#granted exceptions made for like harmful stuff

[trans-emet-selch]

Some people really need to learn that not all your friends should be in every single hobby of yours. These same people also need to learn how to be interested on your friend’s behalf in said hobbies/medias that you aren’t into

[thekinslayed]

Sweet Disposition

summary | Gwayne is welcomed to King's Landing by his beloved niece.

pairing | gwayne hightower x niece!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), oral (f), just the tip, cum eating, reader has blue eyes and red hair, gwayne is a classist (and is in love with the niece that looks like him lol), incest, lotsa rubbing, lotsa yappin'

song rec | Sweet Disposition - The Temper Trap

wordcount | 3.2k

note | welcome to the stage, gwayne hightower!!! i just had to, u guys. i’m not too sure how the age gap’s looking since idrk how old gwayne is, but do assume they did stuff the first time when the reader was of age :)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“Ah, sweetling!”

You squealed at the sight of him, rising from your seat by the window to rush over to the door. Your uncle grunted in surprise as you jumped into his arms, chuckling amusedly in your embrace. You had waited all day for him. Worry began to fester in your gut when there was no sign of him as the day grew dark. Mother said they must’ve gotten held back by the impending storm that was painting the blue sky a desolate gray. However, the gods have granted you your wish. Soon enough, a flurry of green flashed through the gates of King’s Landing, and Gwayne Hightower made his way to find you.

“What took you so long?” you asked, pouting at him. His chest rumbled against yours in another chuckle, the rich sound of his amusement a lively song.

“My deepest apologies, princess. Some trouble down in the Kingsroad had us going a longer way. No worry now, I am here,” he explained, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “Brother dearest keeping you locked in here?”

You scoffed, pulling away from your uncle. His bright blues wandered around the expanse of your chambers, observing the various Valyrian tapestries decorating your walls. He admired you, as you trailed your hands over the cushions of the settee. Pure Targaryen, all except for the vibrant red of your curls. That was all Hightower, much to his delight.

“More so mother than Aegon, he doesn’t give two shits about me. Either way, it’s always him and mother huddled together in those council meetings. And Aemond, when he’s not off to gods know where. War feels pretty boring if you ask me,” you responded, earning a raise of the eyebrow from the redhead. 

“It won’t be boring once thousands of men die for your cause, princess, all so you could stay here and sit prettily while we fight for you.” He remained standing as you plopped down onto the plush chaise, reaching for a cherry from the plate of fruit situated on the side table.

It was tart, bursting with its dark juices as you sunk your teeth into its plump flesh. Gwayne watched as you wrapped your lips around the round fruit. It tainted your lips a luscious red, utterly delectable.

Your brows furrowed in offense, while a frown turned your pretty lips downward. “Are you saying I’m useless? If only I were given the chance, I could fly off on my dragon and burn more than half the enemy’s army before you could even engage,” you said, to which Gwayne replied with an understanding nod. 

“I know you would, darling, but we cannot have you harmed. You are too precious to be sent off to battle, take it from me,” your uncle replied, placating. You huffed, grumbling under your breath, making Gwayne bite back an amused smirk. Throwing away the cherry’s pit, you grabbed a strawberry this time, wrapping your fingers around its leaves to deliver it in one bite. Your cheeks had hollowed as you sucked on its juices, provocating… inviting. This had wiped the amusement off the elder Hightower’s face, making him clear his throat and shift where he stood, A smirk of your own rose on your lips at this success.

“How does Daeron fare?” you asked nonchalantly. Gwayne shrugged, waving a hand dismissively as he continued his exploration of your apartments. It was quite spacious, though the smallest out of the entire royal family, but it was comfortable enough. It was situated at the far end of the hall, farther away from prying eyes and curious ears.

“You know him, itching to fly back at a moment’s notice,” your uncle informed, to which you nodded in understanding. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time in King’s Landing, only in recent years. When the youngest was sent off to Oldtown to squire, you were tasked with accompanying him as his eldest sister. You were ten and five then, only returning after six years when your grandsire decided it was high time for you to be married off. In your time away from the capital, you had missed much, evidently enough. The war had put any courtship or marriage proposals on pause, which aggravated you. If only you had known, you would have spent your days back in Oldtown happily. With Daeron and your dragons. With Gwayne.

“Not curious as to how I’ve been, little red?” he mused. You smirked at him, tilting your head to the side in feigned curiosity. 

“How are you then, uncle? Missing your little squire?” you queried, teasing. Gwayne narrowed his eyes at you, which you mimicked. You were no stranger to your uncle’s tastes. Being away from the careful watch of your grandsire allowed him much freedom to do as he liked, especially when the old codgers were asleep. It was why you hadn’t seen much of him in your first years in Oldtown. The elder Hightower used to barely show an interest in his sister’s children, kept occupied by the pursuit of his merriment. He remained detached from you, up until you accidentally came across some unknown servant stumbling out of his chambers late one night, doublet unbuttoned and breeches unlaced. It sparked your curiosity, had ignited a carnal hunger deep within you. He had opened your eyes to such proclivities, had broken away the conservative mold your faith had locked you in. 

Gwayne feigned a sarcastic laugh, walking around you to your window. “Funny.”

One could see the vastness of the horizon past the Bay from this view. The breeze a salty, refreshing prickle. It held little of the nose-scrunching stench of Flea Bottom. You craned your head to watch your uncle face the wind. His hair had gotten longer, you noted. It looked better. “Though I am a bit peeved to travel all this way to not be welcomed by my whole family, but I suppose our new Hand has been keeping your mother company,” he said, a bite of bitterness in his tone.

You stood from your seat, approaching to stand by his side. The greens of your garments matched perfectly, and so did the reds of your tresses. You were always happy to look more Hightower than Targaryen, though your blood always ran hot, much like a dragon’s.

“Jealous much? Perhaps you could ask to join them,” you teased, bumping your elbow into his playfully. Gwayne merely rolled his eyes at your implication. The sight of the Dornishman leaning too close to his sister had confirmed the rising suspicions his father had made him aware of. How convenient it was for him to be made Hand too, granted a position that brought him closer to Alicent’s level. And to share her bed at night. How exhilarating it must be to a man like Ser Criston.

“I’d rather indulge with someone that stirred something in my loins without stepping on my shoulders for leverage in this society, thank you very much.”

“Anyone in mind?”

Gwayne turned to meet your gaze. The blues of your orbs were much like his, icy and deep. He could see the freckles that dotted the bridge of your nose from the proximity, could spend all day to count each one of them. The corners of his lips quirked upwards, as fast as a blink, before pursing.

He regarded you with a gaze so familiar, yet tantalizing enough to warm the meat underneath your skin. The hairs on the back of your head stood tall in attention, prickly underneath his stare. He turned his body to face yours, and you followed suit. Gwayne could almost feel the heat exuding from you, the dragon that you were, from this distance. Almost. 

You watched him watch you. The momentary flicker of his eyes to your lips was not overlooked, igniting a spark of excitement deep in your chest. Your feet took a step closer to him, nearly closing the gap. Gwayne mimicked you, taking a step of his own. The air between the two of you grew thick, almost dizzying with tension, but neither of you made the move. This was a familiar game with your uncle. It always left you thirsting for more, had made you an addict. It had you almost sneaking off on your dragon back to Oldtown just for a taste. 

“When are you to set off then?” you asked, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. You felt his fingertip begin to trace the outline of your curves, though you paid them no mind. 

“Well, it was supposed to be on the morrow, but this storm hasn’t worked out in our favor. In two days’ time, perhaps.” He had flattened his hand on the small of your back now, pulling you in subtly. You planted your hands on his chest, caressing the firm planes hidden underneath his doublet. His breath was hot on your face, bringing about a flush on your cheeks. 

“So soon?” you pouted. “You’ve only just gotten here.”

A heavy sigh escaped Gwayne’s lips. The skin on his neck was pale as he tilted his head back, littered with a light dusting of freckles. He was close to tipping over, you could feel it.

“War waits for no one, I’m afraid,” he muttered. You hummed in agreement, taking a bolder step by wrapping your arms around his neck. He tutted in warning, to which you only responded with an innocent bat of your lashes.

“We should make most of our time then,” you suggested, preening up at him suggestively. Your uncle bit his lip, pondering, deciding whether it was time for him to succumb to the magnetic pull of his body to yours. 

“Princess.” A warning.

“Uncle.” An invitation.

Gwayne pressed his lips to yours, sweet like cherry. You moaned in delight, a budding warmth in your chest bursting at the feel of his kiss. It was hungry, urgent, tainted with the promise of making up for the time you had spent away from each other’s warmth. Roaming hands found your rear, squeezing the plump flesh through your skirts. Your uncle’s wandering lips traveled their way downward, trailing to settle on the length of your neck. A whine echoed through your chambers as he bit on your neck, before smoothing over with his tongue. Something was starting to poke your hip, and your hand descended to cup it, earning a grunt from the redheaded man before you. 

A breath was hitched into his throat when you dropped to your knees, making quick work to untie his breeches. The heady scent of his cock was familiar, albeit he was unwashed, and it almost felt like coming home. Gwayne was your home. You wasted no time to press kisses to reddening tip, licking a stripe down the underside of his length before taking him whole. Your desperation was evident in your movements, head bobbing up and down fervently while you kept your eyes on him. Above you, the knight could only grunt, running a hand through his ginger tresses to keep himself grounded.

“How is it you’ve gotten better at this in my absence, hm? Had done your own practice?” he groaned, placing a guiding hand on the back of your head. You hummed around his length, the vibrations of your cavern making his cock jump. A hand replaced your mouth when you pulled away, stroking at a uniform pace as you looked up at him.

