#we just really like making characters with fiery hair

[crystallizedday]

So

Ya know how I mentioned in my previous post that I made this Samurai Jack oc based on a character I saw in a dream?

Well

It happened again.

Kind of.

It was Demongo himself with two heads, but I felt like making a different design entirely with that concept.

& then my hubby @aceofcards0715 wanted to join in on the fun & made his own, gifting me his bby to have since he didn’t know what to do with her.

So now I have 3 fire bbies

Since I originally made Boron Demongo’s “brother” (which… I mean, I like to think he was just created under similar environmental circumstances, saw Demmy, & went “you’re my brother now! We’re having soft tacos later!”), I guess uh

I guess I’m just starting a new trend of creating Demongo siblings…

It’s like the fuckin “Demongo children craze” of old & im kinda vibing with it IWNWKWMWOSMSODKWODM

Uh

If any of y’all feel like making your own

Pop off! I’d love to see em!

I used this chart for the names & colors & shit, so if ya wanna go by this thing, go right ahead!

[seventh-district]

tag limit my beloathed... continuing my analysis of my potentially Sun x Moon coded ships here ↓

[whendeeplybored]

My favourite thing about Zuko and Katara is that they both are the sun and the moon. They are red and blue.

Let me explain.

Obviously at first glance Katara is the moon and Zuko is the sun, right ?

Katara is a water bender. Waterbending is associated with the moon since the benders draw their power from it. Contrastingly Zuko is a fire bender who draws his power from the Sun. So naturally we associate Zuko with the Sun and Katara with the moon.

It is also a fully established parallel in 'The siege of the North' with one of Zuko's hardest bars:

But anyways I'm gonna guess you all know this :p It is all pretty obvious after all.

What is very interesting to me is this. Hear me out. When you really think about it. Traditionally speaking. A sun-coded character is bright, fierce, fiery, attracts attention and brings joy and hope.

Isn't that the perfect description of a certain 14-year-old hair loop wearer we all know ?

On the other hand, traditionally a moon coded character is cold, sensitive, empathetic, maybe grumpy and sad, a light that only glows in the darkness (if that even makes sense lol, I mean they might try to find glory and success by being on the wrong side of history). Again doesn't that remind you of a scarred pretty boy from that old ass Nickelodeon show?

So what I mean is that in the concept of the show Zuko = sun and Katara = moon but outside of that Zuko can very much equal moon and Katara can fit the characteristics of a sun coded character.

This Tumblr post describes another side of it so well:

The Sun coded character here is a perfect description of Katara especially in the Southern Raiders episode which explores a side of her we just don't talk about enough ! I know the episode creates loaaads of drama but we can all agree (I hope) that she had a lot of bottled up rage which just exploded and almost overtook her in that episode. And do I even have to explain the moon coded one is literally Prince Zuko of a corrupt Fire nation who fought to lead his people into an era of peace or ? He even fits the stereotypical one perfectly (he do be moody and grumpy).

The writers just gave this perfect duality to them both like uuurgh!!! The fact that, in season 3, Katara learns that waterbending can be pain and death and not just the healing flow of life she thought it was and then a few episodes later Zuko discovers that firebending is also life rather than just destruction. Like wow how genius !!

*sigh*

Bottom line is Zuko and Katara really are the twin flames they think they are. 🙂‍↕️

Two beautiful raging purple flames.

[pomefioredove]

My brain is kinda sluggish plus I'm indecisive but also i did like several of these (also if i need to divide up this post let me know)

I have no clue which i like best so i simply made a list but let me know if i need to chunk it up

For Riddle Rosehearts

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." Or "I'm putting you on my to-do list."

For Vil Schoenheit

"Don't bite your lip, I want to do that."

For Ruggie

"You like me because I'm a scoundrel."

vil done here!

summary: "if you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." type of post: short fic characters: riddle additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, maybe ooc, post book 1

You think it's a pretty pathetic sight, but you make no mention of it. Their egos are bruised enough as it is.

"How long?" you ask, sitting across from the shackled duo.

Ace knocks against the solid collar around his neck. "Not long... But we can't present like this,"

You were hoping he wouldn't say that.

And just a day after you told them not to do anything stupid this week, too...

Deuce says nothing; he's been sulking at the end of the table like a puppy with its tail between its legs for the entire lunch period.

"Have you tried reasoning?" you ask. "Maybe he can take them off for the presentation, then put them back on?"

Ace scoffs. "Reason? With Riddle?"

"I thought he was trying to be more lenient?"

"He is," Deuce mutters, hanging his head. "But that just means he only dishes out punishments when someone really deserves it..."

"It was just a stupid painting!" Ace says.

"That we set on fire!"

You look between the two as they bicker over the accident, bewildered by their lack of concern about where this puts you.

Ace and Deuce were supposed to perform the magical component of your defense project, while you and Grim presented. Now...?

You stand. "I'll talk to Riddle,"

Your friends share a pitiful look, but do nothing to stop you as you hurry out of the room.

Surely, Riddle will understand. He wouldn't let you suffer from Ace and Deuce's mistake!

"No," he says.

"But-"

Riddle beheads the wilting flower of a rose with a sharp snap of his shears. It tumbles into the underbrush.

"They destroyed a priceless piece of art. It was hundreds of years old!" he snaps, leaving no room for disagreement. "They should be thankful it's only a week."

He moves on to the next browning rose, inspecting its petals before decapitating it, too.

"But I didn't do anything. I told them not to do anything dumb, I tried to reason with them,"

"Reason? With Ace and Deuce?" he scoffs.

"I would recommend asking for an extension on your assignment until they've carried out their sentence,"

It's too late to ask for another week; he must know that. And you're not giving up so easily.

There must be something you can say...

"But it was an accident,"

Riddle scoffs. "Of course it was. And the rules clearly state that accidental arson of a painting more than three hundred years old must be punished by losing their heads,"

Rules. Great. This is quickly becoming a lost cause.

"There has to be some other way they can be punished," you say. "You said you weren't going to lose your head about these things anymore."

He sighs, rolling his eyes as if frustrated with you. "The rules-"

"Come on, Riddle- If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun!"

Riddle stops. For a moment, it's almost like... he's actually considering your offer.

"...What exactly did you have in mind?"

-

"This is what you call a compromise?!"

Ace's head of fiery hair pops up, the color a striking contrast against the green of the hedge maze.

You shrug. Riddle, sitting across from you as you watch the two tend to the shrubbery, almost giggles.

"The Prefect has been more than fair. If anything, you should be thanking them for the opportunity to end your punishment early," he says, pouring you another cup of tea.

Ace grumbles, scratching his neck under his collar.

Deuce nudges him, and the two get back to work on trimming the hedges, a puny pair of shears in each hand.

Riddle smiles. "I must say, I'm rather impressed by your persuasion skills. It's not often that I change the terms of a punishment after it's dealt,"

"Well, I didn't want to fail on their account,"

"I heard that!" Ace yells. Riddle grins again.

"Perhaps your ingenuity will inspire them, then," he hums, cupping his tea in his palms.

"In the meantime, I believe another tea party is in order for tomorrow afternoon- they have a lot of ground to cover. Care to join?"

[umemiyan]

𝙒𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙍.

𝗛𝗔𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗨𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗬𝗔 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / sibling incest / one brief instance of physical violence (from reader) / use of “pretty girl” + “good girl” / unprotected sex / 1k words

i'm very new to wind breaker but the idea of big brother!umemiya has completely consumed me within the last 24hrs. i'm still getting to know him, so i apologize for any injustices to his character, but i simply needed to get this out of my system. i hope you understand 🙏🏻

“Fuck me, Hajime,” you breathe. It’s a demand, not a request.

Driven by a flame of intensity that you can no longer contain within your own body, you assault his lips with your own. It rips and burns through you, turning your veins to ash and inhibitions to dust, every heavy, fiery emotion making you into a walking fever. 

You need your big brother to burn with you. It urges you to take dominion over his lap where he sits, pressing your bodies closer together than they ever should be while stealing open-mouthed kisses from him that he fails to return in full.

Hajime steadies your hips with his hands upon instinct, moves his mouth against yours for pacification’s sake, but he’s still not ready to be consumed by your flame. He puts distance between your lips so that he can say, “Let’s settle down first, okay? You’re worked up—”

Boiling, you react with a sharp slap to his face before he can even finish. You don’t want him to dote and coo—you want him to stretch you out like you know he can so well, to fan the flame of anger caused by whatever it is that brought you here to him in the first place. But you should’ve known that your brother was a cool stream of mending water, whether it be to a potted plant or your heated passion.

With a red cheek, turned head, and a few out-of-place white strands, Hajime takes your abuse in stride—stone-like, seemingly unaffected. He knows you don’t mean it. Not really.

“Alright,” he says evenly after a good few moments, yielding. 

Your hand stings from the impact, your heart thumping with a mixture of frustration and regret. Why is he always so goddamned unbreakable?

Hajime sets aside the ongoing moral dilemma in his head in favor of cupping your cheek and offering you a kiss. He shivers with a deep-seated guilt, but is ultimately more satisfied with how you arch into his willing affection, enthralled by the chance to get what you want.

But he has no true intention of fanning your flame. Even as he kisses your neck and peels the shirt from your body with haste, Hajime aims to soothe.

When you’re finally seated on his cock, eyes rolling back with the pleasure of being filled, you have the innate urge to devour. You want to bounce on every inch, feel it push the intensity up into your throat until you’re choking on it. You drive yourself on him until you’re coated with sweat in record time, your insides churned by the force of your conquest.

Juxtaposed, Hajime’s loving smile beams up at you with adoration and a touch of… pity? melancholy? as you repeatedly sheath him. 

“You need big brother’s cock to help make it okay? Hm?” He forces your gaze with a sincere blue one and a voice to match. You abhor how he refuses to stoop to your level, saccharine even as he impales you. “Yeah, alright then. My pretty girl…” his fingers brush at your hair and lips suckle on your neck as he accepts his fate as your healer.

It isn’t long before the muscles in your thighs are trembling and he’s more or less maintaining the pace by lifting you up and down his length. You’ve burned bright and quickly, and while he was willing to entertain it for perhaps a moment or two longer, this now gives Hajime the opportunity to gradually slow things down to his liking—to what he knows will be best for you in the end.

He kisses you through it, injecting you with the easygoing syrup on his lips until you’ve nearly stopped your movements. “Shh, shh… relax. There we go. Just feel it.” he gives you a series of shushes and forces you to slow yourself, to feel his cock reach every part of your insides. He accentuates it with a hand on your lower belly.

Hajime leans forward and presses his forehead to yours, closes his eyes, takes a deep inhale and prompts you to follow his lead. Without even thinking of refusing, you mirror him as the blaze within you begins to die out. Breathing so deeply makes you feel as though he resides somewhere deep in your soul, penetrating via the most intimate part of your body—stretched, filled, whole. You belong to each other for better or for worse.

“Good girl,” he praises softly, pleased with your efforts and the snug feeling of your cunt as it flutters around him. “I want you to cum for me, okay?” it’s a gentle proposal as though he isn’t asking for something despicable; but it isn’t so despicable to Hajime in this moment, not when it comes to seeing that you are tended to, fulfilled.

He aids you in rolling your hips slowly and easily into his, pulling you in until your clit brushes against his pelvis with each languid motion. He likes it better like this: sensual with your heart soaring, breaths laced with genuine pleasure and satisfaction. You find peace in finally succumbing to his consoling, and so does he.

“Haji—” you moan, and he threads your fingers together like puzzle pieces made to fit. Your musical whimpers mixed with the sound of his name and slick heat of your cunt send him over the edge with a grunt, cock pulsing streams of hot seed against your womb. 

But even as he breaches ecstasy, Hajime doesn’t stop you—not until you’ve used what’s left of him to stumble over the edge yourself, crying into his shoulder with relief once you do. He holds your head there with a comforting hand, feels you tense and tremble until you eventually go slack and begin to leak with his spend.

Hajime strokes your hair, and you are no longer angry. Your fire has been doused, contained, eliminated for the time being. This pleases him beyond words.

“I’m sorry,” you admit softly against his skin, tucked into his neck with shame. All he does in return is take your face in his palms and bring your forehead to his lips for a series of silent, tender kisses as if to say, “I know. It’s okay.”

Somehow, he will always understand. And he will always be there to wash over you with his gracious, healing waters.

[foolishlovers]

TRANS HUMAN AUs: Below you can find a list of Good Omens human AUs featuring trans characters.

[Requested by anon. You can request more fic recs here.] it’s okay, maybe not forever but we got today by astheworldcomestoanend (G, 1k) Aziraphale’s parents are fighting again, so he goes over to Crowley’s house to spend the night with him. Crowley is more than happy to bring his angel in and make sure he’s okay.

