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thedemoninme141 · 8 months ago

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Her Heartbeat, Chapter 9: Her Diary.

Summary: Wednesday finally learns the truth of her heartbeat.

Warnings: Angst.. that's it.. Brace yourself.

Chapter 1 ----- Previous Chapter

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Wednesday sat there, in her dorm, right in front of the half-colored half-dead window. Your diary in her hand. And for the first time in her life, Wednesday felt anger. Her grip tightened around the leather-bound book, her mind racing back to the events of the day, replaying everything that had led her to this moment.

For the last week, your routine that she had become so frustratingly familiar with, she knew exactly when you would arrive, walking beside her on the path to the quad. You always matched her pace exactly—neither too fast nor too slow, as if you had studied her rhythms. You’d offer her that smile, that annoying smile that.. somewhere along the way.. became something else. She couldn’t deny the way it made her feel. The way you would make light of her morbid comments, occasionally twisting them into something absurd enough to pull the corners of her mouth up against her will.

That was the routine. The one she didn't realize she had become... dependent on. And so, you'd be with her, irritating her with nonsense that barely passed for humor, until Enid and the others inevitably joined so you can have some other brains to feed upon.

Wednesday had expected that whatever had weighed on you during dinner last night, making you quiet and distant, would be gone today. That you’d be back to your usual self—joking, teasing, filling the silence she pretended to crave but apparently, had become used to not having around.

But you weren’t there.

Wednesday walked alone to the quad for breakfast. She told herself she relished this solitude. She always had. It was better to be alone. She had no interest in meaningless companionship.

And yet...

Her brooding was interrupted when Enid arrived with her usual chirpiness, dropping into the seat across from her. Bianca, Eugene, and Yoko filtered in after her, each one chatting idly about the trivialities of their futile lives.

You showed up late—very late. You didn’t rush over to her side, didn’t crack one of your jokes about how Wednesday looked like she was plotting everyone’s demise before breakfast. No, instead, you moved silently through the quad, finally sitting beside her. Giving her a small smile but not your annoying "Good morning". Wednesday tried to ignore the fact that you might've sat beside her because it was the last empty seat at the table.

The group carried on their conversation, and you didn't join in. You weren’t engaging like you usually did. Instead, you stared at your food, poking at it without much interest. Wednesday noted the slight hunch in your shoulders.

So did Enid.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her voice rising with concern, “is everything okay? You’ve been super quiet lately.”

Bianca raised an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, what’s up with you? It’s not like you to sit there and say nothing.”

You lifted your head and offered a smile. The kind of smile that might have fooled anyone else, but not Wednesday. She saw it. She always saw it. It was the same smile you gave her when you had spoken about your mother, the same smile you gave to everyone during yesterday's dinner, the one that concealed the truth.

“I’m fine,” you said, the warmth in your tone sounding hollow. “I just don’t have anything interesting to say today.”

Wednesday’s grip on her fork tightened, the cool metal pressing into her palm. Nothing interesting to say? That was a lie. What about the chaos at the camp? What about the fact that you always had something to say, especially something to annoy her? Where were the sarcastic comments, the little jabs meant to get under her skin? The sheer absurdity of yesterday’s events alone—the dinner, Brooke setting Rick’s car on fire, should have been more than enough for you to comment on. In fact, you should have been joking about it already, turning it into some elaborate metaphor or mocking everyone’s ridiculousness, including hers.

But you didn’t. You sat there, offering nothing.

The rest of the group continued their conversation, trying to include you, but even they could sense the tension.

Then, something even more off-putting happened.

Normally, Wednesday would finish her breakfast first, ready to leave

and that would be the moment you’d follow, no matter how much food was still left on your plate. You would never miss an opportunity to annoy her by sticking by her side, even when she’d made it clear you weren’t wanted—or so she claimed.

But this time, you were the one to leave first. Halfway through your breakfast, you stood, nodding vaguely to the group before walking away.

Wednesday’s gaze followed you as you left. The quiet, the distance—it was wrong. All of it was wrong.

Everyone turned to Wednesday as if expecting an explanation.

“What?” she snapped, her patience already worn thin.

Eugene adjusted his glasses awkwardly. “So... what did you do?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t say anything mean to her, did you? You’re not usually the sensitive type, but come on.” Enid frowned.

"Of course not," Wednesday replied icily, though her mind was already sifting through your last conversations. Had she? No. She had been...normal. Or at least, as normal as she could be with you.

Yoko added with a smirk, "Maybe you gave her one of those classic Wednesday death threats."

Bianca leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Well, whatever it is, I bet Wednesday’s just happy she’s finally getting some peace and quiet.”

That set something off in her. The audacity. The idea that she was... relieved you weren’t paying her any attention. Wednesday’s hand slammed down on the table, the loud thud silencing the chatter instantly. She stood up abruptly, ignoring their startled looks, and stormed out of the quad.

As she walked, her mind raced. What was happening? What had changed? Why were you pulling away from her? She retraced her steps, trying to think if she had said something, done something to push you away. No. Just a day ago, you had been fine—irritating as always, but fine. Something had changed between dinner and this morning, and it was eating away at her.

By the time she reached the classroom, her hands were balled into fists at her sides. She was going to get answers. She wasn’t going to let this silence stretch any further.

When she entered the classroom, she expected it to be empty but you were already there, sitting alone at your desk. You were hunched over something, your attention fixed on a open diary that you clutched in your hands.

The moment you saw her standing in the doorway, you jumped, quickly shutting the diary and tucking it into your bag.

She approached you, her eyes narrowing as she studied your face. There was something in your eyes—something that unsettled her. Fear? Nervousness? No, it was deeper than that. She just couldn't see it, the emotion you were trying so hard to hide.

"What’s going on with you?" Wednesday asked, her voice low and controlled, but with an edge that only you could detect.

You blinked, looking at her as though she had just spoken in a language you didn’t understand. "What do you mean?"

"You’re not yourself," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "You haven't been yourself at yesterday's dinner. You haven’t been for the entire morning. You’ve been quiet."

You frowned, shaking your head as if brushing off the accusation. "I talked, didn’t I?"

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. "You used to talk enough to drive me to homicide. Now you’re barely saying a word. And you are avoiding me."

You looked away, your fingers brushing the edge of the desk. "Everything’s fine, Wednesday. I haven’t been avoiding you. I was literally right beside you at breakfast."

That wasn’t what she meant. Not at all. What she wanted to say—the words that hovered dangerously close to her lips—was that you weren’t spending enough time with her. That your absence, your distance, had left an unsettling void. But her pride, her damned ego, wouldn’t let her say it.

Before she could press you further some students began filing in the room.

Wednesday’s gaze lingered on you, searching your face for answers that you weren’t giving. But whatever it was, you were good at hiding it.

She sat down beside you, her body stiff, her chaotic thoughts were already ordering themselves.

Her proximity wasn’t about closeness.

It was a strategy.

Her mind had already locked onto a new target.

That diary.

Since you won't give her a straight answer, she would have to find it out herself.

She was going to get that diary.

One way or another.

Instead of heading to the quad during lunch, she diverted her path to her dorm. She needed to put her plan into action.

“Thing,” Wednesday called as soon as she entered her room.

The disembodied hand appeared instantly, crawling out from under the bed.

“I need you to retrieve something for me,” she continued, her voice cold “Y/N’s diary. It’s in her bag. Don’t return until you have it.”

Thing scampered off, leaving Wednesday alone in the room.

She stood still for a moment, feeling an unusual pang of hesitation. This wasn’t her first time invading someone’s privacy, and normally she took a strange satisfaction in uncovering secrets. But this time felt different. There was something about you—about this situation—that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away. She needed to know what was going on. There was no time for sentimentality.

By the time Wednesday arrived at lunch, you were already seated, your eyes fixed on your barely touched food. Enid and Yoko were seated beside you, engrossed in their conversation, but you weren’t paying any attention. Your fork scraped along the plate, but you barely took a bite.

You haven't even noticed her glaring yet and that only confirmed it—something was terribly wrong.

Wednesday sat down across from you, her eyes narrowing. It was only then that you glanced up at her, your eyes locking onto hers for the briefest moment. You smiled—that goddamn smile again. It had always irritated her, but now, seeing it tainted by something so… vulnerable, she felt something she didn’t want to feel.

As she sat there, she watched you. And in the corner of her eye, she caught the blur of Thing, creeping under the table toward your bag. The plan was in motion.

She needed to distract you. She needed to give Thing time.

“Still not back in your usual mood?” she remarked, her voice devoid of its usual venom, as she met your gaze.

You blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing your face before you offered that same empty smile. “Just tired,” you replied, shrugging. “Nothing to worry about.”

Wednesday wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so only you could hear. “Did I do something to offend you?” The words felt foreign on her tongue, strange and wrong. She had never cared before if she offended someone. Hell, she usually went out of her way to ensure she did.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and then—almost as if it physically pained you. "It’s nothing you did. I promise I’m fine, Wednesday. You don’t need to worry." you said as if it was a crime for her to even consider that she might have been the reason for your change in behavior.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t a fool, and she hated being treated like one. Before she could say anything more, you suddenly reached for your bag, pulling it up onto your lap. Wednesday’s eyes widened, and for a split second, she worried that Thing hadn’t finished his task yet.

“Actually, I should probably get going,” you muttered, standing up a little too quickly. “I’ve got some things to take care of.”

Wednesday watched, frozen for a second, as you swung the bag over your shoulder and hurriedly walked away from the table.

Thing crawled out from beneath the bench, the diary gripped tightly in his fingers. Wednesday gave him a nod, silently instructing him to deliver it to the dorm. Without hesitation, he obeyed. Wednesday exhaled before heading for her dorm. She knew she wouldn't really be able to focus on the rest of the classes knowing the diary that hid your truth, your real truth is waiting for her on her table.

"Did Wednesday just ask someone if she had been offensive?" Enid whispered to Yoko, eyes wide with disbelief.

Yoko was as shocked as Enid, "I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of the apocalypse."

The diary was exactly where Wednesday expected Thing to leave it, on her table, ready for her. As she reached for it, her fingers hesitated over the it, her breath momentarily catching in her throat. Why was she hesitating? She never hesitated. She wasn’t the type to second-guess her actions, and yet here she was, her hand frozen above a simple book, conflicted about what she might find within

Her fingers finally made contact with the cover, cool and smooth, but she didn’t open it yet. Instead, she let her thoughts drift back to you—your quiet smiles, even when they annoyed her. The way you looked at her, like you saw something more than the darkness she wore like a shield. But that was just an illusion, wasn’t it? It had to be, because clearly you were hiding something big.

Wednesday inhaled sharply, pulling herself out of her reverie. This is ridiculous, You were just another puzzle. Another person who had gotten too close. She had dealt with this before, someone trying to peel back the layers of her armor, who claimed to understand her just like you did. And now, finally, she would see your true intentions laid out in front of her. What's the worst that can happen? Surely you aren't a Hyde.