“One of Aegon’s friends said I certainly do it quite well. I have you to thank for the knowledge, I suppose,” you bragged, smirking when his blues visibly darkened at your words. He pulled you up back to your feet, leading you back to lean against a sidetable before claiming your lips once more. He was unbothered by the taste of himself on your tongue, nor by the spit painting both your cheeks in this messy exchange. You took hold of one of his hands to guide up your skirt, past your smallclothes, and settling on your mound. 

Gods, you were soaked. You had been the moment you felt his warmth, had pressed your nose into the familiar scent of his flesh. 

His fingertips trailed down your slit to collect your essence, before taking it into his mouth for a taste. You watched, hypnotized as his lips wrapped around his fingers. Your skirts were then bunched up to your hips, your smallclothes falling to the floor once you untied the ribbons that held them together. The figurines on your table rattled as the wood accommodated your weight when you had shifted to lean further. You beckoned him closer by wrapping your leg around his trim waist, and an arm around his shoulders. It was almost like you readied to dance as he took hold of your waist, an embrace so rehearsed, so familiar. The underside of his cock pressed against your weeping cunny, and with the sway of his hips, the sweet song of your whines filled Gwayne’s ears. His cockhead snagged against your pearl when he pushed his hips at a perfect angle, making you both moan. 

Calloused hands took hold of your thighs, dimpling the soft flesh under his hold. You gripped the edge of the table to ground yourself, throwing your head back as your uncle rubbed against you deliciously. He knew how much you liked this, well aware of how much power he held over you when he teased you with the promise of his claiming of your maidenhead. It stoked a fire deep within your loins, though today, it was not enough to burn you under.

“Gwayne…” you whined. “More… I need more!”

His red tresses swayed as he shook his head in refusal. His eyes were trained on the sight of your essence coating his cock, angling his hips to press against your pearl more. “I can’t… not yet, my love, you know this.”

You gripped his shoulders in frustration, urging him to look at you with your hands cupping his jaw. Your lips displayed your desperation as you kissed him. You have always asked little from him, naught but for one thing. 

“This could be the last time we ever see each other. Please, uncle,” you pleaded, burying your head into his neck as you sobbed. 

Your uncle had shown you much, had taught you much. However, there was one thing that was not for him to take. He dared not sully his niece, his beloved sister’s eldest girl. That kind of depravity is for Targaryens, and Gwayne thought himself a dignified man, honorable. Yet as you bit your lip temptingly at him, your brows furrowed adorably, the tight noose of virtue continued to loosen.

He grabbed hold of his cock, directing it to your slit. Gwayne kept his hand on the lower half of length to restrain himself, lest he lost all control. His tip breached your walls, reaching only far enough to feel your heat. “Just this much, and I promise when I return we will have so much more,” he panted into your ear. His thrusts were shallow, though some threatened to reach deeper, farther into your warmth. He alternated between rubbing and breaching, an assaulting tease to your senses. 

You moaned his name like a prayer. Devoted pleading. Your grip on the back of his neck was grounding, keeping his head from floating to the heavens to be here with you. You were all over him, from your hands in his hair, your lips on his jaw down to your juices that coated his cock. 

It was too late for him, he realized. To try and outrun a dragon’s fire was a futile attempt, and all he could do was welcome it with resignation. How ever could he deny himself this bliss? How could he deny you?

He came as his cockhead snagged on your folds once more, painting your mound with his pearly seed. Barely catching his breath, your hand on his shoulder ordered him to his knees. Like a devotee, the Hightower kneeled before you, descending his mouth onto your cunny. His own spend was salty as it coated his tongue, mixed with the sticky sweet nectar of your maiden core. The sight of his reds in between your thighs was a heavenly sight, and you could only pray to have him like this until the end of your days.

You were nearing your precipice, evident by the grinding of your hips against his face. With a thumb on your pearl and his tongue dipping in and out of your cunt, you came with a cry. Your uncle slurped up your release like a man starved, groaning against your mound.

When he had returned to his feet, Gwayne’s lips glistened with your essence. Breathless, you bit back a smile, but as his own flushed lips widened, a giggle bubbled from your chest. Your uncle chuckled, planting a small kiss to your forehead before taking you into his arms.

“How I’ve missed you, little red.”

“Why does it have a skirt?” 

You poked the ornate metal decorating the horse, confused at such attire. It even had a matching mask on its head, and you wondered if the poor thing could even see. 

“Tis armor. To ensure my royal steed is kept safe and no harm comes to it, and by extension, me, gods willing,” Gwayne explained, busied by the preparations of the move. Your uncle leaned closer to your ear, the distance between you tethering on violating propriety. “So I may find my way back to you.”

He was clad in his armor, silver steel paired by velvet Hightower green. He looked exquisite. If you were a lesser woman, there was no telling what you would have done right then and there, in the middle of the Keep’s courtyard. You regarded him with a dark gaze, uncaring of hiding your desire despite your mother and the Hand standing only a few paces away. 

Your chest was heavy with dread. A worrying nagging in your head growing harder to ignore. Their journey was sure to be hard, and who knows what else they were to face other than harsh terrain. What if there were dragons? What were he to do to defend himself from such fire? You would beg your brother to let you fly with them, but the fucker barely spared a second of his day for you. 

The prospect of losing Gwayne was daunting enough to drive you mad, yet there was little you could do. He could see it in your face, could feel the fear emanating from your anxious form as you watched him prepare. “Will you be careful?” you asked quietly. 

He gave you a downturned smile, heart swelling. “I will, little red, I promise,” he replied. His vow did little to quench your apprehension, evident in the way you looked at anywhere but him. The knight took hold of your elbow, giving you a comforting squeeze. “And when I return, we could tell your mother,” he vowed.

Your orbs were bright in surprise as you looked up at him, making Gwayne smile. The passing of a stableboy reminded you of your surroundings, making you huddle closer to him. “You don’t jest?” you whispered.

“Never about you,” he responded, sincerity clear in his voice. He took hold of your hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles. “I shall win the king his army, and ask for his blessing. Until then, wait for me, my sweetling.”

The ground thumped as the knights marched out of the city’s gates. They made for a menacing sight, a symbol for the war that was starting to brew. As you stood with your mother, you uttered a silent prayer. You hoped the gods would hear you now, would let Gwayne find his way back to you.

[akutasoda]

henloo! :3 i’ve been craving cyno stuff lately so could you do cyno x reader hcs with a reader who’s like castorice from hsr? 🥺 & what it’d be like if they were actually able to have physical contact for the first time?

long awaited contact

synopsis - how is he with someone like castorice

includes - cyno

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, wc - 538

a/n: hellooo anon :3

↪it would be a very safe assumption to say that cyno had never met someone like you - although that wasn't particularly a bad thing.

↪in terms of nature, you two could be compared. on the outside, you both appeared very cold or unfeeling with a naturally calm composure that could be interpreted as something more intimidating. so it was a safe bet that you two got on pretty well pretty quickly.

↪so the both of you would soon find out the other side of each other. while cyno still maintained his more silent composure, you soon became accustomed to his jokes and equally, cyno would become more endeared about your kinder, understanding personality.

↪naturally, very early on into your relationship, you had made cyno very aware of your curse. and it was safe to say that at first, cyno was beyond shocked and suddenly much more cautious around you, not because he thought of you using your ability to purposefully harm him but more so about him forgetting and accidentally causing you to earn more bloodshed on your hands which was no fault of your own.

↪but he would be lying if he were to say he wasn't at least a bit curious about it, but cyno was sensitive enough to realise it might be a sensitive subject for you.

↪the chances of you and cyno actually ever being able to discover some way to counteract your curse were essentially none - you both were very painfully aware of this fact. while you most likely had come to terms with this fact after living with this being the case for your whole life, cyno would eventually start being not so compliant with the face value truth.

↪while cyno wasn't exactly the most physically affectionate, he still couldn't imagine not being able to even have the choice between, so he couldn't even bear to think how much of a toll that factor would take upon you.

↪and if, by nothing short of an absolute miracle, he did manage to find some way to grant you the freedom to be temporarily freed of your curse and able to have physical contact, it would be a moment that neither of you would be able to forget for obvious reasons.

↪cyno would very easily indulge you in granting the physical contact you had been forcibly derived of your entire life, he knew how much it would mean to you and he wouldn't even dare to make light of the situation. while you were probably a tad hesitant at first, mainly due to habit and the lingering fear that it wouldn't work and you accidentally kill him, cyno would be there to reassure you - and most likely taking the initiative.

↪it could be said that neither of you were exactly the most openly emotionally expressive, but the day were you both would be able to make physical contact certainly would be the exception - with the both of you sharing a very emotional moment.

[randomnameless]

@pandp-author replied to your post “Just thinking about it but - UO : MC learns the...”:

@themoomoorn If it's not too much asking, what is it about Petra's support with Claude that you don't like? I'm rather curious.

​If I can jump in, for me it'd be this :

Petra : Harming Trees is bad because they have spirits and it's important, the tree gives us food and shelter but it also needs us. We live in harmony, all those things.

Clout : Ah yes, you're close to the nature, unlike those stupid Fodlan people who believe everything comes from their goddess and forgot nature.

Petra : Remember when I said Billy-sensei turning green looks like the spirits I am often talking about? And how the Fodlan Goddess basically made and created those spirits? - Who am I kidding, I can't tell you this, we're in a Fodlan game, you must always have a point and Church BaD.

Clout : Of course!

Clout : I mean, imagine if the Hresvelgs could trace their lineage to Saint Seiros herself, who is said to be, in her own scriptures, a Child of the Goddess aka not a human herself or at least a divine being. I'd look like an imbecile, right?

Also fun how "uwu nobility isn't a matter of birthright, status doesn't matter uwu" when the same guy tells to Cyril :

"nobility doesn't matter we're all equals uwu except when I could use my status to compel a random to do things he doesn't want to".

But back to the Petra support :

Clout : I've heard Hanneman say the same thing to Doro.

