#god loves us all and made all of us in his image except for everyone who doesnt look act or believe like me

[jeepers-scoob]

Just a lil vent post bc this is also my diary when I can't get myself to actually write

How to explain that hearing and reading about some of the awful shit that is happening makes me feel physically sick and so frustrated bc so much of the hate filled rhetoric and actions literally make no sense and it's all so hypocritical and everything always seems so messed up but at the same time we are doing better than previous generations (you couldn't pay me to live anytime earlier) and it's so amazing seeing how we can help each other and what we are willing to do for others and knowing that it can get better but the problem is that it doesn't make me feel less sick about the bad without sounding wacky and/or ungrateful

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem)

a.n; i blame this completely over the Olympics, again. sorry, but it has me on chokehold and i'm not resisting against it LOL 😜

Okay, hear me out...

Third date with Bakugou Katsuki.

The first one, of course, was very awkward and tense and sometimes even a bit worrisome. We are talking about dating Bakugou Katsuki, the one aggressive and violent Pro Hero that everybody has a hate-love feeling towards for; because the man looks and acts –and can– step on your head and crush it with malicious intent and yet, he's Nº 2 Pro Hero on the ranks and you just know that if he's around, you are completely safe. But he's big and tough and harsh in his talking and walking –how can anyone look that scary by just walking, you're still wondering, but it's real. He's fucking scary.

The second date was way more relaxed. He cooked for you. In his massive penthouse that probably costs more than your annual salary. Yep, morherfucker is rich rich. And you think he deserves it really. After all the troubles he goes through to keep the whole country safe –and even the world–, he completely deserves it. You just forgot how well he does his job to get to be that rich. You don't care about money though. You're dating him because you saw him helping a granny cross the street and that was the cutest thing you ever saw. So, back to the second date, he cooked for you, and damn... now you can say you'll keep dating him because of his food. Man cooks like the gods, like a fucking professional chef of the most expensive restaurant on earth. And also, you noticed how relaxed and in peace he looked in his own environment and he looked. So. Freaking. Attractive. Hot even. He looked just so... deliciously handsome.

So for the third date, and because he picked the second one, this one was of your choice. You decide to go ice skating. And you did not expect what happened at all. 

One would expect that Pro Hero Dynamight, civilian name Bakugou Katsuki, being who he is, would have exceptional balance and even a hidden talent for this. You’re wrong. Everyone is wrong. The second the blades of his skates touched the Ice Rink, he fell. Your eyes opened wide and you definitely were holding back your laugh as he struggled to get himself up by holding the handrail around the rink.

“Need some help?” You asked, getting close to him with no trouble at all. He looked up at you annoyed, struggling so hard to get up and keep his balance that his cheeks turned pink. How. Freaking. Cute. You’re glad that dating the Pro Hero came with its perks –like closing the whole rink just so only you and him are there, enjoying your date on a late wednesday night.

“Shut up. No, I can do it…” He declared, but another fall on his knees made you giggle while sliding backwards and away from him with ease, hands up in surrender. Katsuki looked at you once his stood for the nth time holding the handrail like dear life with a frown on his face, watching you how easy you made it look, “How the fuck are you doing that?”

You giggled again, amused by all of this situation. Sliding back towards him and extending your hands, you said, “Come one, let me help.”

Katsuki buffed but he placed his hands on yours, whole body trembling, barely holding himself up. The image of him sticking his ass up and body bending forward while his feet barely moved made you laugh out loud and he yelled another “shut up!”.

You changed your grip to his forearms and again slid backwards to make him move forward, his legs still trembling and his eyes never leaving the floor. He looked so cute, it made your heart flutter. The smile never left your face as you spoke again, “I used to skate a lot when I was younger. I even prepared myself to compete, but an injury put me out of the game.” 

He immediately looked back at you at your words, “What happened?” He looked curious, but also worried and kind of sad.

You shrugged, “I landed pretty badly over my right leg after a spinning jump once. After that, the shin splints became unbearable and I couldn't continue…” 

He looked down at your leg, watching you move attentively, “Does it hurt now?”

You shook your head and smiled at him, grateful for his worry, “Naah. It would only hurt badly if I tried to skate the way I used to… Guess I demanded a lot of myself back then.”

Katsuki didn’t comment further on, but he kept his attention on your leg. Didn’t that make him even cuter! 

It took you a while –long while– to finally be able to let go of one of his forearms once he was ready on his balance; his other hand still held yours strongly.

Time went by, both of you laughing and smiling while skating around the rink, hand in hand. You’re so happy that you could stand on the ice again. It brought you so many fond memories of when you were a kid. Skating was the only thing that could easily make you smile just because; the wind in your face made you feel free, content. and Katsuki could clearly see that.

For a moment, he got distracted by how beautiful you looked… and he lost his balance again. This time bringing you down with him. He was fast enough though to catch you and make you land over him. Your amused and loud laugh was contagious, so he couldn’t help but smile. He's having fun –even if he knew his body was going to hurt a bit the next day for how many falls he had.

“You’re so clumsy…” You laughed, joking kindly and funny.

“Oh, yeah? Then why don’t you show me what you can do?” His smirk made you suddenly stop laughing. It’s a clear challenge, yet curiosity shined in his eyes.

“Alright, hero… watch and learn,” you helped him stand up and directed him towards the handrail. 

Once he was away from possible harm, Katsuki watched you skate around the rink as if you were flying, gliding around with so much confidence and ease, as if you were made for it. Your hair floating behind you for how fast you were going, dancing beautifully with the air. He was hypnotized. Completely mesmerized by each little form you decided to enlighten him with. He particularly felt fascinated when you decided to spin fast and so many times he couldn’t count how many, then you stopped like it had been nothing and kept gliding around. 

You looked so nice and professional, Katsuki felt a little pang of pity for the world. It would never be able to share how beautifully perfect you looked at the moment.

A few more glides around, until you stopped in a very experienced way right in front of him, a huge smile on your face and a shine on your eyes that were proof of how immensely excited and happy you felt.

Did katsuki say already how fucking beautiful you were?

Just to prove his point, he instantly grabbed your face and kissed you for the very first time.

And fuck, he planned on keep kissing you as much as you would let him.

He let you go for a moment just to say, “That was beautiful… You’re gorgeous.”

You smiled one more time before sliding your arms around his neck to kiss him again. He moved a bit to surround your waist with his arms…

And that’s when he forgot about the handrail and sent you both again towards the floor.

[sanguineterrain]

Your writing is so damn good, you execute every request perfectly 😭

Could you maybe write something where Dick's insecure partner wants to break up with him because their self-image is getting worse cause they feel they can't catch up to the Golden Boy reputation, superheroes, billionaires and so on?

hi, thanks for the request! I hope I did it justice :) a brief interlude from jaytodd before we return to our regularly scheduled program lol

dick grayson x gn!reader. low self esteem, an almost breakup, reader feeling insecure, threatened, sad. happy ending! 2.1k words

****

You've been tugging at your outfit for ten minutes. At this rate, you'll have to concede that this is as good as it's going to get.

"My love, you almost ready?"

You sigh and watch your reflection fold its arms.

"Yeah," you say softly. "'M ready."

The door opens. Your heart swoops.

Dick is beautiful, as usual. Your boyfriend can do a lot, including fill a suit. Both your and his outfits were tailor-made because that's one of the perks of being the son of a billionaire.

Over and over, you'd insisted you could wear off-the-rack, and over and over, Dick had said that was silly, that Bruce wouldn't mind.

And it's true that what you're wearing flatters you better than anything from Macy's or Marshall's would've. But you know it won't help tonight. Not in a room full of Gotham's elite.

"Just as I suspected," Dick says, immediately draping his arms over your hips. "You're gonna steal the show tonight."

He's lying.

That voice in your head has gotten louder recently, and you don't know how to turn it off.

You kiss him instead of responding. Dick enthusiastically reciprocates, always delighted when you touch him. You used to think it would be enough.

But ever since you found out that not only are you dating a billionaire philanthropist with a face that makes angels weep, but that said guy is also arguably the most beloved hero in Gotham, maybe second only to the Batman (who's his freaking dad?!), you've begun to have doubts.

You pull back. Dick's tie perfectly sets off his eyes. They're bright as they look at you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Uh-huh," you say, trying to smile. "Just nervous."

“Hey, it's alright. I'll be by your side all night. I'll save you from any and all small talk, promise." He winks. "And we can duck out early, get hot chocolate from that place you like. They won't care."

Dick's always doing that. Always catering to you. You're just some nobody who happened to stumble into the best relationship you’ve ever had with a golden god.

Dick never reminds you of that. That he could do better. He doesn't have to—you know it all on your own.

You swallow. “Okay. If you're sure. I... I would like to leave early, Gray."

“‘Course, baby,” Dick says, attaching his cuff links. "Anything you want."

You turn back to the mirror, wondering if you can reinvent your personality before you go and remind everyone what a mistake Dick Grayson has made in choosing you. 

****

The party is tasteful, though a little stuffy. You're only here because Dick is going to give a speech, and he asked you to come support him. And while you know it's better for him to go without you so you won't dull his shine, it seems Dick hasn't quite figured that out.  

You hold onto Dick’s arm as he makes his usual rounds. Dick doesn't enjoy these events, you know that, but he's fluid in his interactions. There is no doubt he’s Bruce Wayne’s prodigy. With his suit, his hair, his easy posture, Dick is almost unrecognizable from when you woke up with him this morning. 

He's in his element. All you can do is peer in and watch. 

Dick leans in and slips a hand around your waist after the fourth interaction with a donor. A donor who, again, acted like Dick may as well have been dragging around a coat rack with how intently they ignored you. Not that you give a shit about what the one percent have to say about you, except sometimes they say a lot of mean things, things you're pretty sure they don't let Dick overhear, and sometimes you start wondering if Dick is the only person who can't see truth in what they say, and sometimes—

“Hey.” Dick leans in to talk in your ear. He's warm and solid. You wish that was a comfort. “You okay?”

You're exhausted. 

“Uh-hmm.”

He is going to wake up one of these days and realize he can have it so much better. 

Dick moves like he's about to say more, pull you closer and permeate your senses with his gold.

“Dickie!” 

Sweet, tinkling laughter echoes across the room. The crowd parts for this new woman, an obvious socialite, dressed to the nines and gorgeous. 

Her dress matches Dick's tie. You feel sick.

When she reaches you two, she wastes no time grabbing Dick and kissing his cheek. He extricates himself from her, like he's done a million times before with everyone else who thinks they're entitled to a piece of Dick Grayson. He shoots you an apologetic look. You look away.

“My God, it’s been what, ten years?” she says. Then she sees you. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Caroline Banesbury, Duchess of Middlesworth. I heard the Dickie Grayson was going to be here, and I had to come.”

“Been a while,” Dick says, smiling blandly. “How are you, Caroline?”

“Spectacular! Father just bought another castle. You should come and see it sometime.” She plucks a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and smiles behind the rim of the glass. 

“Dick and I go way back,” she says, gaze roving over him. “I hear you're transforming Blüdhaven. Taking a page out of Bruce's book, hm? You always had a big heart, Dickie.” 

She grabs his arm and links it with hers. You sigh and take a sip of your own drink. You half-wish Poison Ivy would come in and gas the room or something.

Dick clears his throat and maneuvers out of her grip once more, letting go of her with a light pat. He returns to you, snugly holding your shoulders.

"This is my partner," he says about you.

Caroline hums, looking over you. "I see. Pleasure."

You nod. She turns back to Dick.

“If I can be of any help to your project, you let me know,” she adds, glancing down at where her empty arm now hangs at her side. “Anything.” 

“That's generous of you, Carrie.” 

Dick and I go way back.

Oh. Right. You're stupid. They've dated. 

“We should have dinner,” she continues. “Catch up. I'm dying to know what Gotham's darling has been up to.”

“I feel sick,” you announce. 

Dick and Caroline turn to you. Caroline looks perplexed, like you've just said you like to chew concrete. 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she says, hardly sparing you a glance. "Perhaps you ought to lie down."

You feel Dick's eyes on you. If you don't leave soon, he'll know you're lying. Possibly the worst part about dating Batman's protégé.

Suddenly, leaving this hall is the most important thing you've ever had to do. You feel like you'll die if you don't.

Your feet start moving.

"Baby—"

Anyway, this is Caroline's chance. She can swoop in with her trust fund and while you think Dick can do way better than her—he can always do better—anyone is better than you. For Dick Grayson, who has been a master acrobat since he was a child, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, indubitably intelligent, capable, beautiful, the best goddamn guy you'll ever know—

You've lost your way. You're out of the gala, away from duchesses and doom. And you meant to get your coat but this hall that Bruce rented is enormous. You've no idea where you are. But you're alone.

Bruce must've known too, how unfit you are for his son. And why wouldn't he tell Dick? Unless Dick ignored him, because Dick, for all his smarts, is stupidly in love with you, thinks you're where he should put his heart, is certain you won't fumble and drop it.

Warm, callused fingers catch your wrist and you remember, suddenly, Dick telling you once, after you'd nearly stumbled into the street, that he'd never let you fall.

You meet his eyes. Why does he look at you like that? Who gave him the right to look at you like-like you—as if you could ever deserve—

"Hey," he says, squeezes your hand. "Hey, hey. What's going on?"

Dick Grayson is not a trusting man but he trusts you and good God, you're about to break him.

"I need to break up with you," you blurt.

"What?" he breathes. "What—why would you say that?"

You wish he'd give you the slip he gave everyone in that room, gently separate your arm from his hand. You never learned how to evade Dick's touch.

"Because it's true. Dick, please understand—"

"No, I'm trying to understand. Because yesterday—no, tonight, you were fine—"

"No, Dick, I wasn't fine! I haven't been fine in months!"

You wrench your arm away. He looks like you slapped him.

"You know anybody I talk to in there means nothing, right? You know that, honey." He's pleading.

You curl your fist into your eye. "It's more than that, Gray."

"Then tell me what the problem is," he says desperately. "Tell me and we'll fix it. I promise we can fix it."

"You can't!" you say, voice cracking. "You can't fix me."

Dick shakes his head. "I don't—"

"Why can't you let me break up with you with a little bit of dignity?" you ask. "Do you have to be better at this too?"

"I don't want to break up," he says, tugging at a handful of his hair. "This doesn't make sense. We're happy. You're happy, aren't you? Don't I make you happy?"

