#willow vulnerability

[chartreuseschaos]

This user is supportive towards all paraphilias.

Paraphilia is an uncomfortable, highly stigmatized topic wrongly associated inherently with committing abusive acts, making it near impossible to create compassionate, educational, and fair conversation about it. It is crucial not to let disgust rule your better judgment when it comes to this topic.

The term Paraphilia was coined in 1904 by ethnologist Friedrich Salomon Krauss as a way to describe an orientation that fell outside of the norm, at the time this was considered any sexual behaviour that didn't serve the purpose of procreation. Nowadays it is primarily used as an identity label by those with taboo orientations.

Some of the population happens to have orientations which include abusive, unsanitary, obscure, or otherwise taboo preferences, some of which cannot be acted upon due to the non-consensual harm they will cause. I firmly believe caring about preventing abuse requires an indepth understanding of paraphilias.

The truth is that a signficant amount of sexual offenses are commited opportunistically to exert power, rather than done by someone who genuinely has a paraphilic orientation. I am however not going to sugarcoat the reality that some individual paraphiles do offend.

In order for paraphiles to lead a positive life, it is important they are not shamed, especially not for what they haven't done. Framing them as disgusting monsters who are doomed to offend is not going to prevent them from offending. Ostracization and self-hatred will actually more likely encourage offense, for they might feel like they have no positive experience of life to protect anyway. It is not encouraging to do good whatsoever when it feels like no one in the entire world will ever have a kind thought about you. This is not an excuse to offend, what I'm trying to say is that this hateful, stigmatizing attitude towards paraphiles prevents honest and open conversation about paraphilias, therefor prevents paraphiles access to information and understanding about themselves, therefor brings forth more acts of entirely preventable offense.

Conversion therapy is considered an inhumane practice when it comes to queer people, so why should it be any different for paraphiles? Through things like art, writing, dolls, roleplay, and fantasies, paraphiles can engage with their paraphilias in ways that objectively do not cause harm. What they do evoke in many is disgust, which is not a emotion that should rule your morality.

It might be easy to think why can't paraphiles just not exist so I don't have to be uncomfortable and question my morality? Well, they do exist, and they will never not exist, because paraphilia isn't an hereditary disease that you can eugenics out of the population, neither is it something you can socially conform out of existence. Paraphilias are inherent.

[chartreuseschaos]

My A's and how they manifest within me

Aromantic Repulsed by depictions of romance and being approached romantically. No desire for romantic relationships. No romantic attraction.

Aplatonic In theory not repulsed by friendship, but in practice end up having no desire to be friends with others. Unable to reciprocate platonic attachment, social engagement, emotional support, interest. Friendship ends up feeling pressuring and overwhelming. No platonic attraction.

Afamilial Repulsed by depictions of familial love and responsibility. Feel no attachment to own blood relatives. Do not value the concept of family, unable to comprehend it. No desire for found familial bonds. Do not feel familial attraction.

Anaffectional Repulsed by depictions of common affectionate behaviours. Rejecting of being shown affection and love. Does not feel love.

[chartreuseschaos]

Why I prefer Harm Reduction and am against the concept of Pro-Recovery.

Harm is unavoidable unless you demand perfection of others all the time, which is unreasonable and actually ends up causing more harm.

Those who are too focused on full recovery being the end goal, often end up blaming the target when they inevitably are not able to reach a 'healthy' standard that is forced upon them.

Whereas harm reduction focuses on reducing harm. It accepts that harmful habits will still happen. It celebrates little bits of progress even if they're not the 'healthy' standard. It honours the individual's capabilities. It shifts focus away from a pressuring, looming, full recovery.

Furthermore, the current standard of 'health' is unjust towards the disabled, fat, mentally ill, neurodivergent, insane, sexually deviant, and other non-normative existences. No, these are not insults, these terms are used by the communities themselves.

There is also something to say about autonomy and risk awareness. The right to hurt ourselves should be advocated for. If that sounds extreme, then what do you think about for example hardcore kink, religious fasting, nail beds used for relaxation, and heck, even exercising?

