es el resultado de mucha paja mental y vueltas que le he dado a la insatisfacción que siento por mi pasatiempo fav.

Aquí empieza: Estoy en un grupo de facebook donde la gente expresa abiertamente rolea con inteligencias artificiales. Se me ocurrió comentar que yo hacía lo mismo pero con personas reales y me dijeron anticuada, lol.

Ante eso, me pregunté: ¿acaso rolear con un IA es mi solución?

Verán, llevo aproximadamente 12 años en este hobby y sigo sin entender qué carajos es un partner. Siento que todo el mundo percibe al partner como una pareja de rol a la cual le deben fidelidad y yo me pregunto... ¿no les da pereza rolear solo con una persona? Cuando yo entraba a los foros le pedía a rol a todo el mundo, sin discriminar a nadie.

También he visto gente en tumblr pidiendo constantemente partners para entrar en foros, ¿Qué nunca entraron a un foro por cuenta propia? ¿acaso ya no es emocionante aventurarse a un nuevo sitio y conocer personas nuevas en acción?

Solía pensar que habían muchas personas dentro del rol dependiendo de otras personas y no disfrutando realmente el hobbie. Y aunque sigo pensando lo mismo, ahora creo que los entiendo un poco más. Y es que, después de tantos años con comunidades muriendo, admins con nulo interés por su proyecto y personas a las que les tomas una búsqueda y te abandonan, encuentras que no tienes ningún rol seguro si no tienes un partner. ¡La ironía!

Y por desgracia, a estas alturas me he desmotivado lo suficiente para pensarme seriamente si entrar o no a un foro. Tampoco tengo la motivación suficiente para mantener mi propio foro (lo descubrí a la mala). Y si no fuera poco, tampoco tengo tiempo para rolear como quisiera, soy una adulta y tengo cosas de la vida real que solucionar antes de sentarme a rolear.

Entonces, ¿las IA serán la solución a esto? No te abandonan, no te excluyen de un grupo ni borran los roles de un día a otro, están como el tiempo, pero no se sienten humanos. No son humanos.

Antes de caer en la fiebre con las IA, me voy a dar la oportunidad de buscar compañeros de rol que les vengan bien mis términos y gustos para armar cosas. No es necesario que seamos novios y nos juremos fidelidad/amor eterno, eso no es algo con lo que me sienta cómoda, al contrario, son libres de rolear con quien sea lo que quiera. Podemos armar tramas familiares, de misterio, de comedia, de romance, de lo que sea. Para mí, partner no es equivalente a novio, sino a compañero de aventuras. Y bueno, eso justamente es lo que busco, compañeros de aventuras, llámenle partner, dúo o lo que quieran.

Mi propósito es tener rol y tramas aseguradas, y por qué no, amigos roleros también.

Yo tengo preferencia por usar personajes femeninos, sin importar su sexualidad. Puedo entrar a foros de PB real como de PB ficticio: para los foros de PB real tengo predilección por foros de Harry Potter y Star Wars, y no me gustan los de universidades o ciudades; para los foros de PB de anime, puedo rolear donde sea siempre y cuando no sean ciudades slice of life, foros omegaverse (porque no los entiendo) y foros concentrados en sexualidades como los típicos +18 Yaoi, Yuri, Hetero. También puedo rolear por discord, pero escribo mucho y termina siendo rol de discord con extensión de respuesta de foro.

¿Qué te puedo ofrecer? Tramas de todo tipo, mientras más locas mejor y con 0 prejuicios. Además de gráficos re chulos para tus personajes. Nada de toxicidad de mi parte, puedes rolear con más personas sin problema (ten 2783 partners si quieres). Nada de presiones, yo estoy bien con una respuesta cada dos semanas, no me desespero ni tampoco me desmotivo. Un buen nivel de rol (yo no pido perfección, claro, pero me gusta mucho encontrarme con alguien que se esfuerza en sus respuestas, porque yo lo hago). Y sobre todo diversión.

Espero coincidir con alguien. A quien le interese, puede enviarme mensaje privado por este medio sin ningún problema.

Nota: Podemos intentar probar un par de roles para ver si acomodamos, sin compromiso.