"Of course," you choke out. "Of course you make me happy. But you don't see I'm bad for you. You're wonderful and perfect and golden, Dick. And I'm a stain. I need to be scrubbed away."

"Wh—that's not true!"

"Everywhere we go, people see me with you and are immediately confused. I'm not a superhero, I'm not royalty, I'm not a socialite, and yet somehow I've managed to snag Gotham's darling. This is a mistake. I'm trying to do you a favor and wake you up!"

Dick's face is hard with anger. How could you have thought this would be easy?

"I don't need to be woken up! What is it that makes you think I have no agency over the people I choose to spend time with? Everyone I meet thinks they're entitled to touch me, demand me. Everyone but you. You, the person I chose to love, who I love everyday. Do you think you pulled the wool over my eyes and you're snapping me out of it? Is that what you really think?"

And isn't this the most puzzling thing? That he's not sad or gently accepting; Dick is mad.

"I just—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell, but really, I can't bear it if you see me as some god on a pedestal, unattainable and inhuman, like everyone else sees me. I love you on purpose."

"You're so accomplished, though," you say weakly. "You're..." You wave your hand over him. "You're fucking Nightwing, D. You were Robin, you have superheroes for friends, Batman for a parent, you're beloved by, like, all of Jersey—"

"My love, you know those are just parts of me. You see all of me. You know me. And that's not a one-way privilege, okay? I'm so damn lucky to know you, to love you, to be with you, to fight with you. To fight for you. Knowing you isn't something I take for granted."

"But I'm boring," you say, tears spilling over. "Jesus Christ, Dick, I'm plain and untalented, barely a dime to my name, so painfully ordinary that—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking your face in his hands. "Flying around or shooting lasers out of your eyes, sure, it's cool, and it's helpful for taking down an alien dictator. But I don't need you to do any of that, honey. I don't need nor want you to be anyone but you. I wasn't tricked or swindled into loving you. We caught each other halfway, just like we were meant to."

You let him pull you into his arms, let him press your tear stains to his silk pocket square, let his hair fall around you.

His embrace is solid, firm, but when he inhales, his shoulders shake.

"Do you—" He swallows, throat against yours. "Do you still want to break up?"

His heart beats against your cheek.

"I'm just afraid you'll get tired of me," you whisper. "Bored. Annoyed."

"I won't," he whispers. "You're the least boring person ever. It's never boring to be loved."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dick's warmth encloses you.

"No, I don't want to break up. I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter, and you realize you never had to match Dick's tie. Not when you've got his heart.

[luxuourr]

WHEN YOU know LOA AND FEEL FAT/SKINNY/INSECURE.

currently made this post for me and everyone who has these issues

I've got alot of trauma , growing up as the chubby cute baby became taunts and mockery, i never looked fat and ugly and anything like this , I was always admired everywhere for my body except at my house and over the years it's become my trauma, my mom being a psychologist and still not realizing her solutions from the internet, telling me my leptin hormone is shit,my metabolism is so slow or I have PCOS as an intersex it never made sense, she never did make any sense and I know some people in this community have been struggling and are struggling with weight loss since for years. I have come across this manifesting coach, most of y'all know called electrasoul and for context they struggled with body image issues and weight loss too until it clicked in their mind. Those are some of the most important points I made you'll love. You will fall in love with this guys.

SHE DID NOT CHANGE HER DIET, YOU DONT HAVE TO EITHER.

"WTF that's not true, impossible, nah you need to count your calories and workout to loose weight , ain't no way my lifestyle doesn't have to change and brain needs to be controlled", so it really works like that. First of all this drill of changing diets and workouts that has been draining us people who wanna loose weight has been going on since we have been mature, the biggest enemy of our weight has been our own parents, if you're skinny, you're too skinny. if you're healthy, you're too healthy but you now need to find yourself a balance but it'll only come if you're a LOA person and finally have the will to loose weight, throw logic and society's diets and workouts out rn , if you're too tired for that , you don't need it. The brain is the strongest part of your body because it's capable of doing things you'd never imagine.

KNOWING AND STATE

first you need to know what you want, so you wanna gain or loose weight , or you want a healthy weight? ok did you choose what you want now let's proceed.

all your life they told you to eat less otherwise you'd be overweight and eat more to gain weight but sometimes underweight people genuinely eat enough or don't like eating and don't gain weight and sometimes people who are overweight barely eat at all, it's just their mind " oh I drink water and gain weight " ofc bro you really drilled it in your mind to be this way. The essential step is that don't look for logic. Law of assumption was made to remind you nevillie didn't need knowledge to marry the woman of his dreams and you don't need logic or calories In the world of law of assumption where you made rules. ARE CALORIES EVEN REAL, IS DIETING SOMETHING WHEN YOU ARE GOD?? YOU'RE CREATING THIS ALL THEN WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO OTHER HUMANS AND THEIR BS WHEN ITS YOUR LIFE.

dieting and workouts is for the weak, the true mind power lies in you, it is now your choice to turn your weaknesses into strengths, It is now your choice to eat food knowing you're gonna loose and reach your body goals with it. So apparently the best way and a good example of this , that you will understand what I mean is, you can still eat food staying naturally in the state or affirming.

calories are nothing to me in my life

eating makes me loose / gain weight

no matter what I do, I have my dream body

my metabolism is slow/fast ( if you wanna loose or gain weight )

No matter what I eat, whatever i do, however I eat, binge or die and cry or spiral, I have to gain / loose weight

this is literally my world so I have decided and have my ideal body and weight.

These are the examples of simple affirmations you can use to persist, even while eating.

DONT COUNT YOUR CALORIES

if you truly believe in LOA stop counting calories , calories is a man made thing , bro who tf even found out about something that you can't see, do fruits grow and are labelled low or high cals? did they experiment people for fat or thin, to find out that?? nahh bffr ☹️ giving the control of your life to some dumbass calories scientists made. We don't believe in that. Girl you're just having a maintained body for the rest of your life no matter what ✊🏻

IT IS YOUR CHOICE

whether you can start affirming and assuming and knowing that you're at your ideal weight , food makes you loose or gain weight or tire yourself with diets and workout if you're already tired from every aspect of your life.

for someone struggling with PTSD AND DEPRESSION

This is an honest advice, goodluck loosing/gaining weight/ getting your ideal body.

you don't have to stop all those sugary stuff and things want, just assume you can do this. ✊🏻🌹

[raeofsunrise]

hey!! can i request finnick enamored with a reader who plays hard to get? and she’s desirable like finnick and they met in the capitol after snow tried to push the image of them being king and queen with equal levels of desirability? thanks!

showing my cards ☆ finnick odair x f. reader

summary: never would you let someone like finnick odair into your life, but finnick odair was an exception.

warnings: mentions of sex trafficking, finnick’s trafficking, no use of y/n, poorly written dialogue, capitol issues, first meeting cliche, reader’s hard to get, mentions of alcohol, i dont know if i love this or hate it

1k words

~・☆・~

you’d never liked it easy. whether it was intentional or not, you always found a way to make things harder then they had to be. maybe it was your upbringing, maybe it was just the way you were, but you never found the right person.

even as queen of panem.

it wasn’t anyone’s fault, truly. growing up was about survival. the games and everything after that was about survival. but god, how you wished that you could love someone.

it wasn’t like your life was incomplete without love, but you’d never found that someone to love. it was never…right. always some downside to the person.

it didn’t help that you changed your mind right as someone’s hand found their way into yours, or someone’s lips found their way to your lips. you wanted to live in it, to revel in the feeling of passion someone was giving to you, but it never clicked. and you hated it. it made you feel uncertain.

you never let that uncertainty show though. that’s how you got your title: “the poker faced jewel of panem. never letting her real feelings thorough. so misleading. so mystical. so hard to get.

and you played along. better to let them think you’re a person who leads another on because of no particular reason than to let them see through your facade you’d put on for so many years.

unfortunately, wittiness and mysteriousness can also earn you another title; desirable. and no urge is too nauseating to fulfill in the capitol.

parties, where the drinks tasted like a perfume your stylist had selected for you that evening. dinners, where even outside of a camera’s view, you had to entertain. to put on a performance.

it was at one of these parties, though, where you’d been invited with no certain reason why. the only other victor at this party was the only one in the capitol who was as beloved as you.

it had been four years after your “victory” in the hunger games, so you knew everyone fairly well. you just never got around to introducing yourself to finnick odair. seemed odd enough too, seeing as you were neighbors in district four. he was rarely home, though. a situation you knew all too well.

you decided tonight could be the night. as good as any other capitol party. you waited for when he finally got out of the grasp of a very handsy customer, who looked like she’d been downing glass after glass of alcohol.

you turned around, preparing yourself to walk up to him, only to turn around and be met with the sight of eyes that could make the waters part.

and for a split second, it felt like this was how you were supposed to live. in each other’s presence.

you decided to speak first. “hello, odair.” you say.

“looking for some fresh air tonight?” he asks, walking towards the entrance of the building.

strangely, you already felt comfort in his foreign presence. feelings of an unknown name started to bubble up, and you couldn’t allow that to happen.

“why? trying to get me alone so you can dazzle me into dating you?” you reply, having absolutely no idea where the cold undertone came from.

finnick knew of your repuation, but he also knew that every victor has their role. whether it be the crazy one, or the one with nothing to lose. it was something he knew all too well. but still, hearing your sarcastic remarks and replies made his heart flutter a little more each time. so he kept pushing.

he put a hand on his chest, feigning injury. “ouch,” he says. “seems like someone’s enjoying the party.”

you let out a scoff. “yes, absolutely ecstatic about my being here.” you say, walking ahead of him and outside.

you make your way to a sort of balcony, overlooking a garden in the gorgeous front yard of someone’s mansion. you pitied the person that would have to clean up after this.

finnick walks up next to you, leaning his arms against the railing, mirroring you.

“what is the queen of panem thinking about?” he says, sarcasm and humor delicately laced into his voice.

you turn your head to look at him. you were about to speak, but the sight that was in front of you was jarring.

you knew finnick was gorgeous. it was a known fact throughout panem. but cameras did not do him justice. you never understood why he needed all the fancy lighting the capitol provided. the moonlight cascading down his face and drawing out his features was certainly enough for you, you thought.

remembering the question he had asked god knows how long ago, you brought yourself back to reality. “she thinks about why finnick odair is asking what she thinks about.” you say, turning your head away from him and looking down.

he laughs. “touché.” he says, trailing off.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh. you don’t know why, there’s just something so intimate about the whole interaction.

you decide it’s your turn to ask a question. “how’re you enjoying the party?” you ask.

“party? could’ve sworn it was a funeral with how many people there look like they could’ve witnessed the rebellion.” he says, earning a laugh from you.

finnick swears that making you laugh within the first ten minutes of your meeting is one of his biggest accomplishments. he’d been enamored with you since he’d heard your laugh that night.

you’ve never known what it’s felt like to have someone go this far without making you change your mind, so you let the conversation happen.

you’ve heard of finnick’s reputation. his alleged personality, his habits. you’d never let someone like finnick into your life. but finnick himself could slide.

maybe, just maybe, you’d show your cards for finnick odair.

hii!! really hope you like what i did with the request! i tried to put in every component but i may’ve gone a bit astray! please leave feedback it’s greatly appreciated ☆

[alessabriel]

circles in heaven and circles in hell

Cw. Past Lucifer Morningstar x ReaderFem!, blood, inaccurate representations of heaven and hell from Hazbin Hotel, typical canon violence, Alastor is aroace (but he won't totally fit everyone's representation of him) but he is married, Alastor is if it's a warning, ReaderFem Angel superior and a fallen angel after she became sovereign, use of "Lettore" which is Reader (only in Italian because it looks cute)

🪽You were an angel created in the image and likeness of the first woman Lillth but, the divine correction you heard among the elder seraphim, and although you were created in the image and likeness of the first woman you were not placed in the hands of man, of humanity but maintained close to God fulfilling a duty of caring for souls to reach heaven on earth directly, it was an exhausting duty but it made you close to humans, seeing them up close, they were strangely fascinating as well as terrifying. Their creations were magnificent, advances for their survival and then their comfort, they were interesting beings, you loved humans in their ambivalent existence and God loved you for it, you knew how to see the bad and the good, the bad was punished even if it hurt but you didn't. you opposed it. You obeyed and complied, until Lucifer entered your soul, you loved the creations he gave to humanity. You an improved creation of Lilith and the image and likeness of God: Lucifer were divine beings seen as the joy of heaven and the meaning that order and peace went hand in hand, they became friends, confidants and although sometimes they did not You understood, you came to love him, managing to see the good that he brought, but you saw how everyone turned their backs on him, throwing him into hell, which he himself created, calling him a troublemaker. And you loved him to the point of falling with him, of taking off that blindfold that covered your eyes with a soft comfort for you given by the hands of God, of staying by his side when he was sinking.

🪽You had never doubted God's efforts and order, but when you saw that, when you saw the enormous punishment given to Lucifer, doubts began to assail you. Did God love everyone as he said? You began to notice that his love was governed by usefulness, by prompt action, and it was frankly painful because you lived for years comfortably in that scheme, being useful and therefore being loved.

🪽Then you made the worst mistake in the eyes of all of heaven, making Lucifer's gift prosper in humanity and in the souls to come, who would decide and have the freedom to believe or not believe, for which you were thrown into hell by the same hands of who was your father, who created you as the correction of all the evil that resulted in Lilith.

🪽They never called you a mistake, but you thought you saw a slight pain in the eyes of the one who believed you, but you accepted the pain, and the punishment that it all meant, because even if they gave you the opportunity to recognize your mistakes and repent, you would not find anything in yourself to repent For this reason, from among the clouds of heaven you descended, falling into hell, which to your surprise was nothing more than seven rings of sins resulting from the creations of Lucifer, which among all things was the result of each human being being able to make their decisions and not. They dressed so badly, yes they made mistakes and so on, but inside everything they decided themselves knowing the result and lived comfortable lives according to their decisions.

🪽If no one called you a mistake it would be because you would make the worst mistake; feeling love towards Lucifer when his sad heart belonged to another, you believed you could heal and heal the wounds left by Lilith, caring for her and loving him, understanding him, helping him with the hell in chaos that Lilith left behind with a little girl who cried at the carelessness of his two parents.

🪽Everything was a mistake except taking care of Charlie Morningstar, a little sun created in hell and who was charming, her smiles were the right balm on the wounds you never allowed to heal. Charlie was the only success.