Something else I include in my Harm Reduction view is the belief that abusing abusers does not lessen the amount of abuse in the world, it adds to it. If you focus only on 'recovery', then you could claim that locking someone up or numbing them with medication and preventing them from being able to do anything constitutes as 'recovered', but you can completely sweep under the rug that you are harming them in the process.

[chartreuseschaos]

I still don't like the idea of a personality being able to be disordered. I sort of get it, if your traits are distressing to you, feel like they control you, you don't like having them, etc. But then whether or not your personality is 'disordered' hinges on whether or not you experience some kind of discomfort with it, instead of you exhibiting a list of traits, which completely obliterates the current model of personality disorders. What about those of us who like being the way we are? Who feel authentic like this? What even is a normal personality supposed to look like? I don't want one.

This is coming from a being on the schizospectrum with cluster B traits.

[willosword]

the more i think about the vees the more i love their whole concept, especially after learning about the rift between them and the older overlords. three comparatively young/arrogant upstarts who each think they're the backbone of their little team constantly working and flying by the seat of their pants and scrambling to stay relevant while keeping each other in check because if any one of the trio crumbles the rest will topple down with them. a precarious balancing act

[willowser]

WILLOW I MISSED U SM PLS DONT GIVE ME A HEARTATTACK ANYMORE!!! DO NOT LEAVE MEE I HAVE ANXIOUS ATTACHMENT

i'm sorry friend ! 🥺 anytime i've had to step away from this space, it's typically due to my comfort level being v v low ! either with myself and my own writing, or the community at large 🥺 i think taking time away is a good thing ! a good way to get up and stretch my legs and gives me time to think on things; what i want to see in the space around me, how i can change that if at all, what my point is in being here. i can't say that i won't step away again, bc i most likely will ! it's very cathartic to me ! but i am always around 😊 in and out and watching from my lil perch in the distance 😊🩷✨

[chartreuseschaos]

The yearning for kinship and connection you cannot find with anyone.

*ok, but what is Jake's stragle?*

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Ended getting writer's block and didn't write anything :(

Anyways, on a scale of one to ten who'd you think would win in a fight? (ex: shadow Mark vs host, monster dave vs the willow tree or something, etc)

grenade launcher anon

I'm. not sure, I could do like. Matchups between all the characters but that would take forever, so I'll just say. who's the strongest au variant of all these characters instead if thats alright with you.

Gabriel: Canon Gabriel is probably more powerful? but i'm gonna say. HSH Gabriel. though i'm not going to specify why just yet.

Six: Honestly not sure.

Preacher: Gardener is probably the most powerful. mainly due to height.

N: Not sure either.

Mark: Shadow Mark is winning a fight between all the Marks. Alt Mark is close behind but Shadow Mark has. a flesh eating "locust" swarm so-

Cesar: Lab Cesar or Thing Cesar

Altsar: Not very many options surprisingly so i'm going with Host

Adam: MP Adam or Were Adam. Maybe Thing Adam too i'm not sure

Jonah: Alt Jonah. purely for mental attacks considering most Jonahs aren't physical attackers.

Evelin: MP Evelin

Sarah: Lake Sarah

Dave: Monster Dave for sure

Thatcher: Probably. Monster au?

Ruth: I have. no idea. most Ruths are dead and/or spirits so

[chartreuseschaos]

Auditory Processing Disorder is a disability that obstructs one's ability to process units of speech into actual language and meaningfully distinguish different sounds that are happening simultaneously. Unless I'm self-managing by avoiding noises and people, all I hear is chaos and incomprehensible gibberish. But because I can 'technically hear' my struggles are shoved under the rug and I receive little to no accomodations. I've been called lazy, overreactive, spaced out, dumb, hard to handle, paranoid. And keep in mind APD is far from the only 'hidden' disability I struggle with.

Things I cannot do with APD

Have or follow spoken conversations with others while there is other audio present including but not limited to other conversations, tv, music, construction work, and loud vehicles.