Win Condition by ineffablefool (G, 1k) Human AU. Aziraphale and Crowley's junior high school sets up a really weird school-wide Valentine's Day game that they're both kind of side-eying for different reasons. Talking about it over lunch gives them both the chance to confess something, though!

Belonging by LittleQueerdo (T, 2k) Crowley is woken by a librarian on a mission.

style, flair, and a head of red hair – she’s the nanny?! by lineslines (G, 5k) She takes a step into the light, a vision of red and black, of scant fabric and edges, seizes him in her gaze, which he realizes is almost as fiery as her hair, and drags it up and down his form, once, before she grins. “Oh angel, let me guess, you probably think tartan is stylish?” “Tartan is stylish,” Aziraphale automatically protests, before his brain slowly catches up with his mouth. And his eyes. “Oh, how impolite of me! Please do come in. You must be drenched.” (Crowley just lost her job selling cosmetics to bored rich housewives. Aziraphale is a bored rich bastard in want of a nanny for the neighbor kid he has to babysit. It's a right place, right time situation. Right people, too.)

The Art of Human Nature by IneffableDoll (T, 6k) Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster. The Colour of Hope and Sin by TawnyOwl95 (E, 7k) Crowley has never felt so pretty. Tonight he can do anything. Having Aziraphale Eastgate, the best defender that St. Beryl's School football team had ever seen, cross Crowley's path again is a chance to test that theory. And maybe they can both work out some latent teenage angst at the same time? A Stable Relationship by MirjamOmens (E, 9k) Crowley used to be one of the best eventing riders of the UK. After one unfortunate fall that crushed his leg, he ends his career and starts coaching other promising athletes. Aziraphale is a riding instructor, handling the school ponies and teaching the beginners. For the past six months they have found themselves in a sort of arrangement. It’s just friendship… and sex, whenever their schedules happen to align. It's nothing more than that, right?

Every Part of Me by foolishlovers (T, 10k) Heartthrob rockstar Antonia Harmonia, better known as Anthony J. Crowley offstage, has safeguarded his singing career from his best friend and long-term crush, Aziraphale, for nearly two decades. But when Aziraphale stumbles upon Crowley’s secret at one of his concerts, Crowley is suddenly confronted with unexpected consequences. Could the best of both worlds be within his reach? A Hannah Montana AU. I'm Beginning to See the Light by ineffabildaddy (E, 15k) There was Crowley - the paragon of cool, the overlord of apathy, breezing easily through each and every one of their exchanges and giving no fucks while doing so; then there was the anachronistic, cloying Aziraphale, trying and failing not to live life like a Thomas Hardy protagonist, and giving many fucks indeed. Or: Aziraphale has quite the pash on his colleague Crowley, who seems resolutely disinterested in him. As their annual Christmas party progresses, it appears that Crowley may not be as disinterested as Aziraphale first thought.

Fifteen Years of Heartache by mondlichtmaus (T, 20k) Crowley was roused from his nap by the sound of somebody opening the door. He didn't move. Maybe they would go away. "Excuse me?" someone called. They weren't going away. Crowley rose, lifting his head to squint at the intruder. A broad figure, silhouetted by the light of the hallway. He couldn't make out his face, eyes still bleary from sleep. Just a halo of light framing his head. "What?" Crowley grumbled. There was a moment of silence, then the intruder spoke again. "Anthony?" They're teachers. They're in love. They're oblivious.

Just Up the Stairs by foolishlovers, ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia (E, 39k) On Valentine's Day, amidst the chaos of handling work and university deadlines as a mature student, Crowley seeks solace with his neighbour Aziraphale. As they share a meal, their long-standing friendship begins to unravel, revealing hidden feelings they've harboured for six months. It's a night that could change everything. Black and White Sunshine by Azira_Amane (E, 58k) "The cotton capital. The Second Summer of Love, the Haçienda. Irwell, Medlock, Irk and Mersey. Elizabeth Gaskell wrote her novels in a lovely little house. Oh. There’s so much to know…" Aziraphale East is, by his own account, a bit of an odd duck - and he's okay with that. He's always been happy in his own skin, in having been a confirmed bachelor his whole life. Everything changes on a work trip from London to Manchester, where he meets the vivacious and stunningly attractive Anthony Crowley. Like the splitting of the atom, Aziraphale is divided - and begins to wonder if it's not too late for love after all. Age, as they say, is but a number.

Tales of Turning Pages by foolishlovers (E, 73k) Every Tuesday, aspiring romance novelist Anthony J. Crowley pays a visit to his local library and the charming angel working there. Every Tuesday, Aziraphale Fell finds himself more and more intrigued by the curious stranger who turns his orderly life as a small-town librarian upside down.

[you can find more fic rec masterposts here]

[hollybell51]

here me out. Adam Warlock and sex pollen.

It's ok - one

Navigation

Part two

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: foreign flora has an unexpected effect on your human physiology.

Content: sex pollen and associated DUBCON, fuck-or-die, smut, maybe very slight perviness (but I don't think it's creepy or really triggering), Adam being down bad, SMUT. Gratuitous smut. Non-explicit masturbation, handjobs (kinda), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's a virgin, reader isn't, bit on angst, unresolved, there will be part 2. Maybe some out of character-ness, but it's hard cause he only had like 10 minutes screen time so what I've written is based on my own interpretation and what I've read since I watched the movie

Notes: I hear you anon! I actually haven't done sex pollen before, though I always found it kinda fun, so this was new to me. I actually wrote a part 2 which I'll post with this, and that's much of the same xx. Also sorry I haven't done anything in ages, I've been super under the weather and busy so I haven't really had time lmao. Anyways, have fun with this!

“Hey, did you get through those notes?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the forest, seeming to bounce off the lush petals of the giant flowers towering overhead. The local flora was all supersized, bigger than anything Adam had ever seen, and filtered the harsh light of the planet’s nearest star in sickly sweet hues of pinks, greens, yellows and even blue. 

“Breathable atmosphere, mostly docile wildlife. Predators are nocturnal.”

“Ok, just… How much longer are we gonna be out here?” 

Adam turned, letting the machete you’d armed him with – “bush bashing. Gotta learn those life skills, huh?” – hang by his side. You were panting, face flushed and beaded with sweat as you planted your hands on your hips and frowned at him. Even like this, speckled with bright yellow and orange pollen and clearly uncomfortable, Adam couldn’t ignore the odd swooping sensation in his gut. It was like someone was constantly pulling a rug from under his feet. 

He checked the time displayed on the tablet. “Two hours. Maybe less. Are you ok?” 

You groaned, but nodded and walked the few paces to stand beside him. “Goddamn flower dumped its load all over me. You sure this shit is breathable?” 

The atmosphere. Right, you were joking about the humidity. “If you don’t mind a bit of a steam,” he tried, smiling at the short bark of laughter the remark conjured. 

You tapped his machete-holding hand, jerking your head towards the wall of fleshy greenery. “Nice. Let’s just get this over with.” 

Adam simply nodded. The falling feeling had been replaced by something warm and sticky, the simple touch and your laugh flowing like syrup to sit low inside him. It had been like this for a while now, since he’d started really talking to you, spending time with you, noticing things about you. Like your hair, now dusted with fiery plant spores and stuck to your forehead, and how it caught the lights of Knowhere just right when you sat down beside him to eat. Or the little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you smiled – really smiled. The High Evolutionary had disliked wrinkles and other physical signs of ageing, viewed them as imperfect and a blight on existence. Adam could have stared at yours all day. 

“Can I see that?” 

Again, Adam stopped and turned. You were craning at the tablet, your hand absently running around the collar of your suit. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Just… It’s really hot. Do you feel that?” 

Adam shrugged. Temperature wasn’t a huge concern to him, but you looked truly uncomfortable now. “Humidity can often make it feel hotter than it is.” 

“I know, but…” You grimaced, pulling your collar down further and wriggling your shoulders. “I feel really hot. Worse than before.” 

Adam frowned. He knew humans were often sensitive to their environment, much more so than was practical, but you seemed more affected than you should be. There were places on Earth hotter than the current reading, you’d told him that, so why were you–?

The comm on his wrist buzzed, Rocket’s voice crackling across the emergency frequency. “Warlock? You copy?” 

“Yeah,” Adam replied, still watching you. You were taking a semi-restrained drink from your flask, no doubt aware that it had to last the whole trek and back. 

“Is (Y/N) with you?” 

“Yeah, why?” As he watched, you held the back of your hand up to your forehead, then your cheek, then your neck. The suit still seemed to be bothering you. 

“Are you on the ground?” 

“Yes.” 

“You need to get out of there.” 

Adam didn’t think he was imagining the urgency in the raccoon’s voice, distorted as it was over the distance. He was in an entirely different corner of the galaxy, after all. “Why? What’s wrong?” 

A pause, then, “The flowers, they’re… uh, they’re kinda…” 

“They are very powerful aphrodisiacs!” Ah, Kraglin, just as worried-sounding as Rocket. “They can be harmful to humans!” 

Your other hand had joined the first on your face, but it didn’t seem to be doing a lot. You’d managed to get the zipper on your suit down, the neck pulled down to expose your shoulders and collar bones, the skin there just as flushed as your face. 

“What?” 

Rocket groaned, but Kraglin either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Aphrodisiacs,” he repeated. “If she breathes the pollen her body temperature will rise until she develops a fever, and if she doesn’t have sex she could die.” 

His entire (relatively short) life, Adam’s mother – and pretty much everyone else – had been more than generous in pointing out that he was lacking, that he was slower than he should be, that he was not up to the same speed as they were. It was because he’d left the cocoon early, he knew that, but he’d never really felt that much slower. Maybe a little, but he’d always understood where he’d gone wrong and why. This was totally different. For the first time, Adam felt like he was lagging behind. 

“What?” he asked again. “What do you mean if she doesn’t have sex she’ll die?” 

“Makes ya horny, genius. Means what exactly that. Fuck or die.” Rocket took over, clearing his throat. “I’m reading off the notes, bit further down. It’s small, so you might have missed it. It says it works normal for most species, but humans are more fragile so…” 

Yes, that made sense. Adam couldn’t remember that in what he’d read, but he’d also been distracted by your legs slung across his and the little wrinkle that had appeared between your brows as you’d carefully packed your bag, sliding everything perfectly into place. He’d wanted to just reach across and run his thumb over the line, smooth it away forever. 

Now, that same bag thudded as it hit the ground and you frantically fanned yourself, eyes closed. There was no telling if you’d heard the conversation, but Adam didn’t want to waste time finding out. 

“Ok, I’ll, uh, get her back to the ship.” 

“She ok?” 

He paused for a moment, then settled on, “yeah, she’ll be fine.” 

“You got this, golden boy.” The radio crackled and fell silent, and that was that. What a great help. 

“(Y/N)?” he ventured, picking up your pack. “Did you get all that?” 

You nodded, wriggling to get the zipper further undone. Your back was beaded with sweat, and in any other circumstance, maybe Adam would have let himself dwell more on the soft contours of your spine, the roll of your shoulder blades, the harsh line of your bra strap in contrast to your smooth skin. 

“I’m really… It’s so hot, holy shit. Why’s it gotta be so hot?” 

“I think that’s the fever bit. Come on, we should get back.” 

You drew a sharp breath when his hand met your back, your whole body tensing. 

Adam withdrew at light speed. “Sorry, I didn’t–” 

“No,” you cut him off, “no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

“Ok.” 

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since you’d set out, but it felt like a long time to get back. You were slower, for one, stumbling and muttering apologies whenever you became disorientated – which was often – and wriggling like your clothes were full of insects. Your breath came heavy, your skin becoming more and more flushed as you drew closer to the ship, and you looked so uncomfortable it made something twist inside Adam. 

“I heard it,” you panted, stepping clumsily over a root. “What Kraglin said.” 

“Oh,” was all Adam could think of. 

“You don’t— You shouldn’t— You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“Hey, no, it’s ok. You’ll be ok.” 

“I’m– fuck, Adam.” 

“You’ll be ok, (Y/N). We can sort this out.” 

“I don’t wanna force you to do anything–” 

How cruel could the Universe be? Adam wondered as he patted your shoulder – then regretted it when you stumbled. You were the first person he’d really wanted anything with, the first person he’d thought about and imagined and, dare he say it, fantasised about, and now you were worried you were going to somehow hurt him or make him do something he didn’t want to. It was sweet, bitterly so, and ironic enough to feel like a punch in the stomach. If anyone should be worried, it should be him. After all, how were you ever going to look at him the same way after this? How was he going to look at himself the same way?