🪽The second worst mistake was believing that Lucifer loved you on those nights where he professed his love in desperate prayers, seeking comfort in need. And perhaps whoever believed you was right, love dictated in desperation may contain truth but where is the line drawn between truth and what is said to obtain relief?

🪽Were you stupid? In fact, were you close to falling into that self-destructive pit with him? Unfortunately yes, but you managed to leave with bleeding fingers and the dull pain in your chest caused by the cruel rejection of Lucifer encouraged by Lillth in his moment of glorious return, which you accepted with pain. It was a scar that no longer itched, a mark forgotten long ago when the physical pain was completely overshadowed by the person you believed loved you, because he swore so and whispered it in your ear at night. But, as soon as she returned from the past to continue what she left behind as if it were a book left in the middle, you understood better. Unfortunately you understood it perfectly; you were just a distraction, a mere game until she will return, until Lilith will get tired of being in heaven and will go down back to hell recovering everything she left behind; her husband Lucifer and daughter Charlie (you didn't know it but she was happy to see Lillth but that place as a mother was occupied by the one who accompanied her every night of nightmares, who wiped her tears and motivated her to never give up until she had tried, to be who he was and was you).

🪽And although hell was seen almost as a seedy slum full of sinners and demons seeking to destroy, it was only more than a human city with chaos and no rules due to how Lucifer allowed himself to sink and leaving his kingdom only to have a few years of order (because you took care of it in its worst moments to allow it to heal and it never did) but if hell had taught you anything with its unpredictable changes in climate, crime, strange sinners everywhere and only small extraordinary events happening, was that, resilience was your motto. It was when you fought for Lucifer, when you raised your voice in his name, when you wanted to take his pain and make it yours, when you helped him raise a daughter that he himself neglected, and when he left you after years because Lilith had come from return to his life, as if it had not meant eternal days of suffering that you witnessed and it was painfully ironic, that all of Lucifer's depression was fixed with the return of Lilith. Lilith was his solution to everything.

🪽In retrospect, you were used to suffering so much in heaven in a pleasant and comfortable ignorance since if you were useful and fulfilled you would be eternally loved by the one who created you as in hell where you finally knew the pain of humiliation and a broken heart combined , until you yourself got up from the puddle of tears you had created. Was it difficult? Did it hurt too much? Significantly a lot. Was there resentment in your heart? Since you had to tear off your own wings. The sky was a wound that bled with raw slowness until the last drop was squeezed out and left you with no blood or tears to shed. Hell a scar that regenerated before each extermination, rising as if nothing had happened. Resilience was definitely your motto and you carried it in your soul.

🪽After the time you allowed yourself to suffer and wallow in your self-pity, you managed to see that hell was not all bad as you taught Charlie in the past when she was a child. It had its pros and cons, with that new perspective you forged a reputation and power in hell, consolidating yourself as another sovereign, since, as expected, they were the ones who managed the ring of pride in its entirety in the face of Lucifer's inactivity (now you risk ) and, to your surprise, everyone wanted to rub shoulders with you, your power and past a secret well hidden behind your calm and imperturbable expression, as well as the sinners that were accumulating in your long list of contracts, benefits for both parties, you took care of their interests by getting what you wanted from them, obtain their loyalties without pain. And then, in the newly acquired comfort it happened, it was as if a ray of light other than hell fell on that other sovereign who approached you, you could notice at that time an unprecedented desperation in his body and well hidden behind his eternal smile that I wasn't fooling you at all. You met him; Alastor, the Radio Demon.

|| For Lettore it was common to receive a few sinners a day, he had managed to get into good hands a sector of hell almost at the end of the circle of hell that was neglected and characterized by guerrillas who ceased when their power cleared them of burdens but overwhelmed them with new chains with more slack, which the sinners were grateful for by being loyal and starting the foundations of what would be known as the Impure District, it was a masterful control and born from nothing before the eyes of all hell.

Everyone had crazy ideas.

None close to reality, all nonsense fueled by crazy theories and encouraged by the euphoria of interesting information. But no one but the bound sinners knew, even though they would rather tear out their tongues than speak. Secrets that ensured loyalties forged by the fire of mutual benefit.

Therefore, for Lettore, receiving sinners was common, allowing access from the top of the library of his home; a large house well hidden by a sinuous and sinister forest that extended in some parts of the district as if it were a garden, a deceptive forest. In the brief moment when the last book was slid into place, Lettore felt that he was not a common sinner but a sovereign and therefore he paid attention to it with curiosity.

"To what do I owe your presence in my home this day?" The woman questions, her voice soft and silky, calm.

Alastor, who had come without knowing where else to turn and with the dilemma still fresh in his hands, decided to show a lack of faith (however ironic it was and it was a joke that he would genuinely laugh at) by going to the sovereign who emerged from among the shadows like a dream, a nightmare that was calm but left terror installed.

"I have heard rumors throughout hell since their appearance," the radio demon explained briefly with his characteristic voice covered by the effect of subtle static. "I have wanted to have the pleasure of knowing if they are true or not."

Lettore only looked at him for a few seconds before inviting him to have a cup of tea, with the comfort between them, just a fixed gaze on Alastor was enough, noticing the tension in his being, like ropes from a guillotine about to fall. She suppressed a smile as she was able to get an idea, no sovereign was free from dangers, quite the contrary and she knew that well, it was not for nothing that Alastor had become sovereign by devouring and destroying all the original sovereigns.

"...there are many rumors, I would appreciate it being clearer," the woman commented in a harmonious voice.

And perhaps Alastor was precarious (among so many sins) to be direct, he felt the shackle tied and tight around his neck just before cutting his neck, which was causing him anger, desperation that he could barely keep within his being, he wanted to tear and to be able to swallow such a harpy who had tied him up, challenged him and left him on the verge of losing what he had earned through years of instilling terror and fear, so he would have to let that truth out no matter how much he didn't want to.

"...I've heard from some sinners that you managed to get them out of contracts," the deer demon said bluntly.

The woman only handled herself carefully, without much importance in the face of such loud recognition and above all, she did not react. Lettore knew very well that a secret that was never believed was a well-kept secret, truths denied and rejected were someone else's advantage.

"...Why would you look for someone capable of breaking contracts?" The female questioned with a bewitching voice, almost seductive, just dazzling the ears.

"Because someone managed to tie me up as collateral," the radio demon blurted out, noticing that sweet voice full of secrets behind that condescending edge. "Why not be honest?"

The woman only limited herself to leaving her cup on the delicate and elegant black porcelain plate, on the low table of a pleasant room filled with a sweet aroma.

"...if I undo the deal, you will now be tied to me, equivalence" he explained in an assertive voice and without hesitation "I need to know what was in the contract, so I can break it and forge a deal with me, but my deals are eternal until let me decide"

For the radio demon it was as if an enormous weight was lifted from his shoulders, the mere idea of ​​being able to remove that contract from his soul with that similar harpy who had only ambushed him, forcing him into a deal that he never sought or asked for. . Alastor sighed, recovering his eternal smile as if he had control of the entire situation, things that, although not so true, were in part.

"It's a long story dear"

"...hell is eternal and its nights seem endless" ||

🪽It only took one night to know his biggest secret, he was tied to Lilith out of obligation, he had never accepted and was manipulated beyond his understanding, and you could taste his frustration in the air, but, his contract came to an end because of you. hand and that contract was transferred to your long list, only fulfilling part of what was stipulated in the past; Make sure you keep a close eye on the Hazbin Hotel.

🪽From that night Alastor became close to you, both of you found a quiet place in each other's company; Alastor, with his voice always covered in subtle static, became the everyday hum in your ears and without knowing your voice, always soft, became what Alastor always wanted to hear.

🪽With time together and creating a daily life, it was as if you found something that you had been missing for a while. You knew his life and he knew yours, you lost count of how many nights you spent enchanted by everything he experienced as a human, how many outings to have a drink together and mornings waking up under the same roof. Broadcasts on the air dedicated to you, even if no one else knew and only you knew that, a sweet secret that made you feel euphoric. Gifts and details found around the house, from a single red rose to sweets placed in areas where you would see them clearly. They created together a domestic comfort that surpassed any sensation and feeling, it was as if you had found your soulmate, which complemented you. Alastor always took you out of your comfort zone, made you try things you would never have thought of and live, you felt like you were living next to him. It was a completely new feeling.

📻 For Alastor, it was an invigorating and novel sensation that did not leave his being complete, each transmission he broadcast with Lettore in mind he enjoyed much more almost with the same feeling of purpose and fascination as when he was human, in each night spent in his home or that of her new companion telling her all her experiences as a human, seeing how her eyes shone in a singular way like a moon in the sky overshadowing any star around her, meals shared together even with her peculiar tastes (deer or human meat) she just smiled in an exasperated but amused way with that soft pout that she never noticed he made and he felt a strange sensation of fullness, filling him even with society. It was a sensation and feeling of being complete, of having found his complement and those strange nights that he invited her to his cabin where only once he transmitted with her there and managed to hear her sweet song, a song worthy of a seraph like her since she knew her entire history, her past and present, the pain she carried in her chest that she let go of to start living, she knew of her love for Charlie even when Lucifer made her suffer and feel like a used toy. Frankly, she was surprised when she felt a forceful and overwhelming anger take him into the jaws of a beast, because of that pain in her, but what prevailed in her being was to give her words of encouragement: "You are not to blame for anything, there are people who will not value a good heart in this hell" and a hug that took him by complete surprise because he started it because he hated being touched but the moment he felt her hands on his back, clinging to him, it was like a warmth that, far from being overwhelming It was like a breath of fresh air.

📻 Alastor was tied to Lettore but being tied to her didn't cause him major weakness or anything, just a light protection and the feeling that (even if it was twisted) he was always a humming distance away (because he's already heard her crystalline laugh and which bells when he made him appear at his home out of nowhere and it made him laugh just remembering it) so taking care of Charlie in his hotel was like a thank you to Lettore, and he always carried that gold watch in his pocket, a gift that meant like a small world; As a human, he had never found that watch no matter how much he searched and Lettore gave it to him, it was the first gift that almost moved him to the point of removing the moisture from his eyes, but he did not shed any tears (although honestly he was close to nothing).

🪽Alastor's presence in your life was everyday and you came to feel a silence foreign to hell. And the memory of Alastor's reddish doe ears when you gave him the gift that it took you a while to obtain would never be forgotten.

📻 Alastor had racked his brain thinking about a suitable gift to match the one Lettore gave him but, it was in front of him the entire time he was at the Hazbin Hotel so, one day when Charlie would have guests he would also bring someone (he didn't say who) who would support the idea of ​​the hotel. So bringing Lettore to the Hotel, on his arm the moment they set foot inside Charlie ran towards his companion and it was a sweet feeling. Which became even more exquisite seeing the veiled anger in Lillth and Lucifer's gaze.

|| Lettore couldn't help but wrap his arms around Charlie, feeling how he squeezed you tightly and with the feeling on the surface, you kissed his forehead.

"Charlie," Lettore said in a harmonious and soft voice, seeing Charlie's crystallized gaze, "I'm proud of you."

For Charlie, hearing those words coming from the lips of the one who took care of her little girl, of the one who remembered her tears cleanly and accompanied her in every important moment until he left her with a painful but bittersweet farewell with a promise to always take care of her and to be together again. . He couldn't help but hug her tightly.

"Mom," Charlie stammered, still clinging to Lettore, feeling like she was treasured in the arms of someone who would never doubt loved her. "Thank you for coming to the hotel. I want to show you everything!"

Charlie excitedly took Lettore by the hand, talking non-stop about her project with Alastor accompanying them from behind, passing by Lillth and Lucifer, not intentional. ||

📻 🪽

[blushweddinggowns]

Despite the fact that he had been spending the past three years intermediately dealing with the supernatural, Lucas had to admit, his life was going pretty damn good. Like okay. Yes, he almost certainly had a case of PTSD going on from all the demons and monsters he’d been forced to encounter, and the murders he’d unfortunately witnessed. 

But like, besides that, his first year of highschool was kind of awesome? He made it on the basketball team, varsity, despite being a freshman. Something that hadn’t happened since Steve was in school. And yeah, maybe he was a benchwarmer in a way Steve hadn’t been, but whatever. He was still on the team! 

Max freaking Mayfield was somehow still his girlfriend, a miracle in and of itself considering all of the insane shit she’d gone through. He was, for literally the first time in his life actually within the popular crowd, or at least popularish, all while not having to give up any of the silly, nerdy things that used to make him a target in the first place. And okay, maybe he wasn’t expressly advertising the full extent of his obsession with Hellfire with his teammates, but whatever. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Besides, his best friends would always come first, even if they were all really annoying about his new interest in sports. 

Everyone except Steve, who was the only one outside of his dad who was actually proud of him for pursuing something new. And that wasn’t even mentioning how the guy had taken the time to practice with him every weekend for months in preparation for try-outs. And he knew so freaking much. That was one perk of having a head basketball coach that had been around for twenty years, the alumni were definitely able to teach you all their plays. Lucas could nearly read the head coach’s mind by the time the official season rolled around, all thanks to Steve. 

Steve who, in Lucas’ humble opinion, did not get enough credit for being their coolest friend. Yeah Eddie was great, more than great, he was awesome but… Lucas couldn’t help but think that it was Eddie who was lucky to have Steve, not the other way around. He loved both of them to death, but it was Steve who got his ass handed to him by Billy Hargrove to keep Lucas safe and who fought demodogs with nothing but a bat. All in the same day. It was Steve who helped to keep his dumbass sister alive when she thought it was a good idea to get involved with the Upside Down shit, and who hit a possessed racist with a stolen car right before he almost killed them all. 

Lucas thought he was badass, even if he kind of acted like a lame, overprotective dad half the time. Steve had earned the paranoia when it came to their safety, especially since he was one of the only reasons he and all of his friends were even alive. 

He was just… cool. And probably none of his friends would agree with him on this, but he was kind of… suave? With the hair and the cool car and the no-fucks-given attitude. And yeah, maybe working at a video store in a silly little vest while living in his boyfriend’s lap didn’t exactly match the image, but whatever. Steve would always be cool to him, even if the rest of the world couldn’t see it. 

He would be the coolest person he knew if he wasn’t aware of a literal superhero and his own super, awesome girlfriend. But he was a solid third place. Max, El, then Steve. And maybe it was a little insane to put Max above the girl with superpowers, but hey, she’d earned it. And he was horribly biased, but sue him. Not many people could roll with the punches in the way that girl could. Or be that funny while going through such a few hellish years. 