But that wasn’t what she was afraid of, was it?

No. What she was really afraid of—though she’d never admit it—was what she might find. What if you had written something about her? What if you’d said something that confirmed all her worst fears about your... this.. whatever this is.. or..was?

Just open it, she told herself again. Get it over with. It’s just a stupid diary. Cringe feelings and teenage nonsense.

With a swift motion, she opened the diary, flipping it to the first page.

And then she stopped.

This wasn’t what she had expected at all.

There were no sappy confessions of love, no teenage angst poured onto the pages. No, this was something different. It wasn't a diary at all.

Instead, she found… a list. Some sort of to-do list, or something idiotic she had learned from Enid, a bucket list.

"Play in the snow with a friend" was one of the first unticked entries. Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. That sounded... oddly easy for someone like you, someone who pretended to be so carefree. You had always made light of serious things, shrugged off the heaviness of life. And yet here you were, yearning for something as simple as playing in the snow.

Next was "Visit a beach at sunset", also unticked. The corner of Wednesday’s mouth twitched in mild irritation. Beaches were disgusting places. Sand, heat, and people. Of course you wanted to experience that. But with whom?

Then the next wish—“Catch light.” How is that even possible?

This diary was about all of the version of you—the one with kindness and compassion—conflicted with the sarcastic, lighthearted person she knew. But maybe that was the point. Maybe you were more than the one side you showed her. Maybe you had always been more, and she just hadn’t bothered to look deep enough. Or maybe... maybe you were hiding all this from her on purpose.

Her fingers traced the ink, almost reverently. The wishes weren’t grandiose or outlandish. They were simple, human, full of the kind of sentiment she despised. But why did these wishes—why did you—make her feel something she couldn’t quite name?

There were some completed ones, “Learn how to play the guitar.” A photograph of you, laughing, holding a guitar as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Volunteer at a shelter.” There was a picture of you, smiling with a group of people, holding a cat in your arms.

Visit a foreign country. Paint a picture, no matter how messy, and other simple goals. And then..

She paused on the next entry, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes scanned the words: "Unite two hearts." It was ticked, of course, and there were pictures attached to this one too. The wedding of that old lady... little cupcake?

Wednesday’s stomach twisted in realization. So that’s why you’d asked her for help in breaking Little Cupcake out of that asylum? All for this? All for a silly bucket list item? Anger flared up inside her, sharp and sudden. She gripped the edge of the diary, her knuckles turning white. This was what she had been pulled into? Some childish fantasy about fulfilling a series of wishes. She felt her anger rise. You had dragged her into that ridiculous scheme, had made her bend her own rules, all for this? A stupid checklist? She wanted to crumple the diary in her hands, to throw it against the wall. But she didn’t. Instead, she flipped to the next page, her breathing shallow, her pulse quickening with a mix of fury and confusion. There it was...

Save a life

Wednesday froze, her eyes locked on the words. A blue butterfly, much like the ones she had seen scattered throughout the rest of the diary, but this one was different. It was reaching out toward another butterfly.

A black butterfly.

It was her.

You had drawn her as the black butterfly.

The wish—Save a life—was about her.

The black butterfly was her, and the blue one was you, fluttering around, trying to bring light into her world. This entire time, you had been reaching out to her. You had befriended her, gotten close to her, not because of some genuine connection, but because of this ridiculous wish. You wanted to save her. You had seen her as some kind of project, something broken that you could fix. This was why you had sought her out. Not because you wanted to be near her, but because she was just a box to tick in your stupid game.

She felt sick.

Was that it? Was that what this was all about? You befriending her, getting close to her, all because of this stupid bucket list? Because you wanted to check off “Save a life” from your list? She had been reduced to a project, a goal for you to achieve.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the diary tighter, her knuckles turning white. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to throw something across the room. How dare you? How dare you make her feel something, only for it to be part of some ridiculous plan?

And yet, beneath the anger, there was something else. Something that terrified her more than the fury she felt. Betrayal. Hurt.

She felt betrayed.

You weren’t supposed to matter to her. You were supposed to be an annoyance, a distraction, a fleeting presence in her life. But now, with this revelation, it all came crashing down. You had meant something to her. You had wormed your way into her carefully constructed walls, and now she was left standing in the wreckage of what she had thought was... something more.

Wednesday slammed the diary shut, her hands shaking with barely-contained rage. You had betrayed her in the worst possible way. You had made her feel things—things she didn’t want to feel—and all for the sake of some pathetic wish.

Her feet moved quickly, almost as if they were carrying her of their own, her mind swirling with anger and betrayal. She wouldn’t let you get away with this. Not without an explanation. Not without understanding why you had done it.

She had searched your dorm first, expecting you to be there but you weren't there. Of course she didn't stop looking for you, you couldn’t hide from her, not after what she had discovered.

As she passed by the library, the greenhouse, the main halls, her frustration only grew. Where were you? She needed to see you, to look you in the eyes and demand answers.

Finally, she found you near the quad. She stopped for a moment, observing you. You weren’t just standing; you were pacing, mumbling something to yourself. There was an urgency in the way you moved, a nervousness, a tension that she could sense even from a distance. It was as if you were searching for something- your diary. You looked like you were about to break down. The sight of you like this… she wanted to be furious, to unleash her rage upon you for betraying her trust, but now… she found it hard to focus on that anger when she saw the distress in your every movement. Wednesday clenched her jaw. She wasn’t here to feel pity. She was here for answers. You didn’t notice her at first, too lost in your own world of anxiety. It wasn’t until she was nearly upon you that you turned around, startled by her sudden presence.

“Wednesday—” you began, your voice shaky, unsure as if you could sense the anger radiating from her.

Without a word, Wednesday thrust the diary into your arms. The force of the gesture made you stumble back slightly, clutching the book to your chest as though it were the most precious thing in the world. Your eyes, already glassy with unshed tears, blinked rapidly as some drops fell. You looked down at the diary and then back at her.

"Why do you have this?" you whispered, your voice trembling. Your grip on the book tightened, and Wednesday could see the pain etched into every line of your face. "Why, Wednesday?"

The sight of your tears stirred something deep within her, but she pushed it down, burying it beneath her rising fury. This wasn’t about your tears. This was about her—about the betrayal she felt. She couldn’t let you manipulate her any further.

“Why?” Wednesday’s voice was sharp, cutting through the space between you like a blade. "You want to know why I have this? Because I thought—" She stopped herself, the anger surging again. "No. I hoped you were different. I hoped you didn’t have some ulterior motive like everyone else who tries to get close to me. But it turns out I was wrong. You’re just like the rest of them."

You flinched, your eyes wide, but before you could say anything, Wednesday continued, "You were filling out a stupid bucket list the whole time. Befriending me wasn’t because you cared or because you found something in me worth staying for. It was because I was part of some ridiculous plan to check off ‘save a life’ and ‘unite two hearts.’ What a joke. What were you thinking? That you can somehow change me into something you deem better?”

"Wednesday—" you started, but she cut you off again, her voice rising.

"Is that why you started ignoring me?" Her words dripped with accusation. "Because I was no longer necessary for your wish list? Have I become obsolete now that you’ve played your part in my life? Unite two hearts, playing with people's lives as if its a game to you. Is life and death just a joke to you?"

“A joke?” Your voice was shaky, but there was a fierce edge to it now, one that Wednesday hadn’t anticipated. "Life and death have been playing a joke on me for as long as I can remember! Constantly throwing me between the two, dragging me from one to the other.”

You stepped closer, and for a moment, the raw emotion in your eyes made Wednesday falter. Your tears fell faster now, your voice shaking as you continued.

“This stupid bucket list?” You gestured to the diary, your hands shaking as you held it out. “These aren’t just random wishes. They are my last wishes.”

Wednesday’s heart stopped. She could feel the air in her lungs freeze as the meaning behind your words slowly began to sink in. Your last wishes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“I’m dying, Wednesday,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “My heart is giving up. It’s only a matter of time before it stops, and I don’t know if I’ll even have enough time to finish these wishes before life and death finally decide to end the joke.”

Wednesday’s mind scrambled to grasp the full extent of what you were saying, but she was at a loss. She didn’t know what to feel—anger, confusion, guilt, sadness. All of them were swirling inside her, an unfamiliar chaos she wasn’t equipped to handle.

“I thought I could make the most of the time I have left,” you whispered, your voice so soft now, so fragile. “I thought I could fulfill these wishes, make something of the time I had left, and then I met you. You… you made me forget, even if just for a little while.” You looked at her, eyes filled with tears, and Wednesday felt her chest tighten painfully.

Her jaw tightened, her lips pressing together in a thin line as she tried to rein in the storm brewing inside her. Her fingers curled tighter around the diary, the leather binding creaking under the pressure, but still, she didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

She had come here expecting to be angry, to demand answers, but now she was standing in front of you, hearing the truth, and all she could feel was… nothing. Numbness. Confusion. Shock. The truth you had just laid bare was too much for her to process, too much for her to handle.

You shoved the diary back into her hands, the force of it jolting her from her paralysis. She looked down at it, the weight of it now felt unbearable.

“Keep it,” you said, your voice bitter and broken. “Go ahead. See for yourself all the jokes life has played on me.”

Before Wednesday could say a word, you turned and walked away.

She watched, frozen, as you made your way past the quad, past the gates of Nevermore, disappearing outside her view.

She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to process the emotions swirling inside her. Anger, guilt, sadness—all of it mingled together, choking her, suffocating her. She wanted to scream, to find some way to make sense of it all, but she couldn’t. All she could do was stand there, the diary heavy in her arms.

Eventually, she forced herself to her feet, her body moving on autopilot as she made her way back to her dorm. She didn’t remember the walk back; it was a blur, a haze of numbness.

And so,

Wednesday sat there, in her dorm, right in front of the half-colored half-dead window.Your diary in her hand. And for the first time in her life, Wednesday felt anger true, deep, burning anger—at herself.

Anger burned through her veins, hot and suffocating, an unfamiliar fire she couldn’t control. She had let you in, allowed you to become something more than just a nuisance, and now, you were leaving. No. You don’t get to do that. Not after everything. Not after the torture of your presence, the endless conflict she had endured because of you. You had wormed your way into her life, into her thoughts, into her very soul, and now… now you thought you could just leave?

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, her hands tightening around the edges of your diary. You had forced her to feel things she had never wanted to feel, emotions that had no place in her carefully constructed world. You had made her question everything—her control, her cold detachment, her very nature. And now, you were ripping that away, leaving her with nothing but an ache in her chest and a void she couldn’t name.

How dare you.

No, you don’t get to leave. Not yet.

You had tortured her with your presence, with your warmth and your stupid smiles and your pathetic jokes. You had made her care, against her will, against everything she stood for. And now, you thought you could just disappear, leaving her to pick up the pieces?