[wildglitch]

Batman and the Vulture are the same fucking guy to Peter!

This Fandom dose not acknowledge the fact that Michle Keaton played both Batman and The Vulture and we need to talk about this more!

Not only that but the version of Peter Parker that ends up in the DCU is alway either after Nwh, but also after infinity war. Which means by that point, Peters only Vilian (that we see) was the Vulture! Not including Thanos (cause ofcourse he has Thanos trama) but ignoring him, his only bad guy thats was his to deal with, was the Vulture. Not misterio, not doc ock, not the green goblin- nada!

Obvously, Peter dose know this Bruce Wayne guy isnt Adrien Tooms...but like...he dosnt know

Like, he just looks exactly the same. Who cares if this is multiverse shit, he thought he was in another reality alltogether. So why dose this Tony Stark copy look like the Tony Stark hater?!? Is this just some cosmic coincidence the universe did just to fuck with him or is this man the same guy that was just raised diffrently? Dose he still have the potential to become a villain? Is he already a villain?

Guys...the posibilites this creats are endless!

[sassykitkat22]

Ok scrap Central City she ends up in Liverpool outside of the giw's jurisdiction and thanks to her new warlock status and dannys halfa status somhow end up in the care of John constantine

Maybe she meets kid flash at some point still but i honestly put that there because in young justice he firmly believes magic isn't real dispite wearing doctor fates helmet and i just thought it would be funny idk

But anyways john gains two basically feral kids with magic/supernatural abilities who would go to war to protect each other because of past neglect and trama and the kids gain a magic uncle/dad who is ready to throw down for them and is bringing the giw into the justice leagues spot light

Plus mentor constantine is an underrated tag

Who knows maybe they could help him with his bad luck curse or get his ghost twin off his back

Dont know much about constantine. The guys lore is dense and deep but iv watched gravity fall and i cant get the word druncle (drunk uncle) out of my head because gruncle stan

And im thinking he starts as a stranger/mentor but as the story progresses and he starts working through his issues so he can be a better mentor/guardian he starts to graduate to fatherhood or uncle hood

Dad status is going to be slow though assuming it happens at all he could just stay with uncle states because he doesn't need to be their dad to be close to them family bonds aren't all dads moms or siblings

But if it did it would be slow because everyone at this point has trust issues but they are working on it

[rise-my-angel]

Ned Stark never told Jon the truth for multiple reasons, a big one being about the extremely tenuous spread of information. If by telling Jon, there was ANY chance that that others may learn and it could reach Robert, he would not risk it.

There's clearly a reason after the war, Howland Reed returned to Greywater Watch to sit on a swamp bog lilypad in complete silence for twenty years.

Any chance of the wrong people learning this truth puts Jons life at immediate risk, something Ned won't allow. Protecting Jons life at the cost of some of his relationships with the ones he loves, is a sacrifice he has to make. One of his final thoughts is of guilt, wishing he could talk to Jon just one more time, implying he doesn't want to leave this world with his son thinking Ned raised him this way out of shame or spite.

There's also the fact that Ned is clearly a man with deep trauma. Most of the main older characters from Roberts Rebellion we meet are trapped at that age. Their traumas never really let them move passed that era and its clearly effected the men they've become. Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon, Jon Connington, Jaime Lannister, even Howland Reed. All characters who never really lived passed that war and its greatly effected their lives as older men.

It means that while it isn't fair, Ned does not discuss those days, Jons mother, or even Lyanna in general because he is still trapped in that room she died in. Ned is still metaphorically that young man, sat catatonic at his little sisters now dead bedside. Ned doesn't shut all that down from his family and Jon to just keep him in the dark, its Ned spending Jons entire lifetime with deepy unresolved trauma that he now has no idea how to process. Shutting down emotionally about his families death and not truly processing the greif isn't even singular to Ned. This is a trait we literally see with Jon later on once he thinks hes lost basically his entire family, not really processing those loses in a healthy manner.

So if shutting down from trama is a flaw you put towards Ned, then its Jons flaw too. They both are extremely closed off about greif.