Lucas was just happy that she lived near Eddie and Steve, especially since her mom’s embarrassing mental breakdown. He kind of hated the woman for making Max’s life more difficult than it already was, but he kept that one to himself. It wouldn’t help anything but God, did he wish that she could get it the fuck together for once in her damn life. 

Even with her shitty mom, Max was never alone, not if Lucas could help it. Though things had been pretty rough for a second there. She had dumped him pretty soon after Billy had passed away, not that he minded. Lucas was willing to go through their stupid cycle of breaking up and getting back together for the rest of his life if it meant being with her. But that last time had felt too… real for his liking. Not because of anything he did, but just from the fact she couldn’t handle having a boyfriend, her mother’s marriage falling apart, and the guilt from her step brother dying all in one go. 

Though eventually she did reach back out and they at least got to stay friends. A friendship that didn’t last long. He had really tried not to let his feelings get in the way of being there for her, but the love he had was too obvious to be ignored forever. He was just lucky as fuck that she still felt the same way. And Lucas hadn’t been messing around when it came to his second chance. His dorky side had definitely come in handy for his overnight transformation into the best boyfriend ever. He forced Eddie and his own mom to give him some cooking lessons. Because if Max’s shitty parent couldn’t provide what she needed, then fuck it. Lucas would. And the smile she would give him every time he’d bring her a homemade lunch or dinner was so worth Erica making fun of him for being whipped. He was even taking notes on all of the successful relationships he knew, going as far as interviewing his own parents and Steve and Eddie like the little weirdo he was. But all tips were necessary for him not to mess this up. 

And it did help. He got her to open up, slowly but surely. He got the chance to actually be there for her, and that’s all he really wanted. And it had been so freaking worth it. She was smiling again, laughing and being herself despite the crappy circumstances surrounding her life. And outside of Steve and his dad, she was the only one who actually gave a shit about his basketball games. She was always at every one of them with no complaints, despite the fact that he knew it wasn’t her thing. She would even get mad at the others for not taking it seriously on his behalf, and she had forced Dustin and Mike to start going through intimidation alone.

She was always able to say the quiet part loud, a talent that was definitely a godsend for his current situation. 

Lucas had a lot of patience. It was something he prided himself on, something that took years to cultivate. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t pissed that his friends weren’t even considering rescheduling Hellfire to go to the championship game, even if he was having a hard time specifically saying it. 

Max did not have that same problem. 

“You’re telling me you can’t stand up to Eddie Munson of all people?” Max asked, hands on her hip in a certified Steve stance as she stared his best friends down, “Are you freaking kidding me right now?”

Lucas didn’t know why having your girlfriend fight your battles for you was considered emasculating. From his point of view it was pretty awesome, especially with how scared Dustin and Mike were looking. 

“He can be intimidating when he wants to be!” Dustin tried, cringing at the way Max glared at him. 

“The guy who cried at Splash is intimidating to you?” She asked, incredulous, “That guy? Fucking really?”

They both shrugged, but at least they had the grace to look a little guilty now. But Max still wasn’t having it, “You know what? I don’t even know why I’m asking you guys. Move.”

She barreled past them, not even looking back to see if she was being followed. She was; all three of them were too invested to see where she was going with this. She went straight to a pay phone, dialing the number while mumbling rude comments under her breath.

She was so freaking cool. Had Lucas mentioned that he loved her? 

She perked up when the call was answered, sighing into the phone, “Steve? I need a favor.”

from the latest chapter of this fic

[overlyimmersed]

I'm sure this is no surprise.

My followers wouldn't expect me to not talk about all this new Fairy lore and the little royals, would you?

All-in-all we actually didn't learn very much lore-wise. We learned that changelings are a thing. And that Harlequin has outlawed this type of "prank" to keep peace with humanity.

Now I'm not really a theorist. I analyze what's explicitly in front of us.

However...I'd be lying if I said I don't LOVE the theories going around right now and TOTALLY subscribe to them. Nasiens being a Fairy, Mertyl being a human, all because of changeling shinanigans. LOVE IT.

And speaking of our Fairy prince. I actually really like Mertyl. He's rough no doubt, but I'm glad someone is taking the threat of humanity seriously. That being said, I don't super appreciate him commandeering other people's trauma for his argument like that.

Controversial opinion here, but Tioreh is super annoying XD But it's not a bother really, she's just her mother's daughter that's all. And I'm not really a huge fan of Diane. Still it's fine.

Now I know I just said I'm not one to theorize,

Is anyone else getting Helbram vibes off this kid? Maybe it's just the expression, I don't know, but it'd be cool if got to be reincarnated.

I'd still like to know why Tioreh and this brother have their wings so early. Every one of these children is 16 or less, they should VERY much be immature why both Fairy AND Giant standards.

That littlest brother over there is the only one following the rules...

And is also very cutely just the spitting image of his dad :p just like how one of his oldest sisters looks just like Diane.

And the youngest daughter seems to reflect the Giant blood just as flawlessly as the younger brother does his Fairy half. So that's neat. There's a really good mix of how genetics can present among this litter of theirs.

And this bit's not really analytical at all but I just wanna say

My god, he is just so pretty!!

I think it's fun to see all the siblings laughing here, except Mertyl of course cuz he's not pleased with any of this, and...

That youngest brother. He's not laughing either. In fact we don't see him make much if and expression at all in the whole chapter... Wonder what his little deal is. Maybe he's just a neutral personality, -not common with Fairies nor much like his mother- or maybe he's on his brother's side of the issue?

Another aside I want to add; the older daughter the pig tails, and the brother with wings are almost exactly what I imagined for the two fan kids I made up for Harlequin and Diane. So I hope they have good names.

I can't wait to find out everyone else's name, and learn more about this changeling business. Where is the story going with all this I wonder? Was it just the introduction of a plot device to give us these theories about Nasiens and Mertyl? Or is this actually going to be a conflict?

Either way, I'm always glad to see more of the Fairies. Of course.

[yanderes-galore]

YES YES YES I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG FOR DARK SOULS (I didn't realize it was a last minute addition to that one period) 

Could you do general romantic HC's for Pontiff Sulyvahn? He's *such* an irredeemable bastard, and is genuinely the only souls character (Aside from Elden Ring's Mohg, but they're completely separate universes, and maybe an exception for Adrich) that's actually just pure evil. No gray morality or anything. If you don't mind, could you also do a small tidbit on how he'd treat a Crossbreed!Darling? Thanks again, I love your work so much

I tried my best to research and not call upon Dark Souls Anon for this so I hope I did good. Sorry it's short, I wasn't sure what to add :(

Yandere! Pontiff Sulyvahn with Crossbreed! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Imprisonment, Isolation, "Courting" (It's not), Ownership, Dehumanizing behavior, Forced relationship.

Based on what my research has told me, Sulyvahn would be nearly impossible to flee from.

Through charisma, sorcery, and exploitative behavior... Sulyvahn managed to conquer an entire holy city and more.

Once he did so, he created monstrosities through magic and made many of his loyal pets.

Not only that, but he created a magical barrier around Irithyll, one to prevent anyone from leaving or entering unless they were given a certain doll.

I imagine you'd be a crossbreed related to Gwyndolin and Yorshka.

One that has draconic features like other crossbreeds shown (I do believe this is what you meant?)

Sulyvahn would imprison you as his form of courting.

Based on who he is and what he's done in lore, you're yet another pet.

Except, you are no experiment or made a monster by a special ring.

Sulyvahn wants to keep you as you are, weak and at his mercy.

Sulyvahn loves power.

He has twin blades and ridiculously powerful spells at his disposal.

By the time you meet him, he doesn't speak much.

He doesn't have to... his presence exudes an intimidating amount of power.

You're no doubt kept with him at the cathedral, surrounded by holy images and readings... yet held hostage by such an unholy and tainted being.

Can you even call Sulyvahn a man?

He's far from it... He's a monster...

A monster who keeps you as a little pet, under the guise of courting you.

No, every touch he gives is far from loving.

You're a trophy of his conquest, especially as a crossbreed.

His touches are rough, yanking you against his chest when not busy ruling.

Like a doll in the hands of a reckless child.

The very few words he says come out as mocking, all taunts about your siblings.

How's it feel, draconic offspring?

How's it feel to know your brother is being devoured alive?

How's it feel to know your sister is being locked up all alone without you?

If anything, aren't you the luckiest of them?

You get to be with your new ruler.

Through marriage, you'll be his cute little pet.

The time of your family has ended.

It ended long ago.

Sulyvahn uses the fate of your family to taunt you into submission.

He enjoys seeing you shrink away.

You can't go anywhere and you know it.

You'd need the Pontiff's permission...

He'd never do that.

No, to Sulyvahn you belong beside him.

You're his to adore, his to coo at while he mocks you.

His cute little crossbreed to toy with.

Bringing a God to their knees, it's the ultimate power play to him.

You're adorable to him....

It's euphoric to see your fear when you see all the people that used to roam the city become monsters due to that dreaded false flame.

While everyone suffers, Sulyvahn insists on holding you close.

He claims as his spouse... his partner... he'll give you anything but freedom.

He has the power to demand.

Anything he wants, he gets.

He's already caused worse fates than just bloodshed.

If he wants to spoil you for your good behavior, he'll find a way.

Your life may not be the same as your siblings... but it's your own personal hell...

Especially since you're forced to play spouse to the monster who exploited this mess.

You're forced to be the imprisoned cross breed stuck in a cathedral...

Stuck as the pretty spouse for the Pontiff tyrant... the very same one who's holding your siblings captive to earn the obedience of you and the entire city.

[artsygremlin291]

UAAAAA IMG OMG OMG OMFGGGG I LOVE YOUR LOS.GIJINKASSSSSS THEYRE SOOOO COOL!!!! DO YOU HAVE ANY HC FOR THEM???

MY FIRST ASK LETS FUCKING GOOOO you have 'first' comment priviledges

okay that aside, I do have a few for the LoS! I've been in PMTOK since the game launched :) Get ready for a lot of text, pal!

Headcanon time.

Olly created each member very carefully, and let their personalities develop over training, which all took place before the events of PMTOK. Olivia didn't know about his full plan during this time, she thought he'd just build a kingdom, not take over existing ones.

Olly was made years before the 2020 Origami Festival, giving the Craftsman time to raise him and stuff. This made the betrayal harder on Olly.

Olly has dark magic, and Olivia has light magic. The Origami Craftsman made them to represent Yin and Yang, and to create balance in the potential Origami Kingdom.

Olly is EXTREMELY ATTACHED to the LoS, they felt like his only family after feeling so betrayed by the Origami Craftsman (and later, Olivia).

The Origami Craftsman actually made Stapler for Olly when he was younger! Olly's had Stapler since it was a puppy :)

Colored Pencils draws himself and the Legion in his freetime. They're his family and he cherishes them.

Rubber Band and Hole Punch make a great duo, with Hole Punch’s Dances and Rubber Band’s singing. They like to take turns with the spotlight.

Hole Punch has ADHD, and can't pay attention very well. He’s found that music helps him focus. (this may or may not be projecting)

Scissors will often hide their emotions, in fear that people will see them as “weak” if they’re shown to be emotionally vulnerable. They only trust the rest of the LoS with their emotional state.

Tape acts as the "most mature" of the LoS, he keeps everyone in line. They all see him as a sort of older brother figure.

Tape knows a lot of fun ocean facts! He likes to study sea stuff in his free time.

Scissors was actually pretty chill before Olly initated the war. They only discovered their love for bloodshed and sadistic nature during the training. Things got 100% worse when they realized they were the last Legion member alive, that completely broke them mentally.

Hole Punch's voice can influence the other LoS members to a degree, he uses this to calm them all down. This only works because they're all connected to Olly's magic, so it doesn't work on others. (like Mario, Bobby, Olivia, etc etc)

Colored Pencils uses He/They/It, Rubber Band uses It/Its, Hole Punch uses He/They, Tape uses He/Him, and Scissors uses They/Them.

okay just olly headcanons this time except a lot of it is projecting onto him

Olly is extremely self conscious about his public image and being perfect.

Olly has ADHD and Autism, but sees this as a problem and something that makes him “imperfect”.

Olly tends to fidget with small objects when he’s bored, like his earrings or the end of his cape.

Olly has an extremely hard time sleeping, much to his dismay.

Olly tends to shut himself in his room a lot, drowning out the rest of the world with music.

Olly loves piano music, and tends to listen to it to calm down. He also knows how to play piano, this headcanon is due to the little piano melody in the beginning of his battle theme (0:06 to 0:10). Faster melodies when he’s stressed or angry, softer melodies when he’s calm and content.

Olly seems like the kind of person who would know the lyrics to all the disney villain songs, but wouldn't sing around people. (He specifically likes “Be Prepared” from the Lion King)

Before Olly went mad with power and noticed the “scribble” on his stomach, the Origami Craftsman would sing/hum lullabies to Olly to help him sleep or calm down. Olly later passes this through the family by doing the same with Olivia and the Legion to help them sleep or calm down.

He for the love of god cannot control his anger, he tries to stay composed but my GOD is he petty.

Instead of 4th of July, The Mushroom Kingdom has the Origami Festival on July 17th. July 17 is also Olly’s birthday.

Olly hates emotions in general- not from other people, from himself. He hates feeling things and a lot of the time tries to hide his emotions.

Olly is actually very fun loving! He enjoys singing and dancing, festivals, etc.. he just 'grew up too fast' and prioritizes his kingly duties. He thinks it isn't okay for him to "be childish". He envies Olivia's innocence.

Olly takes a huge interest in the legends surrounding the Crystal Stars and the Shadow Queen, even more so since the Craftsman is a descendant of one of the Four Heroes. He rereads the stories about it a lot.

My version of events

Me and my sister got a sort of AU thing going on- and we both say it's canon we're nintendo real

During the ending festival, Mario thinks back to everything that happened, and how Olivia and Olly didn't really have a chance to LIVE. Sure, they were alive, but they didn't get to experience the world as it is, they didn't get to be kids. (Olly is 18, Olivia is 15) Mario decided to do what Olly did.. and with the help of Luigi, Bowser, Peach, and the Toads, the 1000 Paper Crane wish happened again. Olly, Olivia, and the LoS were all brought back to life. They all reside in Peach's Castle until Olly can handle his emotional/mental state and create his own Origami Kingdom, allied with the Mushroom and Koopa Kingdoms. Olly learns by observing how Peach rules and acting as a sort of assistant to her! (Later viewing Peach as a mother figure)

Olivia ends up meeting the rest of Mario's sidekicks, like Kersti, Goombella, Huey, and the Captain of the Odyssey... Cappy! Together they go on adventures in the Odyssey and explore the world, able to have fun and excitement if Mario is too busy. Olivia gets a good kick out of it and is more than happy to go, she sends postcards to Olly.