“I’m so…” You broke off as you emerged into the clearing where the ship was parked, a sob – relief or something else, Adam couldn’t tell – torn from you. 

Your legs were shaking now, your skin so hot Adam could feel it through the material of your suit. He helped you quickly aboard, avoiding your eyes as you peeled the suit from your shoulders and pushed yourself against the cool wall. The pollen still lay over your hair and clothes, insultingly cheerful and innocent. 

He sighed. “We should get rid of that.” 

“Huh?” 

“The suit. It’s got pollen all over it.” 

“Oh, right.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, peeling the material from your body without a second thought. Well. Adam hadn’t expected that. Trying not to watch as you sunk down to the floor, he shoved the offending clothing into the disposal to be dealt with later. 

“You should probably take a shower. There’s pollen in your hair and… on you.” 

You nodded, legs pressed firmly together, arms spread over the cool surface at your back. “Yeah, sure, I… Can you… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry I—” 

“It’s ok, (Y/N), don’t worry.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but seemed to help a little. “What do you need me to do?” 

“I need…” You trailed off in a low whimper, your legs shaking now. You didn’t even seem to notice you were in nothing but your underwear. “I…” 

Again, that twisting feeling. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with a relieved sigh, your head tipping back. 

So Adam went with you, helping you into the tiny decontamination spray shower, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible – not for lack of trying on your part. You seemed to gravitate towards him, pressing your body into his hands wherever they lay, leaning hard against him. Your breath was still laboured, your face still pink, but it seemed less painful now that you had direction and were free of the suit. You’d stopped wriggling, anyway. 

You sighed as you sank down to the floor, your fingers vice-like around Adam’s. His free hand found the taps easily, turning on a cool jet and directing it to the pollen in your hair. It flowed down your neck and shoulders, an orange river spiralling into the drain. 

“I’m sorry,” you said for what must have been the millionth time, your own free hand pressed between your legs, tension radiating from every line of your body. “I’m so sorry, Adam.” 

“Hey, no, don’t be. It’s going to be ok.” He crouched, ignoring the water as he reached across to lay a hand on your forehead. You practically whined at the contact, your fingers tangling even harder with his, skin hot despite the cold water. 

“(Y/N)?” he said softly. 

“Hm? 

“Rocket, uh… Rocket said the pollen’s an aphrodisiac.” 

“Yeah, I – fuck – I know. Trust me.” 

“He said it works, um, strongly on humans.” Adam paused, heart pounding. Why did it have to be you, of all people? And why him? “If you don’t,” he continued, “you know… The fever might get high enough to kill you.”

“Oh fuck, come on!” Water sprayed where your foot slapped the shower floor, your voice echoing. 

Adam had never felt worse about anything. “I’m sorry, I should have checked the notes first, I didn’t even consider–” 

You didn’t seem to care. “So now I’m gonna overheat and die?” 

“Unless you have sex. With someone.”

Your head thudded on the wall, a sob flopping wetly from your throat. “Fuck this. Does it have to be with someone? Will it work if I just… do it myself?” 

“Uh, actually, I don’t know. Maybe.” He paused, unsure, then, “Do you want to try?” 

“Yeah, yeah I—” You took a shuddering breath, blinking through the water dripping over your face. “Yeah.” 

Adam nodded, standing. “I’ll… I’ll be around. If you need anything.” 

“Thanks.” It was barely a whisper, so wretched it made his heart hurt. You released his hand, and he turned quickly to leave you alone, your relieved moan following him out the door. Adam didn’t like this, not at all. You weren’t quiet, though he supposed that wasn’t your fault, and he hated, really hated the heat your moans and gasped curses sparked in him. It was wrong, so wrong, and he should not be here. But he couldn’t leave you. 

“Fuck, fuck oh my God–” you cried eventually, a wet thud echoing through the wall. “Oh my– fuck fucking fuck!” 

Adam listened carefully, unsure whether or not he should…

“Adam?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t…” You broke off in a sob, genuine fear lacing your voice. “Fuck.” 

“(Y/N)?” He stepped back into the shower, pausing only for a moment to take in the mess that was you. Your hand was still between your legs, thighs spread wide, panties crumpled in a wet bundle in the corner and your bra pulled halfway down your torso. In any other situation, it would have been the hottest thing Adam had ever seen. 

“I can’t… It didn’t work, I’m still so hot, why am I so goddamn hot?” 

Adam cursed as he crouched beside you, taking your free hand only a little gingerly. He cursed fate and circumstance, himself for not reading the notes properly, Rocket and Kraglin for not miraculously having a cure, and you for still looking so fucking beautiful while you were quite literally dying. He swore that if – when – he and you got out of this, he was going to burn that whole jungle. 

“We’ll fix this,” he assured you, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

You sighed at the contact, shifting closer. 

He frowned. “Is that…?” 

“Feels better when you touch me,” you murmured. 

That was going to haunt his dreams, he just knew it. This whole ordeal was going to haunt him, and probably not in the way it should have. He already knew he’d be seeing your shoulders silky with the water, your back slicked with sweat and the smooth curve of your thigh for months, let alone everything else. Wrong wrong wrong wrong, he reminded himself. 

“Do you…” He stopped. It was absurd. It was wrong. It was not something he’d ever live down. 

Your eyes were open, overly bright and dark with want, searching his face like he held all the answers. You were still so flushed, hair plastered to your forehead and dark with the water, lips parted and so, so pink. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?” 

“Yes.” The syllable was torn from you, ragged and desperate, followed quickly by another sob. You shook your head. “I don’t want to pressure you, don’t wanna make you do something you don’t want to.” 

He could have laughed. How were you still so focussed on that of all things? It brought that syrupy feeling back, only now it was darker, hotter, and tinged with guilt. 

“It’s ok,” he said softly. “(Y/N), it’s ok. Don’t worry.” He carefully moved his hand to your face, pushing the wet hair off your forehead. 

You leaned into it as you had before, your eyes closed. “Then yeah, I… Fuck, Adam, I want you so bad. You have no idea how much I want you.” 

It wasn’t you. Not really. He did his best to ignore the spread of the tingling warmth, his own want, as he helped you to your feet and did his best to dry you – again, as gently as he could. You just let him, casting your bra away when he paused at it, still struggling to stand and trying your best to get as close to him as you could.

Vaguely, Adam wondered how the hell this would actually work. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with much of anything before he met you and the other Guardians, let alone sex, and he had no idea if you had either. He somehow doubted you were in the same position as he was – you were gorgeous, after all, and so friendly it was a wonder he hadn’t ended up head over heels for you sooner. 

He really wished this wasn’t happening. He wished you really did want him, that he’d worked up the guts to ask Quill about Gamora and how that had gone before he’d taken off, then told you about his feelings properly. If he’d gotten that far, he was sure you’d have shown him how it went with the same patience and care you’d shown him everything, and he’d have liked to have taken his time. He’d have liked to kiss you, touch your pretty hands and hold you close, feel you all over and let you take the lead, tell you about the things he thought about you and everything you did to him. 

But it was happening, and you were probably not going to want to talk to him after it had run its course. At least you’d be alive.

You’d stumbled to a bed – one of the standard fold-out ones – beside him, and now he sat you down on its edge. You hadn’t released your hold, pulling him down with you, hands flying straight to the fastening of his own damn suit. 

“Is this ok?” you breathed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Your hands were flitting everywhere; his hair, his neck, along his jaw, his face, his own hands. You were very clearly trying very hard to make yourself slow down, wait, and Adam’s heart melted. 

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s all ok. You do what you need to.” 

A sigh of relief, a soft “thank you,” and then you were clambering into his lap and peeling his clothes off like it was nothing, your lips hot and hard against his. Adam hadn’t kissed anyone before, but he’d seen enough movies – most of them with you – to know that this wasn’t how it usually went. There was little technique or rhythm, more your tongue licking into his mouth, teeth occasionally knocking against his, so forceful he wondered if it was hurting you. 

You’d completely stripped him remarkably fast, and now your hands explored his shoulders and arms, trailing goosebumps down his chest and stomach. You fit perfectly over him, and he allowed himself to run his own hands up your back, down again, over your hips, finally settling in the curve of your waist. How often had he wondered what it would be like to hold you there? 

You moaned, the heat at your centre slick and wet against his own rapidly hardening dick. And now you were moving, too, grinding against him like your life depended on it and why had nobody told Adam it could feel like this? 

You’d broken the kiss, your lips swollen and even redder than they’d been before, your hands now in his hair, fingers tugging ever so gently. Adam had to stifle his own little sound of pleasure, bending his head to kiss at your neck and those collar bones he could look at forever. You gasped a “yes” when his tongue darted out to taste the skin, the faint tang of sweat mingling with the sweetness of the water that had dripped there from your still-damp hair. 

Your fingers tightened in his own hair, the delicious pull sending more heat straight down. You directed his head in that direction, too, arching your back until his mouth found the soft mound of your breast and he licked, then on a whim, sucked. 

“Oh, yes, Adam–” you panted, your movements becoming even more frantic. 

“Hm?” 

“Oh, that’s– that’s so good.” 

Did you know what you were doing to him? Adam supposed you didn’t, sucking again at a different spot, licking it, placing a kiss there, moving on. Rinse and repeat. 

Then your hands disappeared from his hair – that was a shame, but this wasn’t about him – and the next moment your fingers were wrapped around his cock and you were stroking it better than he ever had, your palm a million times softer than his, sliding easily with your own slick. 

“Can I?” you were asking. “Please, Adam, can I?” 

You could do whatever you wanted, Adam didn’t care. If he’d thought about it, he’d have realised that he actually liked the idea of you having your way with him, using him for your own pleasure, taking what you needed from him. But he didn’t think about it, he was too caught up in the smell and taste of your skin, the little sounds you were making, the wonderful movement of your hand. 

“Yes,” he breathed, “yes, go ahead, (Y/N). Please, just– just go ahead.” 

You were moving, rising on those wonderful thighs and your hand was moving too, something hot and slick rubbing over the head of his dick and then holy shit Adam’s mind went blank. If he’d thought you felt hot before, it was nothing compared to this. He groaned in unison with you as you sank down, taking him fully and gripping his shoulders, your breath fanning his face. You fit perfectly around him, squeezing spongy and smooth, and nothing could have prepared him for it. 

You braced yourself on his shoulders, rising off him – for a second he wondered if that was it, if you were pulling away – before you sank back down. You did it again, then again, and again and again until the only sounds in the room were your breaths mingling with his, your unrestrained little moans and his own half-stifled ones, the slap of your skin on his. 

Adam held you close, hands still anchored to your waist, transfixed by the silken heat of you and the brush of your chest against his, the bounce of your breasts and solidity of your body on top of his. 

“Feels so fucking good,” you panted. “No idea, so fucking – shit – good–”

“(Y/N),” he choked, unable to form a single coherent thought. 

“You’re so good, Adam oh my God.” 

Something was building in his stomach, he could feel it. The warm syrupiness was gone, something hotter and harder and so tight coiling in its place, growing with each moan and sigh and whispered curse from you. It was so much, almost too much, and half of his brain wanted you to stop right there. But the other half, the half that created those late-night daydreams, real dreams, half-formed ideas and scenes in his mind… That half wanted you to go harder, slam your hips down faster and say it again, tell him he felt good, he was doing well. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you murmured, as if you’d read his mind. “You’re so… ah, fuck, Adam, I’m so close–” 

Close to what? he wondered vaguely, but the praise was spinning that coil faster, faster, tighter and faster until– 

“Adam, oh, Adam—!” 

It snapped, electric and white hot and rolling up his spine like a damn shockwave. He could hear you crying his name, your movements slowing and your body spasming around his. He’d cum before, of course he had, but never like this. That had been small and so quick he hadn’t even realised what was happening until he was spilling into his hand or the bedsheets, confined to his dick, never spreading through his whole body and never with that glorious buildup. This was something else entirely. 

After what felt like an age, Adam’s mind returned to his body. You were shaking, collapsed against his chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, your face pressed into his hair, his own nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder. You fit so perfectly against him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears. 

You didn’t lift your head, but he felt you nod. 

“Are you sure? You’re shaking.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m fine. I feel better, actually. How about you?” 

Adam just nodded, unwilling to move. He could feel himself softening inside you, but didn’t want to lose the warmth and the feeling that he was yours, that he was fully with you. But… “Do you want me to stay?” 

No response, then a deep sigh. “Yes,” you whispered. 

Adam ignored the butterflies and the spark of hope that conjured, opting instead for practicality. He could feel the rapidly cooling sweat on his own back, the coldness of your damp hair, the mess of spend around the place where your body swallowed his. 