Hear myself think while there is other audio present.

Listen to music while there is other audio present.

Follow the meaning of lyrics of a song as I listen to it.

Watch videos with dialogue comfortably without there being closed captions available.

Comprehend any type of distorted audio present in things like memes or puzzles, or due to it being recorded on outdated or poor quality technology.

Have any telephone or voice chat conversation with others due to the crackly buzzing sound of being live connected with someone that apparently no one else can hear.

[chartreuseschaos]

I went from silently suffering and trying to trust others' judgment to getting fed up with it and advocating for myself and getting diagnosed as an adult. I think it has strengtened my awareness of my own body, because the diagnosis confirmed that I was right all this time, whereas everyone else was wrong all this time. Because of this, and other trauma, I don't trust people and fail to connect to society and form attachments to individuals.

[willosword]

okay trying to piece together some cloud identity things here. so i dont think when he came back he copied zack’s personality or anything bc zack doesnt seem like the ‘If he talks He Dies 😐’ cold cool and intimidating type. so was it a situation like… cloud thinking ‘so what kind of guy would be Super Strong and Never A Burden and never need saving Ever?’ and then just kinda adopting that ‘cold badass’ persona to distance himself from his old self as much as possible?

[moss-on-a-tree15]

thinking about how i have such a strange relationship with crying and vulnerability.

anyone who knows me irl would say that i am very much a crier. i cry a lot. but at the same time, i’d say only very VERY few people have seen me cry in the way where i’m being completely vulnerable and can’t control the crying???

[h-s-moonshadow]

Sigils and Willows: Part 2

Orion closed his eyes as he listened to the arguments of worried parents and a worried brother. He did not join in the conversation, even as he sat in the middle of it on a plush blue couch in a lavishly decorated lounge.

As the argument continued he wondered idly if he could have done anything. Willomancy could never have saved Nomira, but perhaps something else could have? He sighed as he sipped his water, opening his eyes to pay attention to the conversation at hand.

Halnoa was standing, tall and proud as usual. Short teal hair brushing the tips of his hair as silver eyes shot daggers at his parents. The tall man barely resembled his twin sister. Orion’s bride, at all. Where she was slender, he was stout. Where she was short, he was tall. Yet they both complimented each other. Showing in a way that though two could be so different, they could also be the same.

As he watched Halnoa argue about going after Nomira, he noticed things. Halnoa’s quiet stubbornness which riveled Nomria’s loud stubbornness. That was the main simularity between the twins. Neither was beaten down easily. Orion almost smiled to himself, quietly shoving aside the thought of Nomira in her black wedding gown ordering around the servents of the Untine upper society.

“Son, we don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

The words of the King of Galdraz hung in the air like the final dissonant note of a funeral durge. Shaking all humor from Orion as he stood. Carefully placing his water on a small side table.

He had not been paying true attention to the argument. Sure he had heard the major points that Halnoa had said. In truth however, Orion was too shocked. In a way he was relieved. Moreso however, he was worried.

“That’s a terrible way to think of things.” He said with a sigh walking forwards to stand beside Halnoa. “It’s been an hour. Surely they would send ransome if they wished for ransome. They would inform us if they killed her if they wished to send a message. IF they’re smart they’ll use a true messanger, send them on the yearlong trip to get here so they can be prepared with their army by the time you march yours down your magisty.

Halnoa raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear that’s not happening?”

Orion froze. Had they discussed the army? HE did not remember them doing so. “I must have been getting water…” He said after a moment. “You’re not going to rescue her? Or avenge her?”

The king shook his head. He was a pale skinned man, with thinning blond hair. He and the queen had always looked strange next to Nomria and Halnoa. Yet that had never quite struck Orion until now.

“Prince Orion,” The King said softly. “She’s in Untine. Even if they do not kill her, they’ll use her for experiments. They’ll torture her. By the time any of us get there she’ll be dead or worse. There’s nothing that we can do.”