The Legion of Stationary all settle down and begin focusing on their passions rather than being soldiers for Olly, since he no longer needs that of them. Pencils persues his art, Rubber Band persues it's acting career, Hole Punch decides to help entertain Toad Town with music and dance, Tape begins working with Captain T. Ode to be closer to the oceans.. and Scissors decides to make use of their love for combat, giving training sessions to Toads who want to help protect the Kingdom.

Maybe I'll go on about the AU in another post, this is already long enough- BETCHA DIDN'T EXPECT ALL THAT, HUH?

[love-toxin]

Just gonna harp on vampire!angleface real quick

During the whole demo bat music distraction it's not just eddie, but you tag-team with him. Instead of him going down, you take the fall to the bats. Cut to devastated fruity four, honestly everyone, they just lost a friend, and the four just lost their love.

Days pass and they can't except your gone, it hurts too much, grief and regret of ever letting you get involved. Eddie feeling so completely like he let you down, he couldn't save you.

Then one night, everyone's sleep is disrupted by noises downstairs, Eddie and Steve heading down to investigate. Robin and Nancy following down when the guys seem to be down there to long, and finding them smothering hugging their angel, though you are clearly more toothy than before. But they don't care! They have their darling back so nothing else in the world matters, at least for the moment.

ohohoho....love me some feral angelface >:).....also dear god steve's fuckin badonkadonk in this gif-

(cws: vampire!f!angelface, fruity four, post-s4, character death, canon divergence, violence, blood + hefty gore imagery, grief/mourning elements, references to s2, some LOTR references, the kids make an appearance, el uses her powers, action sequences to broaden my portfolio heyoo!)

All Eddie remembers is blood. Blood and screaming, wailing, inhuman gurgling and the sounds of flesh tearing away from bone--that's the last image he has of you, your limbs bent at odd angles and your body soaked and slick with blood and viscera, your beautiful face drenched in your own blood and your eyes glossy as you whimpered his name, over, and over, and over, his hands shaking as he held you....and then your last breath left your lungs, and you were gone.

To be completely honest, he would've rather died that night. He's wished for the weeks since your death that he would've taken your place, or if he can be completely selfish, if he had just died along with you if that was to be your fate. The feeling of your hands on his back, shoving him out of the way of that first demobat that spelled out your demise, will haunt him for every miserable day he lives without you.

If nothing else, then at least misery loves company. Because the looks on the other's faces, the kids, when they discovered your fate were....they were just awful. Even worse were his partners. Steve, Robin, and Nancy....though the world was numb to him at that point, their voices muffled as if they were speaking to him through glass, he could hear their anguish. Felt Robin's tears on his cheek as she clung to him and sobbed, listened distantly to Nancy's screams of uncontained rage and grief, breaking anything and everything she could find outside. And Steve just stood there as numb as himself, no doubt running through every single choice he made that had led to your death, as he would for the rest of his life.

Losing you, it's like....like Frodo dying on the crack of Mount Doom. The nightmare was almost over, the enduring march nearly to a close, the burden almost broken. Even if you'd been hurt, you would still return home to the Shire. He would've carried you all the way back, eagles or no eagles, and he would've at least taken your body back through the gate if Dustin hadn't dragged him away. "Can't lose you too!" What fucking bullshit. He would have rather died next to you, if it meant he'd at least be wherever you were. He can't bring himself to blame the poor kid, though, because he's been just as gutted at the loss of you, as have all the other kids when they heard the news. A member of the party gone, never coming home.

There's reminders of you everywhere, both intentional and not. Your room hasn't been touched aside from each of them drifting in every so often, settling into your bed or touching the things that still smell of you. Except for Steve--he can't bring himself to step over the threshold of your bedroom, and usually averts his eyes as he passes by it if the door is left open, if he doesn't close it altogether. The clothes you'd left in the dirty hamper never end up getting washed, and yet the food that's always kept in the kitchen that you loved is constantly restocked, whether they end up having to trash it or not. Your spot on the couch is never sat on, but the mug Eddie bought you for your birthday, your favourite of any you've ever owned, is always full and set at your place at the table for every supper. It's painfully monotonous, the same grief being replayed day after day after day, but the rest of the world spins along like Hawkins hasn't lost the best thing it ever fucking had.

But you're dead. The Shire may as well burn without you--burn it all to the ground, because there's no reason to save it if he won't get to share it with you. It doesn't feel at all worth it to wake up every day after that, knowing there's an empty space in the house you all used to share. The hours drag on every day, and it's a lot of monotony, really. The other three try to busy themselves, but the only one who really understands his inertia is Robin--sometimes she just crawls into bed with him when he can't get up, and lets him hold her until she's called away by one of the others. He loves them, loves them just as he loved you, but things can't be the same now that you're gone no matter what they do or how hard they try.

But then comes the day that Dustin's voice crackles through the walkie. Eddie was actually feeling a little better that morning, had a dip in the afternoon but managed to eat dinner with the rest of them. The seat at the end is still sitting empty, the scarf Robin had clumsily knitted you for the cold season draped over the top. Eddie had swallowed down almost the entire bowl of soup when the static had started up, the radio with ever-changing batteries coming to life where it always sits on the kitchen counter.

"Code Red! Code Red! Come in, Riders of Rohan! Steve, fucking pick up the--zzt--goddamn walkie!"

The man in question had rushed out of his seat to squabble back at Dustin through the receiver, annoyed but clearly concerned as he demanded to know the problem--what warranted using the emergency channel when they haven't heard news of any "aftershocks" so to speak, for a while.

"Something's going on--shit, bring your guns, and the bat, too! Meet up at the cellar behind my house--zzt!"

The end of the transmission trails off, and like a group of professional first responders, the four of them forget any further questioning when Steve's frantic palm hitting the side of the radio, and his shout of Dustin's name offers no results. They jump right into action, knocking over their chairs as they scramble through the house to gather their tools--even Eddie, who hurries straight for the broom closet where he's kept his spear and shield from that night. When he throws open the door and reaches for where he knows they're propped up, he hesitates. A flash of a memory zips through his mind.

They didn't save her, so what use are they?

But he ignores that thought. For now, at least, and he grabs both of them to haul them towards the front door. Nancy flips up the window seat in the living room to take out her hidden guns, the shotgun gripped tight in her hand while she tosses the pistol at Robin, and the revolver's handed to Steve for him to stick into the back of his belt--he prefers the bat, though. More control. More familiar.

All suited up, they tear out of the driveway of Steve's otherwise empty house, his BMW kicking up a spray of gravel as he skids on to the road and speeds like a demon towards the Henderson house. They pull up on to the property in record time, barely waiting for Steve to roll to a stop before the three of them are hitting the ground and running around the side of the building--and just about pull their guns on Mike and Will when they come round out of the darkness with a flashlight to meet them, the poor kids almost pissing themselves with respective shrieks as Nancy jerks the muzzle and aims it right at her brother's forehead. With a "Christ, Mike!" and a gasp of relief, she lowers it immediately and follows them as they run down the hill towards those infamous cellar doors, where Dustin, Max, Lucas, and El are all waiting. Steve's the one that runs right to his little protégé, a hand outstretched to grab his baseball cap-clad head as he demands to know the status of everyone.

Eddie himself lingers behind them, garnering a few piteous stares from the other kids. They must know his state of being from what the others have told them, and how they haven't seen much of him since the incident--but they probably didn't know he'd be so quiet, his eyes heavy with bags that his night terrors have kept around, and his stature more hunched and thin and gaunt than before. El seems especially sensitive to his presence, despite knowing little of him personally, and she touches his arm when he gets close with a look of sympathy written clear on her features. It's....surprisingly comforting. Even moreso from a little superhero like her.

And before Dustin can say more than just confirm that everyone present is fine, the heavy metal doors in the ground start to rattle. Not just once, and not gently--they shake violently, a menagerie of sounds emanating from within that resemble that of a monster. The worst of which is the guttural, animalistic growling, that renders everyone silent and sobered as they stare down at the locked cellar.

"Dustin, what the hell is down there?" The curly-haired kid shrugs his shoulders, looking back at Steve with wide eyes that say "How the fuck should I know?" before their attention is drawn back by another rattle and an unsettingly familiar screech.

"Whatever it is, it needs to die." Nancy mutters with finality, cocking her shotgun to ready it and simultaneously humbling everyone present in the same moment. She's more than proven her worth with a firearm at this point. Another rattle, and she doesn't flinch, just stares down the invisible enemy behind the barrier.

These particular doors have been chained shut with a padlock for some time, which is the only reason the shaking doors don't buckle as whatever is inside fights to get out. When a rougher one kicks up, Steve motions for the kids to stand back and keep their flashlights off, asking that cryptic question to his best friend of whether the hole is still there.

"Duh! How would I explain that to my mother? I already had to figure out the whole cat situation."

"Well, I think we know how whatever it is got in there, then, dingus." Steve replies, and Dustin pales as another thud makes them all jump. The older boy waves them back further, and only then does El let go of Eddie's sleeve, moving to stand between Will and Mike as they get back by the trees that border Dustin's backyard.

The four of them then approach the cellar from all sides out front, facing off with that slanted door and readying each of their weapons. Safeties off, bat readied over the shoulder, shield up and spear poised. As ready as they should have been when you needed them. That's what drills through Eddie's head as his heart thuds wildly in his ears.

"Eddie-" Steve turns to say something more, eyes filled with conflict at watching one of the people he loves face death again. Something about all this feels too familiar, but Eddie can't get his mind off the fury that's bubbling in his chest as the doors start thudding even louder and a howling rises out from behind them.

"Let's rip this fucking thing to pieces."

He growls, and turns his head over his shoulder to match the gaze of the brown-haired girl watching his every move--and when he nods, she returns it back to him with just as much determination, and raises her hand with a tremble to her fingers. With a moment to focus, she stares down the chains that circle round the handles, and flexes her pointer finger with the slightest pull for the padlock to shatter open and the chains to fall and slide down to the ground underneath.

Almost immediately, the doors fly open at once and the democreature explodes into view, but it somehow isn't at all what any of them expected to see. The mass of flesh and wrinkled, gray skin speckled with dirt and dried blood is familiar, but it is clearly entangled in a struggle with another of the same kind as they burst out the cellar doors and skid across the grass, right between Steve and Eddie's legs and into the clearing just in front of the kids. And a sequence of events spring into action almost immediately following that, the encounter like a flash of action that Eddie would much rather experience in D&D than real life again.

Steve turns on his heel to shout "Out of the way!" as the kids scream in horror and the democreatures break apart--but when he does, another bat flies out of the dark, open cellar and crashes into his back, sending him sprawling to the ground face-first with a cry, his grip still tight on the handle of his bat. Behind him, Nancy's turning to aim her weapon at the same bats he'd had his eye on, while Robin rushes forward to rear up a kick on the one clinging to the back of Steve's neck. And when two more come flying out, flapping their wings and screeching, a curse rips out of Eddie's throat as his vision goes red and he stabs at the nearest one with a violent battle cry, spearing it almost perfectly through the stomach and slinging the spear in an arc to fling the twitching, lifeless body off and send it rolling across the lawn. Blood splatters over the grass and the next one is about to get the same treatment, just as Robin's knocked Steve's attacker off and shot at it frantically, leaving three or four gaping holes in its body and the ground, but Eddie's next swing misses and so does Nancy's carefully aimed shot at one of the two facing off with each other. The two of them still don't stop thrashing, teeth tearing brutally into each other like they've got some kind of personal vendetta between predator and predator, even as they narrowly miss a killshot with a roll of entwined bodies across the dirt.

But just as she's cocking her gun again, and the kids are hurriedly backing away with their hands on each other to brace themselves, Eddie's heart sinks, and then stops. The bat he had missed flies overhead, circling with more screeches as it must realize it's outnumbered--but it's also bleeding, even though none of them have grazed it. And all four of them watch in shock as one of the ones on the ground lets out its own screech, distinct in how loud and gurgly it sounds, as if it has blood welling up in a non-existent throat. It flaps up and slides back in the direction of the kids, but it doesn't face them. It spreads its wings and bares its fangs at the other bat it's been tangled with, as if it's somehow not only brimming with vengeance, but also trying to protect the party members watching on in empty-handed horror.

"Nancy, don't-!" With only a second to react, Eddie's focus zeroes in on the sound of Nancy raising her gun, head turning and fingers roughly grabbing the barrel to shove it away--and when she misfires at the ground nearby, startled at his intervention, the wounded bat and the one flying overhead both startle at the sound and lunge. One goes for the bigger, oddly-behaving one, but the one above them dives down at a concentrated target--him.

And it hits, collides with him square in the chest just as he's shoving Nancy away, and his world tips as the shield and spear fall from his hands and he shrieks and stumbles back--but the sensation of falling dizzies him as it lasts too long, and pain cracks through his skull at the same time he gasps out for oxygen, the air knocked straight out of his lungs as he hits the concrete stairs and slides all the way down to the bottom. The world there is dark, and cold, and hazy, his vision blurred with black as the screams of his most beloved loves of his life ring in his ears, and his body jerks in pain as the demobat sinks its teeth into his supple chest to devour him. And the only clarity he has is in his thoughts. I'm getting my just desserts. This is what I deserve.

What he doesn't know, what he can't see from where he lies or register in his concussed head, is that the end is far from near. He's not alone, and though it feels as miserable as that place as the monster tears into his flesh, he's not in the Upside Down anymore. Hope soon arrives in the form of that larger, oddly-behaving bat as it soars down the arc over the steps with its attacker still hanging by its heavy wing, and Eddie chokes and gasps for air again when his savior swings its dogged-down limb and knocks his attacker off with its own. The two offending creatures fly with a pathetic shrieking noise before hitting the concrete wall of the cellar, shelves rattling beside it as the two bodies leave cracks behind before they collapse to the ground. Dizzied, they wobble back up to full height with the help of their injured wings, hissing back at him and the heroic bat that's now perched itself on top of his bleeding chest. The howling, gurgly cry that it bellows at the two of them as they start approaching doesn't help his pounding head, but the intimidation keeps them at bay long enough for Steve and Robin to come running down the stairs with their hands free. The kids and Nancy aren't far behind as they wait at the top and shout their names in a panic to hurry them along, the bat on his chest not breaking the outnumbered staredown and threatening hisses even as it eases itself off of him, not even glancing at his heroes as his two partners rush to grab each arm of his and pull him up to half-carry, half-drag him back up the stairs and out of immediate danger.

