#i love those spiky stars

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-one: impact play kink

>>> this right here is my girl dinner. i need him so so so so so so so so so so so so bad like PLEASE bakugou when you see this baby come home the kids miss you 😢

>>> starring: katsuki bakugou x curvy!f!reader >>>cw: fwb to lovers, impact play through spankings, choking, holding your head down, multiple rounds, breeding, one pregnancy comment, jealous katsuki, degradation, praise. >>>wc: 3k >>> event masterlist

you were the most annoying person he’s ever met, and that’s saying something. he would willingly dethrone even himself to crown you the biggest bitch in the entire world. maybe it was because you were a foreign exchange pro-hero sent to mingle and visit for relations between japan and your home country—though you’ve far overstayed your welcome. maybe it was because your quirk seemed to give you some air of importance like you were just as good if not better than everyone else, but either way, you were intolerable—at least he tried to pretend you were.

everyone else was eating you up though, as always. kirishima was dumb enough to follow you around with heart eyes, shouto knew how to play it cool enough—but bakugou knew he was vying for your attention. even shinsou and monoma gathered around to gawk at the way your hero uniform clings to your body like a second skin. they should all be embarrassed. you’re assigned to work at his agency anyway—there was no point in sweet talking you. you belong to him. at least, at work—and he hated it.

it was a special layer of hell to have you at his side. you were bossy, bubbly, and absolutely brilliant. your body was irritatingly perfect. his suit was tight too, you know, and raging boners as he carts around his guest was hardly his ideal patrol. you’re unafraid of getting your hands dirty and you’re even less afraid of him—which he lov—enjoys very much. you match his mouth and have never once backed down, which is probably why he’s so perplexed and fascinated and for the lack of better word—or maybe just the right one—obsessed with you.

you’re smart enough to know it, too. you smile extra big when you bring him breakfast every morning and you perch at the edge of his desk just to hear him grumble at you. you let him kiss you and feel your body, but you don’t let him call you his. you aggravate him on purpose, enjoying the way his eye twitches and his nose scrunches before he starts tearing you a new one. you know very well the effect you have on katsuki bakugou, so why do you toy with him like this instead of just ending his suffering?? why do you let your fan club follow you around in his agency when you could be sitting in his lap making out with him in between mountains of paperwork like usual—but no, you’re being way too flirty with kirishima for his liking.

all well and good, they know better than to touch you—at least he thought they did. but clearly monoma has no idea what lengths bakugou will go to to prove that despite your airy behavior—you’re his and his alone.

as soon as he sees monoma’s arm wrap around your waist, he’s standing in front of you, arms folded over his broad chest and arched eyebrow nearly lost between the spiky tufts of ash blonde hanging over his forehead. he’s waiting for you to denounce the behavior—not because he needs you to, but because he wants to see just how far your brattiness goes. you smile at him with those heart eyes, but ultimately choose to say, “hi dynamight. did you need something?”

oh goddamn, he’s fuming. apparently your brattiness knows no bounds. he can feel the steam pouring out of his ears as he grabs onto your wrist, nodding. “yeah—need my bratty little skank in my office right now.”

“ooh somebody’s madddd.” you giggle, though the other heroes seem surprised that he spoke to you that way. all it does is make your pussy tingle—you’re truly shameless and just as annoying as he claims you are. “don’t worry boys, it’s a loving pet name, i promise.”

he doesn’t let you explain further, deciding he isn’t going to chance you misbehaving. he lifts you up with ease, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. the gesture gives you butterflies—by no means are you petite, yet he throws you around like you weigh next to nothing.

you dangle over his back, waving goodbye to all the hopeful toys you’ve used as a means to this end—to drive him so crazy he just has to claim you in front of everyone. and thank god this worked.

see katsuki may act like you’re the problem, but he’s no saint. he has women bowing at his feet now that he’s a six foot four two hundred and fifty pound top of the leaderboards pro-hero—not that he gives them the time of day. the problem is, he wants to be private, or in other words, a secret. you’re not down with that. the paparazzi follow you regardless, what difference does it make if the world knows? it only gives you the right to crush those rude bitches that went to school with bakugou that try to sing their praises now. fans are fans—you hate the other sidekicks and heroes and friends that eye him right in front of you—all because no one knows that you’re a thing.

so if that’s how he wanted to play, you’d make sure you won.

though winning is subjective, and bakugou clearly thinks he’s coming out on top. he stomps to the elevators with you hanging off of him like an accessory, but his anger still bubbles over his face. he grimaces at his peers, his firm grip on your ass should be enough to send a message but he won’t be done there. no, he won’t stop until your screaming is bouncing off every wall of his agency or until he has to pay fines for noise violations and workplace harassment. he won’t stop until you’re broken of your behavior.

the elevator doors aren’t open all the way before he’s sliding out of them, grumbling about your behavior.