“But if we do nothing then we are as bad as they are!” Halnoa growled. “I will not sit here, while my sister is subjected to who knows what! If there’s any chance. The smallest of one that I can go there, bargin for her freedom. So that she can come home-”

“There is none,” The kings force was harsh. His brown eyes turning on his son. A war of brown and silver was fought in that moment. Son against father. Brother against King. Finally Halnoa broke the gaze. Silver gaze drifting to the floor.

“Why do you give her up so easily father?” He asked softly. “When she’s done so much?”

Orion paused. He did not feel like he should be in the room. Yet, he had just watched a father give up on his daughter. He did not know where the Queen was. He only knew the sadness he saw in Halnoa. He carefully took a breath. “I’ll find her.” He said softly. “I’ll bring Princess Nomira back.”

“You will?” Halnoa blinked looking down at Orion from the few inches the man had on him. “You’ll travel to get her?” He paused. “Suppose you would want to rescue your love after all. No matter the risks.”

Halnoa’s eyes were radiant. Orion could not help but notice the gentle way that smile made the area around the other prince’s eyes crinkle. How his cheeks flushed with a gentle red of joy instead of embarrassment.

“And what of the risks?” The King’s voice cut through the moment. “What happens if you die Prince Orion? Even your Willomancy cannot protect you forever. Cannot sustain you forever. What happens when you die.” Those imperious brown eyes were now turned on him. Orion pursed his lips.

“Your magisesty, I am seventh in line to the throne. Your daughter, Princess Nomira, fought for three years to get a betrothal to one of my brothers or myself. I am not the crown prince of Halvorn. I am the seventh in line. My loss will not be a loss to anyone. I am here to fufull an alliance, and a trade.”

He held up his left hand. It had a ring on it. A silver ring. “My bride, has one of these as well. Until one of us is dead, or until we devorce our kingdoms are allies.” He blinked, then felt some heat rising to his cheeks. “She… mentioned that the only thing that could break our alliance was if we divorced after we were married. I never was in the marriage agreement negotiations.”

Halnoa paused. “He has a point father. Could you assign him-” 

The King shot Halnoa a look. A dangerous look. It made the young prince stop in his very tracks. His very words dying upon his lips. Halnoa almost appeared to wilt in front of that gaze. A gaze that said “You have tried my patience, do not test me further.”

As that gaze was turned back onto Orion, Orion met it with what he hoped would be a confident gaze. The gaze of a man who was off to save the woman he loved. Not the gaze of a man who simply did not know what to do in this situation. After all, he had been about to marry her.

The King regaurded Orion for a long moment. “I will provide you with food and rations. Along with a selection of horses for your journy.”

Orion nodded. “I will require a week of preperation. So that I may plan my stops.”

“Then you will have it.” The king nodded and turned. Walking back into the castle.

Hours later, inside of Orion’s guest chambers. There was a knock at the door. He paused. Standing from the map and gently making sure that his talismine was inside his shirt, walked out of his bedroom and to the sitting room, opening the door to the hallway.

Halnoa stood outside. Orion blinked, then inclined his head in respect. “Prince Halnoa, please, come in.”

Halnoa rolled his eyes. “Orion, we’re friends. Let’s cut the formality.”

The other prince’s eyes were red. His teal hair showed signs of having been run through with hands multiple times, and the posture was slumped and broken. Whatever Halnoa had been doing for the past few hours had taken much out of the Prince that Orion had grown to know.

Orion stepped back to let Halnoa in, closing the door after the prince had entered and watching as the regal man almost collapsed into one of the sitting rooms plush chairs.

Walking across the tightly woven red and gold rug, Orion took a seat opsite Halnoa and took a long moment. “I’m going to assume that things-”

“Why don’t they do something?” Halnoa said softly, cutting Orion off. “My mother is already grieving like her daughter is dead. My father gave her up the moment she told him where she was going. Why don’t they fight for her?” His voice was soft.

“You know that they fought for her in the past. Both of us. They fought for us so much, their kingdom nearly colasped. And they promised us that it would always be that way. Yet now? They don’t fight at all.” Halnoa closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, leaning forwards so that his elbows were on his knees. “Yet now they don’t seem to care. About the daughter who has gotten them so much.”