Absolutely not.

If she had to suffer through your presence, through the chaos you had brought into her life, then so would you. She wouldn’t let you walk away. Not like this.

But how can she fix this, whatever this was... does she want "this" to stay as "this" or.. does she want this to be something more?

She sighed as she stood up. the diary still clutched in her hand.

Your wishes, simple and easy, yet so complicated... Because..

You hadn't found the person worthy to spend them with.

Play in the snow with a friend.

NEXT CHAPTER

[Author's note: Sorry for the late update, so this is it, this is kinda Season 1 of Her Heartbeat lol, I am going on a vacation for a week so it might take some time till the next update. TELL ME "YOUR WISHES" AND I MIGHT PUT THEM IN THE FUTURE CHAPTERS IF THEY ARE CUTE ENOUGH!!!]

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 4 months ago

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Sleepless

In which I blabber at some length (2,645 words, to be precise) about my guy Elfhelm and what makes him tick. Set in/around a night on the road to Minas Tirith and the Pelennor Fields. A little blood but not graphic. Also here on AO3.

Among the éoreds of Rohan, much was said about the distinct personalities of their marshals. Théodred had always been an introspective man, one who thought much more than he spoke and seldom acted without carefully considered purpose. Éomer was quick to his temper, having been raised in a family without a single cool head among them, but he was just as quick to mercy or apologies, both of which he gave freely. And Elfhelm, the oldest of the three by several decades, was tirelessly sociable, an affable and gregarious man who might have made a wildly successful tavern keep if he hadn’t been such a formidable soldier.

Words poured out of Elfhelm like ale from a tap, fast-flowing, effervescent and refreshed as needed by a seemingly inexhaustible store of supplies. He hadn’t lived more than sixty years to find himself with no good stories to tell, and neither was he above a little harmless embellishment when that’s what was needed to raise others’ spirits or his own. (He might not have seen one of the Púkel-men statues of Harrowdale wave a stony arm as a boy, but wouldn’t life be more interesting if he had?) He could hold multiple conversations at once while somehow making each person feel as though they had his full attention, and he had a remarkable knack for intuiting just what someone needed to hear, whether that was a little frivolous gossip, a bawdy joke, some candid life advice, or an inspirational tale.

But nearly alone among the gifted talkers of the world, Elfhelm was equally good at listening. There had always been something in his face — perhaps his unusually large eyes (mare eyes, his wife called them) or his gap-toothed smile — that encouraged other people to open up to him, and he rewarded that trust by scrupulously keeping confidences. He never hurried anyone through a story, and it was noted that he never forgot a name or a fact, able to make even the most passing of acquaintances feel special and important when they met again months later and he remembered to ask after an ailing relative or difficult horse. For a man who lived on fellowship as others lived on food and water, there was no feeling better to him than to be sought out by someone in need of wisdom, humor or simply a friendly presence, and he pursued that feeling with zeal.

Indeed, Elfhelm seemed to take his fraternization every bit as seriously as his marshal duties, and he could wring a good time from even the most appalling of situations. Never one to waste a social opportunity, even the discomforts and anxieties of a war camp couldn’t deter him from seeking out camaraderie and encouraging anyone and everyone to join him. That had always been his way, and he treated the riding of the éohere to Minas Tirith no differently. Yes, they were on the road far from home. Yes, there was potential danger around every corner, and yes, the imperatives for security and secrecy meant there could be no bonfires or singing or boisterous games to fill the time. But they were here, several thousand riders on a path to destiny with nothing else to do at night but enjoy each other’s company and keep their nervous energy in check, and those were tasks he was uniquely suited for.

His was a ceaseless presence in the army’s nightly camps from Dunharrow and on. Work came first, as always, and he spent the necessary time in the king’s council or conferring with the quartermaster on supplies (though even then he was apt to try to lighten the mood, tossing off jokes or bestowing ridiculous nicknames on the men closest to him). But when those duties were complete and the other senior leaders were heading off to tents and pavilions for hard earned rest, Elfhelm’s evening was only beginning.

Passing easily from one cluster of riders to another, he plied his trade with abandon, whiling away the time with whatever conversation there was to be had. Room was made for him wherever he drew up, and the company was as varied as the topics. He traded fishing stories with the young men of Grimslade who hauled nets on the Isen when they weren’t at arms, and he heard legends of snow trolls from the mountain dwellers of Upbourn, who needed no cloaks or woolen leggings in the late winter weather of Anórien. He practiced his Dunlendish with the dark haired riders of the Gap and accepted their teasing of his efforts with good humor, purposely mixing up the word for ‘spear’ with a very similar-sounding but incredibly profane word just to amuse them.

He made a special effort to look in on those who seemed least at ease, many of whom had responded to the muster despite never serving in an éored or having any experience of battle. They were easy enough to spot around camp, with borrowed armor that didn’t quite fit or the smooth, elegant hands of an artist or musician rather than an archer or swordsman. One curly haired young shepherd from the East-fold couldn’t keep down his evening rations for anxious anticipation of his first fight, and the flush of embarrassment competed with the pallid green of nausea on his rounded cheeks. Pulled from their worlds into this new one, a world where they felt conspicuously out of place, it took only a few simple gestures to soothe their discomfort — an invitation to join in with others, a question or two to get them talking, and a compliment to make them feel worthy. It was a formula that always worked, and with so many new men in the éohere, Elfhelm filled hours moving among them and spreading his magic.

But as the sky gradually darkened and the stars took their places overhead, the crowds around him slowly began to thin. One by one, men would yawn, stand to stretch, clap an affectionate hand to his shoulder and stumble away with a smiling shake of the head. Where does old Elfhelm get the energy? More than a few tried to encourage him to follow their lead, citing his age or the weight of his responsibilities, but he waved off those suggestions with a dramatic gasp of mock offense. Don’t you worry about me, son, he’d laugh. I’ve been pulling late nights since you were still in short pants and riding a pony.

With fewer men up and around, the nights took their natural turn, conversations slipping inevitably from the light and trivial to the more serious and profound, and this, too, was something he embraced. Tongues were loosened when the world was redrawn in a palette of greys and silvers and the regular day felt so far away that it might not even exist. The barrier between what a man thought and what he would say aloud grew its thinnest in the moonlight, and Elfhelm found himself drawn aside more often after dark by those with a sense of urgency to their words, a need to share worries and hopes or to unburden secrets before the chance was lost forever.

In Dunharrow, he had come across Théoden’s banner bearer walking alone in the cold well after midnight only to have the young man blurt out that he was in love with the archer who shared his tent and was unwilling to face his own possible death in Gondor without having first spoken that truth to someone else. Tonight, Elfhelm heard instead about the pressures of living up to a brother who had died a hero’s death, regrets over parting with a close friend on hard terms, and fear in all of its devious shapes and varieties — fear of pain, failure, cowardice, rejection, the unknown.

No one had ever taught him how to meet these revelations or how to decide who needed gentle sympathy, who needed firm encouragement and who needed nothing but a willing ear. He had learned on his own, building from instincts and adjusting over time in light of both successes and mistakes. By now, there was little in the world that could truly surprise him — even his discovery of the king’s niece in his éored had been no real shock, though the holbytla was unexpected — and there was something more than a little comforting in that lack of surprise. Years and circumstances and details might change, but the concerns and needs confided to him by one generation were, at heart, remarkably consistent with those of the ones who had come before and those who would follow. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to suffer. I want to be understood. I want to make others proud. I want to be enough. He did what he could.

Eventually even the hardiest of the riders yielded to the call of their beds, and his own tent beckoned, a comfortable bedroll and a respite from the early March wind awaiting him there. But, still, he turned his steps aside, making one last pass through the camp in search of anyone else in want of company. In the distance, pinpricks of light marked the positions of the night sentries, but he knew better than to disturb those who were working. Instead, he picked his way among the cooling ashes of the cooking fires, the neat piles of shields stacked alongside muddy boots, the less neat apple cores and cheese rinds that wilted on the ground wherever they’d been tossed without thought — all the evidence of the mass of men who were everywhere around him but now out of sight in the rows upon rows of makeshift shelters.

When his hopeful eyes found nothing but stillness, he considered a loop through the pickets where, if nothing else, he could have a few words with Fléotig. Like all good Rohirrim, Elfhelm talked regularly to his horse and heard volumes in the whickers and chuffs and sighs that came in response. Fléotig had a particular talent for skepticism, a specific way of cutting her eyes and whisking her tail that often brought some needed realism to Elfhelm’s more fanciful thoughts and ideas (or at least caused him to impose that realism on himself). But a man walking through the tightly packed lines of shifting, anxious horses could easily cause an unintended disturbance, and he had no desire to force his own wakefulness on anyone else. Without other options and with the first faint hint of dawn creeping ever closer, he reluctantly went back to his tent, pitched over a carpet of soft pine needles, and stretched out on his bedroll to wait.

A camp of many thousands was remarkably quiet in the night, with only the sighing of the wind in the trees and an occasional cough or clearing of a throat when men rolled over in the dark. As he stared drowsily at the fabric covering above him, a familiar unease began to gather in the silence, the lurking of remembered sounds and images no longer held back by the distraction of other voices or his own. At home, the loving presence of his wife helped to keep such things at bay, grounding him with simple comforts and easy closeness. But without her arm draped over his chest, her chin tucked neatly into the curve of his neck, or even her gentle snoring that he graciously never mentioned, difficult memories and painful feelings now seeped in unabated and rose steadily around him like floodwaters.

He knew those waters would flow easily into his dreams if he wasn’t careful, and though he wanted rest and even craved it, he had learned long ago that some things were much worse than a sleepless night. He fought back against his exhaustion, giving his mind active tasks to keep it engaged in other, safer things. He listed all the lords of his family back to the time of Eorl and as many of his wife’s army of cousins as a mortal man could be expected to retain. When he ran out of obscure relatives, he began a recounting of the lords of the Éothéod of old. There was Marhwini the Liberator, and then Forthwini the Clever. His son was Marhbregu the Merciful. But by the time he reached Fram the Covetous, the encroaching tide of sleep had at last oozed over him like molasses, thick and dark with the stain of unwanted remembrances.

Fat raindrops stippled the muddy puddles around the eyot, and the pounding of galloping hooves echoed the rumble of the thunder. Blood was everywhere, channels of it flowing through the grass and down into the river, where it swirled red ribbons through the clear current and soaked into the pants of the men still charging ashore.

“To me, Eorlingas!” The echoing voice of Théodred came from above, higher up the knoll, a rallying cry and a summons. All eyes turned to the peak, their prince’s raised sword glinting silver in what was left of the moonlight, but every urgent step toward him was a struggle. The thick mud of the riverbank swallowed legs and tore off boots, and gales of frigid wind pushed back on them with the force of a shield wall. Men were on their knees as often as their feet, shouting out in frustration, rage, fear, pain, as they clawed their way forward.