“are ya fuckin’ dumb, princess?” he shakes his head, palming your ass. “wh’kinda man ya think i am? just gonna let my bitch flirt with some fuckin’ extras in front of my face? you must not know me very well.”

“big talk, hot shot.” you huff, your voice vibrating a little with each heavy step he took towards his office. you repress your giddiness. “finally change your mind? you want people to know i’m yours now, huh?”

you’re clever. he’ll have to give you that. in his rage, he hadn’t noticed that he all but confirmed those workplace rumors—that this will leak to tmz in a few hours anyway and all his moping and sneaking and stewing over you was pointless. because in the end he is a beast of nature, and can’t handle anyone having even a fraction of what’s his. this is as close as they’ll ever get, he thinks to himself as he shoves you over his desk—not patient enough to fiddle with the zipper of your hero costume. he is a strong enough man to pull it apart though, shredding it to pieces and grunting in approval of your nakedness before him.

“yeah smartass, i changed my mind. gonna make sure everyone knows yer mine.” he groans, so many ideas of how to get you wailing and declaring your love for him rush to his mind. you’re biting your lip already, hoping he has you bent over like this for a reason. you hear his gauntlets clank together on the ground, and you wiggle your behind in the air excitedly.

“don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy..” you giggle, throwing that out to help your case. he knows you’re still bratty, not nearly worn down enough to be his babbling baby girl just yet. he smirks anyways, clever all on his own. his eyes focus on those perfect globes of your ass jiggling before him. you love his hands on you, warmed with his quirk with just enough spark and pressure to turn you to mush in just a few minutes. coincidentally enough he loves turning your ass into a custom painting of his own doing—and you get so noisy when he spanks you, that it’s clearly the best option.

“i’m not threatening, skank.” he pops your ass once, just a touch of warmth to your skin. you jolt forward, humming at the pleasant buzz. “tryin’ to get me all worked up in front of my friends?”

“oh they’re your friends now? i thought they were just extras.” you taunt, stretching your arms out in front of you to lay your face against the cool wood of his desk. his hand grows warmer and a little harder as it hits your ass in the same spot as before, a matching one falling to your other cheek within a second. it makes you squeal out a bit in glee, the sting was addictive.

“both, depending on how i feel—mouthy brat.” he huffs, though he is admittedly amused. he relishes your sweet little moans as he smacks your skin in rapid succession, his hands steadying their heat with each collision. as he smacks harder, your skin broken and bruised in the shape of his hand—you still moan in pleasure, getting louder the harsher he got. “this is all my little whore wanted hah? not’ta be able to sid’down all day?” he chuffs happily, giving you three more harsh smacks in a row, all to the same spot. you’re whining at the top of your lungs, making him smile successfully.

“mhm! yes daddy—jus’ wanted your attention~” you purr, his ownership of you bouncing off the walls and hopefully echoing downstairs to those shitty betas who put their hands all over you—kirishima would be dealt with separately.

his hands are so hot and blistering, the force enough to physically ripple your fat cheeks. it makes tears spring to your eyes and you shake your head in submission, throwing in the towel as your skin welts up before his lidded eyes. he slides warm fingers between your legs, swiping at your cunt. he cackles at the slick dribbling down his fingers when he pulls away.

“soaked. geezus, just from fuckin’ whoopin’ ya.” he licks his teeth, thinking of all the ways he could take you against his desk, but decides to start with a little reprieve for you. his suit is peeled back effortlessly, curved hard on gathering all the slick that littered your thighs and dripped from your pretty hole. “ain’t even gotta finger ya open, bet my greedy princess has been plannin’ this all day, hah?”

you can’t restrain your confirming giggle, your head already in the clouds just from his handling. it was moderately embarrassing how easy it was for him to work you up, but he supposed that was some sort of payback for how easily you consume his every waking thought—and some of the sleeping ones too.

he chuckles, kicking your legs a little wider so he can take you just like this. you gasp in excitement, smiling greedily as his tip catches on your clit before dipping to your entrance and back again. he played your game, so you could play his and beg like he wants you to.

“stop teasin’ me daddy.” you pout, tossing him that soft stare over your shoulder—the very same one that makes his heart stop each and every time. it will never get old, clearly. “please…been wet for you all day.” you bat your lashes.

fuck, you’re getting it. he puts his hand on the back of your neck and pushes your face to the desk, slipping his girth in your puckering hole without any ceremony. his other hand wraps under your hip to keep you from collapsing as you squeeze down and adjust to him like it’s the first time you’ve ever experienced his length splitting you open. you gasp for breath, straight hot fire melting into a tingling warmth requiring all your concentration.