“I’m going to clean you up,” he said softly, “then I’ll come back. Alright?” 

“Ok.” 

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted you off himself and set you down further back on the bed. You whined at the loss of contact, curling in on yourself and shivering. But you weren’t so hot anymore, the flush had been replaced by what he could only describe as a glow and the overly bright look had vanished from your eyes. You really did look better. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Adam rose and turned away, making for the cabinet where the medpacks and other supplies were kept. You wanted him to stay. You’d told him he felt good. You’d held him afterwards, let him hold you, and had made no move to make him leave. If anything, you’d looked disappointed when he’d broken the contact. But still, you weren’t yourself. 

He paused, a horrible thought crossing his mind. Was he going to end up like Quill? Hopelessly chasing a woman who didn’t feel the same way about him? He hoped not, he’d seen how miserable the man was. But you weren’t hard the way Gamora was -- as much as Adam knew her, anyway, which wasn't much. You were soft and open, and you did care about him, he was sure of it. At least you had. 

Shaking his head, Adam returned to the room with a damp cloth in hand. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly, pausing at the door. No answer. 

You were where he’d left you, he saw as he stepped around it, still curled up on your side. Your eyes were closed, the rise and fall of your ribs deep and even. Asleep. The surge of tenderness surprised him, strong enough that he was sure he’d been swamped by an actual wave. You really were beautiful, even damp and naked, lips swollen and hair mussed. 

He was careful not to wake you as he brushed the hair off your face, wiped away the worst of the mess, and then pulled a blanket over you. He wondered briefly if he should stay with you, slide down beside you and wrap his arms around your waist, warm you with his body heat and be there to tell you it was all alright when you woke up. 

You shifted, heaving a deep breath and adjusting your position minutely, and that decided it. Adam couldn’t disturb you, as much as he wanted to, and there was still your suit and discarded underwear, not to mention the original task. On an impulse, he bent and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning, scooping his own clothes off the floor and making for the shower. 

[sophswritingthings]

listen… seen a lot of the trope where mizu pushes away / distances off from the reader to avoid attachment. yeah that trope…. except eventually mizu falls HARD for the reader but the reader thinks that she hates them so they avoid her and just hangs out with ringo instead cooking food and preparing medicine. 👀

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, angst for all you weak sapphics..... like myself

a/n: yo I read this and I swear I grabbed my chest IN PAIN

summary: you were so convinced that mizu hated you. she hated you with a passion to her heart; but you learn that is the farthest thing from the truth.

word count: 1,410 words / 7,420 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

mizu was sure from the day that she met you; that she felt something for you. it was deep inside her heart. it weighed her down like the weights on her body.

she couldn't get too close though. she spoke to you rarely, only doing it when she needed to. she kept her distance. she couldn't be attached to you; she had a purpose to fulfill. a purpose she couldn't have people getting in the way of; especially not you.

but she definitely noticed you. oh, god, did she notice you. those beautiful eyes, the way your hair fell on your shoulders. the flower you wore in your hair. she had no clue what it meant; but it meant something. she wanted to know, dear god, did she want to know.

she had fallen for you, and at this point, it wasn't something she could deny. she wanted to deny it--damn it, did she want to deny it! but she couldn't. it was a love so close to her heart that it had a grip on her. a grip that wouldn't loosen.

but it still couldn't distract her from her mission--so she pushed you away. she pushed you so far away, it had convinced you that she hated you. hated you with the same fiery flame that she hated the man who made her. the men she was sworn to kill.

so you opted to spend your time with ringo; mizu's sweet and kind hearted "apprentice" not that mizu would ever admit she did have him as her apprentice, and that she did enjoy his company.

why'd you have to fall for this hard ass of a samurai and not a sweet soul like ringo?

you sighed, sorting through herbs and spices with the young man. you glanced at him. he had known mizu longer, if only for a little longer. maybe he would know something of the woman.

"ringo, i have a question," you brush your fingers across his arm, catching his attention. "what do you know of mizu?"

"what do I know of her? well, I feel we know the same amount," he chuckled, turning back to his bowl of herbs and spices as he mixed and mixed. "a skilled samurai and a fierce warrior."

"well.. yes, I know that," you murmur, handing him another bottle of spice. "but... emotionally. what do you know of her.. emotionally?"

he hummed in a gentle "hmmm", "she doesn't open up very much, (y/n)."

"hence why I thought maybe you'd know," you sigh. "I think she hates me, ringo. I really think she hates me."

"hates you? why, I--"

he stopped himself. god, why did he stop himself?

"ringo..." you whisper, "what--do you know? all I need to know is she doesn't want me dead."

"of course she does not want you dead," he chuckles.

you take in a sharp inhale, "well, that much is good," you laugh with him. "has she... she hasn't said anything else, has she?"

"she does say how annoying you are. how annoying your pretty face is, your pretty eyes and your distracting smile--"

ringo pauses again. seems he realizes he's said too much.

you scoff, "you're fucking with me," you hiss. "she--she couldn't of said that. no, not mizu. she'd never say that."

"I would never lie to you, (y/n)," ringo raises an eyebrow at you. "you are my best friend."

fuck.

fuck. fuck!

ringo was maybe the most honest person in the entire world. you knew he wasn't lying to you. not that you didn't want to hear it, but...

"I, um, thank you, ringo."

frankly; you didn't know what to make of the information. could you just approach mizu and tell her? no, that'd never work. she'd deny everything in a damn heartbeat.

"you.. wouldn't mind me telling you something, would you, ringo?"

"of course not!" he smiles that bright smile.

"i.. really like mizu. like.. in a love, kind of way," you blushed brightly. "I always thought she hated me."

"can I tell you a secret?" he giggles, leaning into your ear. "I think she likes you in a love way, too."

the words were music to your ears.

you were going to talk to her, and you were gonna do it now. you gently patted ringo's head as you stood up.

"thank you ringo," you smile. "im... gonna go talk to her."

"yes!" ringo chirps, smiling, "(y/n) must tell master how she feels."

you giggle, "and I will. I'll be back!"

you slip out of the room, finding mizu getting ready to soak in the bathroom in the house they had been staying at. the two of you lock eyes, for a moment, before she disappears into the room fully.

you follow. god, you followed her. were you actually looking to make her hate you?

"um, mizu," you clear your throat, catching her attention. she was half dressed, now, her binded chest now exposed to you fully. she looked to be reaching for her hair.

she nods her head to acknowledge your presence. "(y/n)," the way your name rolled off her tongue made your heart race.

"I had just been speaking to ringo, and--ive.. decided you speak yo you about something," that was when you began undressing. you removed the flower in your hair, slipping out of your kimono and wading into the water. you might as well do this somewhere she didn't have access to her sword.

she looks at you with a puzzled expression, her eyes following the curves of your body as you get into the water. she does the same, dropping the rest of her clothes and getting in the water. she keeps her distance from you, though. half way across the bath.

"and what is so important that you have decided to bathe with me?"

you chuckle nervously, your eyes trailing her body. she looked so damn good soaking wet.

"you see.. i.."

you just needed to go for it.

"I am.. I find you attractive, mizu, and I believe it like you in a.. romantic, sense, im not going to hold that in anymore." you inhale sharply.

she looks at you with wide eyes. she had spent so long pushing you away, and yet here you were, confessing to her--

it hit her.

--ringo.

"what did ringo say to you?" she narrowed her eyes.

she had accidentally said so much stupid shit to her apprentice. what of it had he repeated back to you, and how deep of a hole was she in?

"tell me exactly what he told you."

you nod a little.

"h-he said you said that said I had an annoyingly pretty face.. a-and eyes, and a distracting smile--"

fuck. she did say that.. didn't she?

"he is dead to me," she grumbles under her breath. she sighed, gazing back at you. "but I digress."

surprisingly, she slid closer to you.

"I happened to say those things," one of her hands climb under your chin, titling you head up to meet her eyes. "is that.. a problem?"

you're face turns beat red when she touches you. you were so used to her staying so distanced it caught you off guard.

"it.. isn't a problem, no," you whisper. "I was only wondering.." your gaze slowly drifts away from hers.

she jerks your head to gaze at her again, "wondering what?"

"if you felt as I did," you murmur, gazing at her. "you.. made me feel as if you hated me."

those words stung. they really stung. that was never her intention.

"I apologize," she shifts a bit closer. "that was never what I meant to do, (y/n), it is only that... I cannot get close to people out here, for fear that they will be injured. or get me hurt. or that they will leave me."

you nod. understandable.

"I understand," you whisper. "but I have no intention of letting any of that happen."

her words light a fire inside her heart. a confidence, a passion.

she pulls you close, her hands cradling either side of your face. she presses her lips against yours, the kiss gentle yet filled with an unspoken desire. one she had carried for months...

you hummed, you hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind the samurai's ear.

she pulls back a little, a rare smile crossing her lips.

"will you do me the honor of being mine, then?"

"I certainly will."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: crying screaming throwing up

[the-baby-storyteller]

“Ahah, I guess they got me!”

Whumpee smiled lightly, laughing to themself as they cradled their injured arm and leg. They hadn’t expected to get hit, weren’t supposed to even have been that much in the fight, really, but somehow amidst the chaos they’d let their guard down and the enemy had taken it as an opportunity.

A foolish mistake, they knew, but at least it lived up to the character they were trying to portray. Holding back a sigh, they lifted their face and looked around to see the expressions that would certainly be similar.

Their team’s faces were not humorous.

Whumpee winced. They were mildly…perturbed. Their team had a tendency to be serious about most things. It was part of the reason why they were so relaxed themselves if only to even it out. But this…they didn’t want them being serious about this. It was too scary.

“Hey, guys,” they piped, looking around at the stony and hard-chiseled faces around them, “it’s not that bad it’s just-“

“Not…,” a voice interrupted

Whumpee turned around from where they were sitting.

“That bad?”

Teammates eyes were both steely and fiery when they met Whumpee’s. Whumpee twinged.

“I-I mean um,” they scrambled, “it’s not like something that hasn’t happened before ahahahah…”

Their laughter died out. The teammates expressions had darkened even further.

Whumpee cringed. How could they salvage this situation? They hadn’t been counting on getting hurt so they didn’t plan for what to do if the team decided they wanted to extend their overwhelming solemness to dealing with Whumpee as well-

“Take them.”

Whumpee jolted.

“Wait, what? I-“

All of a sudden people started moving around them. The area spun into swift whirlwinds of activity as team members cleared the premises, grabbed supplies, picked them up?!-

“Really, guys,” Whumpee protested as they were being lifted into the air. They were not comfortable with this. “it’s fine I- ah!-“

Whumpee yelped as movement jostled their arm and they keened, pulling it closer to them and biting down hard on their lip to prevent further noise. They started breathing harder, seeing only white. They vaguely felt themself being set down against something as they fought through the blinding, hot pain.

Soft, soothing whispered words floated through the air around them and grounded them. Whumpee cringed when a hand touched them, but soon melted into it as it offered sweet, soothing strokes to them and their face. Their hyperventilations turned into slow gasps and then down to weak, light sobs. Eventually, they calmed down enough to open their eyes and see who was the deliverer of such peace to them.

Their eyes opened to Leader in front of them. Leader’s eyes were still hard, but elements of softness, sweetness, and concern were added to them, caring obvious. They sniffled as Leader continued to pet their hair, almost angry at how it managed to soothe them so. Leader had never been one for big shows of affection, and yet…

“Whumpee,” Leader’s voice rang out, “it’s ok. We’re going to help you. Let us. Let us do this for you this one time. I know you live to avoid help or vulnerability,”

Whumpee opened their mouth at that one but was quickly quieted with a finger to their lips.

“Ah-” Leader silenced, “don’t fight me on this one. We both know it’s true,” they reprimanded. Whumpee stiffened uncomfortably, but had to relax back into Leader’s arms to take the pressure off their wounds.

“But you have to let us help you this time.” Leader continued. “It’s okay.”

“We love you.”

Whumpee’s breath hitched. They’d been slowly averting their eyes from Leader’s during the speech, but at those words they jumped back up, making eye contact once more with Leader’s serious eyes.

Love was….they didn’t know about it. It was hard. It was complicated. They were too afraid of it, knowing so much that they didn’t deserve love that they didn’t even want to try it, to try to get it from anyone.

But…

Whumpee stared at Leader’s gaze. They were intent.

“We. Love. You. And we would love it if you would stop trying to distance yourself and prevent vulnerability by putting up your bit of being a goofball because you’re afraid we don’t,” Leader said with a frown.

Whumpee coughed and looked away again, Leader’s constant intent eye contact suddenly becoming too much.