“To me, Eorlingas!” The voice was harder to make out now amidst the din of clashing weapons and the chanting of the orc-men who advanced relentlessly up the far side of the eyot, but flashes of lightning briefly shocked the night sky with dazzling brightness, each one revealing a moment’s glimpse of Théodred, unbowed and unbroken, before plunging the Fords back into hazy darkness.

“To me, Eorl—” and then a sudden silence as an axe buried itself into armor, leather, skin, muscle. In the next blinding burst of light, the knoll stood empty.

Elfhelm’s eyes flew open with a start, and he bolted upright, confused. His mind was three steps behind his body, still pulling itself through the murky threshold from dream to reality, past to present, danger to safety, and he rubbed a hand across his dampened brow as though he could speed the transition by wiping the dream from his waking eyes.

Alone in his tent, the river, the knoll, the blood and the axe slowly dissolved back into the night where they prowled, giving way instead to the fresh morning air of the camp, the faint scent of pine resin, and the light stirrings of footsteps in the leaf litter nearby.

Elfhelm, you awake? The husky voice of Grimbold and the wheezing rasp of his troubled lungs were just outside. Breakfast is on.

He looked once more around the tent, empty but for his own ghosts, and pulled in a series of slow, deep breaths. In. Out. It’s over now. In. Out. No time to fall apart. In. Out. This is the life of a soldier. He felt the waxed canvas at his sides, listened to the trilling of birds in the trees, and stared at a little white crocus flower that had improbably pushed its way up through the dirt in the corner, the earliest harbinger of the spring that would unleash its full glory in a few weeks time. In. Out. You’ve done this before. In. Out. Others still need you. In. Out. With a final exhalation, he pasted on his biggest, brightest smile, threw open the tent flap and bounded out to meet the morning.

A small cheer went up as he emerged, most of his company and Grimbold’s having already risen and gathered to share out their rations. He accepted his portions with a grateful bow and set out for his first round of the day, melting into the assembled crowd with friendly greetings and hearty backslaps and affable words and unspoken thoughts.

Éohere: the full assembly of Rohan’s army (all the éoreds together)

Holbytla: hobbit

Fléotig: swift or fleet

Inspired loosely from a quote in UT about Elfhelm and Grimbold being sleepless after the first Battle of the Fords of the Isen, along with the little moment in Where Now the Horse when Guthláf runs into Elfhelm late at night in Dunharrow.

Dividers by the incomparable @quillofspirit ♥️

#elfhelm #one of my absolute favorites #and criminally underrated IMHO #minor appearances by some other rohan notables #rohirrim #lotr

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weebsinstash · 2 years ago

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Not gonna lie if I were the reader after they got replaced by YouTwo I would be a neurotic mess lmao. I already mental issues but I can't imagine going through their trauma on top of everything. I would definitely be scratching myself again out of sheer stress and anxiety about whether or not everybody will replace me again. My arms would look horrible. Oh boy imagine everybody's reaction to realizing they've messed up this badly and absolutely ruined the reader

Other people: fun ways we can write! Coffee shop au! Red string of fate! Hanahaki! Enemies to lovers!

me: what if I sat and tried to seriously and realistically contemplate the ramifications of a severely traumatic experience and the following neurotic habits that arise from the spiral down

Reader gets back to Spider Society, either glitching back in or "being rescued" whatever, and, you're just doing shit like digging food out of the trash "you'd never guess what kinds of perfectly good stuff people throw away, and it saves time to not have to wait for anything to be prepped! Never know when you'll vanish in the middle of a meal or that one serial killer will pop out at you again!! Ahaha!

Someone comes to check on you and you deadass have a fucking, tripwire web trap all around you, you're not even sleeping in a bed you're in your own webbing (because we rock organic webbing here because it fucks) so the second anything like, opens the door of your apartment or comes near you, you're instantly aware. Peter B comes in "heeeey, just wanna check in, make sure you're doing ok--" and there's fucking web wires rattling cans as he opens the front door and suddenly you're wide awake with an actual fucking knife or some kind of equally brutal survivalist weapon and it takes you a few seconds to fully snap out of it and let him calm you down and he has to tell Miguel You Are In Fact Not Doing Ok

You've got real "scaring all your loved ones and everyone around you" energy during those times you're just like going through some manic shit, opening your mouth and going on a sudden 'epiphany' like "i know what would help!! I'm gonna start cutting my face in really visible prominent places and that way you guys will know by the scar who I am :) and when it heals I'll cut myself again :) and again :) maybe I should just cut off a finger, how many of me do you think are missing fingers? Or maybe I could give myself a cool scar!!" And it's just like. What the fuck do they even say to that. A lot of them just genuinely could cry over this, seeing what this did to you. You sound genuinely cheerful at the realization and give no mind to how casually you just suggested self harm out of paranoia and self preservation.

You're just having like hard-core eating disorder issues going from overeating to undereating, binging because you're suffer9ng trauma from starving and then starving yourself "no its fasting, I'm FASTING to save food and money and resources, ok, I can only fit so much in my backpack and--"

You have this backpack from your multiversal glitching travels and keeping it with you basically 24/7 even when you go to the bathroom becomes a comfort habit, because, "never know when your camp has been found by the runners and you've gotta make a break for it" or some other cryptic memory you babble at them like you're discussing coffee when it could be one of the most vile horrifying things they've ever heard

I think the most interesting but tricky thing I've thought of is, what if Reader's trauma-humor coping mechanism gets dialed up to 11 and you can basically never turn it off because, your brain is protecting yourself. It's like you're Doing A Bit but literally all the time like some traumatized method actor and you're just, they're never sure if you're actually telling the truth or actually recounting things you experienced after a while

"Oh man the last time I ate a meal this big was when I finally stopped glitching and I had to break into someone's house and rob them for food! Just call me Santa Claus! But this Earth had suffered a nuclear fallout so all they had was like, DRY CRACKERS and, a lotta canned stuff, icky, and, I was in the middle of trying to pry a tin of lil cocktail weenies open with my teeth when the irradiated house centipedes smelled my blood, just imagine like a normal centipede but, like, the size of a Shetland pony, hey, friendship really IS magic right, and me and these centipedes got SO close, so anyways they smelled my blood, right, and it made them hungry, and--" and here you got like The Entire Squad speechless, Hobies just over here like "fuck, I don't even know what to say to that, you want some ketamine bruv" and yall just hit em with "nah last time I tried ketamine I had a fever dream of being replaced by an evil clone and I was shunned by all my close friends who i thought of like family. Oh wait, that was you guys! That's awkward!"

#yandere spiderverse #sinprompts #yandere stuff

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sunny6677 · 6 months ago

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ALRIGHT!! DYLANS TURN

@rebootgrimm

Full Name: Dylan Ocean Smith.

Age: 14-15 when he first arrives, 16-17 at the end of his story.

Gender: Transgender Male.

Sexuality: Bisexual with a female preference.

Birth date: January 21st.

He's both Greek and Welsh in my opinion—knowing both English and Greek, but he's also currently learning Korean.

Dylan likes horses, horse-riding, the beach, and also just the ocean in general and the life within it. He dislikes sea pollution, people treating sea creatures badly—and also horses badly, and he.. dislikes snakes for some reason, though specifically because they tend to attack him a lot or always show up around him.

I like to imagine he has a dumb little tattoo of a sea horse on his upper left shoulder—

Dylan is very outgoing, loyal, and generally very goofy. But at the same time, it's very easy to piss him off if you mess with his friends, and he can actually be quite protective of them. But when pushed too far, he can become terrifyingly violent—and not even realize how far he's going until way later or til someone stops him. He also experiences rapid mood swings, and easily forgets about stuff a lot. He can also jump to conclusions very easily, and can go back and forth from being impulsive, to not impulsive at all.

Dylan likes going to the beach, collecting seashells, taking care of fishes, and he used to go fishing—but he always felt bad for 'no reason', and eventually stopped after a while.

Dylan works at a small pet store a little before he goes to camp, and resumes his job anytime he comes back from it. But he works mainly in the 'fish or sea creature' section of the store.

Dylan is actually very strong and fast despite his size, and is very quick to act or think. But his anger can get the best of him sometimes and make him forget to think logically, or to do something more beneficial. He can also be quite oblivious at times.

He usually dresses like a surfer dude, and has a very squeaky and outgoing voice—but it can become VERY low and intimidating when he's pissed off. He's allergic to snakes, so that's probably the reason why he hates them so much deep down, though he's never been bitten by one and has always managed to avoid them—he also canonically has ADHD and autism! And he's interested in becoming a marine biologist one day.

I imagine he lives in a small, but slightly poor house or apartment near the beach somewhere in town (he lives in the same place as Thora btw, or maybe he doesn't? I'm trying to decide). He says "Whaaaaaattttt?" a lot for some reason, and giggles a lot whenever he speaks if he's in a good mood. He's a bit afraid of the deeper parts if the sea even if it interests him, specifically the creatures there though. And again, he has a phobia of snakes. He has a good habit of trying to pay attention when somethings important since it shows he cares. But he has a bad habit of assuming things way to quickly or getting a bit too protective of his friends.

He has more expressive mannerisms, like gesturing widely with his hands or slamming his fists against something—and he also tends to like to pretend he's stabbing something for some reason? And also likes to pretend he has a magic staff. He's very intelligent even though some people treat him like he isn't, and is especially interested in sea life. He has a bit of a chaotic and random sense of humor, and goofs off a lot. He usually has very stupid solutions to things unless it's serious—if angry enough, they're usually very irrational solutions instead. He can usually recognize when people are upset, but has an awkward time comforting others. He's very extroverted, and hates when people are generally bitchy to him or those he cares about. His most prized possession is a little fishing rod that he kept even when he stopped fishing, just because it's one of the first gifts his mortal dad gave to him (he has two dads btw—cuz mlm real).

His favorite food is celery, and his favorite drinks is water (unsurprisingly)—usually any kind though, including literal ocean water cuz he's kind of a weirdo(/aff). He tends to smell like water or just the beach in general. He plans on visiting one particular gigantic ass aquarium one day, and also just heading out to sea to see all the wild life. And he usually spends the mornings doing a big stretch, yawning, taking a look out at the beach from his window, and then immediately turning on music and getting ready. He doesn't play any sports, but he does jog a lot. He can beat people at arm wrestles very easily. And he also snores very, very loudly—or very quietly—it usually depends.

He strongly believes that no one, and I mean no one, should be allowed to hurt those he cares for. And believes that if anyone even dares to try, he has the right to beat them up if he wants, no matter if his friends were in the wrong or not. Unless his friends did something he considers more serious, but still—he is externally optimistic, but can be pessimistic when he's upset. And he has a slightly bad image of himself because he truly believes he's just some guy, and it gets worse later on when his abilities lead to him doing some pretty terrible damage or acting more angrily than he should.