Petra : Wow you're so strange for saying those things! And you are a noble who can climb to trees! So weird!

Clout : Are we sure Caspar can't do the same? He knows how to pummel someone to death with his fists, maybe he'd also know how to climb trees or something, given how he didn't receive any education befitting a heir of a house, since his brother is the heir and he is naught but a spare. But hey, I'll totally call you strange because you are a princess of Brigid, nevermind the link I cannot tell you about between you being the princess of a foreign land and me.

Petra : But you know how to climb trees and take care of your equipment ! I'm so impressed, I've never seen any noble take care of his own stuff before. What is that? Ferdie oils his own weapons and armor? Who is that Ferdie you're talking about?

---

Granted, given how Petra was trashtalked by Hubert (or trash thought) when he first met her and was around the most, uh, decadent part of Adrestian Nobility, I can't fault her for thinking Claude climbing to trees and tending to his own bow is extraordinary - but I suppose if she ever went to see any BL what she finds "abornmal in Fodlan and totes only Adrestia because that's the only place she visited" wouldn't be so... abnormal.

[akiizayoi4869]

Well, I finished Madoka Magica. Absolutely loved it, it was way darker than what I was expecting from a magical girl show (granted the only other magical girl show I've watched is Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha but still, even that wasn't as dark as this one) and the overall plot wasn't what I was expecting either. I thought the plot was going to be about a creature recruiting young girls to be magical girls to help take down this great evil threat to the world, but it really wasn't that at all. Instead it was about really thinking about what you want before you make a wish, and the eventual consequences that come from making said wish. That's not something that you see everyday. It's even more fucked up since the main cast is middle school girls, who obviously won't think about that kind of stuff until it's too late. In Mami's case, she really didn't have much of a choice since her only other option was to die, thanks to the car accident she was in. One thing that I really find to be interesting about this show is that all the magical girls except for Mami made a wish for someone else. It didn't have anything to do with what they themselves wanted. And thanks to making that wish, they each suffered because of it (Sayaka, Kyoko, Madoka, and Homura). Sayaka ended up having her soul corrupted because of the despair she was feeling from being a magical girl, Kyoko's father lost his mind and killed her family before killing himself, and Homura literally has to relieve the same events on repeat until she can successfully stop Madoka from becoming a magical girl. Madoka's wish had her turn into a literal God and rewrite the world as they knew it all so that magical girls everywhere wouldn't have to suffer anymore. And as a result, nobody remembered who she was, not even her own family (well, her baby brother seemed to remember her). This show was all kinds of pain from start to finish.

Now, having said all of that, allow me to talk about Homura, my favorite character in the show. I have sooo many thoughts about her and the absolute tragedy of her story.

When we first meet Homura, she comes off as being the stereotypical transfer student who is good at everything she does, and everyone loves her. She then has Madoka take her to the nurse's office, and asks her a rather strange question: "Are you happy with the way things are now? Do you love your family and friends?" and when Madoka replies with the obvious answer of yes, Homura seems relieved and tells her to not change. This one line immediately made me interested in Homura, because it seemed like there was more to her than meets the eye. The next time we see Homura, she's trying to kill this cute looking creature, who Madoka and Sayaka end up saving, with the help of Mami. This probably came across as cruel to a lot of people. Why would Homura try and harm this cute looking creature for? After this, Homura continuously shows up whenever Madoka and Sayaka are in danger. She doesn't appear to be a friend, but at the same time she's not really an enemy either. Then episode 8 happens. Madoka nearly makes a contract to become a magical girl, but Homura kills Kyube before anything happens. It's then revealed that Homura isn't even from this time line! Which explains some things about her up to that point. Whatever happened in her own time line was so fucked up that it made her pull all the stops in protecting Madoka. Then we get up to episode 10, where Homura's backstory is revealed. Shockingly enough, she was a completely different person from the one we see in the show. She wasn't good at everything, she was shy, etc. We learn that she was saved by Madoka and Mami, which explains her devotion to Madoka. The three of them quickly become friends, but Homura becomes really close with Madoka. Sadly, this tale ends in tragedy as the most powerful witch kills Mami, and eventually Madoka too. Homura goes back in time to try and stop that from happening, but it sadly happens anyway. Each time she's with Madoka and the others and tries to explain to them what will happen, they all end up dead. So, the final time it happens, she makes a hard decision: to not tell anyone and to do things by herself. This way nobody else has to get hurt. She relives the same events idk how many times, all so that she can save her best friend, someone that she met because they saved her life so long ago. Homura's story in a way ends in tragedy, but not because she and Madoka die. No, it's because in the end Madoka chooses to form a contract and become a magical girl so that way no other magical girl will suffer again. And since Madoka has the strongest potential out of all the magical girls, her wish ends up making her into a God. As a result, she's no longer a living, human being. Nobody remembers her except Homura. Homura did all that she could to prevent that from happening, and in the end it still did, even if the outcome was somewhat different and better than the previous timelines. And honestly? After seeing all of that, idk how anyone can hate her character. She really doesn't deserve hate at all, if anything she deserves all of the hugs in the world😭.

[inklesspen]

A thing you see a lot in Star Wars material is "The Will of the Force". It's simply taken for granted a lot of the time. Oh, Jedi can argue about what the Will of the Force is in a particular situation, but nobody (except Kreia, I suppose) is ever seriously arguing that maybe the Will of the Force shouldn't automatically be obeyed. My guess is that this has something to do with how the Will of the Force is often synonymous with the Direction of the Plot. It's certainly convenient, but it raises ethical issues with which Star Wars rarely if ever bothers to engage.

“Well, the Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together.”

I was thinking about how you can have a Jedi take direction from the Force in a way that's generally reliable (after accounting for individual error), but which doesn't require setting the Force up as a moral authority, and I came up with this:

To begin, let‘s suppose that part of how the Force interacts with sapient beings is that when you make choices — when you settle on an intent — that creates a sort of “status effect” in your connection to the Force. Even if you have no idea how to wield the Force, you‘re still leaking out that intent. And part of what a Force adept can do is basically query the intent states of sapient beings in her vicinity. This is generally done at a subconscious level. A Jedi wants to be able to intervene in unjust situations? Well, then her connection to the Force is basically running a query across all the nearby Intents, looking for someone Intending to do unwarranted harm (according to the Jedi‘s moral guidelines). This is less a "configure search agent, send it to search the net, read results later" scenario like we‘d see with technology and more like a constant feedback loop between the Jedi‘s moral instincts and the collective Force auras of everyone in town. And this produces what the Jedi senses as "the Will of the Force". (We can also say it‘s slightly acausal, allowing Jedi to react to Intents that haven‘t actually been formed yet.) But the same function that queries Intents can also “broadcast”, which is how Obi-Wan mind-tricks the stormtroopers, and part of how Battle Meditation probably works, and so on.

He called upon the Force, gathering it to himself and wrapping himself within it. He breathed it in and held it whirling inside his heart, clenching down upon it until he could feel the spin of the galaxy around him. Until he became the axis of the Universe. This was the real power of the dark side, the power he had suspected even as a boy, had sought through his long life until Darth Sidious had shown him that it had been his all along. The dark side didn’t bring him to the center of the universe. It made him the center. He drew power into his innermost being until the Force itself existed only to serve his will.

The Sith warrior, of course, has other priorities. He will certainly want to keep abreast of certain Intents in the Force, but he‘s doing a lot more spamming of his own Intent upon others. It won‘t always work, but he only has to overpower someone once, right?

Which brings me to a thing that I‘m pretty sure is just fanon — the idea that beskar‘gam can protect a mando‘ad‘s mind from jetii tricks (or, that someone wearing real Mandalorian armor is effectively a void in the Force). If this is true, then someone wearing beskar‘gam isn‘t radiating their Intent into the Force like everyone else does, though a Jedi can still sense them, if imperfectly, by the way their actions influence other people‘s Intents. Still, if you have to go up against a Force adept it‘s worth it to wear beskar if you can, because it effectively removes their precognitive sense; they can‘t react to your Intents until you‘ve acted on them in a way others can see.

So what about droids? There‘s a lot of stuff in the Clone Wars show about the battle droids being fully sapient, with feelings and fears and individualized reactions. But they‘re still networked, still driven remotely.

And that‘s because, yes, a droid can have an Intent in the Force too. Not every droid; not the little mouse droids, or at least they only have small, simple Intents. But a droid with a complex personality, like Artoo? Sure thing. He presents in the Force like any other living being. And the battle droids are getting up there in complexity.

So what do you think happens when a droid has an Intent aura, but doesn‘t do what that Intent would suggest? When a droid wants to do anything other than run headlong at the lightsaber-wielding maniac and the legion of clone troopers, but is forced to do so anyway by its programming?

I think the result is a lot of Jedi being badly served by their instincts. They know what the droid wants to do, and they want to react to what the droid wants to do, but the droid doesn‘t actually do that thing, so they have to force themselves not to react that way. They have to force themselves not to pay attention to “the Will of the Force”. And doesn‘t that sound just like something Palpatine and Dooku would want for them? The better they get at killing droid armies, the worse they get at being Jedi.

[hymnserendipity]

Iguro vs demon, pt. 4

Angst, mention of Blood, mention of death (yes it's controversy AND i'm anime only, plus i used a lots of imaginations so) probably nothing makes sense. There also is no spoiler cause as i said i haven't read the manga and i do spoiler "jump as olympic stuff" (english Is not my first language) they/them pronuns used.

You first walked slowly and uncertainly at his side, through dimly lit corridors unknown to you, until he led you to a room on which a futon was already prepared on the tatami, perhaps his room, but you couldn't know this. It was bare, there was only a basin with some water, and a small window made of rice paper. Iguro escorted you inside and close the door, his grip firm yet gentle on your arm, isolating you both from the outside world. You could feel your cheeks heat up at his touch, your heart rate slightly increasing. "Thank you for not killing me." Iguro looked at you, his expression now softening. He could see the vulnerability in your eyes and hear the genuine gratitude in your voice.