“But at least for now, let us help you. Okay?

Okay…?

Whumpee hesitated.

They glanced up their eyes at the teammates around them. They were all watching them in the scene, engaged and ready to help with supplies and hands whenever or if ever anything was needed.

“…Okay.”

Whumpee saw Leader smile out of the corner of their eye.

“Okay.”

And Leader picked them up. And Whumpee let them.

[saturnbellfromhell]

VENUSIAN ENERGY

Finally a youthful,playful and fiery planet Venus at our doorstep! She never shys away from her beliefs and power. The Moons daughter and the complete depiction of feminine beauty. She emerges from the shell of life only to show us her glowing skin, soft facial features, breathtaking hair, plump breasts and firm hips.

⚪Venus is the second planet furthest from the Sun, making her character and motives not so secretive since a lot of light shines above her. She's the young female planet of the solar system, sure of her looks and power but also in need of guidance so her energy doesn't get taken away. Youthfulness always has a touch of naivness to it, attracting despicable people to one's table.

⚪Venus is also the planet of riches and romance, sex and power, fortune and prosperity! The Godess of good energy and hopefulness. She finds her home with two signs in the zodiac: a feminine Taurus and a masculine Libra. These two are the brother and sister created by Venus to show other signs how to live a hedonistic life filled with luxurious items, fine dining and passionate sex. These two know how to indulge, that's for sure!

The difference between Taurus and Libra in my perspective is huge. So here are some core differences:

◽Taurus is a fixed sign, meaning it doesn't like adapting to anything new really. It's also the only fixed earth sign. So not only do Taurses hate change, but they are also gifted the stubbornness from being a sign ruled by the element earth. Also Taurus rules the second house, which is the house of movable goods asessts, income and financial possesions. To put it into one word money. This house also shows which activitie/projects move you towards earning said money. So Taurus, like all the earth sign has all ears and eyes on wealth. But, our fellow Taurus does love to dabble in the extra extvagant lifestyle filled with cozy food, a warm house and substances to indulge.

◽Libra on the other hand is a cardinal sign, this meaning it is more flexible to new happenings and more outgoing. This openness amplifies with this sign being an air sign. So Libra is the practical, diplomatic, energetic and of course balanced sign. This sign is all about partnerships as well. You won't really catch Libra happily single honestly. This also goes hand in hand when looking into the house Libra rules: the 7th house. This house is known as the house of partnerships, marriage, sweethearts, business partnerships and visible enemies. It also is a house of your grandfather. It's main purpose is to show where you'll need to bend your personality to accomplish duties with others. Libras such as Tauruses love the finer things in life, enjoy dressing good and having a good reputation aswell. There not as cold and introverted as there beloved sister Taurus.

◽Their style of clothes, friends, interior differ in a sense. Both have expensive taste, don't get me wrong. But...a homebody Taurus loves coziness over all. Their style will be more bohemian, laid back. They are the crystal girlies who love drinking tea by their bedside in a room filled with intriguing art and plants. Libra on the other hand loves to stand out. They live for high fashion, nice heels, a comfortable but trendy coat followed by a designer purse. Their house has to have a furry companion, expensive wine and Tiffany lamps.

Libra also loves hosting dinner parties and brunches! They love to cook and prepare for others or just organize a nice outing with their big friend group! Tauruses on the other hand like a more surine gathering. They don't enjoy a lot of people, to be quite frank they love a one on one the most. Their ideal hanging out strategy are one's in nature surrounded by creeks, ponds, little animals and a nice rolled up joint. To pug it shortly think of Libras friends as a buffet and Taurus as a picnic! It's the same concept put a completely different outcome.

Now what to we have with our observations! Their will be a more than per usual since Venusian energy follows me wherever I go. I've had at least 3 relationships with a fellow Taurus and was born into a household by two Libras. So in that sense, I've seen/felt a lot of Venusian energy!

⚪ Libra sun's need a partner, they just never want to live alone or do anything without the help of a partner. Especially if your chart doesn't have any earth, you die for romance and partnership. Libra sun's also don't get mad that easy, they truly are pacifists and diplomatic creatures most of the times. This doesn't apply if you have a fire moon though, forget any nice wording from that Libra than.

⚪ Libra men with a gemini venus is a complete disaster. I said what I said, stay away from that man. He's a good one night stand/friends with benefits type,not going to lie, but in my perspective not really boyfriend material. Sorry not sorry. Also if he has a lot of earth/water signs, of course it can help with not being a complete demon to my fellow lover girls.

⚪ Libra risings, as you all know are just stunning. Of course, there ruled by Venus. The girls are always angelic looking with a fierce bubbly attitude and the men have amazing style. Think of Harry Styles, Kate Winslet, Doja Cat and Beyonce. They embody femininity and have this constant glow to them! Chefs kiss really.

⚪ Libra moons are in my perspective the easiest air sign to have. They aren't really amazing in the feeling emotions department, but they are fearly reliable when in need! Not clingy nor detached.

⚪ Chiron in Libra can be such a heartbreaking placement in my eyes. These natives constitley seek partnerships with others, but see themselves as worthless partners. Not worthy of love nor passion. This wound must be healed by understanding imperfection in both parties and expressing love to yourself the most!

⚪ Libra Mars, ugh. I have a difficult relationship with this placement. In one way Mars is at its fall in this sign, but again people with this placement hate conflicts and really try to sort it out the right way. Again if your Mercury is in a fire sign, forget I said anything. But their actions can be seen as "passive". They also looooove dirty talk, being experimental in the bedroom and love a passionate/cute sexual experience.

⚪ Taurus men. I mean I can write a whole ass post about this theme. I've seen quite similar patterns in Taurus men. Firstly they love stable relationships and find new girlfriends very easily. Secondly they love to smoke weed, pardon me...they are absolute potheads and want to grow their own plants, take care of them etc. They really enjoy being high and doing everything while being high. They also are very jealous but also passionate. All they want is a calm girlfriend who they can travel with, eat cozy meals with and take shrooms in the forest. Don't forget to give them back massages and head rubs, they really are such princesses.

⚪ Taurus Venus...also one of my favorites. They are just so damn stunning without a shirt on. They love to be put on their stomach and caressed all night. Also, some of them love getting gently choked. They really are the pillow princess and the submissive boy.

⚪ Venus in the 1st house, damn. They are beautiful no matter what. The girls have the typical Venus body, hips, boobies, booty. The hourglass figure if you will. The boys have these magnetic eyes with lashes to the ceiling. Their smile will make anyone stare and drowl. The girls with this placement love a guy with soft features, plump lips and ideally curly hair. The guys love fruity perfumes, nicely done nails and silk hair. They both have to look put together for the guy/girl.

⚪ Venus in the 2nd house means the native will inharit money based of of their looks, sexuality, feminine power. It's a good placement to the native since Venus is at home!

⚪ Venus in the 10th house can mean your career can be based on your looks aswell. For example I know some girls who are burlesque dancers with this placement.

⚪ Venus in the 5 house can mean you indulge in a hedonistic lifestyle a little too often. Like a one night stand? Like museums? Like fine dining? All at once?

[lcvernat]

Case of the Sniffles | Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Request: could you write a fic with natasha x fem!reader where the all avengers were sent on like a really important mission but natasha’s missing and no one can find her so reader goes looking for her to find her sick asf in her bedroom? can u make it really fluffy, please? thank u!! 😁

Word Count: 1.2k

Content Warnings: fluff, mentions of the flu/medicine, strong language

A/N: thank you for requesting anon! i am so sorry this took me so long to get to but i hope you enjoy this anyway <3 sick fics are so cute and fluffy to write i rlly enjoy writing them so thank you again for this request

"Where the hell is Romanoff?"

Tony finally put words to what the rest of the team had been thinking for the past few minutes. The team were geared up and ready to infiltrate a highly secured HYDRA base, one of the most important missions to date. Months of gathering intel had led up to finding this base - they had hidden it extremely well, and time was of the essence right now. Except, a very obvious anomaly was the missing presence of your girlfriend.

This was extremely unusual, because one thing Natasha Romanoff never missed out on was a mission. Especially one of this importance. It was very out of character for her, and you tried your hardest not to worry. Tried not to let your mind drift to dark, unrealistic places. She was fine, she had to be fine, you had literally seen her last night and she was fine. She just wasn't present.

"I'll go look for her," you volunteer, getting a murmur of agreement from the rest of the team as you set off on your hunt through the Compound.

"Nat?" You call out, "Did you forget that we have a mission today? Leaving in... what was meant to be three minutes ago, actually."

No answer.

You sigh. She wasn't in the kitchen or in the living room, so the most logical place to check next would be her own bedroom. She was never one to sleep in, but it wouldn't hurt to check. She had to be somewhere, after all.

Knocking gently on the door to her bedroom, you called out, "Sweetheart, you in here?"

Still no answer, so you gently pushed open the door and walked in. It was pitch black, and the curtains were drawn. You could just about make out a figure on the bed, deciding to switch the light on and squinting your eyes at the brightness. With the room now full of light, you could tell that the figure on the bed was definitely Natasha, if the strands of fiery red hair peeking out of her blanket cocoon were anything to go by.

"Nat?" You whisper, gently poking her and sending a silent prayer up that she isn't dead. She groaned in response, shuffling around in her cocoon as she subconsciously pulled the blanket further over her head. At least she was alive. Still very uncharacteristically Natasha, though. "You okay? Forget about the mission?"

Natasha shoved the blankets off of herself then, shooting up in the bed with wide eyes, "Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I missed my al-" She was cut off by a sneeze, and your suspicion rose. Now that you could take a better look at her without her being covered by blankets, she didn't look well. At all. Her face had taken on a ghostly pallor, and her eyes looked visibly tired despite her just being asleep for hours longer than she'd normally be. You narrow your eyes, gently placing the back of your hand on her forehead and you nearly wince at the heat radiating off of it.

"God, Tasha, you're burning up. You have a fever."

She shook her head, "No. 'M fine. Promise. I just slept in."

"You are not fine. Lie back down. You're clearly sick."

As if to answer your question, a sneezing fit shook her entire body. Still, Natasha was relentlessly stubborn, even if she had a fever that felt like she'd spent the entire night in a sauna, "I am fine," she insisted, sniffling. She tried to push herself off of the bed, only to be greeted by your firm hands on her shoulders, pushing her back down.

"No. You are not going anywhere. You are going to get some rest, and I'll be your doctor. I'll strap you down to this bed if I need to."

She glared at you, but she must feel really shit because it didn't take that much for her to finally agree, even if it was reluctantly. She lay back down, and you kissed her forehead gently, brushing her hair out of her face. "Okay, I'm going to tell the team that they can manage the mission without me, because I have a girlfriend who needs to be taken care of, and I'll grab a few things for you. You stay here, and keep the blankets off you, you don't want to overheat with your fever."

"Yes, ma'am," Natasha mock-saluted and you laughed, kissing her forehead once more before leaving to tell the team.

Honestly, Peter should be locked up for telling Tony what 'whipped' and 'simp' meant, because the amount of times he had called you those two words when you explained why you were staying behind was enough to last a lifetime. As if he wouldn't do the same for Pepper. He was such a hypocrite.

After taking a detour to change out of your suit and into something more comfortable, you returned to Natasha's room carrying a box of tissues, some Tylenol, a thermometer, a thin blanket, a bottle of water and a pint of ice cream. The redhead sat up in bed as you entered, and you flashed her a smile.

"Okay," you dumped the items at the bottom of her bed, "first, here's a blanket for you. It's thin enough so it won't cause you to overheat but will help with the chills that can come with a fever," you threw the blanket towards Natasha and she caught it with a grateful smile, draping it over herself.

"I've brought ice cream for later, and I can make you soup if you want some. We can have a movie day too. Now open wide," you smirked, picking up the thermometer and walking towards her, popping it into her mouth. She reached out to take ahold of your free hand as you both waited, and you hummed contentedly. It seemed sick Natasha was a clingy Natasha. You liked that bit.

The thermometer beeped and you took it out of her mouth, inhaling sharply as you read the number, "102 degrees? Yeah, you're definitely not going anywhere for the next few days."

Natasha groaned, opening her mouth to more than likely complain, but she quickly closed it when you answered her with a warning glare. "No arguing."

You handed her the bottle of water and some Tylenol before putting the thermometer away.

"You want some soup?"

She took the pills before shaking her head, "Not hungry. In the mood for some cuddles, though."

"That, I can do," you smiled. Putting the pint of ice cream on the bedside table for later, you jumped onto the bed, snuggling into Natasha. "You feeling okay?"

She nodded, "Apart from feeling like general shit, I'm a lot better now that you're here."