Orion took a moment, considering. Was this a time for words? Perhaps, but only if they were the right ones. If they were not the right ones then nothing good could come of this conversation. So he thought for a long moment.

He himself understood the King and Queen’s actions. That had been his parents reaction when Nomira had first aproached with the alliance offer. With the deals. He had been sent because there was nothing the seventh child of a monarch could do but sucure an alliance. He was not expected to be great, nor grand. He was expected to be.

The only difference it seemed, was that her parents had once fought for her.

Orion leaned forwards. “Halnoa…” He murmered softly, looking over the prince’s teal hair and tan skin. “They don’t believe anyone can go against those who killed the dragons and survive. No one even knows how those in Untine defeated the dragons. And now there are one hundred perminant sigilists living there, with many more, any who understand like your sister does and drinks dragon blood.”

Halnoa laughed softly, a mirthless laugh. One more of self preservation than true emotion. “Orion, have you ever listened to my sister? Sigils are not things of combat. That was one of the things she always talked about. Sigils are things of change, of binding, of transportation. They take time to draw. Even if someone was to make a sigil that could defeat an army that could take longer than simply marching another army out to defeat it.”

Orion paused. “So then the sigilists are nothing to be worried about. Those in Untine most likely don’t have Willomancy, and even if they do its not like even a practiced willomancer can stop an army, or even a hundred.”

Halnoa raised an eyebrow. “Willomancers. People who can kill a tree in seconds, can’t stop an army if there were 100 of them?”

“We can’t choose what plants grow or how they do. Sure we could make the grass grow tall and strong. Make the tree’s grow together to form a wall. Cause vines to sprout and tangle if they were growing correctly. But even that is… risking a lot on chance.” Orion sighed reaching for a small pouch he kept at his side, bringing out a seed and holding it in his palm. “Plus, they’d have to be careful to not use any of their own energy while doing it. Or else they’d drain themselves dry and die themselves.”

Halnoa nodded and sighed softly, running a hand through his already ran through hair, giving each side a more pronounced winglike shape. “They lied to her.” He said softly. “Told her they were going to send someone, and yet here we are, and they have not even given the order to get ready.”

Orion nodded softly. “They probably said that to give her hope in what they presume would be her last moments.” He paused. “You know in a year she’s going to arrive on our doorstep very annoyed with everyone. Right?”

Halnoa smiled gently. “Oh by the gods she will. She’ll arrive, probably having found the last dragon. And fly in, walk inside, and demand to know what we’ve been doing all this time.”

“She’ll want to know and read over every contract that your parents have made without her express consent and agreement…” Orion started to chuckle.

Halnoa was starting to laugh as well. “She’ll void half of them because of some loophole that no one noticed in the middle of a great number of them- and the other kingdoms will not know what to do.”

Orion snorted. “She’ll scold the master of coin because he let the merchants gouge you all because she wasn’t around to make sure that everything was at a fair price.”

Halnoa laughed with Orion, and for a moment the mood in the room was lighter. More carefree. Optimistic. For a moment Orion felt like they could both believe that Nomira would arrive in a little over a years time, no worse for wear.

Nervousness that everything would have countined like it would have notwithstanding. He wished he could believe that for longer.

Yet as all things do, the laughter subsided. The two of them falling silent as they considered. It was a moment before Halnoa spoke once more.

“So what’s the plan?” He asked after a moment. “How are you going to succeed? How are you even going to get there?”

Orion smiled standing. “Come on. I have a route planned out. It’s rough, and will probably change. But at the very least I think I can indeed get there.”

Halnoa nodded as he stood, following Orion into his bedroom. Orion walked to the desk where he had a map of the world laid out. He pursed his lips pointing. “If I manage to get a boat on the Tica River, I can work my way down until here.” He pointed to a forest. “Then we go through the Jomand forest, not too dangerous even with the Enlargement that’s said to be there. But even then there’s enough plant life that my life should never be in serious danger.”