Iguro spoke, his voice now laced with a hint of gentleness. "You're welcome. You don't deserve to die just because you're a demon." It was the first tine ever he thought it. But if was just for you. Iguro noticed you blushing and couldn't help but find you reaction somewhat interesting.

You heard tengen, or maybe sanemi, you couldn't recognize them, fighting with the demons that had come to attack them and then the silence of a battle concluded. Iguro paid little attention to those coming from outside, he was rather more interested in understanding you.

"I saw your scars on your mouth." You say, with a gentle voice. Iguro's expression hardened slightly at your mention of his scars. It was a topic he didn't particularly enjoy discussing.

"You noticed my scars, huh? Yeah, they're not exactly pretty."

"They are pretty. Gorgeous... Just like you." Iguro raised an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting such a positive response to his scars. He looked at you, the expression taken aback.

"They are part of you." Iguro's expression softened at you words. You acceptance and admiration for his scars caught him off guard and he felt a warm and unfamiliar feeling wash over him.

Iguro spoke slowly, his voice now laced with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "I... I never thought anyone would see my scars like that. Most people shy away, afraid or repelled by them."

"I would never." Iguro looked at you sitting on the ground, sensing that there was more to your sadness. He walked over and sat down beside you, keeping a small distance between you. He spoke, his voice now filled with a hint of insistence.

"Tell me what's wrong." He had noticing that you looked sad.

"You should not talk to me like i'm a human." Iguro looked at you, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "Why?"

"Aren't you repelled by me?" Iguro looked at you, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. He knew that demons were always evil creatures, not worthy of empathy or kindness, except for you. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to see you that way.

"No, I'm not repelled by you. You're not like other demons I've encountered. There's something different about you."

"Do you ever wish you were human?"

"Yes. I could ate food, and i could... hug you without being afraid of hurt you." Iguro's heart aching slightly at the mention of your inability to enjoy such basic human experiences. "I see. Being a demon denies you the simple joys of being human, like eating and embracing someone without fear of causing harm."

"Yes." Iguro looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to be denied the simple joys of human life.

"I'm sorry you have to suffer because of what you are. It must be tough not being able to enjoy the things humans take for granted."

Iguro watched as you slowly reached out you rhand and patted his head, your hand trembling slightly with anxiety. He could see the fear in your eyes, as if you were afraid of hurting him.

He sat still, allowing you to pat his head, his expression now softened by your hesitant touch. Seeing your smile, a warm feeling swelled in Iguro's chest. He couldn't help but find your expression endearing, despite your demonic nature.

"You know, you don't have to be so gentle. I can handle a bit more than just a soft pat on the head." He said, his voice now laced with a hint of humor.

"I would love to but i don't want to hurt you." You said while stepping back. Iguro chuckled slightly at your concern, touched by your efforts to avoid causing him harm.

"You don't have to worry about hurting me. I can handle a little bit of demon strength. Besides, I'm a Hashira. I've endured much worse than a simple touch." Iguro smile at your laugh, the sound of your happiness bringing a small smile to his lips.

"Now that's a nice sound. I like it when you laugh."

"You always seemed cold. I'm happy i showed myself." Iguro looked at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. He wasn't used to someone commenting on his cold demeanor. "I... I never thought about it, but I suppose I do give off that impression. Being a Hashira and the responsibility that comes with it tends to make me serious and distant."

From that moment on you spent two hours talking, finally confiding in each other for the first time, laughing and being moved. Iguro has never felt he was as close to a person as he was to you. You were getting closer and closer, more and more calm, so much so that Iguro had removed the gauze and was looking at you calmly. But at a certain point everything changed, when you smelled a certain smell in the air, and you froze on the spot, whitening your face and feeling a cold shiver.

"What is it? Did you sense something?"

"Upper moon...Is coming this way." You whispered. Iguro's expression hardened at your words. The realization that an Upper Moon was approaching was enough to send a chill down his spine. "An Upper Moon? Which one is it? How far away are they?"

Tenderly you took his face in your hands and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Listen iguro. I will ever love you. With all my heart." You say before you stand up. Iguro's expression softened slightly at your declaration. He could hear the raw honesty and adoration in youd voice.

Iguro's eyes widened as he watched you break through the wall and run into the garden. He was about to call out to you when he felt the presence of the upper moon approaching. He readied himself, his hand gripping his katana as he prepared to face the Upper Moon.

It was all fast, too damn fast and the only thing you understood as you fought and Iguro got closer was that if you didn't come between them, he would get hurt. So you did, killing the upper moon and being seriously injured. Iguro's eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he watched you step between him and the other demon, sacrificing yourself to save him from certain death. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. The sight of your body on the ground filled him with a mixture of shock, sadness, and guilt. You smile at him while you start to fade away. "Iguro... " Iguro stood there, frozen in place, as he watched your body fade away in front of his eyes.

"No... No, no, no. You can't leave me. Not like this. Not after everything." He ran to you.

"I will always love you." Iguro kneeled beside your fading form, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pain. He spoke, his voice now choked up with emotion.

"I... I don't want you to go. Not like this. Why did you have to sacrifice yourself for me? I don't deserve it. I don't deserve your love or your sacrifice." You try to reply but it was too late, you were completely faded away. Iguro tried to held you tightly, his arms wrapped around you as if he could somehow keep you from fading away. He couldn't bear to let you go. He spoke, his voice now choked with emotion and sorrow.He was now hugging the air.

"No... Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me alone. I... I love you. I love you so much. I haven't got the chance to tell tou" He was left kneeling on the ground, his arms empty. He felt a deep pain and emptiness in his heart that he couldn't explain. He had lost you forever, and the weight of your sacrifice and the love you had shown him was almost too much to bear. He sat there, silently grieving, his mind replaying the brief but important moments you twohad shared together. He couldn't believe that you were gone, that he would never see you smile again or hear you laugh. Tears streamed down his face, and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He just sat there, trying to come to terms with the devastating loss he had just endured. As the other Hashiras approached, they saw Iguro still kneeling on the ground, his eyes red and bleary from crying. They approached him silently, sensing the grief and sadness that surrounded him. Sanemi spoke first, breaking the silence. "Iguro... What happened here? Where's the Upper Moon?" Iguro looked up at them, his expression now a mix of grief and anger. He spoke, his voice now hoarse with emotion.

"They... They sacrificed themself. They took down the upper moon, but in the process, they..." He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. The pain was too fresh, too overwhelming. Giyuu looked at him, sympathy and understanding in his eyes. He spoke, his voice laced with a hint of sadness.

"I see. So they gave their life to protect you."

[skullzanta]

(Not Professionally Researched, Correct if Wrong) Copyright Law needs to be fought.

Okay, so: I have NO research on this, so bare in mind that I want to get out frustration and spread word of Copyright Law's Issues.

Firstly,

the Internet Archive is dying to Copyright. The burning of The Library of Alexandria is what a lot of people are calling it. I dont know for SURE that its unwinnable or winnable, but I do know that this is exclusively from companies abusing the laws they groomed into creation using lobbying. And supposedly, The US Government removed 1984 from The Internet Archive as well ages ago.

Secondly,

the advance of piracy sites, wether or not you agree to them or not, is a sign. Piracy is a situation of stealing media and granting it to others illegally. However, It is also true that legitimate means of observing things are infact, literally requiring piracy at times due to them being otherwise Lost Media, aka "Gone and unable to ever be experienced again"... This is a VERRRY big topic, bigger than one thread could discuss without being almost exclusively it, however I will summarize some of the issues Piracy has, both the issues it solves and the issues it causes.

1: It harms legitimate Sources of this stuff. While true that it is infact doing this, it is also true that people generally prefer a better platform, and consistently Piracy Platforms are only worse in ads, and that is slowly changing to be that the main sites are worse.

2: It inherently is illegal and should be avoided, however If official Companies are going to take advantage of monopolies and antagonize their audience, Piracy is a valid alternative. And, I'd vastly prefer legitimate sites, and most people would. But, name a site that hasn't gone to hell(not good like this hellsite) that is official.

3: Piracy brings people to danger by them risking doing something illegal to provide for others, Companies LOOVE to ruin the lives of piracy providers. This however is something people will fight for anyway despite the inevitability.

4: Companies are destroying their media because they want you to buy new things, and intentionally incorporate Planned Obsolescence, a very complicated and evil thing where to sum it up, companies make products DESIGNED to break after a short time, and prevent you from repairing it so you're forced to buy a whole new copy of that item. Food is an exception usually, but it is not untouched. Piracy helps with preserving this media and preventing these scummy tactics, because a copy not in control of a company is a copy that can be worked on, maintained, and repaired. This is better to have rights rather than pirate, but we don't have ANY rights that cover making that act doable by anyone without a lot of money and resources.

5: Fundamentally, Piracy is providing a better service in terms of usability and ease of access, which feeds into point 1 but on its own is also worth discussing, because without Piracy the only way for us to access anime in the US is VERY expensive shipping, going to japan directly, Crunchyroll/MAL, or piracy. And this applies to a LOT more media than you realize.

6: Piracy, while it should absolutely NOT be encouraged to be treated this way, provides competition for these Companies. You should NOT have pirates even as a competitor, but the fact they are is a bad sign. Companies currently are *Very* monopolized. They may seem to have competition, but the vast majority of companies are owned by other companies, which are owned by bigger companies, and usually down the chain, you realize all soda is made by 1 megacorporation and the competition is purely a facade for making loyalty to the brands.

And yes, This is a SUMMARY of this, it can go on for a LOOOT longer, each of these is packed with enough information to make a big post on its own, But... moving along.