"That was extremely sappy of you, Romanoff."

She smiled before breaking into a cough, "Seriously, though. I've never had someone take care of me before, even if it's as simple as taking care of me when I have the flu, so it... it means a lot. Thank you," she sniffed.

You passed Natasha a tissue, trying your hardest not to cry at her reaction to such a simple gesture. Taking care of someone when they're sick should be expected, it shouldn't be surprising for Natasha, and you hated that it was. "I love you, of course I'll take care of you when you're sick. Even when you're not sick, anything you need and I'm here, okay?"

She nodded, putting an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. You didn't even care that you could potentially catch her germs, all you wanted was to be in her arms and make her feel better.

"Wanna have a movie marathon for the entire day?" You asked, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Absolutely."

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz @dj-bynum3718 @lovelyy-moonlight

dm me, send me an ask or reply to be added to my taglist!

[jamesunderwater]

1. Tell us why you like James Potter! I want a whole essay please and thank you!

"Why I Love Like James Potter" by jamesunderwater 1/27/24 

So, I think an important context for my feelings about James Potter is that (as you know) I am a fandom elder. Which means, I already had an extreme attachment to James Potter and his pals before we ever even got the Snape’s Worst Memory chapter. I just looked it up, and somehow I was only ten when OotP came out, so evidently I was massively in love with Sirius Black and obsessed with the Marauders before I hit double digits. (Jesus, no wonder they’re molded with my identity.) The point being – before he was anything else to me, James Potter was the man who bravely sacrificed himself for his family, whose core feature was defined by Sirius’s declaration that they “would have died rather than betray their friends.” He was the guy who figured out how to become an animagus just to be a supportive friend, and based on the few lines that the Marauders have through the Map in PoA, he was hilarious. And really, the fandom kinda just took that and ran with it. So by the time OotP came out and we got so much more information on him – and his dynamic with Lily (cue me sighing dreamily here) – James Potter was already a venerated figure in my mind. -- OMG I just had a buried memory pop up of the Harry Potter Trading Cards as well, which, I don’t think I had one / there was one for James, but there was one for Lily, where she was holding toadspawn?? Or something? and I was in love with her just based on her cute face and red hair and bright eyes, so obviously I’m gonna also be infatuated with the guy who got to marry her.

Okay I got a bit off the point. 

I guess reflecting on it, the way I fell in love with James as a character was very different than how I did for Sirius, and it’s in part due to Sirius being alive in the books, but also speaks to who James is, too. I fell in love with Sirius for who Sirius is, all by himself. I fell in love with James for who he is with other people. I loved the guy who would do anything for his friends. I loved the guy who had this magnetic dynamic with the fiery redhead. I loved the guy who was brilliant and loved by all, and didn’t think twice about sacrificing himself for his family. And I think that this has, for the most part, remained the core of why I love him. 

But of course, I’ve grown up a lot since then, and so have my feelings and opinions. 

– intermission to say I looked back at the ask and realized it only asks about why I like the character, which…somehow changes some of my answer, but we’re gonna try to roll them together – 

Okay, so why I both like and love James as a character now has a lot more to do with the nuances of him. I love that he isn’t perfect. He’s multi-dimensional, and I think his character is a great opportunity to investigate growing up. I think that progression is harder to see in some of the other characters (I have thoughts on why but they aren’t the point right now), but James is just this splendid example of how someone can be so fundamentally good, and also be a fucking kid. He’s messy and that doesn’t make him any less of a “hero” or a “good guy,” but not in your traditional anti-hero or villain arc kind of way. I dunno, maybe it’s in part because I relate to this feeling of not always being a “good person” growing up. I could be arrogant, and mean, and over-dramatic, and stubborn, but people still saw me as a good, likable person, and eventually I did grow out of a lot of the harsher aspects of those characteristics. I love that James gives permission for that, to inspect the dualities within people. 

And on a basic level, I think he was kind of the picture of everything I wanted to have and be. His physical looks / physique is what I’ve been drawn to in men, and eventually realized it’s what I wanted to look like myself; he has this found family that he’s built that is truly a family, this best friend who accepts him fully and he accepts fully and they’re attached at the hip; he becomes a person deserving of and complementary to a strong, independent, kind woman; and his kid is Harry Potter, who truly is one of my favorite characters of all time. So. 

I dunno, I feel like this isn’t as eloquent as I wanted it to be… I’d be very curious to hear other people’s thoughts added onto this (yours and others’!) because I know there’s so much more that I’m missing that other people would say. 

I got to nearly 850 words, though, so hopefully this essay is sufficient enough to earn me a B, at least.

[Submitting for Extra Credit: Photo of the frogspawn card from the Harry Potter Trading Card Game]

[oliversrarebooks]

The Fairy King and His Real Estate Agent: Smartphone

TW: possessiveness, boundary stomping, truth spell

Benjamin was utterly exhausted.

He'd dealt with particularly annoying clients today, clients who had hated every little superficial detail of every house he had shown them, from the color of accent walls to the knobs used on bathroom cabinets. The type of people who seemed to be violently allergic to anything with the slightest hint of character and whose favorite activity was complaining. 

The end of the day couldn't have come soon enough, and now he sat in his car, letting his song finish before going inside, gathering his thoughts. He'd have a quiet night, at least. A chance to recharge before dragging himself back into the office at 8am sharp tomorrow.

As he slammed his car door, he felt an all too familiar prickling at the back of his neck. Oh, no -- it had to be his imagination, because he was stressed and anxious, surely it wasn't --

"Honeybee!" called a cheerful voice from across the parking lot. "There you are! Finally!"

Benjamin turned to see a young-looking and beautiful man with fiery red hair and golden freckles scattered across his skin like stars. The local fairy king was standing in the middle of his apartment complex parking lot, a sight that no longer remotely surprised him.

Often, when Ember came to visit, he would make small concessions to blend in better with humans, wearing ordinary clothing and hiding his more otherworldly features. Today, he apparently hadn't bothered. He was wearing what could best be described as a floral loincloth, his bare chest was only concealed by a dozen strings of glass beads in every shape and color, and an elaborate flower crown topped his head, right above his pointed ears. He'd hidden his wings, but that was about all.

Sometimes, Benjamin was happy enough to see Ember, enjoying the attention and the flattery and the break from his mundane life. Tonight, he was in no mood to watch his words and appease the fae's capricious whims.

Not that he'd have much choice in the matter.

"I've been looking all over for you! Where have you been?" he demanded, still with a smile on his face.

"I've been working, Ember, you know that. I just got home."

"Ugh, I don't know how you can stand to ride around in a cold metal box," he said, wrinkling his nose at Benjamin's car.

Benjamin sighed. "Look, it's not that I'm not happy to see you --"

"Of course you are! Who wouldn't be?"

"-- but I've had a really long week at work, and I'm very tired, and this might not be the best night for you."

Ember put on his best kicked puppy look. "You haven't even heard why I'm here yet! This is a matter of the utmost importance. The future of my clan might be at stake."

"You said that last time, when you saw a person eating a fancy donut and decided you had to try one."

"How can you say that wasn't important? My well-being is also critical to the future of the clan."

"...Sure."

"But I mean it this time," Ember pressed, stepping close enough to Benjamin that he could smell flowers and earth. "I have something I desperately need to show you. I've even brought a gift to exchange for your help. I'll even pledge a favor to you."

"Well..." Apparently, this really was important to him. A favor owed by the fairy king wasn't something to take lightly.

"Three favors!"

"All right, all right!" When Ember was this determined, no human could stop him. "I'll hear you out. Can we at least go inside? We'll attract too much attention out here." He glanced over to a little old lady exiting her car, who was staring at Ember with a look of unmistakable thirst. She gave Benjamin a thumbs up. He groaned.

"Yes, yes, good thinking. My enemies could be everywhere," said Ember in a conspiratorial whisper. "See that bird?" 

"The black bird sitting on the wires over there? Is that one of your enemies?"

"No, of course not. That's just an ordinary bird. But it could be." He grabbed Benjamin by the wrist and began to pull him towards the building. "Come on, let's go."

Ember's enthusiasm waned as the two entered the elevator, the fairy nervously grabbing at Benjamin's arm. Another metal box. As Benjamin understood it, Ember had a higher tolerance to cold metal and human pollution than most of his kin, which was how he could stand to be here in the outskirts of the city at all, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.

As soon as Benjamin opened the door to his apartment, Ember flung himself at the pile of cushions that he'd built in the corner on a previous visit. He preferred the pile to the couch, which had the sheer audacity to contain metal springs. Benjamin had given up on dismantling it after each visit, another small concession to the fae invading his life.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" Benjamin offered, despite knowing how critical Ember could be when it came to human food.

Ember was lounging on top of the assorted cushions as though it were his throne. "Do you have anything that doesn't taste like the parking lot smells? Or at least something that has a lot of sugar in it?"

"I have Coke, that's pretty much entirely sugar."

"I'll have that, then." He seemed to be vibrating with anticipation as Benjamin brought the glasses of Coke over and sat them down on the coffee table. He grabbed his glass and sipped, making a comically disgusted face. "Oh, this is absolutely vile!" he said, then took a much larger gulp. "Now, down to leaves and roots. I need to show you what I have."

"Shoot," said Benjamin, kicking back on the couch.

Ember made an elaborate hand gesture, and a flat, dark object appeared in his palm, wrapped in a leather case. "Behold!" he said gleefully. "I've acquired one of those glowing rectangles you humans love so much!"

"A smartphone?" asked Benjamin. "Where did you get that? You didn't steal it, did you?"

"Of course not!" he said, mildly offended. "I traded with a hiker who strayed into my territory. It was definitely a trade."

"And what did they trade the phone for?"

"A bunch of our finest carrots! We've had an excessive bounty this year."

"You're saying a person chose to trade their smartphone for a bunch of carrots?"

"Yes! Well, that and safe passage from my realm. Minor details."

Benjamin pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's technically kidnapping, you know. And extortion, I think."

"Nonsense. She made the deal, and I honored it. I didn't even try to take her name, and I had Echo see her back to her campsite. You know how responsible Echo is."

"Yes, but she made the deal under coercion when she didn't really have a choice."

"It's a better deal than when humans take our land and fill our rivers with oil. At least she got something in return for it." He glared, daring Benjamin to challenge him further.

Benjamin sat back. This argument wouldn't go anywhere good, and as tired as he was, he really didn't want to make his night worse by putting the fairy king in a bad mood. "All right, fine. You have a smartphone. What do you need me for?"

Cheer returned to Ember's face as quickly as it had left. "You have to show me how to use it, of course!" he said, pushing the phone into Benjamin's hands. "You told me before that you can get information from it, more information than is contained in all the human libraries put together. And you said you can communicate with it, faster than birdsong or even wind writing. I want to learn. You have to show me."

Benjamin touched the screen of the phone, confirming his suspicions. "Neither of us can use this phone, Ember. It's locked."

"It's locked? What do you mean?"

"You need a passcode," he said, holding up the screen. "Without it, you can't use it."

"Is it like a riddle? Is it something I can guess?"

"It's a six digit number, and it'll probably wipe itself if you guess wrong too many times, so..."

"So it's impossible, then." Ember crossed his arms and flopped back into the cushions in a huff. "Tricky, diabolical humans! Next time I trade for a phone, I'll have to make sure to get the passcode, too."

"...Taking phones from humans isn't really the same thing as humans taking your land, you know," he said, unable to stop himself from opening his big mouth and picking the fight he didn't actually want. "A lot of us rely on our phones to navigate and communicate. A person could get in real trouble out in the woods with no phone."

Ember was having none of it. "The future of my clan is more important than the well-being of one human. Mastering the phone could give me a big advantage over my rival clans, one they'll never see coming. Besides," he said, leaning in closer. "it'd make talking to you so much easier, wouldn't it?"

Benjamin's breath caught as he thought of Ember actually learning to use a phone. On the one hand, there might be less surprises; on the other hand, he'd no doubt use it to accost Benjamin day and night. He decided to skip the subject. "Sorry I couldn't help you out with it. You know, you don't owe me a gift or any favors, since I couldn't actually unlock the phone."

"No, I intend to pay what I promised." Ember's eyes flashed with danger, and Benjamin realized too late he had implied that the fairy king might not make good on a debt. "I asked for your help, and you gave me the truth. I can tell you did. So I owe you for the service, even if the result was disappointing."

"Right."

"I haven't given you your gift yet," he said, and with a flourish, he was holding a bunch of carrots. 

Of course. He should have seen that coming.