Halnoa paused looking at the map. A fine paper thing, covered in a clear lacquer to prevent smudging of the charcole that had been used to draw it in precise detail. It was one of Orion’s most treasured and used possessions. It got him where he needed to go.

“I never realized just how big the world was…” Halnoa said softly. “And this is only half of it, yet it will take you a year to get there.” He leaned down, silver eyes studying the work of art. “Are you going to be using the northern pass then?”

“Western.” Orion said pointing. “It will be further, but the western path is safter even if it is another month of travel around the mountain. If I push myself after that it should only be a month through it. Which will mean that though I travel farther, I’m actually saving time.”

Halnoa nodded. “A good plan I think.”

Orion chuckled. “You think? I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to do once I get to Untine.” He paused then walked over to his bed and sat on it closing his eyes. “I’m not a diplomat like she is. I’m not even close to being a scholar of those types of laws and trades. And Nomira learned just about everything there was to learn about Sigils in her spare time.

Halnoa sighed. “She did seem to put the rest of us to shame didn’t she.” He slipped into Orion’s desk chair. “And yet even she had her faults.”

Orion raised his eyebrow. “Oh? And will her darling brother tell me about the faults?”

Halnoa shook his head. “No. I’m sure you’ve seen them. I’m sure that even now they’re coming out in her. Her greatest strengths are her greatest faults just as often as they help her.” He paused, and Orion saw the look of memory in the prince’s silver eyes. Not the look of wistful memory, but the look of painful memory.

“We had an argument last night.” He said softly. “I never told her I loved her once today. I was so mad at her that even when I knew I might never see her again I didn’t tell her.” He looked at Orion. “I need her to know that I do. I need her to know that I want to get on a horse and run until I reach Untine and know that she’s safe.”

Orion paused. “Come with me.” He said softly, looking at the prince. “You’re a better fighter than me. You understand people. You’ll… help.”

Halnoa paused looking at Orion. And the Prince saw a look of longing in the other Prince’s eyes. Before Halnoa shook his head. “I want to Orion. Please know that I want to. I just…” He closed his eyes and reached up to smooth the teal wings of his hair. “I can’t disobey. Not on this. The kingdom can’t loose it’s crown prince. Not now. Not after what just happened to Nomira.” 

Orion slowly nodded. “I understand Halnoa.” He murmured softly. “I’ll get her back for you.”

“You can’t know that,” The words came as if unbidden from Halnoa’s mouth. Orion looked up sharply to see the other Prince looking horrified at the truth that he had just spoken.

Orion nodded softly, and Halnoa paused. “I don’t-” He stopped. Closing his mouth. Orion knew what he had been about to say. That he had not meant it. And yet, both of them knew that that statement would have been a lie.

Halnoa stood. “I should let you get back too it then. I have to do other things.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll see you around Prince Orion.”

Orion did not move as Halnoa left. He did not know what to do. He was not going to make a difference. Even if he arrived as quickly as he could to Untine, Nomira would be long… whatever was happening to her. He would be too late.

Everyone knew that. Yet he was still going to try. Try even though he did not love her.

It was the right thing to do.

[icefest]

In celebration of the remarkable life and career of Val Kilmer (1959-2025), we're hosting a cross-fandom collection to honor his extraordinary contributions to film and the characters that captivated our hearts and imaginations.

About the Exchange

This event welcomes fanworks of all kinds celebrating Val Kilmer's diverse filmography. Whether you were moved by his portrayal of Jim Morrison, thrilled by his Iceman, enchanted by his Batman, or captivated by any of his other iconic roles, this is your opportunity to share your creativity with fellow fans.