Thirdly,

Copyright Law Supposedly was made the way it was purely due to lobbying. I do not believe lobbying should exist- Now- There SHOULD be an equivelant, but NOT a thing that allows companies to PAY for LEGAL CHANGES. It should be proven in court there is precedented need for the change and have jury decide in a randomized state to prevent sabotoge of jury. Maybe Im wrong and my suggestion is bad, or that there should be 0 equivelant, however I do know for a fact Lobbying is inherently bad in how it is designed currently. And it needs to be addressed.

Fourthly,

There is a movement that Youtuber "Ross Scott" is working alongside others to change EU Law. I know, I know, seems stupid to bring it up, but listen here: They are fighting to change precedent so as to bully companies in america to stop being predatory in their practices. This movement carries a LOT of risk, but if you are wanting to do ANYTHING about copyright, this is Step 1 of 12. You need only to look into the movement's efforts and see if you agree or disagree. If you want to help them? Do so, but if you do not, understand that them failing to remove any possibility of non-piracy means of preserving Games, just as removing the Internet Archive is removing means of preserving lost media of its own and preserving Historical Record.

Fithly and Lastly,

There is a fundamental truth that many of us ignore because its too big and distant to focus on, but as detailed in a previous post... There is a VERY Dangerous issue with how people functionally operate to create change: It is a proven fact that nomatter how abused, tortured, restricted, restrained, or maligned someone is, People will vastly prefer to maintain mundanity. And, this isn't just me saying "oh boo hoo people are lazy because they wanna live life"-No. I am saying DIRECTLY that if there isn't something explicitly In the Way of mundane life, people will NEVER EVER Fight for change or to even look into the possibility that it could. Thing is, if you don't inform people of how it will affect their lives, people will see "Oh no, Companies are evil Again", maybe they get mad, but almost never will they actually put time to researching it. They will just assume its another bad thing and move on, even if they get mad for a bit, the moment ANY tiny inch of progress is made, they relieved the stress "knowing" that the issue will be solved. That leads to every step being backstepped.

And, people doomscroll, but why? Its normalized for things to be bad right now, and it hurts them heavily, but they scroll because it gives them feelings and a sense of the world, it is NOT research, this is a warping view that corrupts your very idea of the world. This often makes them feel hopeless, helpless. This is a bad thing and it is incorrect. You are NOT helpless, You are NOT hopeless, nor is the world too fucked up to fix.

The world seems to be declining but it is not something unable to be stopped, nor do you need to become some kind of monster or lose the mundanity in your life to change things: All you need to do, is spread the word and do what I fail to do due to severe miseducation: Research this so that you can better explain to others what this will do, why it will hurt them, and what they can do. And I think we can do something, after all the US is supposedly a Democracy(Its actually A Republic) and if we make a big enough stink about it, like sending words of our support to the right places(Like the courts, presidency, our vote on that stuff, and companies) we can START change. We cannot let up however after we start to see it, we have to hold them to promises by actually continuing our support, they will ALWAYS start with a small but significant change, but not enough of one that will fix it, So we have to pressure them. You need not hold up protests or risk your life, merely consider... trying to spread this information and correcting incorrections, while also trying to simply write to the correct people. We have much to work on, but out of everything: this is where we need to start, because soon... we almost guarenteed will lose the very media we have to communicate with, and I hope to Gods that we are never forced into violence over it.

I do not know if this will ever spread, but if you want to spread this using a unified Tag, I'd say #CopyrightIsCarnage and #ResistCopyright would work well. And remember: Companies are NOT people, except legally, which they shouldn't be.

[alexandraisyes]

🤯😈🤡🍆🍦💖

Thanks for the ask! Turbo's answers under the cut! Here's where you can find the emojis for the ask game!

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Probably romance. I'm not a very romantic person but that's to be expected considering my, uh, psychological standing (sweats in ASPD). I've been told that the romantic and soft and family shit I write is really nice and feels real, but I'm just making shit up man, haha. I do a lot of self-projecting when I write sweet shit because I wanna give my characters what I can't have. ❤️Thankfully Turbo is here to make me brainrot and think about all of the sweet shit. Otherwise, the fics would be a lot darker than they already are.

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Like kill Sun's cats? OH YOU SAID PLAYFULLY-

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Any time Killcode acts like a feral cat I get a good laugh. He's just an oversized cat who acts like one too his lovers as well. Including play fighting them (much to Flare's dismay as he gets pulled away from tasks).

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

I do haha. My most popular nsfw fic is The Deal because that's the only one uploaded so far. TMiB is just the sequel to The Deal so it doesn't count.

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

Oooh that's tricky. I would say The Deal except that's got uh. . . death. lol. Probably Erros in Resentment just because it's me projecting on Eclipse like all fuck and he gets the happy ending that I think he deserves. Without more suffering. It's kind of my love letter to my disorder (ASPD) since Eclipse and Ruin both have it. There's something beautiful in the absolute devotion a sociopath can have to someone, the unwavering loyalty, and that's often taken for granted because we don't love in the traditional sense of the word. It's meant to show that people with ASPD can still be happy, and change, and grow and improve and live meaningful lives without causing harm to people around them. Not even just ASPD, but all Cluster B disorders. That someone who is aromantic by nature can still find happiness with someone else, even if it's not a romantic companionship, but rather just a sense of belonging. Like I said, it's me self-projecting on Eclipse, and Ruin also having ASPD? That was just the cherry on top for me. I can't promise when it'll get updated, though.

💖 What made you start writing?

I've always been writing! I just normally kept it to myself or roleplays. I've been writing short stories since I knew how to write, though.

Turbo's turn!

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

serious conversations? probably some heavy- really heavy shit i think

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

that one time me and alex hinted at a solar x lunar shit. But it was one sided

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Any scene where bloodmoon swore in the deal. it just hits different because he dosent swear so much in my ehes

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

THE DEAL LMAO

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

A little snippet called "bloodmoon, eclipse, lunar, and burgers" 🥺 (its not found anywhere but on a discord server lel im too shy)

💖 What made you start writing?

DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS NGL AND MY LOVE FOR STORIES

[thebrandywine]

pls keep talking about the nivanneddy d/s dynamic for days my eyes and ears are OPEN and READY

Okay, I've been ruminating on this to make a good reply. Open your eyes and ears below:

The heart of it all is trust. Leon has always had issues with trust, but he has let some people in over the years (Chris, Claire, Jill, Hunnigan, etc.)

Where his relationship with Piers differs, though, is here: Piers won't let him get away with ANYTHING.

Hunnigan gives up, Chris gets angry and storms off, Claire is rarely around, Jill has her own shit going on. Piers grabs him by the face and says, "Cut that shit out."

And Leon DOES.

Part of it is that Leon has known his inner circle for so long that he can always tell when they're unsure of something, has seen them hesitate and flounder, but Piers is a new thing. He seems unendingly confident, like he's made plans for everything and can't ever be surprised, and *that* is what Leon needs.

(There are some things that I can't mention rn because I'm going to be writing about them BUT--)

Okay, on to sexy times.

Leon loves choking on cock. It's his favorite fucking thing in the world, but it requires so so much trust. He's been hurt before, and we've seen him have a flashback/panic attack over that hurt, which is why he hasn't done it with anyone except Piers since he was with Krauser.

It makes him feel like he's being used and useful; hearing Piers grunt and moan, feeling his nails dig into Leon's scalp-- he feels like he has a purpose then.

When it comes to his hands, having them behind his back or above his head, knowing that he can't or isn't allowed to move them, is largely what sets the scene because that marks the exact moment that Piers takes control.

Leon allows himself to be taken care of; Piers positions him, directs him, does what he wants with him, and it's so nice to not have to think that it's like everything else goes away. It's just him and Piers in a locked room. He's with a man who will never hurt him unless he asks him to.

The reason he's so into it is because he never wanted to be who he is, and Piers makes him something new. Something that he can be proud of because *Piers* is proud.

He's not just a weapon. He can bring good things, too. He can be good. He is so fucking desperate to be good.

Okay onto Piers lol

He's experimented with this before to about the same extent, because he isn't really into any of the more intense stuff. He doesn't like hurting his partner. He just wants them to feel safe.

It takes him a while to really build up that rapport with Leon, to make him actually communicate, but it's so so worth it.

He wasn't lying when he said that the sex is good and Leon is hot as hell and that he loves him, but it goes so far beyond that because--

Leon is strong. He's powerful. He has borne the brunt of harm for the DSO, has stood between monsters and men for half his life, and has never wavered. He has been abused. People have tried to break him. He is a wolf with its leg caught in a bear trap, ready to snap at anyone who approaches because he only knows the pain.

To have someone like that under his hands, calm and placid and leaning into the touch, arms willingly tied behind his back as he devotes his entire self to listening to someone who he *knows* cares about him is... God.

The way Leon loses himself in it all, *allows* himself to slip into the feeling and stay there, is so gratifying and humbling. It makes Piers feel like he's untouchable, knowing that he's the only one who can grant Leon this little sliver of peace. If Leon asked him to, he would give up almost anything and do only that.

He knows that Leon is intimidated by how easily they've slipped into this, knows that Leon thinks it says something about him that he's so eager to give up control, but Piers finds that it's easy to wipe that away.

His hand on Leon's face, lips parting to allow Piers to slip his thumb inside his mouth, Leon sucking on it and staring up at him with hooded eyes, waiting so patiently and beautifully for anything that Piers will give him because he knows that Piers loves him. That Piers will always take care of him.

[sorcerous-caress]

Currently invested in whatever tf is going on w/ Sol

I'm going down your chimney and leaving you gifts as we speak, thanks for asking anon bc I'm dying to talk about them. Hell might even start taking request for x reader stuff for them.

Okay, so their backstory revolves around heritage and passed down gifts. They come from a family of powerful Sorcerers, the head of the family is the still living red dragon who granted them this power. She is referred to as great grandma.