He knew from experience that the carrots would probably taste better than any produce he'd ever get from the grocery store or even a farmer's market. He also knew that they'd be laced with magic. Mildly addictive at least, with a high potential for odd side effects, and the more you ate, the more you'd be bound to the faefolk.

"You know how I feel about fae food," Benjamin said.

"And you know how I feel about humans rejecting my gifts," Ember countered. "Besides, carrots are good for you! Why not just eat them?"

"You know why. The food binds humans to the fae realm."

Ember scoffed. "The magic is far less potent in the middle of the humans' domain. It'll hardly do a thing. Besides, would that be so bad, to be bound to my realm instead of this one? I know you enjoy your time there. Don't pretend you don't."

It wasn't as though he hadn't thought about it.

It wasn't as though he didn't think about it a dozen times even on good days, every day since his kidnapping and brief captivity by Ember's clan. He'd think about it when he dragged himself out of bed to go to work each morning. He'd think about it when he was stuck in traffic. He'd think about it when some client acted like they would die if they bought a home with an insufficiently large kitchen island.

He'd close his eyes and remember laying back in the soft grass of a forest clearing and looking up at the stars, bathing perfectly clear and crisp water, adorning his hair with flowers, being pulled into a dance in a field at midnight. How Ember had laughed, how warm his hands were, the mesmerizing glint of his wings.

He wanted it.

But he knew it would be fleeting. Surely a fairy king wouldn't remain interested in him for long. Ember would get bored of him and he'd be nothing more than a discarded toy -- or worse, pressed into servitude for his clan. And Benjamin had put so much effort, so many grueling hours, into building the life he had. He couldn't trade something so important for a bunch of carrots.

"I don't want to regret it," he said simply.

Ember was not impressed. "Humans like you are always thinking about regrets, like you can see the future, when you don't even have proper soothsayers," he scoffed. "I don't worry about regrets, because I already know I'm doomed."

Benjamin knew exactly what he was talking about. When Ember had first taken the throne many decades ago, a revered soothsayer of his folk had come to the coronation. She'd predicted wealth and prosperity, a great bounty preceding the inevitable, slow decline of all of fae kind -- an event they called the Long Winter. Ember was supposed to be the last of his line, and despite his outward frivolity, Benjamin knew it weighed heavily on him.

"You're doomed, too, you know," Ember added.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Benjamin, wondering if it was an uncharacteristically naked threat.

"You're mortal, aren't you? All mortals are doomed. Condemned to die on the day you're born," he said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "You're like a cherry blossom, or a wave crashing against the shore, only existing for a brief moment. A brief moment you could be spending with me, in my realm, before it's too diminished for even humans to enjoy."

Benjamin wanted it.

"I can't," he said.

"Don't lie to me, Bee. I don't lie to you," he said. "You can. But you won't."

"I won't, then," said Benjamin.

For a moment, the tension and silence between them was thick enough that Benjamin could feel the magic crackling off of him. And then it passed.

"You should at least eat the carrots," said Ember. "They'll help with your eyesight, since you clearly can't tell how beautiful I am. If you admired me properly, you couldn't possibly resist."

"This has nothing to do with finding you beautiful," Benjamin protested.

Ember grinned, and in a split second, he was in Benjamin's personal space, practically pinning him against the couch. "So then you do find me beautiful. As you very well should."

Benjamin's face heated as he tried to think of a response that didn't make him sound like a flustered mess. Ember decided to make the problem worse by running his fingers through Benjamin's hair and down his jawline, his touch delicate.

"You're tired, aren't you," he said, tracing his thumbs under Benjamin's weary eyes.

No point in denying that. "Yeah."

"I owe you three favors. Cash one in, and I can take your fatigue away, at least for a little while."

Benjamin couldn't help but lean into the soft touch, his affection starved body soaking it up. Ember had caught his weakness, and he knew it, too, his eyes bright, his grin growing wider and wickeder. 

"Look, Ember, I don't want to do anything too..."

"Oh, don't worry, human, I won't violate your precious integrity," he said. "And I won't take you away from here. I'll just massage your shoulders, to relieve the tension." Ember rubbed at Benjamin's scalp to demonstrate, and it felt divine.

"A massage and that's all?" said Benjamin, resolve crumbling.

"A massage and the pleasure of my company."

"Okay." 

He really was doomed. Ember was right about that, as he was far too often.

Faefolk were far more casually intimate with each other than humans on the whole were. That was something Benjamin had observed when he'd been captured by them. They freely touched, danced, cuddled, and caressed each other, and even characteristically slept in large piles. This knowledge was also what shielded Benjamin's psyche from acknowledging how close he'd become to the fairy king.

Sure, they'd exchanged gifts, and he'd taken Ember on outings that one could reasonably consider to be dates, and they were intimate in ways that Benjamin normally wouldn't allow outside of a romantic partner...

...but Ember would discard him any minute now, he was sure. And getting so attached to a fairy king was a terrible idea, as anyone with sense would remind him. And a million other good reasons he had that were suddenly hard to remember when Ember was trying to charm him.

"Off with that terrible shirt, Honeybee." Ember's nimble fingers were working the buttons with the speed of a hummingbird's wings.

"I don't think this shirt is terrible. I like it, actually," said Benjamin, allowing it to happen.

"It's scratchy, and it's full of nasty chemicals. There's even long-dead creatures in it, somehow! I can't believe this is what passes for clothing among humans."

Benjamin shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. "Better or worse than the soda?"

"Terrible in different ways," said Ember. 

Benjamin might have asked him to elaborate, but Ember's hands had found his shoulders, and he was flooded with endorphins as his skilled touch worked the knots around his neck. His mind went hazy with the pleasure, and suddenly he was quite content with the fact that Ember had visited instead of having a quiet night to himself.

The beads around Ember's neck clicked softly as he worked. "In my opinion, there's no reason you should be wearing a shirt at all."

"I don't think my clients would appreciate that."

"Clearly they don't appreciate art, then."

"Oh, they really don't."

Benjamin sank in bliss as Ember worked around his spine, nimble and warm like sunbeams. He couldn't help but relax into it, his tired eyes blinking slowly and his head swimming. He could feel gentle fingers trace symbols along his back, and he suspected Ember was casting some kind of spell on him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. Ember murmured a few words in his native language, which always sounded more like a song than words. So easy to float away on, filling his head with the smell of the forest after a rainstorm and the feel of soft clover under his feet.

"So, honeybee," said Ember, his voice low in Benjamin's ear, "tell me the real reason you continue to spurn my affections."

"I'm scared." The words tumbled out of his mouth without Benjamin's input. A truth spell. So that's what it was. "I'm scared that none of this is real. That I'm a toy that you'll abandon someday."

Ember's finger traced down his spine, making him shiver. "Bold words, considering how notoriously fickle mortals can be. But go on, do."

He couldn't stop himself. "I'm scared... because I always do the responsible thing. Take a job I hate to make money. Work long hours to get promoted. Buy a sensible car and live in a modest apartment. Forget about my art. Survive," he said. "I don't just do things because I want them."

Ember's finger traced a lazy circle on his lower back. "But you do want."

Benjamin could only barely choke back the impulsive thing that rose in his throat, the tide of need. "I think you know," he said. "I just don't want to be hurt."

"Your regrets will also hurt," said Ember. "You don't think it will hurt when age claims you, when your fire has been extinguished, when you remember a summer that will never come again, and recall all the things you wanted to do but didn't?"

It was hard to imagine. All his anxious mind could see was a near future where he'd made some fatal mistake, done everything wrong, ruined the life he'd spent so much time and effort and blood and tears building. He'd spent so much time escaping from his family that even now, he barely bothered to look at what was on the other side of the prison. Not being in prison was enough.

Ember couldn't be more different. He had the love and respect of his people, a world filled with beauty and creativity and debauchery and joy. He was always looking to drink in as much of it as possible, as though pleasure now could stave off the inevitable doom.

Maybe it could, and he just couldn't bring himself to reach out and claim it.

"I can't," he said.

"Lying, again? Even now?"

"I'm not lying. I can't," said Benjamin. "I can't -- yet."

"Yet."

"Yet." He knew what it meant  to speak that word to a fairy king for whom words were both law and currency. It was a promise, one that Ember would certainly hold him to.

Ember leaned over, resting his cheek on Benjamin's shoulder. "What are the conditions, then?"

"Time."

"A valuable thing. A steep price to pay. What do I get in return, if I give you time?"

Benjamin should have been expecting this, but in the haze of endorphins brought on by the massage and Ember's magic, his brain wasn't firing on all cylinders. What was something the fae wanted that wasn't him? 

"A phone," he blurted. "I can get you your own phone, set it up to work for you."

Ember sat up, clearly interested. "I do want that. You know where I can procure one?"

"Well, the phone store..."

"You'll take me to the phone store, and negotiate with the humans there for a phone I can use?" he said, eyes shining. "And in exchange, I give you time?  Time for me to pursue you? Time for your obvious desire for me to grow to unbearable levels?"

Benjamin swallowed hard, every alarm bell ringing. "Well, I --"

Ember pulled him backwards into an embrace, warm hands against his chest and lips tickling his ear. "I accept your offer."

It was increasingly difficult to think with Ember's flirtations, and Benjamin was still uncertain about what did and did not count as binding when it came to the faefolk, but he was reasonably sure he'd locked himself into this the moment he'd offered the phone. "All right," he said. "Meet me here at noon Saturday." He could hear Ember's frown, and immediately amended. "Meet me in two sunrises, when the sun is high overhead."

"I'll be there. I won't forget," he said. "And you'll keep your promise as well."

"Of course."

"So reliable. That's one of the reasons you'd make a most excellent consort, you know. You could make all the schedules and lists and plans you want, but instead of doing it in an office, you could do it entangled in flowers at my feet."

"And then I could watch as you gleefully tear the schedules and lists and plans up."

His laugh was like bells. "You understand perfectly," he said, falling over into Benjamin's lap. "But in truth, the harvest preparations are weighing heavily on my mind. It takes so much time, time that could be better spent charming you, or at least creating our matching outfits for the harvest ball."

Benjamin sighed. "I'm sorry, Ember, I don't really have time for -- did you just say matching outfits?"

"Yes, they're going to be splendid! I've been gathering the finest of the sunflowers and fallen leaves. I'll even make sure your nether regions are covered, since I know that's important to your kind for some reason."

"I -- don't --" Any relaxation from Ember's shoulder rub had gone. "I didn't agree to this. This is the first time you've brought this up. You didn't even invite me."

"Oh, yes. The harvest ball will occur half a moon from the moment when the roundest pumpkin will be plucked, and you must attend."

"How the hell am I supposed to know when -- never mind, it doesn't matter, because I definitely did not agree to this."

"Don't worry! You'll be there." Ember's eyes sparkled.

"That is not what I'm worried about. You can't just decide things like that for me"

"I haven't decided anything! I just know that you're going to be there," he said, sitting up. "Anyway, it's getting dark. I had better return to my crucially important duties before I'm missed. We're spinning spider's webs tonight, and if they aren't dyed exactly the right shades of violet, my subjects' clothes will be drab and disappointing."

"That sounds like a real emergency."

"Yes, you understand," said Ember with the utmost seriousness as he opened the window and made a low, haunting bird call. "I'll see you at the phone store, my honeybee. I'll bring the finest of the early harvest flowers and fruits to negotiate with."

"That really won't be necessary. Or helpful." 

But Ember wasn't listening, because a mourning dove had answered his call. He turned and winked at Benjamin, and in a flash he was a few inches tall and on the back of the bird. Benjamin went to the window and watched as he flew into the sunset, and then flopped back down onto his couch.

He'd agreed to take Ember to the phone store. What had he been thinking? The answer was that he wasn't, that whatever whammy Ember had cast on him had diminished his better judgement. He should've just offered to buy Ember a phone from the internet to stop him from kidnapping hikers, but no. Now he was committed, and going back on a promise to the fairy king was an even worse idea than taking him to a store.

Benjamin's gaze traveled to the carrots sitting on the table. He shouldn't. He knew he was already starting to get addicted to the food of the fae realm, and the harvest ball would only make that worse -- because he already knew in his heart he'd end up going. All the more reason not to touch them, to throw them out.

But it'd been a long day.

He picked up a carrot and ate it without even washing or skinning it. It was more delicious than it had any right to be.

Masterlist

There will likely be more of these two when I get my ideas together for them! Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see.