Steve's hand instantly comes up to cradle his lolling head when the cool air fills his lungs, terror flaring up on his face as he finds his boyfriend's hair slick with blood from a gash against his skull. He pulls him back out of the way for Nancy to assume her position at the top of the stairs, and aim her sights down to shoot anything that dares to come back up. Eddie's trying to get those words out, warn her dazedly not to hurt the big one, don't touch it, please--but it doesn't matter, in the end.

Because in the next minute or two, all they hear is violent screeching, thrashes, clattering and the heavy thuds of things falling off shelves, and the pained cries of animals tearing each other apart. With only the light of the moon overhead and the small beams of light that the kids' flickering flashlights illuminate against the darkness, they see very little save for a few glimpses of wings and splatters of blood--but when it all grows quiet, each one of them waits in fearful anxiety, until the soft gurgles and sound of nails clacking against concrete fill the tense silence.

Something shifts, and a groan rises up out of the dark, strange enough that Nancy readjusts her hold on the gun, and takes several steps back and to the side to get a better shot if need be. In a moment their flashlights all go out completely, and the sounds of Lucas, Mike, and Will nervously smacking their tools with the palms of their hands soon get shushed by Robin, her hand outstretched to give them pause while her other one protectively grips Eddie's arm. A soft, sudden thud echoes off the walls down the steps, and all heads turn to the source with a held breath as the first is followed by several more. Closer, and closer, and closer, like footsteps--until the moonlight meets skin, scarred and glossy with all manner of blood, and eyes that glimmer and reflect back their shocked stares as they watch the figure emerge. Eddie truly can't believe what he's seeing, thinking completely that he's trapped in a concussion-induced hallucination.

Because there's no way you're standing at the top of the steps. Your clothes tattered and gashed in the places he watched you get bitten to shreds, your skin lifeless and cold, yet your mouth dripping with blackened ooze--and when you open it, it's to spit out a chunk of bloodied gray flesh that shlups against the dirt, clearly torn straight from your enemy with the aid of those fangs that gleam with blood.

You're dead. But you're standing right there, the sight of you gives him the strength to straighten up in Steve's embrace, and when he meets your eyes they pierce right through his soul. For that moment, he naively wonders with guilt hanging down his shoulders whether....whether you're gonna hurt them, too. Whether you're a monster disguised as the girl he's loved more than his own life, risen up from the Upside Down to torture them all into the same death you suffered.

But while he's doubting himself, doubting you, there's one person there that doesn't waste a second. El comes sprinting up to you with a shocked grin like what just happened never did, and steps over the mouthful of bat-flesh you spat out to throw her arms around you in a tight hug. And before you've even managed to get your own arms back around her, Dustin's rushing by next, his hat flying off and tumbling to the ground as he hugs your side, nuzzled up underneath your elbow. You squeeze them both so tight, your features relaxing from that intense focus to pure relief, and by the time they're pulling away to give you room Eddie's found himself shambling towards you. He uses Steve and Robin's hands for balance at first, still shaky from getting his brain knocked around his skull--but when he reaches out for you, you meet him with a single step, and catch him against your chest as he collapses into it. Tears already pouring out of him with choked-up sobs to match, he trembles like a leaf when you send a gurgly whisper into his ear.

"I missed you, Eddie."

He could just drop to his knees at that moment, but your voice renews his strength, and he clings to you even tighter as warmer bodies cluster around him and you. Robin hugs your side and Nancy drops her gun to huddle up to the opposite one, with Steve circling his big arms around nearly all three of you to hug you so tight it hurts. But through tears Steve's laughing for the first time in months, and so is Robin, while Nancy's buried her face in your neck and Eddie has a kiss already pressed to your bloody cheek. They'll only get a little longer to bask in the glory of having you return from the dead, because soon enough the tension has totally lifted and the other kids are burrowing past the adults to get in their own hugs. Especially Max and Will, who can't help but start laughing along with the older ones as they push past "you big gross lovebirds" to get to the friend they thought they'd lost forever. It's a moment Eddie's craved so deeply but could never believe he'd have, not even in his deepest fantasies, because to even imagine how things could be different is too painful when reality has been beating him down all this time.

The moment isn't destined to last, either. Because in as sobering a way as possible to remind you all of your current situation, a terrifying howl echoes from the depths of the cellar and you all break apart to turn towards it. It's deep enough that whatever it is isn't upon you yet, but Eddie watches as he gets another taste of your newfound instincts--you throw your arms out in front of everyone standing close to the doors, and face down the pitch darkness with a fury etched into your face that he can truly empathize with. With one word growled out in that guttural yet incredibly sexy voice, "Back", all of them shuffle back a generous distance from the danger zone, save for your partners. Including himself, despite just now finding enough steadiness to stand on his own as he bends down to grab his abandoned weapons, still sitting where he'd dropped them upon being attacked. You look amongst them with worry tracing your expression, so familiar it's like he's seeing the girl he knew before all of this, before she became something else. But the others pick up their weapons, and stand unflinching as a much greater screech rattles the window panels on the Henderson house just over the hill.

"You're not gonna face them alone this time, sweetheart." Eddie feels his own voice rumble in his throat, and finds the smile he thought he'd never show again as you look back at him with that darling sweetness in your own.

"Never. We're with you." Steve joins in, shaking his head as he pulls the revolver out from his belt, and swings the bat around in tight circles with his other clenched fist. Nancy's concentration grows hard again as she glares down at whatever's preparing to come out, her trigger finger steady as ever, while Robin checks her pistol's magazine and clicks it back in before aiming it with a confidence he's rarely seen.

And you get a wild look in your eyes, the smell of hotly pumping blood exciting your senses as you stretch out your fingers--and in a transformation so fast it would be missed within a blink, Eddie watches in awe as your body contorts in a sudden jerk before exploding into a mass of dark, taut flesh running rife with veins and pulsing muscles. Your wings outstretch in place of arms, and you somehow look even larger up close, easily dwarfing any inferior creature with size and with vicious fervor--and when you release a warning screech into the night, the rumbling of whatever is fast approaching grows louder, and all five of you ready yourselves one last time for a fight. But this time, together.

[beachy--head]

Drabble time! This one takes place during 10x11. @himbo-jackson-avery posted about this episode, which made me rewatch parts of it, and my brain took this as permission to go into overdrive, what-if mode.

___

April’s bridal shower is in full swing when he opens the door and reluctantly lets himself inside the room. He doesn’t want to, would actually love to be very far away from this room, but he has to be here, because that’s what friends do, right? They go to each other’s events and big days, even when they don’t want to. And he and April are friends, or at least they’ve been trying very hard to be, so here he is, using his 20-minute break between two surgeries to show his face at the social event of the day. 

April is in the middle of opening her gifts, her sisters surrounding her in a sea of shrinks and dirty looks, and he grabs some food before parking himself in a corner of the room, far from the action. From the corner of his eye, he sees Stephanie and Leah joining the celebration, staying with Webber near the buffet. He feels no inclination to join them: he’s fine staying on the periphery, almost hidden from view, so people don’t look at him (people in general. He’s not thinking about anyone in particular, no sir).

So he stuffs a whole brownie piece in his mouth before finally turning his attention to the guest of honor. April looks so excited to open the next gift, wearing an expression that Jackson finds absolutely adorable (friends are allowed to think that, aren’t they?). She’s the picture of innocence as she opens the box, but her smile quickly drops, and Jackson chokes on his food when he sees the pearl thong she’s holding in her hand.

Luckily, no one is paying attention to him, except Webber, of all people, who raises an eyebrow and shoots him a curious look. With watering eyes, Jackson tries to cough as discreetly as possible and to regulate his breathing. Because it wouldn't require much effort to picture her wearing it, and only it, and a friend should fight really hard to prevent his brain from providing him with a (extremely enjoyable) visual, so he clears his throat and awkwardly looks away.

“It’s for your wedding night, for when you and Matthew…”

Now this mental image is one he’d be really glad to avoid, but her sisters keep going.

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed, we all had our first times too, right ladies? We wanted to give you the lingerie and some tips. The pearls, by the way, are for the inside.”

“Stop, just stop talking,” April begs them, starting to get fed up, and he wholeheartedly agrees with her, but he would breathe a little better if she’d stop holding the damn thong. 

“But Matthew’s your first real boyfriend, we’re trying to help,” and he should leave, right? Prep for surgery and forget the whole thing. Things are only going to get more awkward as they go on, and he should definitely go before he does something stupid.

“And he’s a great catch, and you don’t have the best track record with men.”

“No, she doesn’t have any track record. When I found out you had a boyfriend, I was like, ‘Don't make any sudden movements!’”

Something stupid like yelling at the Kepner sisters that April doesn’t need any tips, in general but especially in that area, and throwing them out of the room, for example. He may not have been a “proper boyfriend”, but he can still defend her against her family’s cutting remarks.

But then, something even more amazing happens. 

“Oh my God, stop talking to me like no man has ever found me sexy!”

“Duckie…”

“And stop. Calling me. Duckie!”

A feeling of pride (and of something he definitely doesn’t want to think about) washes over him as he watches her chew her sisters out. He remembers what she said in surgery about her childhood nickname, and he can’t help but stare at her, like everyone in the room. She’s a swan, and he’s really glad she’s finally standing up for herself and reminding her sisters of who she really is.

“And a surgeon! A freaking kick-ass surgeon who, by the way, has had sex before!”

Behind April, Cristina bursts out laughing and looks straight at him, giving him a thumbs-up, so he's feeling extremely relieved when an intern suddenly materializes next to him, whispering that his patient is about to be taken to the OR and that everything is ready for his surgery. He gives one last glance to April, now standing next to Arizona. His mouth curls in a hint of a smile, but he quickly rearranges his facial expression before following his intern and leaving the room.

(He doesn’t know it yet – not that he has any doubts about it – but he finds out just a few weeks later that pearl thongs suit April Kepner really, really well.)

[eoieopda]

[ateez as tinder dudes]

this is a joke, but i’m also convinced that i’m correct, so… there’s that. also, don’t look at me, incorporating a fourth (FOURTH!!!) group on my blog. i don’t want to talk about it 🫣

hongjoong

he’s treating this like a portfolio. he’s got the max number of pics uploaded, and they’re all editorial, like he’s expecting to be scouted. is he repping a brand? is he just flexing that he’s got better style than you ever will? he knows this is tinder, right? no.

absolutely no bio, whatsoever. his age isn’t even listed, somehow. you know nothing about him except that he owns more than one cowboy hat, and honestly? that’s all you need to know.

you’re actually 98.4% sure that he’s a catfish — who just looks like that? — but that’s not going to stop you from swiping right to see if he did, too.

he did not.

seonghwa

he’s intentionally using pics of him with his mother, with kids, with small animals, etc. because he’s calculating. couldn’t be more of a targeted attack if the profile was computer-generated. frankly, you can’t say if it was or wasn’t. suspiciously perfect.

that’s where the tinder prowess stops. he doesn’t know how the swiping feature works so he’s swiped right on everyone. oops.

his bio has subsections — plural — with endearingly dorky interests laid out in full. he’s well-rounded and objectively attractive to literally all people. man is everybody’s type, esp. yours.

tragically, he has never once responded to a message, and he never will.

yunho

he must’ve made this as a joke, right? every picture of him is hilariously unflattering or a recreation of a meme or some childhood photo, except the last one — which is a meme. it’s something obscure that appeals to the sense of humor of exactly .01% of the population. you can tell by looking at him that he is chronically online and had unrestricted internet access as a kid.

his bio is also absurd. this dude has something like “my first words were, ‘this human form is limiting’”, and it’s extremely polarizing. on purpose. puts his whole personality right there, right from the get-go because it will ward the wrong people off and flag down the exact niche he’s targeting.

i feel like he’s either a lukewarm conversationalist that makes you wonder how the rest of his profile was so funny, or the first conversation is an incredible, god-tier bit — and then, when the bit runs its course, you realize that he deleted his profile, never to be seen again.

rip

yeosang

all of his pictures paint an image of someone hard and edgy, and you’ve got it all wrong. you’ve been fully bamboozled, bestie. that is a whole ass fairy princess.

always messages first and/or responds immediately, revealing that he’s the most “uwu” person of all time. seriously, what the fuck? people unironically use “hehehe”? in this day and age? ^_^

unexpected gem. the person he actually is isn’t someone you would normally shoot your shot with, but you’re not mad about it.

one of the rare few on the app who would rather die than find a hookup (the idea makes him itchy, okay?) but he will actually seek and find a future spouse, just watch.

san

most of his photos are of him and his friend (it’s wooyoung. of course it’s wooyoung), and the subtext is so confusing that you can’t tell if they’re looking for a third or are just guys being buds ??? what is happening, and why are you so into it?

the photos that don’t include his friend (boyfriend? seriously, what is going on there?) are all action shots because he needs you to know that he is athletic and built. you do not need to wonder what he looks like naked because he’s not wearing a shirt in any of them.

he’s got the stock photo equivalent of a bio. most uninteresting thing you’ve ever seen, so you do not hit him up.

you should have :( you would’ve loved him.

mingi

i regret to inform you that this man has the most cringeworthy online presence of all time. god, he’s so fuckboi-coded!! and you hate him for it, but you hate yourself even more for being into because you sure are, diva!!!

i feel like the song on his profile is extremely questionable, either because it’s some bizarre, ambient instrumental; by someone that’s been justifiably cancelled and you don’t know whether or not he knows that; or worse, it’s his own.

all of his pictures are group pictures. you cannot tell for the life of you which one of them he is, requiring you to go to the instagram he’s referenced in his bio — which is exactly the point. the instagram links to his soundcloud because it can get worse.

if you actually bite the bullet and respond to his shitty pick-up line, he’s the bbygirl to end all bbygirls. absolute heart of gold. you almost want to smack him for being so bad at marketing himself.

get him a PR person to straighten his shit out; mingi is fired.

wooyoung

this motherfucker has deleted and remade his profile 8,000 times because he needs to “reset his matches” aka has spent every waking moment swiping.

he probably pays for tinder so he can swipe in other locations — not because he’s looking for anyone, but because he wants people to look at him.

you have to wonder who took the photos because they’re sure as shit not selfies but they’re all vaguely chic thirst traps (it was san. of course it was san.)

when it comes to messages, he either communicates exclusively with emojis or gifs, or he only responds to compliments. small talk? NOPE. tell him he’s pretty or get out :’)

if you do wind up linking (because the whole conversation thing is a lost cause), he’s insane. you’ll spend one night with him, never see him again, and you will remember him on your deathbed.

was he a ghost or a fever dream? you’ll never know.

jongho

he’s only here because his friends made him, and he will make that crystal clear. nothing else will be, though. he’s either got an extremely dry sense of humor + is deeply ironic, or he’s genuinely that odd.

all of his photos are identical selfies (expression, location, angle, etc.) and the only difference is the shirt he’s wearing. is…. is that on purpose? is he being funny, or is he seriously that much of a cartoon character? WHO KNOWS.

tbh, he’s the dude that makes a profile, finds an IRL partner immediately, and totally forgets he has a profile because he deleted the app ages ago. this is tragic; he would’ve been just your type.

message him all you want, bestie. it won’t work.