On the surface they're just like any other prestigious noble family, a little arrogant but nothing out of the ordinary for Sorcerers. Eventually each member travels to fulfill a mage contract at a different family or in an important position.

But you never see them as kids. That's because a lot of time, most kids don't make it alive into adulthood. Mostly because of their magic that ends up igniting them inside out in an all-consuming flame that doesn't need fuel and can not be put out by water or suffocation. The red dragon passed down too much of her power into these humans and told them to live up to her expectations, to not dare and reject her generous gift.

So, to keep their appearance and not ruin their magical reputation by letting others know how unreliable and dangerous their fire mages tend to be, they only announce new family members after they reach adulthood. Since by that time most mages are at full control of their powers, and it's easier to blame something else if an accident does happen.

Sol wasn't exceptional, just like any other kid, they were put under watch and always treated with the fragility of a ticking bomb. If their fire got too bright, they have to go into the isolated fireproof rooms for a while just incase they end up igniting themselves. Since steel covered rooms are the only way to prevent the fire from spreading.

And like any other magic, emotions greatly affected its stability. Sol made sure to watch their emotions, to either use them to fuel their fire or as a weapon to tick off others and get their own emotions unstable enough for them to get removed. It's a double edged sword since they might end up pushing someone too far that they become really dangerous.

They did have siblings, a lot of them, in fact, but only a couple remained since their generation grew up. They weren't hostile towards each other, but not kind either. They felt like they had to hold each other in line, to always test the other person and make sure the outside world can never hurt them in a way their own sibling didn't before so that nothing may get under their skin. In a twisted way they did care for each other.

So did their parents, but it was mostly the red dragon who took responsibility for raising them, holding the fragile humans to impossible standards and teaching them vanity and greed.

And Sol took these lessons to heart. Greed did in fact sate their fire, gems and glittering gold did distract their magic. Focusing on vanity helped in tricking their magic into being more careful, into building a fire resistance since you wouldn't want to harm this beautiful skin or burn this long hair, would you?

But those things were also their downfall. Their greed didn't stop at material stuff and looked around at what other people had, envied them and attempted to take the best part of others and force it to fit inside them. Always watching, Always learning and adapting even if it wasn't something they wanted. They needed it, they needed everything the world had to offer.

The vanity could easily give way to insecurity, self doubt. The need to always look presentable, the need to be certain that others are attracted to them even if they themselves don't want those people sexually. They needed the validation, it kept their fire from burning their skin.

Their two siblings coped in different ways of course, maybe healthier ways, maybe worse ways. Sol did what they can to survive and cluthed to the first line of life support they can find.

When the mindflayer kidnapping thing happened, it was shortly before they were going to get introduced to society as an official memeber of their family. They were supposed to join society at 18 but certain incidents happened within the family and the new generation depute had to be postponed 4 yeara. So they are 22 by the time the mindflayer thing happens.

In a way, they aren't an official member of their family yet. Society doesn't know them, and they can't tell anyone about their origins.

Honestly, even if they wanted to, they couldn't. They didn't know their last name. That information was purposely kept from all children until they were declared to the public as official memebers. It was one of the rules the red dragon set in place.

Even her name, they don't know, they call her grandma. Everyone in their family did, even the elders.

The outside world is new, they've never had to deal with money before, they have never had to even cook before. Now they're hungry and penniless in some side shore near the city of Baldur's Gate. A city so far from their own home that they've only learned about through private teachers.

Ignorance is weakness, and they cannot be weak. They have to learn quickly, to adapt to things quickly and decide if they want to walk this road alone or find a group of people.

They go to the Grove, they would be lying if they said they weren't curious. All their lives they were surrounded by humans, dragons and dragonborns. The idea to see other races was beyond intriguing, not just read about them in books.

Their emotions get the better of them, they get too excited, too happy. Emotions outside of their comfort zone and territory of control, their flames react so and they end up setting a thing or two on fire multiple times.

Druids don't take kindly to that and Tieflings don't want to make things worse for themselves so Sol gets kicked out. Eh, they barely react and just walk away, although a part of them is dejected because they thought the druid were very cool.

Fire always destroyed things, left nothing but ash. So the concept of being able to repair it, to make nature flourish and plants grow sounded almost like a dream.

One thing about Sol, tho, is that they never took their magic for granted. In a way, it did set them behind their siblings in term of power. Instead of focusing on their sorcery only, they learned to fight, pick up a spear and build up their body strength.

Just in case, they told themselves, but they were never sure in case of what? It just felt right to have some muscles and a weapon to back up their life if their magic failed them.

Which was almost blasphemy. The flame demanded all, and to claim its power, you must sacrifice all. Their source was extremely envious and didn't allow the use of many other spells.

One thing led to another, the stumble around too enamoured by their surroundings to notice the gaint hole they cartoonishly trip into. A whole fucking sorcerer with 22 years of magical training and a hole gets the best of them.

It probably was the fact they are walking around in heels, did I forget to mention that? They refuse to take them off, vanity reasons. Also they may have read some fictional novels back in their youth about powerful mages in bikinis and 9 inch heels and took it as a life manual because fuck that was badass and they wanted to be that no matter how unrealistic and unconventional it was.

Luckly, they manage to claw into a rock midfall and hang into their dear life. They can feel burning heat running through their veins, a painful acidic scorch inside their stomach, they fear the worst.

They steady their emotions, by whatever it takes. Lame jokes, mean juvenile comments, cringy mindests, any element of shock is useful here to distract them from the severity of their situation.

They succeed, they gave it their best, for once they feel a hint of genuine pride at their own efforts.

But that dammned fucking tadpole, it squirms in their brain. A voice yelling at them to obey, to submit. Their grasp slips from the rock.

In an instant they're completely engulfed in flames. A gaint explosion of bright fire light snapping through this portion of the underdark and blinding everything for a split second.

They're so fucking dead, they think.

they can feel the dragon heart inside their chest spread its poison, the sparks flying with each pump.

They gave it their best and it still wasn't enough.

But instead of burning alive as they fall into endless abyss, or splashing into the ground in a puddle of flames and flesh. They fall headfirst into a glowing blue tree.

The leaves are soft, surprisingly so. And...their flames, their magic, it's gone.

Actually gone. Their heart of a human, their fingers bear no traces of fire. They even attempt casting a simple cantrip.

Nothing happens, only the echo of their failed attemped through the quietness.

A sussur tree, they don't know that this is what its called, but it saved their life. Nature did.

So they stay on its branches, get down on a comfortable spot to sit on. Let the white branches cradle them as the silver blue leaves pillows under their head.

They pluck a single flower, apologising to the tree. And they study it in their hand. It doesn't wilt no matter how much times passes, it softly pulses with a dim glow.

Sol hesitantly puts it on their head, secures it through their braid. A new lifeline.

They keep sitting on the tree. This is where the player may find them. Sol will ask if they knew about this tree and what these flowers are, only if the player is a druid.

If left unrecruited, they will eventually make their way through the underdark. Maybe go find the myconid colony, the society of brilliance. Or maybe go through the Nere route, help rescue him but doom the gnomes in the process.

And that's for the backstory.

I haven't fully worked out their quest plotline, but it definitely will have a confrontation with the grandma red dragon at the end.

Sol either takes the remaining draconic power from her, channeling magic that no human ever should have. Becoming an ever burning flame with a fast approaching death date.

With romanced Tav, they take them with them. Fully embracing the worst of the worst of their own traits. Their envy, absolute greed, jealousy, possessiveness, vanity.

In their last moments, they make sure even after death, Tav's soul can not be separated from them. And they live as the new head for their family for a short while, a decade or two before their flames finally melts their bones.

Their features slowly twisting into more dragon-like ones, scales spreading through their skin and covering most of it, slitted pupils and sharper nails, a bulging at the skin of their backs where wings would eventually sprout and tear through their flesh in agony.

Yet their coping mechanisms has failed them, they cannot fool themselves into thinking they were eternal like their grandma. A human can never be as ancient as a dragon.

So instead, they use every bit of their remaining time, never waste a single second of their short life. Take everything they have ever wished for by force, every person they cared for will be hoarded and imprisoned, all the riches and gold and gems they ever dreamed of, all they pretty clothes they can never wear as their body continues to deform from the draconic blood.

And when they die, they will make sure to be at the center of everything they have ever loved, to take every person that was kind to them alongside them. All the beauty they found in the world will be ereased and turned to ash as their heart ignites them and the everburning flames spreads out.

In the good end, they lose their magic forever. I haven't figured out how yet, but they feel free at last. Fully becoming a fighter with a spear and shield instead of a sorcerer.

And they are happy, they are more humble, kinder. They are so beautifully flawed just like any other human should be, their skin full of imperfections that they never attempt to hide.

The heels and sexy clothes never change tho, that is a hill they will die on. But instead of sorcerer clothes it's sexy chainmail now.

They have their full life ahead of them, they can go and explore the world. They can stay here and built themselves a new home. They can move with those druids fuckers and finally cuddle some pigs and water flowers like they always wanted to.

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: Pauling & Team - Should've Expected This

Summary: The team get permission to properly redecorate their rooms in one of the bases (maybe as incentive to not blow it up or set it on fire). Not a day goes by without a discussion of paint, lighting, furniture, flooring, whether a particular colour is real, etc.

~

The team had never been expressly forbidden from decorating the base but upon the new hardware store opening in Tuefort, offering a large variety of house paint, they’d specifically asked for permission. Pauling had granted it without much thought, not even bringing it to the Admin first. What harm could there be in letting them paint the base after all? If anything it’d encourage them to keep the place intact. Probably she should’ve given it more thought though given who exactly she dealing with.