His main motivation in life is to just explore and live his life to the fullest. He thinks that he must get to know every little part of life while he's still here. Though one of his darker secrets is that he punched a kid in the face when he thought they were bullying his friend, when it turns out, said friend was bullying them—and he had an argument with said friend after that led to their friendship ending. But the kid he punched never really forgave him, and while he understands how they felt, he for some reason can't comprehend the fact that maybe they don't have to forgive him, and experiences a lot of internal conflict over this. His biggest dream is to just discover something great and be recognized for it. And one of his goals is to find a new sea creature. His deepest fear is not being able to protect his friends and family from something dangerous, or possibly losing all of them and being powerless to do anything about it. He has an external conflict with forgiveness a lot, and can't comprehend that some people just don't have to forgive him, and that he doesn't have to forgive some people. And internally, he starts to see himself as messed up and as a monster due to some of the things he does while protecting his friends.

His deepest regret is not going on a trip that he was going to go on with his cousin, who he used to be very close with—but his cousin died whenever they went on the trip. And now he feels like he should have done something to protect them, or should have gone so maybe he could have died instead of them or found our what killed them, because they still don't know how his cousin died and just found her body somewhere. This is part of the reason why he's so protective of those he still has. Deep down, he desired to just be finally content with everything in his life, or to find some sort of fulfillment. And he's externally pressured by his very friendly but protective mortal dad, who is just as afraid of losing him as he is afraid of losing everyone else around him. He's the most insecure about whether or not he's really strong deep down. His greatest joy is his friends, his family, and the sea itself. And his worst nightmare is being taken away from his loved ones, or dying without being able to say goodbye to them. I imagine he becomes a marine biologist in the future, a navy officer, or perhaps just a sailor at sea.

He's usually very happy. Oh, and he has a secret handshake with his little brother, which is just a very complicated fist bump. His father was also very supportive of him when he decided he wanted to transition, along with everyone else in his family, and while Poseidon is a bit confused later on when he finally sees him again, he accepts it since he's had plenty of kids and someone being Trans isn't anything new. Dylan also isn't very creative.

Dylan is actually friends with Thora, or even best friends with her in fact. Though they live on different parts of town and usually have to walk a long distance to see eachother. They only have one class together, and Dylan has a job, so they have little time to hang out unless she's seeing him at his work. They're both very protective of eachother though. And Dylan becomes friends with Amoria later on.

Thora and Dylan's dynamic would be best described as 'overly serious, done with everyone's shit, and protective as fuck + goofy goober who the serious one usually tries to protect, but can be equally protective in turn'. I may draw something to show off their dynamic one I finish everyone's designs lol.

Dylan is disliked by Athena of course, and he's very awkward around her. And he dislikes Medusa just cuz it later turns out she's the one sending snakes on him, due to some curse that she's inflicted on him that has to do with the prophecy about the twenty heroes.

Dylan abilities include: Literally being able to travel on makeshift water horses—or being able to travel inside of a water horse or teleport through water horses, summoning gigantic ass waves or being able to control the ocean in whatever way he pleases, being able to drown people by simply not letting them out of the water or manipulating the water to not let them out, teleporting through waves, having his own little staff that Poseidon gave to him as a gift that he can send charges of ocean through or stab any divine creature with (and also kill them with), being able to cause literally earthquakes and gigantic storms, etc etc.

One of his instances of protecting his friends I thought of was basically: Thora and Amoria get kidnapped and taken on a ship, while Dylan is forced to find them. He angrily summons a water horse, runs all across the ocean til he finds the ship, and once he finds it—he rises out of the water and starts beating the hell out of everyone on the ship with his natural element. But even when he gets his friends back, he tries to make them apologize to see if they'll show any remorse. They either don't, or their apology is fucking terrible. But either way, he decides to not spare them, and drowns most of them in a rush of waves before leaving. He probably gets in trouble for this, and maybe even put on trial, but somehow lives despite this, and is heavily scolded by Poseidon after.

#percy jackson oc #percy jackson #percy jackson au #twenty heroes au

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shirefantasies · 1 year ago

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From mossthebogwitch I had no idea what i was doing but I did my best.

Since it was now a dare i am submitting myself for a matchup: presently I am mortified.but too curious to back down now. I have sealed my own fate per usual. I appreciate you taking me on this journey and hope you enjoy the experience! I don't know what gender I prefer in partner: I have a huge weakness for Kíli - I have no hard fast rules- just have fun it's a Tumblr matchup yknow?🤣

I would prefer Hobbit based matches since that is my current hyperfixation.

I radiate golden retriever energy: loyal, never gonna give you upn never gonna let you down, never gonna turn around and desert you. I'm the unofficial security guard according to my boss. I have a level head under pressure and I don't back down. I have a constant stream of humor. The comedy doesn't end. I enjoy being an artist and writer in many media's. I study folklore and weird nature things. Im the weird facts kid grown up to the ' adult who knows how to do a bunch of different things'.

I have trouble socializing due to anxiety and OCD. Because of this I'm naturally more of a watcher until I feel comfortable. I'm either casually friendly or hiding behind other people talking. I'm a mom friend and the one people go to for help. I work in counseling its natures pipeline.

If I'm not working, reading, tending my pets, wild foraging for supplies or exploring hiking trails, I can be found cobbling together my house and garden from whatever I get my grabby hands on.

I have a community garden and regularly supply winter camping gear, food, first aid, and hygienic supplies. I do feral cat housing too so I just do a lot of weird stuff. Last week I saved a squirrel?? Befriending crows is starting this week lol. Never dull.

I plan on painting my entire house in fantasy based murals and hiding meme paintings behind appliances..Spock is behind my stove.

One funny thing i do that my coworkers thinks is hilarious is I have an entire measurement system for measuring animals using only potatoes as a counting system. Yknow how you count horses with hands?I count animals using potatoes and i am right every time the key is when to switch your counter between Russetts and Yukon golds. It's a good day when a growing animal graduates from being counted from russetts to Yukon golds.

I'm 5'0 and don't mind because I grew up LOTR with Gimli!! He's short and I'm short too!! I am told I have mood ring eyes that change shades of blue with my emotions and I'm red green color blind so that's fun.

Voted most likely to have a mug of coffee or tea in hand at work while I give one of my coworkers a gentle peptalk which turns into me pulling out the Gimli scale and asking them where they are on there today.

Yes, this is great @mossthebogwitch ! More detail always helps on my end 🥰 also you sound like such a fun person I wanna be friends 😆😆😆 the potato counting & secret memes are legendary OMG! I definitely saw you with a dwarf right away, but after some thought, I decided on...

Bofur!

You meet under curious circumstances, you having settled at the foot of the great mountain after the war. Thinking you are alone, you had made your way to the woods, idly walking until a chattering squirrel spiraling up a tree distracts you. Given your love of animals, you strike up a conversation, getting quite lost in it all when a jovial voice rings out behind you, asking if you’re getting along, then. Turning, you see a dwarf with a large floppy hat and twin braids standing a ways behind you, apologizing for startling you- you must've jumped more than you realized. In the end, he introduces himself as Bofur and offers you a piece of one of his brother's biscuits from his pockets to give to the squirrel. Finding out that he works as a toymaker, you promise to visit his shop, and when you take in all the wonders he creates with his cousin, well, you can hardly stay away! Bofur ends up enlisting you to paint murals upon the walls of his and Bifur’s shop, which the young ones of Erebor and New Dale alike delight greatly in. Bifur is very impressed by your art and building skills, elbowing Bofur at every chance he gets and waggling his eyebrows over the amazing lass that’s seemingly just fallen into his life.

The first time Bofur actually initiates some time alone with you, he asks you to join him for a night in town, and that’s when he learns you work with livestock. You best believe he laughs his mustache off at your counting technique and also vows to steal it. You can see in his manner, though, and what you know of him that he would be great with the animals too. He can see that you prefer him not to ask so many personal questions and to lead the conversation which he is more than happy to do! He tells you all about his family, the quest he went on, his funny nice hobbit friend Bilbo, where to get the best ale in town if you’re into that sort of thing, a cool rock his brother found in the mines the other day, you name it! Everything is lighter when you two are together. Ever the gentleman, he waits to share your first kiss until he is completely sure you’re ready.

Bofur loves your height; you are a few inches taller than him, not much but just so that he can rest his forehead against yours and put his head on your shoulder. Either one of you can cuddle against the other’s chest as desired. Knowing how much of your time goes to helping others, though, brings the dwarf to lean heavily towards caring for you whether that means he is the one holding you or singing for you or simply by giving you lots of time to get comfortable and express your needs, even if it’s hard. Even in your most tender moments, though, both of you are cracking jokes. Always laughter between you two! Anything big gets called a Yukon Gold with you two because he just loves that saying so much.

If you are comfortable with it, Bofur loves to take you dancing just to show you off! He also adores the way you’ll stand up for him if anyone is mean or pushy- your loyalty is astounding and you truly have a dwarf-like spirit. He gets heart eyes when you become a de facto bouncer and actually throw a drunk or two out of the place. He also takes you camping, pitching a tent and bringing your supplies so you can stay wrapped outside with your animal friends and some weenies to roast beneath the stars.

Teases you to high heaven about being colorblind, though. Overdramatically reminds you what color you’re painting that toy, asks you if you’re sure that’s the right color for the leaves on your mural. Feel free to smack him lightly, he knows he deserves it and he’ll just laugh! If anxiety or OCD symptoms lead to you having a routine or a placement of things that being comfort (if so, big mood friend!), Bofur is definitely the best at remembering to have them out there and follow that for you, no questions asked. You’ll feel so cared for, that his house is a home. You are his warm hearth, his neverending laughter, the only person who could convince him to take home a wounded opossum and call it Bofur jr. but this is his life now and you know what? Bifur was right- he’d run into quite a catch in those woods, a lass far more beautiful than any old fern or flower.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @pirate-lord-of-narnia @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit matchups #bofur #bofur x reader #bofur x female reader #female reader #ask #mossthebogwitch #requested #💕 300 follower matchup event 💕#matchup monday

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qwerty-between-the-lines · 2 years ago

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Percy and friends were having what you could call an Argo II reunion campout trip.

Jason's absence was definitely felt for all of them, but as Piper had pointed out - Jason wouldn't have wanted them to quit living and having fun on his account.

They all knew that Jason would be with them in spirit, so it was agreed that Leo should go ahead with the reunion idea. Of course, everyone was free to bring their significant others.

...and so, their little family sat gathered around the campfire, as Leo and Calypso passed out plates that they easily recognized.

Nico: Is it camping if we use magical dishes to conjure food?

Leo: Hey. There's nothing stopping you from conjuring a hot dog and using a stick. Me? I prefer glamping!