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA BUT MAKE IT SAD

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1 part 2

next: part 4 part 5

lets talk about relationships, shall we. i'm gonna focus on Athena & Telemachus this time, but Hermes will have his turn later

let's be real, Athena is a hardass. sure, she cares, but she's so emotionally constipated that it really doesn't show that much. especially before she goes through that character development arc after her break up with Odysseus in My Goodbye

(and what a crisis that is)

(because her masterpiece??? failed her??? but she trusted him??? she made him much as in her image as possible??? he was supposed to be perfect???)

(and if he's not perfect, then she failed,,, and she can't fail, she doesn't fail,,, she's a goddess,,, war strategy is her domain, surely there is no way her plan could be flawed,,,)

(what even is the point of her if she's not perfect)

so yeah, she's a hardass. even on baby Telemachus who'd never held a sword before - especially on baby Telemachus, because he's the son of her favored Champion. he may be waaay younger than any of her previous pupils, but she's expecting him to shine just as bright.

Athena, on the first day: let's get down to business! make your father proud! you won't have a weakness! by the time we're done! you're the saddest pupil that I've had! and you haven't got a clue! but I will make a man outta you! Telemachus, a literal toddler, holding a wooden sword as big as himself: ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

and for years to come she trains him relentlessly. she's honestly trying to be nice about it, too. it's just that Athena doesn't do soft or gentle, her default is a neutral face of displeasure, and her idea of encouragement is saying 'you're not as bad as you used to be', or something along these lines.

Telemachus: *succeeds at something* Athena: *raises an eyebrow in a slightly different manner than usually* Telemachus: *le gasp* could it b-be? am I doing a good job??? Athena: it's… acceptable, for your age.

she never once tells him she is proud of him. because surely he already knows. he doesn't need to hear it. his father didn't, after all (ody so fucking did)

and this goes on until Telemachus reaches double digits. then My Goodbye happens, and Athena has Feelings™. she's having an existential crisis, and has to confront the fact that she had done something wrong while training Odysseus, and she can't understand what. which is terrifying, because what if she makes a mistake like that with Telemachus. will he fail her too?

will she have to leave him too, so she doesn't watch him die horribly in a tragedy that could've been prevented if only she had made him see-

so Athena doubles down and starts demanding more and more from Telemachus. the praise goes from sparse to non-existent, and nothing he does seems to be enough anymore. she goes from tough love to borderline verbal abuse, thinking that it's the only way to keep him safe and prepare him for the future.

and Telemachus endures. he has to, because he doesn't want his mother to worry. doesn't want to appear weak. Odysseus had done it, so it's only fair his son should too. and when his dad comes home, he'll be sooo impressed. he can do it!

except…. not really. it's been a losing battle since the beginning, and deep down he knows it. he can't win with Athena, not on his own.

???: if you want to impress her, you'll need the blessing of a certain god! divine intervention! someone who's not afraid to- telemachus: aeolus, what are doing in my closet?!

so anyway, Aeolus and the winions start helping him via winds and stuff, and Telemachus actually starts exceeding everyone's expectations. it's not that he'd been bad before, but he's soft, and not quite strong enough physically to make up for his gentle constitution

everyone is cheering him on. he's the talk of the palace! his mom is so proud! the suitors start sizing him up with consideration instead of dismissing him outright! (and tele, baby, that's not a good thing! ಠ_ಠ). Athena seems pleased for the first time in ages!! but he knows that it's all a lie, and it's killing him.

cause he's a good, honest boye, and he wants to succeed on his own merit, not because of cheating and lying to everyone he loves. that's vile and dishonorable.

que some very important island-wide competition that everyone is expecting him to join and win. maybe it's even his duty as a prince. like, a right of passage from complete boyhood to adolescence.

and there's,,, a lot of pressure on Telemachus to suceed. everyone and their mother are telling him that of course he's got this, he's a prodigy! def his father's son! nobody doubts his incoming victory! he's got this! he definitely won't disappoint them!

random noble: we'll be cheering you on, young prince! truly, we are blessed by the gods to have such a talented successor to the throne! we'll watch with keen eyes as you triumph over your foes and bring even more honor to your family! b(￣▽￣*) telemachus, eye twitching: y-yeah… thank you… (ㆆ _ ㆆ)

so, the night before the competition Telemachus can barely sleep, he's so wrecked by guilt and nerves. he keeps thinking - what would his father do in this situation? all the stories he'd ever heard of Odysseus always painted him as some kind of invincible, righteous, all-capable genius. so the idea of his dad ever grappling with guilt and feelings of inadequacy is just laughable. (oh, if only he knew)

so, he goes to his mom for advice. because Penelope is awesome. but he can't bring himself to admit that's he's cheating - what if she's ashamed of him? he brought dishonor to his father's name, and if anyone knows - will he get exiled?

so yeah, he basically has a panic attack and cries for like, half an hour straight.

telemachus, bawling: if I lose tomorrow, will you hate me? will dad hate me? I can't do anything right and I'm a failure and a horrible person and- just- what do I do, mother? penelope, holding him: oh, love. sometimes you're so similar to your father I wonder if the gods haven't returned him to me in spirit through you.

because no matter what everyone else says, Penelope knows the truth - Odysseus always followed his heart. oh, how he may have tried to forget he had one, to only ever use his head. but a heart he did have - does have, they have to believe that - and it's a bright and gentle one. he may have been hardened by years of pain and struggle in a way that Telemachus hadn't been yet (and Penelope's heart breaks from knowledge that her son will be, one day). but deep down, at ther cores, Odysseus and Telemachus are strikingly similar. and she loves them all the more for it.

and so, with his mother's blessing, the young prince does just as she told him to: follows his heart. he thanks Aeolus for their help, and asks them to stop giving it from now on. either he'll suceed on his own merit, or he'll wear his failure as a badge of honor and an incentive to do better.

and he loses. badly.

and the world,,, doesn't end? sure, the suitors sneer and jeer, but there's a surprising lack of disowning and exile going around. and the nobles tone it down significantly with undeserved adoration, which is definitely a plus, as far as he's concerned.

the only thing is. Athena.

oh boy.

because she's not stupid. Telemachus may have gotten away with cheating so far, but now he'll have to answer to her why he had flunked so badly, and she won't buy his go-to excuse of 'I got nervous!'

athena, expression unreadable: so. care to explain yourself, my stupid pupil? telemachus: w-well, you see… ha-ha… it's, uh… a funny story… athena: you threw away your best advantage! you've had a god perfectly willing to assist you and yet you still somehow managed to lose! telemachus: wait, what-

so yeah, Athena knew all along.

athena, mildly insulted: how stupid do you think I am, boy? telemachus: but! but! but!.. you never said anything! didn't even scold me for cheating! athena, even more insulted: child, I am the goddess of war strategy, where did you get the idea that I ever play fair and straightforward? leave that to ares, the simple-minded fool!

to clarify, she's not upset at him for cheating. she's upset that he stopped doing so. so she throws some choice words at him, implying he lacks both talent and intelligence

and Telemachus defends himself by saying that he'd rather fail on his own merit, than abandon his principles and win by lying and dishonoring his family. in response, she calls him naive.

he tries to implore to her connection to his father by saying that he was just trying to do what's right. he was following his heart, just as Odysseus had always strived to. and he's training to fight for his loved ones, not for glory of being known.

it's a one hit K.O., because it reminds Athena of her recent break-up with Odysseus. of everything they spat at each other during My Goodbye. of anger, of hurt, of disappointment, of betrayal, of I loved you and you failed me, of I loved you and I failed you, of good riddance! and y̶͈̔o̴̘̖͆u̶̻̱͆͒'̸̫̩̌̉r̷̼͝e̴̩̒ ̴͎̻̈́̎ȧ̸̦l̵̗͙͌̐o̸͚͕̚n̷̟̯͠e̵̳̩͠

and is their whole line just cursed? is this their way of punishing her for something? why do they both hurt her so? is it her fault?

telemachus: athena? are… are you okay? (‘-’*) athena, coming off MG flashbacks: well, obviously, boy, why would you even ask that (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Telemachus just hugs her, because she obviously needs it. and she melts into it like never before.

because she wasn't made for empathy or kindness. she's been born to be ruthless and cold. she's not supposed to love and be loved care about anything but winning. it doesn't come natural to Athena, until recently she had truly thought herself unable to, and yet-

yet here, right in front of her, is a boy who loves for the both of them. loves the whole world - sincerely, selflessly. a truly kind and caring soul (the nobles even joke that his true father is Polites).

she can't love.

but maybe… maybe he will teach her.

maybe he already did.

or maybe she always could.

she forgets sometimes, that her fingers know not only the roughness of swords and spears, but also the gentle softness of weaved silk. creation goes hand in hand with destruction, and she can bind countless threads together without breaking them.

and what are humans, if not strings, waiting to be cut by the fates?

also, if Telemachus can teach the goddess of cold cynicism and detached cruelty kindness of all things, then she can teach him swordplay.

yes, it's a threat.

[ultraericthered]

Another King Magnifico Post

A common criticism of Wish is that King Magnifico, like pretty much every character in the film, doesn't seem to have any solid motivation driving his actions in the story, and that the backstory we're given doesn't sufficiently set up any such motivation. I partially agree, but partially disagree. It's not that motivation for Magnifico's villainy isn't there in the story, it's that the presentation of it in the movie that fails because ironic enough for a simple fairy tale, they overcomplicate it.

King Magnifico's motivations, made simple:

Keep his crown, his power, and his iron-fisted control over Rosas and the system of wishes he created so that he may continue to make his own wishes come true, even if at the expense of all other wishes, and his people's reverence of him and dependence on him endures.

King Magnifico's motivations post-forbidden magic book:

Still that, but with the added feature of him being so drunk on power that he wants to take and break wishes, along with Star itself, to add to that power with which he'll quell any dissent to his rule and re-subjugate the dissenters, and in this state of mind, he would rather see his kingdom razed to the ground than relinquish that power.

King Magnifico as seen in the movie:

Safeguard all wishes in Rosas because he sincerely believes in the value of wishes due to his tragic backstory, so that THAT will never happen again and no one in the kingdom he built will suffer the sort of trauma and heartbreak that he did...but he's a little too tight with how he asserts his control, is too paranoid, biased, close-minded and self-interested in how he judges which wishes to grant and which ones to not grant, hoards so many ungranted wishes away for their magical blessings, and doesn't simply return the wishes he won't grant because reasons, possibly because he fears pulling away that carrot on a stick would disillusion people with him and he'd lose his relevence, attention, adulation, and respect. 'Cause he's a malignant narcissist who is so comically in love with his own self-image that he has a God Complex/Savior Complex that makes him more arrogant and power-hungry, don'tchya know. But he also loves his wife, wants to protect her too, and will trust her judgment when she advises him to not go to extremes...except when he doesn't. And when Star is in Rosas spreading a new magical power that isn't his, Asha acts out in rebellion against his rule and system, and the people all start to question him rather than give him the blind respect, adoration, and complacency he feels so entitled to, he spirals into madness and villainy to the point of opening up the forbidden magic book...which drives him to madness and villainy even more, and once he's drunk on this power and learns that breaking wishes enhances it, he wants to break wishes and add Star itself to his power and make everyone all sad and disspirited forever with no more wishes so that they'll stop resisting and he can oppress them without consequence. Because he's evil, has lost all good in him, and nothing about the character that was set up in the first half of the story really matters anymore.

Where was I? Oh yeah!

Had the movie shared a fuller account of Magnifico's backstory with us at the very beginning, and then alluded to it at only a few key points in the story to clearly link how Magnifico presently percieves something and feels about something with what happened in his past that set him down his path to becoming the bad man he is now, and otherwise just played straight the simplified motivations of the first two paragraphs up there, his characterization and descent into full-on villainy would've been all the stronger and easier to follow for it.

[astrology-bf]

Slaying Ravana

(CW: Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied PTSD, Shadowbringers Spoilers)

"But I say to you, Ravana, even if an ocean of stars lay between us, my Rama would come to find me." - Sita

G’raha Tia hated sleeping by himself.

Miqo’te are a highly social folk, to start with: highly social, highly physical. Living in close quarters is both a natural instinct as well as a logistical necessity for an oft-nomadic culture, and many folk of other stock that pursue friendships or romances with Miqo’te can attest to the physicality of their affection. G’raha was no exception in that regard, though it was made far worse by the things about him which were exceptional indeed.

Being by himself reminded him too much of his long sleep in Syrcus Tower and the subsequent shock of waking to a world in the wake of a Calamity, a world where everything and everyone he ever knew and loved had either died or changed beyond all recognition. Waking up to read within the memoirs of Count Fortemps that the Warrior of Light had died… His Warrior of Light. A man he’d loved and left in pain, assuming that he’d simply hate him and move on - not that he’d only live a few years, suffering repeated loss until he had nothing left at all. A long sleep begun in bittersweetness, ending in a most sour of awakenings to an endless light-stained day of toil upon the First. But when he was in Ifan’s arms, that all simply melted into happiness like hoarfrost under daylight as if those hundred years of crushing toil were merely a bad dream.