“It was Spy’s fault,” Scout said, pointing to him. “Me and Demo were trying to put in the cool new chandelier thing and he was getting pissy about it being ‘tacky’ or whatever. So we…”

“That’s because it was tacky,” Spy interrupted with sneer. “It was absolutely hideous. The ugliest and poorest excuse I’ve ever seen for a chandelier.”

“It was cool and you know it. You’re just jealous you lost the debate about sky blue and ice blue being the same colour. So you were trying to ruin all the cool stuff the rest of use were trying to do with the common room.”

“Absolutely nothing you were trying to do was ‘cool’. I was trying to save the place from being a complete disaster. Which also had literally nothing to do with you two setting up that abomination so poorly.”

“Scout’s the ‘rest of us’ doesn’t include all of us,” Medic cut in. “I wasn’t even aware anything was happening until the fire alarm went off.”

Pyro raised a hand. “I was painting the hall in rainbow colours. I missed the fire. It was sad.”

“I was painting too,” Soldier added unnecessarily as he was the only one who could’ve possibly painted the sloppy American flags all over the side of the building.

“It was Spy’s fault,” Scout repeated. “I fully stand by that.”

Pauling really should’ve expected this. She should’ve given guidelines that they were only allowed to paint and/or that they shouldn’t mess with any electrical fixtures. Giving them the blanket, “Yeah sure, go ahead and decorate however you please,” had been basically asking for trouble.

“I don’t care whose fault it is,” she said as she cast her glare over the nine of them. Behind them, the base’s windows still had a trickle of smoke leaking out. Scout opened his mouth to say something but she quickly cut him off. “You’re lucky no real damage was done otherwise I would care.” Made of concrete, the base itself couldn’t easily burn down. Thus it and all the mission critical stuff that that been far from the electrical fire were still intact. The loss of everything in the common room was their problem, not hers. “Engie, you think you can fix the damaged wiring or should I hire someone to come down and look at it?” The payment for which would come out of the team’s paychecks.

“I think I can handle it ma’am.”

“Good. Get on that as soon as the smoke finishes clearing out. Now, for the rest of you, new rule; if it involves messing with the base’s wiring or electrical systems, you’re not allowed to do it. Understood?”

With various degrees of enthusiasm, mostly the lack of it, the nine of them responded in a sloppy chorus of, “Understood.”

“On the bright side,” Demo added, “now we get to argue ‘bout what furniture we’re gonna get to replace the stuff we lost with. I’m sure that’ll go great.”

That warranted a groan from several in the group. Pauling would’ve likely felt the same except she luckily didn’t have to have anything to do with all that. The nine of them could fight about it all they pleased. As long as it didn’t effect their work any, it wasn’t something she had to even listen to.

[am-molloy]

Book Review: Firestarter by Stephen King

Actual rating 4.5/5

So I actually saw the movie (remake) first before I read the book. I really enjoyed this book, but I may have enjoyed the movie a bit more because of the changes they made. I won't go into detail stating all the changes, changes between books and screenplays are necessary, but I think the remake improved upon the story. (With the exception that they added a scene where Charlie has to kill a cat she hurt, and that made me ugly cry on the plane. Thankfully, no cats were harmed in the book. Other animals were, but I'm very sensitive when it comes to cats).

The story was engaging and piqued my curiosity from the beginning. I did feel like it dragged a little in the middle once Charlie and Andy spent months locked in The Shop. But the first half of the book and the climax and ending were perfect.

Some of the stories didn't age well, and I wonder if King was a woman if he'd be cancelled for his thoughts on casual racism and homophobic slurs that he always uses. I know many writers (mostly female) who have been called out and cancelled for less, but because King is, well, a king of writing, he gets away with it. Granted, I haven't read much of his more recent works, so I don't know if he's changed. And if he has, great. But people love bringing up the past and cancelling them for it even if they did change. (Which, if they changed, shouldn't that count for something?)

Aside from that, King really knows his stuff. He's an excellent writer and storyteller, and there's a reason we love his books so much we turn almost all of them into movies and even later remake those same movies. This story is a classic, and I loved it. The characters were unique. The storytelling enthralling. The pacing, for the most part, is perfect. All in all, a really enjoyable read. A great addition to anyone's Stephen King collection.

[anthonybialy]

A Conviction That Trump’s No Felon

A show conviction surely won’t end up helping Donald Trump in the same way printing money made everything affordable.  Democrats have a plan to cope with how they screwed up their previous ones.  Planning ahead is for suckers who don’t have power to abuse.  Look at the thoroughly Third World conditions they’ve created and tell me they’ve thought out the next step.  

Donald Trump is a victim.  That’s quite the thing to be accurate.  The patron saint of the aggrieved now has the worst thing possible, namely a case.  The lousy verdict enabled his faction of aggrieved whiners with undeserved evidence.  Trump’s greatest weapon remains his enemies.

Learn from your own scheming scumbags.  Executive humping enthusiast Bill Clinton’s poll numbers went up whenever it seemed he might be removed from power over his fibbing about a special kiss from a seduced intern.  Democrats granted Trump the same opportunity to thrive off lechery, with the difference being he didn’t break the law by trying to evade sidepiece detection.  And you claimed there was no bipartisanship.

No one is above the law, declare those below it.  The debate about a smirking jury’s decision focuses on how a mock trial will harm the candidacy of an unctuous libertine who wasn’t guilty even if he kept on his wedding ring.  This is the system at its noblest.

If a lunatic’s shrieking that the system is corrupt, it shouldn’t prove him right.  A horrible yet innocent person hasn’t been punished this infamously since Freddy Quimby.

How couldn’t they find something Trump actually did?  That’s the worst part.  The party that can’t find peace or prosperity is thorough in obliviousness.  

The system’s busted.  And its latest victim is the least qualified person to fix it.  Ranting without results defined his term like it has his spectacularly hollow career.  The only reason it’s unsurprising that Trump got something right is that he’s dealing with shameful foes who seize autonomy in order to seize more of it.  There are adorably still a few holdouts who maintain the reigning party wants to confiscate stuff and rights for everyone’s benefit.

Liberals suddenly care about crime.  They seem to be fans of it based on how their policies treat perpetrators like victims.  New York City makes Batman movies look understated.  Gotham’s countless muggers are free to continue plying their trade.  A revolving door jailhouse applies to everyone arrested except for the reality show host president who’s applying for the job again.

Felon BFF Alvin Bragg finally decides to prosecute something, and it’s this.  A district attorney so preposterous that Tom Wolfe couldn’t have invented him as a character cracked down on the crime of being someone he didn’t vote for.

Trump’s zip-it cash labeling system is the first alleged violation that’s ever bothered Bragg, so nobody’s shocked he didn’t know what qualified.  It’s uncanny that he went after someone he campaigned on confronting.  Partisan pursuits make predictions true.

The only crimes in New York City are being Donald Trump and cooking pizza with coal.  The 1970s request you stop comparing the present regrettable time to it.  We don’t even get the decadence of disco or catharsis of punk out of the present bout with enabling barbarians.  But those who would’ve approved of the ostensible Republican’s deficit spending if his name had been taken off get the tawdry thrill of gloating about sentencing someone they just know acted illicitly somehow.

Pretending to go after white-collar criminals as the subways resemble a Charles Bronson reboot means he doesn’t care about real offenses.  The ode to North Korean prosecution wasn’t getting derailed just because nobody can list the alleged countless victims.  Many who constantly bitch about the justice system’s unfairness are gloating about Trump being found guilty despite the technicality of not committing a crime.

Those cheering for the previous president to do time will flip out when a Democratic candidate is prosecuted on fantasized charges.  You anticipate they might appreciate meeting their standards.  Spot who’s full of it by how they hate living under their own rules.

Republicans will either be at a disadvantage for not being as scuzzy as their counterparts or sink to their level for a muck fight. The media will condemn the latter without noting precedent.  And they’ll never determine why a raving madman rose to prominence in the first place.

Trump’s enemies kept him competitive so they can continue to have purpose in life. Or they didn’t plot out consequences, whatever.  Not thinking out things is so unlike the sorts who proclaimed not paying back loans would lead to widespread wealth.

If the goal was to allow Trump to portray himself as aggrieved, then the mission is accomplished.  The greatest businessman ever isn’t going to make money on real estate or selling steaks on television, but he can grift off the indignant.  Now, he doesn’t even need to invent a shaky reason.

Both sides predict this year’s most notorious conviction helps.  It’s the only agreement on anything.  The mugshot used as avatars by both his own cult and its zealous foes made social media even more confusing.  Now, conservatives who loathe the Republican option for his liberal tendencies and personality may as well cherish the chance to display principles.  I cannot offer enough middle fingers to everyone gloating about a garbage conviction for making me defend Trump.

Did the scoundrel actually commit a crime?  Everyone forgot to ask.  We can’t even get nice chinos at this banana republic.  Inflation applies to charges like it does garment budgets.  Making Trump look like he’s not the scumbag is the most astounding Democratic achievement yet.

[why-am-i-here-someone-save-me]

Then Came The Dawn Pt 1

For a brief moment the chill of the water felt pleasant, salve against the heat of your wounds. It took not even a full second for the pain to come as your body registered the saltiness of the water that was against your injuries. It burned, burned at your very soul.

The surface began to slip further and further away, as your body instinctively struggled against the ropes binding you, desperate to survive. Yet despite the panic of your movements, your thoughts were drastically different.

It was… quiet.

You no longer had the strength to fight anymore. You were ready for your death at this point. You welcomed it. After so long running and struggling to make it just one more day, you were at the end of it all.

It was peaceful.

It was liberating.

‘Perhaps when I close my eyes, I’ll be home again.’

Your lungs screamed for air, your limbs felt like they weighed as heavy as stone. The edges of your vision began to darken as you sank deeper and deeper, the sunlight of the surface looking so close, yet being so out of reach. The black overtook your view, but not before a faint blue glow lit your fading view.