Hazel: It's so great to be back with you guys. We don't get together as often as we should.

Frank: Hey, that's the life of a demigod for you.

Percy: Yeah. Too busy doing our parents' dirty work to have much personal time.

Nico didn't conjure a hot dog, in spite of his weak protest. He conjured an avocado and cheese sandwich, a chocolate donut, and some jerky.

Will: You have a healthy appetite.

Nico: I'm not planning on taking any underworld trips anytime soon, so I'm good.

Annabeth used her plate to conjure up a Slim Fast.

Leo: Seriously? You use the magic plate for that?

Annabeth: I'm trying to watch the calories at present.

Percy: I keep telling her she isn't fat.

Annabeth: Shut up, Seaweed Brain!

Nico: How can you drink that crap, Annabeth? I bet it tastes like chalk and ass.

Will cleared his throat awkwardly.

Nico: Hey, that's not the same thing. You know what I meant!

Hazel: ANYWAY. It's great to be together again.

Calypso: I hope none of you will object if I prefer wine.

Frank: Uh... minors.

Calypso: I didn't say anything about you having any. Besides, I'm not drinking that diet crap like Dionysus does. I'm not on probation.

The sky thundered in the distance.

Percy: Uh... Calypso. Careful what you say about Mr. D...

Piper: Isn't that a little rich coming from you, Percy?

Percy: Hey, we're on better terms than before ever since I offered him that Diet Coke ship. Or at least... not so hostile terms.

Leo: I bet he'd still turn you into an Atlantic Bottlenose.

Percy: Well, probably, but that would just mean he thinks of me the same as the gods think of all demigods.

Hazel: Apollo excluded.

Frank: I don't know about that. Apollo had already become human a few times before that last fiasco, and that didn't stop him from threatening to kill us.

Percy: I know how to stop him. Just ask him to make a haiku about your death instead of actually killing you.

Annabeth: I wouldn't joke about that.

Will: Yeah. Dad's known for having a wicked sense of humor from time to time. He might cause you to have dreams about haikus.

Percy: Think I should ask Meg to pass on a good word for me? Just in case Apollo's planning to give me haiku dreams?

Leo: Dude! Meg said Commodus was hot. I'm not saying I don't trust her now, but her judgment's another thing.

Piper: ...and you didn't think Commodus is hot, Leo?

Leo: Honestly? Not even a little bit. Horrible personality. Looks isn't all there is for me.

Calypso: ...so if Commodus didn't have a horrible personality would you think he was hot?

Leo: Nah. He's not really my type...

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enterdivinity · 11 months ago

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uptown girl!

Prologue: Movin’ Out

a/n: have fun reading it! it didn’t take long, and the next chapter will be done around next month(early august) bc i have camp!

cws: ig swearing?

The best part about Chicago was that gorgeous house of yours. The balcony and backyard look on the clear blue water of Lake Michigan and the silver rocks. It was beautiful to say the least, and words could not explain how that view could make a heart flutter at a mile a minute. Sheridan Road wasn’t something to laugh about, it was more something to gawk at. Each neighbor and house around yours was almost the same as your house, since it was such a rich place to live in. Oh North Shore, how perfect it was to live and stay. Except, you wouldn’t be staying here in this huge home anymore. No no, your family was moving to the heart of Tokyo because of your dad getting a promotion and having to move to Japan. This wasn’t something from a fairytale at all, it was a complete nightmare for you.

“Y/N! Bring down the last box from your room,” your mom requested across the hall from your room. Your family wasn’t bad or anything, it was a typical family in the good ol’ US of A! Rolling your eyes, you hauled the last box and lazily dragged it out of your big bedroom and right by the staircase. You didn’t want to move at all, since it would be such a hassle to fly for so many hours and into a new continent. Plus, you didn’t know many basic phrases in Japanese, only knowing stuff like hello, thank you, and some food. And don’t get started on the writing system. Right to left?! Right to fucking left?! Was it some sort of dystopian thingy? Perhaps not, but you had to roll with it. Turning over a new leaf wouldn’t be that bad, since, of course, you’re leaving for another country. Duh!

Putting your phone back in your pocket, you heard the huge moving van for the furniture. You stood up and opened the door for the furniture guys. Each minute and second that passed by made shivers pass down your spine. What if you don’t make friends? What if these people don’t know what a Birkin Bag is? Does this college have enough vending machines? In those pictures on Instagram, it did look like there were nice people there, but no one to her taste. Of course, you would have to test the waters first rather than judging the book by its cover.

When the furniture guys finished packing into the moving van, your palms become sweaty, as your eyebrows furrow. Standing up, you began dragging some of your smaller suitcases into your mom’s Rolls Royce. “Here’s the rest of it, mom,” you grumbled, bitter of course. Well, bitter was quite the understatement. You were frustrated that your family had to leave it all behind for a new place.

You don’t want to have a clever conversation on the reason why you had to leave, but some kind of optimistic advice or message. However, there seem to be none that popped into your head. You would be all alone(of course, with your family) for the first time. New country, new language, like a fish out of a huge pond or an alien from a different plant or universe. Let’s hope you got to fit in like a chameleon, not stuck out like a sore thumb.

As the car stopped at the airport, you opened the back door to walk over and open the trunk. Taking out the able-to-carry luggage, your parents began lightly bickering about which food they should eat at the food court. Apparently, McDonalds was too cheap for your expensive family. “Money screams, wealth whispers,” they said, “you’re too much for some lousy fast food.” It was true, your family was too posh and polite for some kind of greasy fast food. Though, it would be the smallest of problems that became washing over you once the L/N family boarded the plane.

No doubt and no reasons why, your family was in first class. It took about 13 hours for the nonstop flight to land in Tokyo. Seemed like the whole flight was a blur to you, right? It was because you slept the whole time during it. Humorous, right? When the pilot asked for everyone to get off the plane since it was at the gate, you and your family started leaving the plane, getting all your carry ons and all that jazz. Each and every face(other than yours and your family’s faces) looked fuzzy, fully blurred by all that jet lag. This happened to you for about ten seconds, but then you snapped back into reality. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you followed your parents to baggage claim.

Holy shit, genuinely holy shit. How the hell would you get used to this? All those Japanese words above the English words looked like something from a different planet. Plus, as your family finished taking some of the other suitcases out of the baggage claim, everyone looked like businessmen or moms trying to get used to their rowdy children. Haneda Airport wasn’t something to laugh about at all, it looked like something out of a folktale, so futuristic, yet timeless. Who knew what your university would look like after your family got situated in Tokyo? Who knew what people you would meet? Who knew that you would be able to meet the love of your life here?

Like your favorite song Movin’ Out by Billy Joel said, “Mama if that’s movin’ up then I’m movin’ out.” Guess your parents really took that to heart, huh?

#katiewatie #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #hq #kuroo tetsurou #i love him

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gentle-giant-swag · 2 years ago

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Kanji Tatsumi propaganda masterpost

Oh yeah. What’s this? Yeah I’m making the propaganda because I love him!

Round 1 battle

Round 2 battle

Quarterfinals

Note, if you don’t feel like reading me info dumping about him. I made this video

Despite his intimidating appearance he’s such a sweetheart. He enjoys crocheting and knitting. He loves cute things and his favorite food is animal crackers. Yes he’s known to be loud and have a foul mouth, but that was just one part of him trying to avoid being bullied for his hobbies (paired with bleaching his hair and getting a bunch of piercings). He’s a huge mama’s boy, in one of his S-links, despite him not having great memories with hospitals, he went into one just to make sure his mom was okay. He beat up a biker gang all by himself because they were disturbing his mom. Okay he’s not 2m or so, he’s only 6ft tall. Though he’s still the second tallest persona characters. But people very often view him as scary because really tall and buff for his age, and as I previously mentioned. He also has a delinquent look going. When it’s both the first and second time you meet him in the game. He scares the investigation team both times. Who are all one year older than him too.

He’s also not the smartest character, he got a 4/100 on his exam and believed the killer in persona 4 used a tv to kill his victims (like smashing them in the head with it) instead of just luring them into the TV. But he makes up in that by being a really kindhearted and empathetic. In his S-link he and the player meets a boy who lost his friends doll so Kanji searches after it in the riverbank. However he can’t find it so he makes a new doll for the boy. Who then wants Kanji to make more dolls for he and his friends.

Also his name meaning on tv tropes both goes “Kanji is named after a language system that's rather notorious for being difficult to translate, speak, or write, resulting in grave mistakes. Due to his Hidden Heart of Gold-hiding facade, he's often taken for a delinquent and a bully, but deep down he's a sweet-hearted young man who likes crocheting and making dolls, which got him bullied by both men and women for being "unmanly". More humorously, despite being Book Dumb, his messages to the protagonist are always spelled correctly and grammatically correct along with proper punctuation.” The wiki just says his name means perfect.

But yeah, he’s extremely dorky. In persona 4 arena he thinks it’s a dream so he calls Naoto (his crush) without Japanese honorifics, which is a major way to say “I like you.” And when he realized it wasn’t a dream he was so embarrassed. When Yosuke and Yu first get their scooters and go to the city, Kanji is somehow able to bike super fast and catch up with them. Then a babe hunt begins in the city. Where Kanji scares a girl because he wanted to fix her jacket. But he has horrid volume control so he yells at her about how the lose threads are driving him crazy. If you pick him when Yu (the protag) is asked who you want to see in a swimsuit, he goes “oh it nothing special, it’s just built for speed.”

Despite that, sometimes there are certain events where he suffers. Like how Rise will go “that was pretty good… for Kanji” and the camp out scene. Which I won’t really explain right now. But damn, it made me not use Yosuke for a while.

Anyway. Here’s him and Yu (the guy with grey hair) knitting

#gentle giant swag #not a poll #kanji tatsumi #propaganda masterpost #persona 4

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multitudeofmeus · 1 year ago

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US!Meu: Trades out US!Jade's plague-like spread for self-sustaining longevity. Just as gross as the og if not more, but a disastrous cocktail of excessively delivered fast food, a lack of sunlight, a really good internet connection, and various other things have led her body to produce its own fast-food grease from within, which fuels both her and her gain. She hasn't left that spot in ages... not that she could, anyhow.

WF!Meu: Not too different from the original, except she semi-apologetically raids convenience stores and gas-station stops for her fill. Uses the "curse" to act out her humorous little fanfictions, and exploits the warmth of it to camp out at game/anime stores to be the first in line.