“oh what’s a matter brat? goin’ quiet on me.” he grins his satisfaction, drilling into you without remorse. you feel him bumping against your womb, tearing at that entrance that he shouldn’t have access to. it hurts, he’s drilling you into jelly and you can only grab at the desk in a vain effort to ground yourself.

on command, your voice returns to you. you cry out your pained pleasure, nails scraping at the desk as every drag of his cockhead against your cervix had you tearing up. you can’t form words, and he doesn’t care. it’s too delicious—you’re too fucking tight for him to control himself, there’s just no way he could hold himself back when you’re so loud and absolutely drenched just to make all this easier on him. he angles one of your legs up on the desk, turning his curved shaft towards your spongy relief. your moans are even sweeter, heat flooding every sense in a mixture of something natural and something influenced by your lover’s quirk.

“yes! yesyesyes ohmygod yes daddy!” you scream, your throat ached from the sheer power behind it, your pretty little pussy kept fluttering around him as it stretches to fit him.

“better not cum. yer gonna hold it.” he commands, smacking some of that tender skin from earlier. you nearly fold at the impact, you whimper at the outrageous demand, shaking your head quickly to tell him you couldn’t possibly hold this back—the way he abuses your cunt was too intense to control your response. “if you cum—“

you can’t listen. it was all his fault anyway—fucking you like that and expecting you to be able to do anything but cream all over him.

“dumb brat.” he sighs, eyes fixated on your drooling hole leaving a pretty white ring of your essence along his shaft and coating his dark pubes. he shoves some of the extra shit off his desk, shoving you all the way on it once it’s barren. he puts you on your back like you’re a doll to position—holding your legs straight in his massive hands. you wince when your ass contacts the cold wood, “ya coulda got off easy—you just keep makin’ it hard on yerself.”

you mewl as he pins your hips to the surface below, his palms splayed across your abdomen—making every poke of his rod feel that much more intense. you grip his forearms; you were nearly crying already—then katsuki moves his hand to your clit, using the heel of his palm to send you into overstimulated jerks. “now you better learn to fuckin’ listen ‘r i’m cummin’ in that trashcan beside ya.” he snorts.

you cry out at the threat, nodding your understanding. what an evil thing to say—he knows you feel that much more complete after getting his load—like he’s giving you all his love and trust without him having to say a thing at all. you can’t let him take away your favorite part, so you clench your thighs and try to think about anything other than the beautiful ridges of his cock sliding in you like you’re nothing but a sleeve for him to use. you try, but his raspy grunts and groans in your ear keep you wailing and clawing at him desperately.

“can’t hold it daddy—too good! too much, pleasepleaseplease~” you cry, eyes screwed shut tight in pleasure as your body bounces around him with every devious pump of his cock. you feel so good to him, every clamp of your walls has him wondering how he hadn’t busted all up in your shit anyway.

“fine. now.” he orders, feeling the rush of your release and his control over you all in the same moment. it’s exhilarating, and you’re so picture perfect that he’s filling you up seconds later, his threat earlier as empty as they come. this was his pussy, and he would fuck it stupid and full and then send you back downstairs to your stupid fan club.

he stays hard, fucking into you relentlessly. hearing your sopping wet cunt squelch from being so full of his load combined with your elicit high pitched moans kept him thrusting like he hadn’t just reached one end.

“think you were getting off that easy, my little skank princess?” he mocks, dragging your limp body to the edge of the desk to give him full control of your hips. “i wanna hear how loud you can go. gonna fill this greedy little cunt up again.”

you nod, feeling his length shove everything deeper—cum so far down you’re sure you’re pregnant already. you wail your sensitivity, a mess of babbles and broken sobs. even as spent as you are, your gorgeous face twisted with satisfaction and your lips still called for him so perfectly. his hand finds it’s way to your throat, curses rolling past his own curved lips at the sputtering breaths you take as your moans turn to squeals. it doesn’t take much more than that, his second spurt just as heavy as his first. he uses his grip on your hips to hold you still, your legs a shaking mess as you went numb a while ago. he stills in you, chest heaving from all his hard work, but he watches you with a satisfied grin.