Eligible Fandoms

All Val Kilmer roles and films are welcome, including but not limited to:

Top Gun/Top Gun: Maverick (Iceman)

Batman Forever (Bruce Wayne/Batman)

The Doors (Jim Morrison)

Tombstone (Doc Holliday)

Heat (Chris Shiherlis)

Willow (Madmartigan)

Real Genius (Chris Knight)

The Ghost and the Darkness (John Patterson)

The Saint (Simon Templar)

At First Sight (Virgil Adamson)

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (Gay Perry)

Alexander (Philip II)

Thunderheart (Ray Levoi)

The Prince of Egypt (Moses, voice)

Any other film from his extensive career

Accepted Fanwork Types

We welcome all forms of creative expression:

Fanfiction: One-shots, multi-chapter works, poetry, scripts, alternative universes, crossovers

Fan Art: Digital art, traditional art, comics, photo manipulations

Poetic Works: Poems, sonnets, haiku, free verse inspired by Kilmer or his characters

Video Tributes: Fanvids, edits, animation

Audio Works: Podfics, song covers, original music

Crafts: Cosplay, props, jewelry, clothing designs

Meta: Character analysis, film essays, retrospectives

Collection Rules

All works must feature a character portrayed by Val.

Please tag appropriately for content warnings.

Both new works and reworkings of previously shared creations are welcome.

Both gen and shippy content are welcomed and encouraged.

Suggestions for Participation

Explore the complex dichotomies in Kilmer's roles: hero/villain, strong/vulnerable, comic/tragic.

Consider crossovers between his characters (What would Doc Holliday say to Iceman? A Crossover between Real Genius' Chris and Top Gun's Iceman, maybe?)

Reflect on the iconic lines and moments that defined his performances

Create "what if" scenarios for his characters' lives beyond the films

Craft poetry inspired by the emotional resonance of his performances

The collection can be found on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Ice_Fest_Exchange/profile.

Add as you finish, and enjoy! Celebrate and have fun!

Timeline

The collection is open as of now, and we ask that all completed works are posted into the collection by July 4th of this year. That said, the collection will remain open all year round, and we invite you to add your tributes to Val as you wish. Val will be missed, and his legacy will endure.

In Memoriam

This collection seeks to celebrate Val Kilmer's enduring legacy as an actor who brought depth, charisma, and unforgettable presence to every role he embodied. Through our creative works, we honor his contribution to cinema and the impact he had on audiences worldwide.

"The only love you keep is the love you give away." - Virgil Adamson, At First Sight

[chartreuseschaos]

I'm nearing 30 and, excluding forced cultural kissing among family, I have yet to have a passionate intimate kiss with another being, let alone further such activities. There are many factors at play as to why this is my reality. The biggest one is that while I do conceptually desire sexual intimacy, and elaborate on these thoughts in Mindscape rather often, I have not been able to find or pursue a suitable partner in reality. It seems illogical to me to go through a mediocre experience just to be able to say that I have done it, as this is not what I seek. I want it to be enjoyable, I want to feel safe, I want sparks, I want our souls to intertwine. I want to wait for the 'right person(s)'. They might never arrive, which is fine too.

These type of experiences can absolutely coexist with asexual acceptance and sexual freedom. We do not all have to have the same experience, to support another's experience. An 80 year old person admitting that the reason they've never had sex is because no one wanted to have sex with them needn't be equated to an incel, and me saying I want to wait for the right person needn't be equated to perpetuating acephobic rhetotic.

Honestly we really need to stop being weird about older adults who are virgins.

& not even purely in a "I'm sex repulsed &/or ace &/or not into the idea of so I willingly didn't have it" but also in a "I'm 80, I would've loved to have sex, but it takes two to tango & no one wanted to have sex w/ me-" and in a "I'm 60 & I wanted to, but I had anxiety so bad I just didn't put myself in a situation where I could've" way, etc. [But yes also the people who are like "I'm a virgin because I never wanted to have sex"]

Someone made a post about having their 40th birthday & still being a virgin & someone commented about how it was heartbreaking... [The OP talked about all their other achievements they reached & how they were happy - just never had sex btw. They weren't lamenting about how they never had sex]

You don't need sex/sexual intimacy to be happy. You don't need romantic intimacy to be happy. [Obviously having those may add happiness, but like you won't live a sad depressing empty life if you're single forever &/or never have sex]

[thewickedspinster]

Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."