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smile-files · 2 years ago

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i feel like now is as good a time as any to tell a funny camp story!

so i’m a bus counselor, which means i come to and from camp with some campers on a bus and i’m basically their counselor for that time and have to be responsible for making sure they behave and stay buckled in their seats and so on (of course i’m also a counselor to my own bunk of kids at camp itself).

i’d already been familiar with the kids on this bus because for the past two years i rode the bus to camp while not actually being their bus counselor - there was someone else doing that. so i wasn’t actually responsible for them, and could sleep or listen to music if i felt like it. so although i knew the kids and they knew me then i didn’t know all too much about what they did because i was more disengaged.

but this summer it was my job to pay attention to them, and so i have had the unique pleasure of bearing witness to the mcdonald’s roleplay they participated in every day.

each kid had a plush lion and all of the lions worked at mcdonald’s; they all had different jobs, such as making orders, working at the drive-thru, or doing deliveries. (there was also a plush miles morales spiderman in charge of maintenance, but within the story he died and was replaced with a plastic smiley face maze named bobby who served as a smart-home device for the restaurant.) these were no ordinary mcdonald’s employees, no - they were all incredibly rich and had their own headquarters and personal rooms within the mcdonald’s building. and they were also all related.

the lion mcdonald’s employees would participate in strange fast food restaurant competitions/festivals/tournaments on behalf of mcdonald’s and they would always win. and they had a huge rivalry with burger king, so much so that they edited burger king’s ad from “at bk, have it your way. you rule!” to “at bk, please go away. you suck! and that’s not okay,” to get customers to not go to burger king. they also had a mcdonald’s theme song that they’d sing constantly, and prohibit non-employees from singing.

i ended up embroiled in their roleplay, being the maid cleaning up their rooms - as, like all 7/8/9-year-old children, they were obsessed with toilet humor and had their lion characters diarrhea all over the place. i also had to do deliveries at one point (it was always 50 billion grimace shakes or something like that) when one of the kids got fired.

now, not all of these are related to the mcdonald’s roleplay, but i do have many, many quotes i collected from the kids which enrich the overall picture of our bus:

“well i thought you were a… little, little moose.”

“you can just be transgender.”

“nine, ten, marry gay men~!”

“something bad has happened. the moon’s on fire.” followed by…

“hi moon, i’m your psychiatrist. everything’s gonna be alright.”

“nothing, everything, mostly everything, candy, sweet baby jesus!”

“get rekt on your grammar. lol”

“shaquille o’neal was never on the titanic!”

“why do you sound like an uwu girl?”

“guys, burger king just texted.”

“have fun bullying my son in hell!”

“the very daily big mac: it’s not just every day, it’s every day.”

“hi, i’m abraham lincoln. and i’m starting the purge.”

i hope they all had a very good summer!

#melonposting #spoof #also one of the kids kept randomly bringing up 9/11. we’d be dancing in the morning and he’d suddenly ask (while dancing):#‘do you know which tower was hit first?’#like HUH

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residents-of-the-darkforest · 2 years ago

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Justice (short story)

It’s too horrific for her family to see.

Why hadn’t he just listened? Why had he put himself through the trouble of digging up her body, just to look and see what had happened to her and to stop his brain from imagining the worst possible injuries she could have faced alone in the woods?

Because he was the reason she was out there at all. Their insults toward one another had lessened in cruelty significantly in the past seasons, and came to a downright stop when Maplefall’s kit, Blossomtuft, died of sickness. But the quips continued to a more humorous extent, if nothing else than for them to find comfort in the familiar.

It was one of these quips that had sent Maplefall to her doom. She had always been vain, and when she stated that she would be staying in camp throughout the storm–which really, had only been strong wind and rain, minor–to avoid getting the bottoms of her claws filled with mud difficult to dig out, Newtbeetle had suggested she was really doing so to hide the fact that she was a terrible hunter in the rain. Unwilling to let her pride and image go questioned, Maplefall had volunteered to go hunt, all on her own, so that no one could question that the food was from her.

Newtbeetle had chuckled to himself, as the rain faded to a drizzle and still she didn’t show, likely covered head-to-toe in mud in futile attempts to catch animals that are well hidden in their burrows. Two patrols had gone out during the storm and came back unharmed. He had never expected….never would have guessed.

It’s too horrific for her family to see.

That is what they were told when the news of Maplefall’s death hit the Clan. They couldn’t even see her body to confirm the shocking fact to themselves, they just had to accept that they had just seen her, strong, feisty, and alive, and now she was dead, died a death so horrible that she had to be buried without being brought to camp for a proper vigil first, because her body was too horrific for her family to see.

But while the sight proved Myrtlewing right and made Newtbeetle shudder down to his bones, it gave him a realization clear as ice dangerously thin. Maplefall’s jaw was torn entirely off her face, and on that mangled jaw was a hole that must have come from a rock or branch–but that would have indicated that she landed on something. But if her jaw was torn off, that could only mean one thing, surely? That it had not simply been a horrible accident, but a murder.

Netwtbeetle couldn’t be sure that his certainty in that fact or in who he believed did it could be reliable, but his mind was so overcome with a red cloud, wanting him to seek justice as soon as he could, that it seemed the only logical possibility.

He threw the dirt back onto Maplefall’s corpse slowly and with care in spite of his haste, chest painfully tight, as he knew that it would be his very last moments with her, with someone who he had spent years with.

“You will get justice,” he promised her once he was done. Then he tore across the forest floor, bursting through the camp entrance so fast that he nearly slid into Rainbur.

“Alderstar!” he yowled, burning his throat.

Alderstar hurried from his den, running down to meet Newtbeetle. “Yes? Has something happened?” He scanned Newtbeetle for injuries.

“Maplefall was murdered,” Newtbeetle stated with a surprisingly steady voice. His eyes were fire, and he was slightly surprised that Alderstar had not set aflame by his gaze.

Alderstar stilled. “By whom do you believe that she was killed?”

“Hollowtalon!”

Gasps arose from the gathering crowd. Some turned hisses on Hollowtalon, who stared at Newtbeetle in shock. “What? Of course I didn’t!”

“Do you have reason to back up your claim?” Alderstar questioned, seeming calmer, ever so faintly.

“I looked at Maplefall’s body. I had to see it,” he added before anyone could ask why, they didn’t have time for details. “Her jaw was ripped off of her face, and it–” he stuttered, the truth of what he was saying catching up with him. He swallowed a hard lump and continued. “It had a hole in it, where her tongue would have been. It is my belief that the storm had caused her to land on something that impaled her, and then someone tore her off of it.”

Alderstar considered him. A clamor rose up among the warriors, but he silenced them with a single wave of his golden tail. “Myrtlewing was there.” He looked to his medicine cat. “What happened?”

Myrtlewing shook his head sorrowfully. “What Newtbeetle says is right. We found her together, hanging from a naked pine branch. She was stuck, and alive. Hollowtalon began pulling on her–I tried to stop him–sorry! I should have tried harder!” he ended in a wail, bowing his head and shaking with the guilt.

Even through Newtbeetle’s haze of anger, he felt a flash of sympathy for the medicine cat. Were both responsible for her death, he thought to himself. But there would only be one of them that was to be punished. His insides writhed uncomfortably at the detail of Maplefall’s suffering.

“That’s not true!” Hollowtalon practically screeched. “He-he told me to! He said it was better than to leave her there!”

“Our medicine cat told you to pull Maplefall off of a tree branch so hard that her jaw broke off?” Russetnose wrinkled her nose in doubt.

Myrtlewing turned round, pleading eyes on Alderstar. “I swear, I would have come to you sooner, had I suspected it was anything other than blind panic. I just..I just couldn't bring myself to believe that a Clanmate next to me could do something so horrible on purpose. I told myself he didn’t hear me, that the wind was too loud or he was just too frenzied to even realize that I was talking.” The medicine cat spoke quickly, and in a quivering voice that made Newtbeetle strain to make out individual words. “I should have...I should have stopped him. I should have said something sooner. I don’t know why I...I should have...”

“That’s not what happened!” Hollowtalon insisted, fur lifted all along his spine. “He’s lying!” Newtbeetle had to dig his claws into the earth to prevent himself from lunging at the brown tom.

“Did you kill Maplefall?” Alderstar demanded.

Hollowtalon gaped at him, seemingly unable to believe how he could have possibly been caught.

Alderstar narrowed his eyes. “Did you kill others, too?”

Newtbeetle shuffled at that, at the idea that their other Clanmates who have gone missing or died in different, yet always horrific disasters were all caused by someone on the inside, someone they trusted.

“Murderer!” Newtbeetle hissed, and was joined by others.

Alderstar had more trouble settling them down this time, but eventually he was able to raise his voice above the clamor. “Whether you are lying or not, you cannot stay here,” Alderstar decided. That was fair, though Newtbeetle only subconsciously knew it. If Hollowtalon was innocent, he would still be in a camp surrounded by warriors that thought him guilty of killing their friends and families. “Leave, now, while we still allow you to keep your pelt.” His words dripped with venom.

Hollowtalon gaped some more, then looked around in bewilderment at his Clanmates closing in on him. “But..But I..” Then Molespots swung claws, raking Hollowtalon across the nose, and that finally allowed his situation to register for the tom. He turned tail and fled, crashing through the entrance.

Newtbeelte’s shoulders loosened. His old bones creaked, and he sank down to the earth without considering heading to his nest. He blinked at the grass, watching it shift in the breeze numbly while everyone spoke around him.

He had avenged Maplefall, just as he promised. It wasn’t enough to satisfy his empty heart. He wanted to see her smile again, or to grimace in disgust or roll her eyes in annoyance. Instead, the last thing he had ever seen of her, the face that would follow him forever, was the face of her mangled body.

And it wouldn’t be until half a season later, when he joined his friend in Starclan, that he discovered that Hollowtalon had been telling the truth–Myrtlewing had been the true murderer, and Alderstar, their leader, his accomplice. To make matters worse, it had been Newtbeetle’s blind rage that had sent Hollowtalon to his death. After all, Myrtlewing and Alderstar couldn’t risk the tom entering the territory of another Clan and telling them of Myrtlewing’s deceit. He was unlikely to be believed, as he had been when confronted by his own Clanmates, but it wasn’t a risk they were willing to take.

Besides, to them, his death was only another move in a game.

====================

--Man I love writing Myrtlewing’s good acting and manipulative ways.

--Newt already knew that Hollow was there when Maple died, since they are the ones that brought the news of her death. He never suspected Myrtle.

@elementaldeityoffood @ambitiousauthor @wills-woodland-warriors @umbranoxs @starfalcon555

#newtbeetle #maplefall #hollowtalon #new character just dropped #alderstar #myrtlewing #myrtlewing story #alderstar story #dark tales #dark forest tales #wc dark tales #sprouting thorns #sprouting thorns story

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multi-muse-transect · 2 years ago

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Mortal Kombat OC Update Bio: Conner Cage

Name: Conner K. Carlton or Conner Cage

Nicknames:

War Cage

Older bro (by Cassie)

Sonya’s Pet Assassin

Affiliations:

Blue Dragon

Special Forces (under contract)

Biography:

Conner Cage was born to Michelle Danvers aka Megan Kidman who was a pureblood cryomancer clone after a one night stand with Johnny Cage. He grew up in a semi-happy life despite having no father with his mother teaching him how to use his powers correctly and using them for self-defense while revealing who she was to him. The pair traveled all the time out of fear that the Lin Kuei would discover who they were as Megan feared that her son would be used as a weapon. Megan later gained a job as a waitress at a diner in LA and would let Conner finish his homework there before heading home. His life would later change when the Outworld invasion happened as he bore witness to the massacre while his mother told him to run as she faced off against Baraka, Kotal and Mileena.