“gotta set a clothes you can wear. can’t clean up that pussy though—gotta show that off before we go home for round three.” he grunts, kissing your jawline roughly—saving your lips for last. he’s tender here, holding your face in his hands like he’s holding a delicate flower. “want them to see ya all fucked out. ‘s the only way they ever will. ‘m feelin’ generous.”

you struggle for your breath, rolling your eyes at him. you don’t mind the notion—you don’t care if pictures show up in the magazines the next day. all you care about is being his—and winning. though, it’s plenty safe to say you did

[in1-nutshell]

Okay, prime buddy meeting rodimus, ships collide, rodimus look at buddy w Shock of how big his ship is and crew, even buddy standing tall and spiky. Like wdym your the leader of the fallen stars….what? Your only (insert young age) and your a prime?!

I don't understand completely what the request is. So I did my interpretation of the request. If this is not what you want, please let me know.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy from the TFP universe meeting MTMTE Rodimus

SFW, platonic, Cybertronian/ Bot reader

TFP/MTMTE

This was Buddy's fault they were in this situation.

Buddy, being the ever loving technician, was helping Ratchet and Wheeljack with the newest tweaks on the groundbridge.

Wheeljack had just installed some new circuitry to the bridge and needed some help making sure everything went accordingly.

"Everything functional on your end?"--Buddy

"All clear, Wheeljack?"--Ratchet

"All good Sunshine!"--Wheeljack

"Don't call me that!"--Ratchet

A sudden beeping came from Ratchet's end near the console, Wheeljack went to go see what was wrong. Buddy went over to the bridge's opening to see if there was a problem there.

The bridge's lights flickered on and began to violently drag in all loose things around it. Including Buddy. Ratchet was holding on to the console for dear life as Wheeljack dug one of his katanas into the ground and held it with a steel grip.

"BUDDY HOLD ON!"-- Ratchet

"WHAT DO YOU THINK IM DOING?!"--Buddy

"BUDDY HOLD ON TO MY SERVO!"--Wheeljack

"WHEELJACK I'M SLIPPING!"--Buddy

"HANG ON BUDDY! IM ALMOST THERE!"--Wheeljack

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"--Buddy

The portal had sucked Buddy in right as Wheeljack's servo brushes Buddy's servo.

...

Meanwhile on the Lost Light...

Rodimus was back at his desk carving out some designs when a bright light appeared and a sudden weight fell on top of him.

"AH! WHO ARE YOU?!"--Buddy

"WHO ARE YOU?! YOU LANDED ON TOP OF ME!"--Rodimus

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING!?"--Buddy

"I DON'T KNOW! YOU STARTED IT!"--Rodimus

After a couple of minutes of hectic explaining, existential crisis, and a lot of deep venting exercises, Rodimus finally got a complete response.

"So essentially you're from another dimension were your war is still going on, only have a small group of Autobots left, and you dropped into this universe via groundbridge malfunction."--Rodimus

"And you're the Captain of this giant Star ship with more than a hundred Bots on it, are on a quest to find some mythical knights, and the name is..."--Buddy

"Oh! Rodimus, Rodimus Prime."--Rodimus

"Wait what happened to Optimus? And what about the Matrix of Leadership?"--Buddy

"Well, Prime is a part of the new Cybertronian government with Starscream as ruler and the Matrix is broken."--Rodimus

"...wait what..."--Buddy

"The matrix was broken by accident."--Rodimus

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ON ACCIDENT?! AND DID YOU SAY STARSCREAM WAS IN CHARGE OF CYBERTRONIAN!?!?! WHO'S IDEA WAS THAT?!"--Buddy

There was a lot of explaining to do when Rodimus came out of his habsuite with Buddy in tow. Especially with how much of a difference in frame Buddy had to everyone else on the Lost Light.

Buddy made friends with many bots during their stay aboard. They had plenty of stories to tell and to hear stories from this new dimension. The only bumps in the 'road' were when Buddy saw the alternate versions of Ultra Magnus, Ratchet and Megatron.

With Magnus

"It's a good thing those shoulder pads never change in different dimensions, sir."--Buddy

"Thank you?"--Magnus

With Ratchet

"You're telling me that Rodimus flipped over the Captain and fell on his face how many times per week?"--Buddy

"I lost count after 5."--Ratchet

With Megatron

"...do you have any dark energon in you?"--Buddy

"Do I have what?"--Megatron

"Oh you don't! That's good. You're one of the better Megatron's."--Buddy

It took a while later for Brainstorm and Perceptor to fix Buddy's dimension and set coordinates.

It was time for Buddy to say goodbye to their friends and head home.

"Thank you everyone!"--Buddy

"No problem Buddy! And if you're ever in the same dimension, just give us a call!"--Rodimus

"And if you guys are in my dimension, you call me! Bye!"--Buddy

"Bye Buddy!"--Rodimus

Buddy jumped right into their dimension.