[prettymuchteddy]

We Always Burn

Summary: Rhaenyra Targaryen is sure she knows what she wants until it comes crashing down after an encounter on the beach of Driftmark

AO3 Link

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen (main pairing), Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Warning (please read): Implied grooming, mild smut, disassociation during sex, some language, toxic relationships, violence, manipulation, obsession, Targaryen ideology critical, not Daemon Targaryen friendly

Words: 1703

A/N: None of the relationships depicted in this are supposed to be seen as good or healthy; this is mostly meant to be a character study

They were meant to burn together. That was the way of dragons. It was what she was told all her life. Dragons were fierce creatures with a fire that burned within each one of them. They could not be tied to anything else. They craved that fire, they needed that fire. They would only be satisfied with that fire. That was what she was taught.  

Daemon had that fire inside of him. He was rogue in every sense of the word. He took what he wanted and feared neither man nor dragon. She was drawn to his fire since she was young. It made sense, after all, dragons were lured to flame. 

Rhaenyra laid back on the blanket sprawled on the sand. She removed the rest of her clothing in anticipation. Above her Daemon hovered. She moved quickly and met his lips in a fiery kiss before he pulled away. She gripped the blanket while staring up above. Her fingers flew to his long white hair to remind herself this was real. It was finally happening. The moment she had dreamed of. 

Daemon spread her legs open and adjusted him in front of her. Rhaenyra bit her lip. In a hasty motion, he moved inside. He pulled out before pushing in again.

Rhaenyra swallowed. She held onto him and tried to kiss him, but he was too focused on what he was doing. She smiles thinly.

This was what she wanted. What she had dreamed of since she was young. Just her and Daemon. She wanted to make love to him. 

She touched his hair. It was real. This was happening. Yet, it wasn’t like she had thought it would be.

She tried to move her hips, but Daemon’s hands kept her legs down. She ran her fingers on his back, attempting to feel him, feel anything. He didn’t respond to her affection. Rhaenyra was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Every thrust moved hastily but she couldn't feel any pleasure. 

Her lip quivered. She glanced down at Daemon. He was too enthralled, chasing his own pleasure to notice her lack thereof. He grunted under his breath. Rhaenyra should have been happy that he would get such pleasure from her, from her body. 

She stared up above at the dark sky of Driftmark. The stars were out, and they were beautiful. Rhaenyra kept her eyes on them as she pretended to arch her back and let out small moans. Would that please Daemon? Would it please her?

She didn't know. She just stared at the sky as her mind became numb.

Rhaenyra blinked her eyes open. She saw the night sky looming over her, its beautiful stars shining in contrast. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was close by. The smell of sea salt reminded her she was still on the beach. Slowly, she sat up. The princess looked around. Her dress was poorly undone and hung off her shoulders. She touched the back of her head, her carefully done braid had come loose. She pulled her dress back up and let down her hair, there was no fixing it now. Then Rhaenyra realized she didn’t find any of Daemon’s clothing. 

He was gone. He had left her, once again.

Rhaenyra put on her shoes and walked out of the wrecked boat they had decided to go to. She trudged through the sand, her eyes wavering over the dark landscape. No other person in sight. He really was gone. 

Rhaenyra truly had no idea what happened when she was summoned into the main hall in High Tide. Lord Corlys and Rhaenys were already there hugging Baela and Rhaena. Her eyes searched and found her sons. She ran to their side where Luke had a bloody nose and Jace was bleeding from his head. From where she stood, Rhaenyra saw Aemond sitting with a maester sewing his eye shut.

Shit.

“What happened?” She asked.

It was a mistake to ask out loud. The children began screaming at each other, throwing insults from across the room. Rhaenyra felt her head pounding from the high-pitched shrieks. During this outburst, the door from outside the castle opened, and in walked her uncle. 

Rhaenyra looked at him. He was leaning against a column, his entire body at ease with his arms crossed in front of his chest. An amused smile on his face as he watched the scene before him. He didn’t look over at her, she thought bitterly. He didn’t seem concerned at all. 

Then a voice broke through. It was her father. Rhaenyra held her head up; he would take care of this situation. Ultimately there was back and forth but her father defended her and her children from the accusations. She breathed a sigh of relief. 

Her eyes returned to Daemon. He had yet to acknowledge her. Rhaenyra didn’t understand. She had loved him since she was a child. He had adorned her with gifts and praises. He spoke High Valyrian with her, it was their mother tongue and yet he only shared it with her. He called her the most beautiful woman in the realm. He was so passionate with her that night in the brothel. They had kissed and touched each other in ways that only husband and wife should. He had loved her like a woman grown. He told her they were meant to burn together. 

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Where was that passion now? Where was that fire within him? 

Then a strained voice broke through. “Aemond has lost an eye. Goodwill is not enough.”

Rhaenyra looked up and saw Alicent shaking where she stood. Her brown eyes bared into her father.

“Alicent there has been enough suffering today.”

“Aemond more than anyone has suffered, there needs to be justice”, her voice edged on anger.

Rhaenyra raised her brows. 

“Alicent, that is enough,” her father said.

Her former friend narrowed her eyes at him. “Viserys, he is your son. Your blood. He is without an eye because of the boy.”

Again, anger was beginning to seep through. Rhaenyra watched in fascination. There was a fire there, deep inside Alicent. She wanted to see more.

Rhaenyra raised her head high. “As we already established, my son was acting in self-defense.”

Alicent glared at her. “By bringing a blade, he showed he had other intentions.”

Rhaenyra hid a smirk. She had her now, she wanted to see how far she could push.

“He should have never called my sons such a deplorable word. It is treason to have questioned their birth. Had it been anyone else the punishment would have been far worse.” Rhaenyra paused savoring the rage in Alicent’s eyes. Then she allowed her lip to quirk up. “He is lucky his eye was the only thing taken.”

Alicent stilled for a moment. Her eyes dulled over. Rhaenyra feared that she had broken her. She never wanted her broken. Her thoughts disappeared when the sound of a blade was drawn.

“Alicent!” Her father yelled.

Alicent rushed toward her with the conquer’s blade. Screaming and chaos ensued. Rhaenyra grabbed Alicent by the wrist and kept a hand on her shoulder, maintaining a distance between the end of the dagger. Alicent grunted trying to bury the dagger into her skin, fury dancing in her eyes. 

Rhaenyra was fighting to hide the ecstasy she felt at having gotten a reaction. 

“I have done everything that has been expected of me. I have tried to hold together the kingdom, the family, and the law. Yet you seem to be bent to trampling it all! You have taken my son’s eye and declared that it was fair!”

Rhaenyra struggled against Alicent. The blade was inching closer, but she had never felt more alive. 

“It was that or his life,” Rhaenyra stated. She decided to cut deeper. “This was a mercy.”

Alicent grit her teeth and attempted to slash her face. The same place where Aemond lost his eye. Rhaenyra stared in awe. The same fire she craved was there before her. Alicent had the fire of a dragon. How had she not seen it before? How could she have let her escape? Everything she looked for was right under her nose, she was foolish for not seeing it before. 

Alicent suddenly managed to break out of her grasp. The blade came down, but Rhaenyra moved out of the way. The princess backed away, her children and good parents surrounded her. She felt a stinging sensation on her wrist. Rhaenyra looked down as blood trickled down her hand. 

A beat of silence passed as everyone stared in shock. 

Rhaenyra only watched Alicent’s reaction. The queen seemed horrified by her actions. Her grip on the blade tightened so much so that the tip of her finger pricked the sharp edge. She dropped the dagger on the floor. A deafening clang sounded. The Valyrian steel fell. Blood stained the tip. It was her blood. Close to the handle, Rhaenyra noticed another dash of red. It was Alicent’s. The pool of red mixed. 

The following morning Rhaenyra stood in the courtyard of Driftmark. The wind brushed against her black fur coat. Sea salt hung in the air. A ship trudged forward to King’s Landing. Three distinct roars came from the sky. The dragons set off flying above the ship. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre led with Vhagar, their newest addition, flying behind.    

Rhaenyra focused on the boat. Alicent was inside. She would arrive back home before the day was done. Rhaenyra smirked. The idea that Alicent believed she could run from her was almost laughable. Her fingers caressed the bandages around her wrist. 

She thought of the way they were cut by the same Valyrian steel, how their blood mixed together. And all were present to see. Her ancestors once married in such a manner. Once they did, they were tied together in every way possible. Heart, mind, body, and soul. Rhaenyra had seen that fire within Alicent and would be damned if she was ever going to let her slip away now. 

They were meant to burn together. That was the way of dragons. That was what she was taught. She would never stop until she had that fire.     

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

With the release of Part 3 of Chapter 7, I wonder what the Shroud parents look like under their badass masks?

There’s been so much fan art of what Mama and Papa Shroud potentially look like under those helmets 😭 It’s been such a treat seeing different artists’ interpretations!!

I think, at the very least, Papa Shroud would have to resemble his sons. As director of STYX, he’s the one bearing the Shroud family blood (as was his own mother/Idia and Ortho’s grandmother). So that means shark teeth, pale as death skin, yellow eyes (maybe looking miserable or emotionless) 😂, and fiery blue hair (duh). I also headcanon that his hair must be pretty short since we don’t see excess fire spurting out from the helmet. Plus, short hair is just more practical in a lab/research setting! Papa Shroud presents as outwardly more pragmatic than his wife so this makes sense to me.

Because I’m assuming that Mama Shroud married into the family, we don’t really know what she could look like. All we could guess is that she doesn’t have the blue fire hair (because that’s a trait specifically associated with specifically the Shroud bloodline). One funny joke I’ve seen circulating (in spite of the wide variance of Mama Shroud designs) is making her really cute and innocent, with some depictions being full-on magical girls! This is a reference to both her cheery and loving nature as well as to Mama Shroud’s VA, who also does Sakura Kinomoto (from Cardcaptor Sakura~)

Oh!! You know what?? It’s possible that the VAs for the Shroud parents have actually seen what their characters look like without the helmets!! We have heard from other TWST VAs that they were given sneak previews to different forms of the characters they play (ie old Vil, past Lilia with the long ponytail) to help the VAs get a better sense for how to portray those characters. Just seeing a helmet doesn’t much help with determining what kind of voice to give to Papa and Mama Shroud so… 👀 I feel like the possibility of the VAs having secret knowledge (they obviously can’t share because of nondisclosure agreements they sign) is definitely a possibility!!!

Every time I see a post making a joke about how Papa Shroud must be an otaku that’s into moe characters or he’s trying to convince his mom to let him marry a woman that acts totally different than he does… It’s funny considering Papa Shroud is described as being really pessimistic and depressing to be around, I wouldn’t have expected it of him 😂 (I’ve also really been loving the grown up RSA!Ortho fan arts 😭)

[pelideswhore]

Small question, you might’ve already been asked and answered this elsewhere, but do you actually know of any reliable physical descriptions of Achilles and Patroclus? I was thinking about drawing them but I wanted to base my interpretations at least partially off of ““canon”” descriptions and not just other people’s.

hi!! i actually love this question because i like to do the same thing in my writing. now im starting to regret not making a file of quoted physical descriptions in the iliad…

Most descriptions in the Iliad are very general and usually related to the soldiers’ build and occasionally their eye or hair colour. The more important the character, the better the description. Because of this we have a decent description of Achilles and basically no description of Patroclus.

Achilles’ hair, my favourite thing to talk about, is described as ‘xanthos’, which can be translated as him being blonde or a redhead. Personally, I’m a fan of the latter because a) it’s more interesting and b) he and his son are both sometimes called Pyrrhus which means ‘fiery’. Additionally, Menelaus, who is also ‘xanthos’ is basically always described in later works as a redhead so why not Achilles? Anyway, that decision is up to you.

As for his eyes, he is said to have a ‘stern’ gaze. Eye colour is never mentioned, as far as I know, but in my opinion ‘stern’ eyes are a sharp blue. He has a muscular build and wide chest.

Patroclus’ build is never really mentioned, but I imagine him to be thinner than Achilles, mostly because Achilles’ armour falls off of him </3 There are also no descriptions of his eyes or hair.

As you can see, there’s basically nothing to go off of, but when all else fails I like to think of geography and genetics. Most of my characters and are brunettes with brown eyes because that’s what is most common in Greece/Turkey. At the same time, my Helen has blonde hair and blue eyes because her father is Zeus, and my Zeus has blonde hair and blue eyes! When even that fails, I just look at their personality and decide what physical features would suit them best. I’ve already mentioned that Achilles’ ‘stern’ eyes are blue, but I’ve also given him very sharp features in general because he’s very forward and direct as a person and as a soldier. Meanwhile, my Patroclus has gentler brown eyes which are not only likely to be found in Greece but they also contrast Achilles. He is softer in general to counteract Achilles’ occasional lunacy.

I know this isn’t much, but I really hope it helps you with something. I didn’t really have time to find quotes cus I tried to do this quickly, but I’ll take another look in the Iliad and update with quotes or more physical descriptions.