He hid in a dumpster as the fighting between them raged on to the point he feared that his mom was gonna lose but as soon as silence fell, he came out and found a frozen wasteland with all four gone. Conner was left alone in the invasion alongside dozens of orphans on the streets. He later ran off to a supermarket where he hid with dozens of survivors who came under the influence of a religious fanatic who claimed that the Outworld invasion was god judging them and so sacrificed a Special Forces soldier who was protecting the group to Tarkatans. Conner watched helplessly and isolated himself in the back hearing the pleas of people being sacrificed until he had enough and tried to them with Sonya Blade intervening as he ran away.

Conner spent the latter half of his childhood in a shelter for orphans who lost their parents during the invasion. There he befriended Jocelyn, a girl with musical talents, and regarded her as somewhat of an older sister to him. He later left the shelter when he became a teenager…

In his teen years, he used his powers to steal food from camps of Special Forces and later became a drug addict until he came to his senses during a robbery gone wrong when he was in his early 20′s. It was here that Kuai Liang spotted the young Cage and recruited him to the Lin Kuei. Conner trained with dozens of his students and while proficient in hand to hand combat alongside engineering, was known for his extraordinary marksmanship with firearms. He entered into a sexual relationship with Frost, one of Kuai Liang’s pupil, and the two had happy memories. Conner felt like he was seeing his life slip away fast and so he left the Lin Kuei despite the pleas of Frost.

After becoming a rising indie actor known for being in indie horror movies that got him Oscar nods, Conner was met by a recruiter named Naomi Stryker who offered him a position in a PMC outfit that was made up of disenfranchised Special Forces, Lin Kuei, and Black Dragon who formed the PMC known as Blue Dragon. This military outfit is privately hired by many corporations on the rise by trying to gain resources from Outworld and the result was them gaining tech on par with Special Forces. Conner accepted the offer as Blue Dragon gained the attention of Special Forces who later became their client and his path crossed with Johnny Cage, his father. Per the recommendations of CEO and commander, Cole Young, Conner was recruited into Cassie Cage’s team much to his chagrin.

Personality:

Conner is known for his no nonsense and mature attitude akin to Sonya Blade yet also has a quiet demeanor and obeyed orders constantly while also placing walls on himself to keep others at bay alongside sharing some of Johnny’s dry humor as well albeit much darker and has a drone-like body language. He is described to be the assassin of the team and is known for his stealthy prowess thanks to his active camo suit. Conner also has no respect for Johnny Cage and follows orders from Cassie, Takeda, Jacqui, Jax or Sonya who has great admiration for with him being a fan of Sonya and Jax. His relationship with Cassie was more professional but became closer when he realized that he is her half-brother. Sonya and Conner were also particularly close as Conner opened up his true identity to her first over Johnny and Cassie.

Him and Kuai Liang share a mixed relationship with Conner being one of Kuai’s star pupils but also fought dishonorably at the same time using firearms during training yet Conner regarded Kuai as a second father. This personality in his days may have led to Frost being attracted to him. Although Kuai Liang regards Conner with distaste now that that he’s essentially a mercenary though has gotten over that realizing that perhaps the Lin Kuei weren’t suited for him. Despite all of this, Conner remains loyal to Kuai Liang.

Conner, like every other child or invasion kids was orphaned thanks to the Outrealm invasion, has signs of PTSD and is always afraid of going into supermarkets due to his experience. This vulnerable side of himself scares him as he aims to eliminate it sometimes.

Like his father, Conner is a bit of a ladies man. It’s been rumored he had flings with Mileena, Frost, Nitara, Kia, Skarlet, Tasia, D’Vorah, Jataaka, Kira, Tanya, Ashrah and Khameleon. He also shares his dry humor as well and his sass at the same time.

AU’s

Hazbin Hotel AU: Conner was killed in the new era during an engagement against Bi-Han and somehow ended up in Hell. He soon became a Sinner with his form resembling an Arctic fox and plans to get out so he can return to service. Currently he lives in an apartment where he continues his plans and sometimes goes to parties.

Scott Pilgrim AU: Back in high school, Conner began to date a mysterious girl named Ramona Flowers in his senior year. Ramona became one of the earliest people who knew his powers and the two were nearly close to hitting it off. That is until Ramona had to move due to her parents moving somewhere else. Years later, Conner was asked to join the League Of Seven Evil Exes but failed the training process cause he wasn’t “evil enough” and thanks to Kuai Liang, he realized that he didn’t need Ramona. Conner still keeps contact with her and became her best friend when things get dicey.

Fighting Style:

Bak Mei

Muay Thai

Equipment:

F2000 assault rifle

Modified MP7

Shao-50 revolver

Combat knife

Suit with cloaking tech

Mask w/voice scrambler

Many other weapons made from ice

#mortal kombat oc #muse bio

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ear-worthy · 1 year ago

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Spotify Spotlights LGBTQIA+ Podcasts During Pride Month

During Pride Month, Spotify is highlighting its LGBTQIA+ creators and podcasts, covering a wide range of topics from pop culture and queer news, to relationships and politics, and everything in between. Kudos to the company for its support of LGBTQIA+ issues, but it still should be doing a better job moderating homophobic content on its other podcasts.

The Read - Join bloggers Kid Fury and Crissle for their weekly podcast covering hip-hop and pop culture's most trying stars. Throwing shade and spilling tea with a flippant and humorous attitude, no star is safe from Fury and Crissle unless their name is Beyoncé. (Or Blue Ivy.)

As transplants to New York City (Kid Fury from Miami and Crissle from Oklahoma City), The Read also serves as an on-air therapy session for two friends trying to adjust to life (and rats) in the big city. The Read is part of the LoudSpeakers Network and is published every week on iTunes, iHeart Radio Talk, Soundcloud & Stitcher.

VERY DELTA with Delta Work - Legendary Emmy Award-winning drag queen Delta Work (RuPaul’s Drag Race) hosts this Luxury Public Access Podcast and YouTube Talk Show where she looks gorgeous, welcomes very special guests, and goes off on important issues that are Very Delta, from good fast-food drive-through manners to the perfect “sexretary” shoe. Do you want to hear her go off? I think you want to hear her go off. Produced by Moguls of Media and the Forever Dog Podcast Network.

So True with Caleb Heron - weekly podcast from beloved gay comedian Caleb Hearon. Basically just getting into it and sorting it all out and kind of identifying what’s really real.

Handsome - Handsome is a podcast from comedians Tig Notaro, Fortune Feimster, and Mae Martin. Every week, the "Handsome" hosts field a question from a friend and attempt to answer it together, covering every subject you could think of. Along the way, Tig, Fortune and Mae tell plenty of stories and just generally have a ridiculous time.

Las Culturistas - Ding dong! Join your culture consultants, Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang, on an unforgettable journey into the beating heart of CULTURE. Alongside sizzling special guests, they GET INTO the hottest pop-culture moments of the day and the formative cultural experiences that turned them into Culturistas. Produced by the Big Money Players Network and iHeartRadio.

Two Dykes and A Mic - “Two Dykes and a Mic” is a weekly queer podcast dedicated to sex positivity, lgbtq dating and building a community filled with laughter and gayness. Hosts Rachel Scanlon and McKenzie Goodwin, two lesbian best friends, keep listeners up to date with “Gay News”, relationship advice with “Ask A Dyke”, dating horror stories with weekly “Bumble Fumbles” and so much more! Gay & Afraid with Eric Sedeño - Sedeño is an art director, iIllustrator, and TikTok sensation @ricotaquito. He’s known for his ability to make audiences feel like friends, for his contagious laugh, and being himself — the internet just happens to be watching, too. On the podcast Gay & Afraid Sedeño uses these elements to dive into mental health, dating, and everything in between. He’s joined by a colorful cast of rotating guests, some are also internet personalities, and all are friends like Brittany Broski, Matt Peterson, and Emily Gracin. “It’s the most fun when we get into the rhythm and forget that there are cameras or that we are being recorded,” says Sedeño. Sedeño wants to inspire listeners to be open, authentic, and find joy in every situation. “My podcast is meant to celebrate myself now,” he says. “The moment that inspired the podcast [was when] I didn’t know who I was yet. I hope listeners can feel that.” Join Eric Sedeño and a colorful cast of rotating guests in "GAY AND AFRAID," a new weekly podcast that puts the CAMP back in camp... literally. Each week, Eric welcomes a new guest to sit by his campfire and open up about topics like mental health, coming out stories, dating and relationships, and everything in between. We’re Having Gay Sex - After 10 years of serial monogamy, comedian Ashley Gavin, trades in her u-haul for a life of sleeping around and documents every gritty detail of her queer experiments in this podcast. Always in fear of being canceled, Ashley is aided by her queerest friends, Kate Sisk, known as the "Cancel Coach", and the "Youth in the Soundbooth" Gara Lonning, equipped with a gen-z themed soundboard, to call Ashley out on her BS. Together, they interview people from all over the gender and sexuality spectrums (from straight to gay and cis to trans) about their sex lives. And yes, straight people, you will find out what lesbian sex is.

The Bald and The Beautiful with Trixie and Katya - The Bald and the Beautiful with Trixie and Katya features a pair of grizzled gay ghouls sitting on chairs, holding microphones, and discussing their fabulous lives in Tinseltown. (featuring occasional forays into movies, television shows, and air-conditioning) The New York Times called them models, moguls, actors, influencers, drag queens, RuPaul's Drag Race contestants, and even humanoids. If one thing can be said about these two preternaturally gorgeous queens' podcast, it's that Trixie and Katya find the sheer, unadulterated beauty of pure insanity. Tune in every week to experience the auditory pleasure that is The Bald and the Beautiful with Trixie and Katya.

Keep It! - Wherever pop culture and politics collide, Ira Madison III and Louis Virtel are on hand to examine the gorgeous wreckage from their uniquely queer perspective. Each week, our “Princes of Pop Culture” are joined by the likes of Michelle Yeoh, Hunter Doohan, John Boyega, Connie Britton, Gabrielle Union, and Sheryl Lee Ralph to unpack the latest controversies, laude character actress appreciation, and all the shade that’s fit to throw. New episodes drop every Wednesday.

NOTE: These podcast descriptions were written by Spotify, not Ear Worthy.)

#podcast #podcasting #lgbtqia+#pride month

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