If only his bad dreams were so peaceful.

Such a dream was why the Seeker now lay alone in bed and stared up at the ceiling of the room he shared with Ifan, the mage absent on an errand that took him rather far afield. It had been several days, and the second night being easier than the first had made G’raha hopeful - until he’d started waking up with loneliness clawing in his gut that no amount of conversation with the other Scions could seem to salve. He missed Ifan. He missed his company, his smile, his laugh, his touch. Even just his scent - a herbal note from magical reagents, a hint of spice from his preference for hot foods, and a faint floral whisper of Azeyma rose from the oil he used on his beard and hands; another preference picked up from the wife of Sister Brazen who'd helped raise him, he’d explained to G’raha when he’d asked. That scent had begun fading from their room in Ifan’s absence, and G’raha found the tangible reminder of how long his beloved was gone only worsened the longing in his chest - but he still tried to focus on what he could still detect of it, the scent. He even thanked the gods for it, the sole thing keeping his mind off the dream. 

Those long, endless days after when he’d bid Ifan - his friend, his inspiration - that long-expected farewell atop Mount Gulg, cut off by sudden blackness as Emet-Selch had shot him without warning in the back. Merely a few turns of the sun, or it least it would have been if Norvrandt's natural sky had proved enduring, but from G’raha’s viewpoint… endless. Torture both physical and mental as the Ascian employed every trick within the book he’d written over ten millennia to get G’raha to break - to reveal to him the full extent of what he knew about the Tower, and the timeline that he’d tried so hard to stop from happening. He hadn’t broken, but G’raha felt that wasn’t due to any strength of his own part; but rather restraint on that of Emet-Selch’s. For of all the phantoms he’d been tormented with, there was the image of one person that the Paragon had never once attempted to invoke: Ifan himself. G’raha knew he was saving that for last, for when he was at sanity’s edge and Ifan’s sweet and tender promises of rescue would make him spill every bit of wisdom in his head. Or worse, reserving Ifan’s image for when he’d exhausted all recourse and no longer cared if G’raha died before he broke.

He thanked the gods that never came. He’d felt the Ascian’s restraints weaken as Emet-Selch’s attention was drawn elsewhere, and by some miracle he’d managed to find some well of strength within himself to try and struggle free. Not for himself: for Ifan. He had to save him, if by some miracle he hadn’t already turned. And a miracle had happened: he hadn’t turned. He fought the light, fought Hades with G’raha’s help. They’d lived, they’d won. If only such a victory could erase the memories of what it took to get it.

A breath left G’raha’s lips, his nostrils flaring faintly as he once more tried to fill his head with Ifan’s scent rather than the phantoms that scratched upon the inside of his skull as they danced upon their sharpened fingernails with toothy grins of pointed bone and goggling lamp-lit eyes. But every time he had to blink…

G’raha sat up slowly and let out another breath. Not for the first time that day he wrestled calling upon Ifan with the linkpearl that he’d given his beloved if he needed: which G'raha took to mean emergencies. And a dream was hardly such a thing, to G’raha’s mind. So he roused himself, dressed as much as was the bare minimum to be called ‘decent’, then took himself outside to try and clear his head.

He wasn’t sure of the hour, only that it was exceeding late: not a soul was out inside the Rising Stones, and the only folk outside were the late night watch in Revenant’s Toll and the odd adventurer on some ungodly red-eye leve. G’raha had no destination in his mind and let his booted feet carry him where they would - towards Syrcus Tower, it seemed, as if he was simply entirely unable to escape the wretched edifice that scraped Mor Dhona’s sky. He was a few yalms from the aetheryte when a faint whooshing wisp of sound signaled a magical arrival.

A familiar voice was muttering angrily to himself. “Azeyma's cunt, I could use a stiff drink and a stiffer c- 'Raha? What are you doing up at this hour?"

G’raha turned sharply to see his beloved Warrior of Light standing by the aetheryte, looking pleasantly surprised to see his lover out of bed. The miqo’te simply couldn’t hide the bliss of his relief at seeing and smelling Ifan yet again. "Dear heart! What happy circumstance…" His ears fell and his lips parted in the happy smile of one who wasn’t happy in the slightest, merely happy to be out of pain. 

Ifan grinned as he approached and rolled a shoulder as he did. "I should say so, I wasn't expecting-” Then he paused as he noticed the other man’s expression, his face falling into a rather worried frown. “'Raha, are you alright?"

G’raha wanted to say yes. Just to grin, to nod, to say that he was perfectly alright and just happened to be on a walk… But his smile faded. His tail hung lank, and he shook his head.

Ifan blinked and immediately stepped forward. "Hey... Hey, hey. C'mere." He threaded his arms around the archon’s chest and pulled him close, one hand cradling his head above his braid while the other held him tight. “I’m here.”

A wet and shaky breath left G’raha’s lips as he slowly shook his head, his fingers curling in the white linen of Ifan’s tunic as his nose rejoiced in the other man’s renewed proximity. "I apologize..." he whispered.

Ifan shook his head. "No, no... 'Tis alright, my love, I'm here....” he soothed. He held G’raha in an embrace of comforting quiet, only interrupted by the humming of the aetheryte and the intermittent footfalls of the night watch on patrol out on the walls. At length, Ifan spoke. “Did you dream about it again?" he asked, gently.

G’raha nodded slowly. He swallowed before answering. "I confess the memories to be rather weighty at present…” He nonetheless squeezed his arms to show his thanks for his beloved’s comfort, the dream beginning to recede from the palate of his mind into a bitter, if still lingering aftertaste.

"Then let me help you shoulder them, hm?” hummed Ifan as he rocked the Miqo’te in his arms. “You can always call me on the linkpearl, ‘Raha, even if you just need to chat."

G’raha shook his head insistently against his lover’s chest. "You are the last person who needs their time wasted on such trivial matters…"

Ifan frowned and paused as he looked down towards where the Archon sought comfort in his shirt. "Come here. Let's sit down.” He gave G’raha another squeeze, then released him just enough to guide him over to a low retaining wall where the man could sit. Ifan knelt in front of him and held his hands before looking up towards his face, with G’raha’s ruby eyes meeting Ifan’s wine-dark blue. "Nothing about you is trivial to me, 'Raha.” insisted Ifan. “Especially if it makes you feel like this. Makes me want to kill the fuck out of Emet-Selch another time, I'll tell you that." he added with a small attempt at humour.

It proved enough. G’raha felt the faintest smile dance on his lips and squeezed his lover’s hands, ears splayed laxly to the sides but tail curling out of gratitude. Ifan’s voice, his smile, his scent, his hands… As bad as the memory would likely ever be, it couldn’t hold a candle to the reality of his Warrior of Light looking up at him like G’raha was the only thing in all the cosmos. "I still cannot begin to thank you for delivering me from that... that hell..." thanked G’raha, tone soft and slightly damp. 

Ifan gave the other man a reassuring smile, one hand releasing G’raha’s to cup his cheek instead. "I mean, I had to repay the favor, didn't I?" The magician’s words came with a faintly teasing waggle of his head, which coaxed a whisper of a chuckle past the archon’s lips.

"Forgive me, dear heart, I do not know to what you refer..." answered G’raha with a faint note of confusion. He wondered if he meant the assault on Laxan Loft, where G’raha - then the Crystal Exarch - had held Ran’jit while the Scions and Minfilia, or rather Ryne, escaped. 

"The Eighth Calamity, remember? That hell? You saved me from it." Ifan clarified with a radiant cast upon his face, his own gratitude apparent. 

G’raha blinked. That was the truth… Sometimes the magnitude of what he’d done escaped him. But even so… "...And I would do it all again. If it would save you. In a heartbeat, without question." His words were firm, his devotion to his love proving stronger than distress. 

Ifan gave his lover a warm and sunny smile. "And I you, my love. A hundred times over.” he promised in return, thumb grazing over G’raha’s eyelashes before returning to his hands. “Can I tell you something?" he asked.

G’raha nodded. "Of course, dear heart."

"Remember when we talked things out in the Cabinet, back in the Crystarium?” began Ifan, shifting where he knelt to ease the strain upon his knees. “You told me that you used to view me as a hero on a pedestal, before you went to sleep, and while you've gotten to know the real me... From where I'm at, you climbed up on the pedestal with me." he said with a small nod.

This made G’raha blink, one ear rising slightly in confusion. "How do you mean?" he asked with a faint creasing of his brow.

Ifan took a little time to choose his words. At length, he took a breath, and smiled, and spoke. "You gave your life away for duty, to spare the world a poisoned chalice of Allagan technology. And when you woke up and found the world had gone to the hells anyway, you immediately began not only trying to fix things, but aimed to stop it from happening in the first place. You gave up nearly every shred of humanity you had for duty, but you still clung to every scrap you had left... To build a city. To raise Lyna. And then there's me. You ripped a hole between the First and the Source to get me where I needed to be, you gave me shelter and guidance without any expectation... You did everything you could to make what was always going to be a nightmare as bearable for me as possible. You even hid your damn face so I wouldn't have to suffer seeing losing you again when the time came to give your life for your duty. For me. And even when it seemed everything was lost... You never gave up hope in me. I don't feel as lonely as I used to, because the way I see you... I think this must be what it feels like when other people look at me. You're an amazing, impossibly amazing hero in my eyes, G'raha Tia. And that you've chosen... me .... Just a smart-mouthed orphan with a knack at magic... I've been so blessed to have men like you in my life. Nothing about you is trivial to me. Nothing at all." He finished quietly, voice barely a whisper, his lips curved in the small smile of a man who is so happy that his face simply can’t express it. 

G’raha arched his back a little as if he’d been struck upon his chest, a breath escaping him. His hands squeezed tightly around Ifan’s, so tightly that the Hyur’s bronzed knuckles turned pale from the pressure. He swallowed, and his lips fumbled against one another as his ears pressed flat against his head, eyes creasing at the corners as he struggled to find some word in some language from some book to express just how he felt. He couldn’t, so he simply smiled and said what came to mind. "I confess I am at a loss for words..." he answered in a breathy whisper.

Ifan returned a wide smile and shifted up to bump his forehead against G’raha’s - a habit they’d formed long ago, before the latter sealed himself away. An intimate sign among Miqo’te that the magician liked partaking in, especially for G’raha. Then he kissed him, showing his affection in the Hyuran fashion for good measure. Ifan smiled as their lips parted. "...Have you eaten today?" he asked, quietly.

G’raha blinked. There was a long pause. "...I had forgotten to take supper." he admitted, quietly.

A noise between a groan and a laugh left Ifan’s chest. "'Raha." he admonished.

A flush danced over G’raha’s cheeks. His thoughts had been so focused on the impending absence of his lover in their bed that he’d skipped the meal entirely. "I apologize, I am still not quite in the habit of regular meals." That the man had been a lord for near a century wouldn’t have occurred to any passersby from the way the Miqo’te looked much like a kit caught in the middle of some mischief.

Ifan pressed his lips to G’raha’s and kissed him until satisfied that the archon’s embarrassment had sufficiently receded. Then he chuckled as he drew back. "'Tis perfectly fine, my lord. It simply means I'm going to have to feed you." said Ifan as he climbed up to his feet.

G’raha went entirely still. Then he pursed his lips as his gaze began to drift off to the side. "Whilst I appreciate the gesture, I... I confess neither end of me has quite recovered from the amount of spice to which you are accustomed.” he admitted. An embarrassing memory, but much like the spice which carved it in his mind (and tongue, among other places) it was the sort of pain that made life more savory in its sweetness. Something he could laugh about with his beloved, which he did; a little chuckle escaping G’raha’s lips, joining to meet that of his partner’s as Ifan laughed in turn.

Ifan nodded with a grin. "Fair enough. Then we shall simply find somewhere to eat for lunch." he said, hands on his hips.

G’raha blinked. "...Lunch?"

"It should be roughly around that time in Kugane, aye." nodded Ifan.

Again, G’raha blinked. His ears shot up. "...Kugane?! I have never been..." he started, all thoughts of empty beds and darkened dreams crushed to powder under shock.

Ifan grinned. "Don't worry about that. You forget that I perfected my tandem teleportation learning from Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn herself." The magician raised his right hand and gave his fingers a faint wiggle, aether sparkling ‘twixt the digits. Ever the showman.

G’raha simply kept blinking, though a faint chuckle escaped him at the display of sorcerous charisma. He shook his head a little in disbelief as his ears settled. "But... Will that not overtire us?" he asked.

Ifan hummed and nodded as he gave the matter a pretense of thought. Then he tilted his head and gave G’raha a wry smile. "We'll just spend the day in bed, then." 

The miqo’te’s breath caught in his throat. "But, do we not have commit-oh!" He found himself interrupted as he was grabbed and hefted up into the Hyur’s arms, one arm bracing his back and the other hooked beneath his knees. That the mage could do so was a function of his hobbies; arms honed by years of metalwork made easy enough work of G’raha’s frame - even if Ifan much preferred that the Miqo’te be the one manhandling him. 

"The most important commitment I have right now, 'Raha, is making you feel better.” said Ifan matter-of-factly as he began to carry G’raha back towards the aetheryte. “And as much as I appreciate your firm and noble hand upon my leash, I am your mighty champion after all... So consider this an act of deliverance, as your linen-armored knight upon an arcane steed rescues you from the dragon of despair." He finished his poetic declaration with a noble little nod, though he couldn’t hide the ridiculous smirk upon his lips. 

G’raha’s face quickly matched the color of his hair, but not a trace of bashfulness was on him; he was simply far too grateful, too happy to be simply swept up off his feet and rescued by his ersatz paladin. "...I should like that very much." he answered with a wide and open grin, ears near-vibrating from happiness and tail curled tightly around one of Ifan’s arms. 

Ifan returned a warm, wide smile and a faintly teasing shaking of his head. "Not so hard, hm? And I think I know just the place where I can put a ridiculous amount of koban on Hancock's tab. That man owes me a new pair of boots anyway." he mused as he began to dredge up the required formulae for tandem teleportation in his mind.

G’raha snorted softly. "My ever-ready champion." he chuckled.

Ifan rolled his eyes. "Just say ‘whore’, ‘Raha.” muttered the magician.

The miqo’te couldn’t stop a weary laugh from shaking through his chest. “The thought has never once crossed my mind, my knight-enchanter.” he answered as regally as he could despite his still-recovering mood.

Ifan snickered as he closed his eyes in preparation for the spell. “Whatever you say, my lord.”