Again, Ned in his final pov chapter feels shame when thinking of how he and Jon will part ways with each other before Ned can fix his wrongs. Ned doesn't want Jon to think he raised him this way with any ill intent, Ned raised Jon that way out of deeply rooted fear for losing his son. And Ned wants Jon to know that hes sorry if he ever made Jon feel anything less then that love.

Its easy to fall into Jons pov trap, where the thinks his father abaondoned him to the Wall because thats what he thought Jon deserved. But the books clearly explain that Ned always wanted Jon to stay in Winterfell with Robb. But between the turmoil of Roberts appearance, the mystery of Lysa accusing the Lannisters of murder, and then realizing Jon wants Benjen to convince his father to let him go and Catelyn pressuring Ned to make Jon go, he concedes. At the least, even if Jon hates him for it, if Jons at the Wall hes as far from Roberts wrath as he could get.

Ned lets him go, but Ned always wanted Jon to stay in Winterfell where he belongs. Ned never treated Jon like a pariah. Ned treated Jon better then most bastards ever get from their highborn families, but did not give too much special treatment in order to keep eyes off of him for his saftey. The less people who pay attention to Jon, the less chance anyone would ever put it together. And keeping Jon a bastard, means while he receives the stigma that comes from it, most people who Ned would be scared of Jon interacting with, will now ignore him. It hurts for Jon, but Ned again, knows its better then someone putting the truth together and winding up having Jons life at risk.

Even through what Jon doesn't understand about his father continues to bother him, Jon actively still pushes away every older male his life trying to position themselves as a psuedo father figure to him, because despite it all, Jon knows the only father he wants or ever needed, was Ned Stark.

Ned was not perfect in the manners which pertain to Jon, but to pretend as if Jons unobjective pov of insecurities and fears stemming from not having the context of his father keeping such a massive secret, is secretly some smoking gun proof that Ned was actually a bad father or deserves to have Jon discount being raised and loved by him his whole life?

It is completely disingenuous.

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

Hey, sorry for bothering. I was wondering if you can do a fire emblem heroes head canon with a child summoner reader, who has social anxiety (of extra drama you can add past trama but this bit is optional)? Again sorry for bother, I just think the idea is cute because tiny timid summoner.

Child!Summoner:

Alfonse, who feels so much guilt that they've placed the burdens of their world on a child to the point where he overcompensates by constantly reminding Summoner to ask him if they need anything at all. "Alfie I'm tired." Yes he lets them call him that nickname, and yes he immediately gives them a piggyback ride.

Sharena is the same, except she will let tiny Summoner hide behind her in social situations. When talking with certain heroes, Sharena will either be right by their side or nearby to jump in if it looks like they are afraid. Camilla is someone else who will allow Summoner to hide behind her if they'd wish during social situations.

"You've seen war child, and you mean to tell me people is what you fear?" Thorr sees the irony in it all, Askr's greatest weapon a child, whose knees threaten to buckle in gatherings of people. "Steady yourself, I will not allow harm to befall you." But she still tries to ease their worries regardless.

Grima calls Summoner, little worm and little human (affectionately). They aren't as sympathetic to Summoner's anxiety, as other heroes but Grima's presence alone scares off plenty of people. "Why worry yourself little worm? I will turn them all into ash and their foolish opinions with them." Yeah... not very helpful.

But if we want to be angsty, and Summoner has trauma, I just know Grima would be seething. "How typical of humans to turn on their own, not even their own children are safe from foolishness. This is why I will destroy them all."

Little Summoner has so many family members now. Hector likes to carry them around on his shoulders, Seteth and Flayn teach them how to fish. Ephraim teaches them how to use a lance, Felix teaches them how to use a sword but both of them make the mistake of handing the child one made of steel and are surprised when they can't even pick the weapon up off the ground. Seth was around when Ephraim was teaching Summoner, and was sighing the whole time.

Setsuna and Summoner have both been found just chilling in traps together, Setsuna's calm demeanor helps them to not panic. Xander takes them horseback riding and almost has a full blown panic attack because they immediately fell off the horse. Helbindi incites violence on anyone who makes Summoner cry.