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

‘Do not fear Your Grace. I am here.’

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

You awoke with a gasp, eyes snapping open and trying to gulp down precious oxygen as if it were going to disappear. Coughs wracked your body as seawater was forced from your lungs, the salt burning and searing as you sputtered. Finally you manage to breathe, the sweet sweet oxygen you’d been so desperate for cooling the salt induced burning of your throat.

‘That’s it, I’m never taking air for granted again. Thank you plants for your dutiful provisions of oxygen.’

Finally you managed to slow your racing heart, opting to take in your surroundings. You were in a bedroom, having been placed on the room’s well, bed. You internally cringe as you realize that you’ve gotten the furniture wet with all of you whole ‘trying to not drown’ stuff. Honestly after months on the run, being in a building was already strange, but being on a bed? That was a luxury you’d long since gotten used to not having. There tends to be a lack of furniture out in the wilderness. You continue to observe your surroundings. The room was a deep navy blue in color, sapphires adorning a silver chandelier that lent the room a soft light. All in all, it was exsquisite, and far too refined to line up with anything remotely akin to your recent standards. You noticed a window and stumbled your way towards it, glad to no longer be bound, even if you’d developed a bad case of rope burn. Your eyes widened in shock at the sight of the outside.

Water.

No, not just water, the ocean. The ocean floor.

You were under the sea.

There was a wall of water a few yards from the window, as if the building you currently were in was shielded from the ocean encroaching any further by an invisible dome. One thing was abundantly clear, whatever had happened after you had lost consciousness, something had saved you, and brought you to this place. Yet who? You would have seen if someone had dived into the water after you, and there had been no one other than you. As you watched a small crab experimentally touch the wall of water before darting through it into the sea, you pondered what could have occurred.

“I am relived to see you awake Your Grace.”

You whirled around, eyes wide and muscles tensed, having learned from the months you’d been hunted to except to be slain at any moment. The figure was unfamiliar, something that stunned you, but their gentle smile was conforming, and you found the tension in your body lessening.

“You need not fear me. I would never wish to harm you, my Guide.”

The stranger was a male, and a tall one at that, with long blue hair that cascaded behind him like a waterfall. A blue teardrop shaped gem was below his neck, which combined with the sight of several small horns that were atop his head, made it clear that whoever he was, he was not a human. It would have been funny if you weren’t so jaded nowadays, that you feared this man less than you would fear a normal human being. Your eyes dart around awkwardly, as you began to realize you’d no idea how to truly hold a conversation anymore. Sure communication had never been a priority to you, but that skill set had quickly been cast aside in favor of survival skills once people made it clear they wanted you dead. You cough a bit awkwardly, unsure how to answer, but the man seems to understand your unspoken distress. His voice was deep, yet it was filled with a gentleness that made it far from intimidating.

“Please, do not feel pressured to converse if you are not comfortable with doing so. You have been through a lot as of late after all. All I ask is that you inform me if you need anything. Your recovery is my top priority Your Grace.”

There was that title again. ‘Your Grace’. You recall several people having called that thing wearing your face by that title, but you? That was new.

“Why are you calling me that? I’m not anyone special or anything. I’m just a normal person! I still don’t even know what’s going on! I never asked for anything from anyone! This was all just a huge mistake!”

The emotions you had blocked off for so long began to bleed into your voice, tears gathering in your eyes as your mind conjured vivid memories of the pain and suffering that you had been put through since your arrival. You hiccuped as you tried to hold back your cries, though you knew well it was a losing battle. You slid down to the floor, muffled sobs wracking your battered form.

A warm embrace picked you up and carried you to the bed, the touch holding a softness that you had been denied for many long months. Instinctively you clung to the man, desperate for some sort of comfort, some sort of reassurance. He gave it to you silently, uncaring of the fact that your tears stained his clothes. When your sobs slowly taper off, he speaks once again, though this time you can hear the emotion in his words clear as day.

“You are correct. This was indeed a mistake. However, it is not a mistake that you have made. This lies on the shoulders of those who refused to accept what stood before them, and whom brandished their weapons against you by order of a mimicry of your visage. The fault lies on them, and them alone, for you have shown them only mercy; mercy that they refused.”

You began to tear up again, unable to properly process the fact that you were being treated with kindness after so long of being despised. You knew you should be cautious of this man, of this stranger; but you couldn’t help but take solace in his reassurances.

“All of Teyvat cries out for you dearest Guide. It reaches out to you, bleeds for you, and yearns to see you safe. Though many of Teyvat’s people have forgotten your presence, have foolishly followed the cruel rule of a tyrant; Teyvat has not. It has not forgotten you. You are unmistakable. The leylines of this world run cold at your tears, and at your pain the very elements weep. You are what Teyvat exists for. It would not, it cannot, desert you.”

The man’s arms wrap around your trembling form with an unmistakable affection you’d been longing for without even realizing. A mix of emotions flowed over you at the sensation of being held so gently, happiness, comfort, longing, all mixed into one indecipherable jumbled mess.

“Teyvat would tear itself apart if you wished it, Your Grace, for it exists for you and you alone. You have been made to bear a burden never meant for you, and for that, Teyvat grieves. It has done all it can to protect you. And as one of the beings whom can still hear it’s pleas, it is my duty to protect you where it cannot.”

“I vow to you my Guide, I will serve you until my end. I pledge this to you with all that I am.”

“I, Osial, Overlord of the Vortex, am yours to command, oh beloved creator.”

AN: YEAH THATS RIGHT BABY ITS THE DANGER SNEK HIMSELF. BET YOU DIDNT SEE THAT COMIN! Okay but before you accuse me of simping over this snake, I’d like to clarify, I’ve been interested in the lore we get about Osial for a while now. And then when I stumbled onto @Ruu_GI’s human version of Osial, I was immediately inspired to write for him. Do I simp for him? No. I’m too busy being a Rubedo simp to simp for Osial. But do I want to write for him? yes.

Anyways, here’s Ruu_GI’s Osial concept! I would link to their Twitter but it’s labeled 18+ and this is not an 18+ blog sooooo oof. If you’re of age then go check them out!

Taglist: @nicebonescomrade @bamboowritess @numwoon44 @dunno-why-im-here-either @unknownperson-is-not-known @alvedrea @samarill @emperatris-rinaka @eccedentesiast-sapphic @rizakari @nookiesposts @imaginewriting @sectionmoment

[ilikekidsshows]

I don't understand why people like to make Marinette become super strong even out of the suit, is there any base of this fanon? Not saying people couldn't, it just weird for me because Marinette isn't really athletic or working out so her being portrayed to be a strong girl seems to be out of the blue.

Like there's this story I've read once where Marinette is super strong, even matched cat noir who is a miraculous user despite of her not being one. Or the other one where she suddenly be able to fight against some thug despite none of the chapters before this shown her to be really strong or capable to do that. Also I've seen a post that said Marinette is actually stronger than Adrien because she manage to beat him in sparing in episode riposte. Is it true? Sorry of this question weird.

This is basically a “yes but no” kind of situation. Yes, the people insisting Marinette is strong have a legitimate point. Marinette can manage some feats, like all the characters in the show. For example, the Mime can lift the entire Eiffel Tower because the universe operates on cartoon physics, so goofing off with character endurance and strength is to be expected. In addition, Marinette should get to do some really cool stuff, at least as Ladybug, because Miraculous is a girl power show and she is the main character. Marinette is supposed to be inspirational to young girl viewers, so she’s cool, competent and strong. The point is to find the baseline of the series.

As it stands, Marinette’s abilities in her civilian persona do get exaggerated in comparison to other characters in the fandom. The thing is, the tumblr fandom has a thing about Marinette. Marinette gets bashed to hell and back on Youtube and some other parts of the web, so parts of the tumblr fandom are really defensive of Marinette. This means that anything “negative” said or done with her character by other fans gets backlash. And some of these fans include depicting Marinette as anything that’s not the strongest, bestest, smartest at everything ever as “negative”.

As I said, Marinette’s physical feats are not out of place in the world of Miraculous. Everyone in Miraculous can do insane stuff even without a Miraculous. The show runs on exaggerated reality. Also, you need more than one example to prove a point. Marinette scoring one point against Adrien in a fencing practice match where Adrien thinks he’s teaching the ropes to a complete newbie is not a pattern. It’s Marinette impressing him by showing off that she’s competent at his hobby. Now, every time we see Kagami and Adrien have a spar, Kagami has won, that’s a pattern. But even this doesn’t mean Kagami is stronger than Adrien, it means she’s a better fencer, skill and strength are two different things.

Then we get to “Marinette can match up against a Miraculous holder”: this claim is absolutely made up fantasy and nothing but wish-fulfillment on the part of Marinette stans. Every single Miraculous grants its holder super strength and super durability, I repeat: super strength and super durability. If a normal person can do the same or even better, it’s not super. End of story. Marinette is not stronger than any Miraculous holder because that defeats the purpose of using a Miraculous to get superpowers.

Now, as for Ladybug versus Cat Noir, there actually was a very in-depth analysis in this fandom on this topic some time ago. The consensus we came to was this: the show gives us a lot of clues that Cat Noir is physically stronger than Ladybug, but, in an actual fight, the end result is determined by them hitting their win condition, since Ladybug is a better fighter in terms of strategy and agility. Also, Cat Noir would absolutely go easy on Ladybug, no exceptions, while Marinette has an insanely high competitive streak and will go all-out at the slightest provocation as long as no harm will come to her partner out of it. Even Cat Blanc, a literally brainwashed Cat Noir, gives her so many openings he practically hands victory over to her. Ladybug will win a fight between her and Cat Noir every time unless something really extreme happens to make him take the fight seriously.

Another thing to take into account, however, is this: a tiny girl being secretly as strong as The Hulk is funny.