Buddy knew it was the right one because of the feeling they had in their tanks.

Also because they landed on top of Wheeljack.

"AAAHHH! WHAT'S ON ME?!"--Wheeljack

"Wheeljack it's me!"--Buddy

"Buddy?! Oh thank the Prime's! Where were you?! We've been trying to scan your signature for days."--Wheeljack

"You have no idea what happened."--Buddy

[despairots]

CANDY NECKLACE: TIKTOK TREND

「 satoru gojo x gender neutral! reader 」

GENRE: slight suggestive themes, established relationship, crack, short story, sorta modern au, only for the phones though.

CONTENT WARNING: suggestive themes, swearing, not much i can cw, bottom reader.

AUTHORS NOTE: pls take this while i work on the oracle first chapter, i promise its almost done i just had this idea randomly. this is gender neutral but i wrote this with male reader in mind. yknow that trend where this girl has that candy necklace around her neck and goes around asking boys if they wanted some and she’d pull the necklace for them to take the candy in there month idk

being in a relationship with THE satoru gojo was bound to get you in the centre of attention (though you two have been in a relationship every since highschool years). students gave you pitiful glances that you had to deal with a literally man baby.

he’d whine and whine if you even decided to remove his arm around your waist to take a piss, it was annoying but you loved him anyways. if being a jujutsu sorcerer was your first job them being a babysitter was your second one.

not once have you seen a 28-year old man— who’s the strongest out there aswell— pout and act all dramatic when you decline him of a kiss. he would pull a heartbroken women act right out of his ass and hold onto you while staring into your soul.

(“after i birthed your kids!?”)

(“WHAT.”)

though, there was moments where he could act like a little child at one point and transition to a full on teasing boyfriend.

he would glide his fingers against your arms until they reached your lips—parting them with his thumb— as he neared your lips, teasing the air between you both before pulling back completely (which resulted with a bruise on his head).

he teased you and often worships your skin, leaving bruises and marks wherever he can reach. those happened when missions had to separate you both, making you both worry for eachother. And when you’re both in eachother’s arms, you know where that leads you both.

just today there was a mission that involved gojo, you, aswell as his students. the end if it, gojo had proposed a sleepover, so that’s where you are now.

a over sized shirt over you with gojo’s boxers and on the shared, a pillow in your arms and the lights shut off, only light source from the tv and the flashlight gojo had.

“.. and them boom! [name] nullified her ability and the curse exploded!”

the students (well, yuuji and kugisaki. megumi wasn’t interested) awed, stars exploding in theif eyes as your eye twitched. now, he was just making shit up. you sighed, pinching gojo’s eyes and hearing him whine, “that isn’t what happened.”

he pouted, “i can’t tell my students how absolutely amazing you are?” yeah, he can. it boosted your ego but not when he was speaking a bunch of lies, “no, baby.” placing a kiss on his cheek as megumi internal gagged at the sight.

“we should play truth or dare. telling stories are kinda boring now. megumi, you in?” yuuji turned to the spiky black haired boy beside him, everyone knew his answer already.

“absolutely not.” plain glances were handed to him.

why did it almost reminded you of a highschool party by how yuuji and kugisaki laughed evily while looking at you? they’re scheming something you didn’t want to be apart of. you sweatdropped when kugisaki cleared her thought.

she looked at you with a devious gaze, “[name], truth or dare?” of course you were first, “truth.” god, you pussy! although, it seemed like if you picked dare it wouldn’t be any better then picking truth.

“how often do you and gojo do it?” your face paled while you turned to gojo slowly, and he had a grin on his face!? how insane is this guy!? “it’s a truth, [name]~ how often do we do it?” he teased you, pinching your cheek in his fingers.

“you’re not helping!”

“come on! don’t be a wussy!” he wiggled his fingers infront of you, holding your pillow as shield as you answered, “twice or once a week.” kugisaki and yuuji fist bumped eachother, how horrible of them.

the game went on and on until kugisaki had asked you a dare, a dare that made gojo gasp in excitement. it worked since he was a sweet tooth aswell.

kugisaki cleared her throat, holding something behind her back, “it’s you once again, [name]. truth or dare?” you hummed, thinking about which one would have the least consequences. you had chosen truth more then you had choose dare— about 6 to 10– “dare.”

she laughed, pulling a candy necklace out from her back, watching gojo’s eyes sparkle. “i dare you to wear this candy necklace and after each round, gojo takes a bit out of each one.” you sulked into the couch, gojo patting your head.

gojo took it from kugisaki’s hand, pulling it over your head as it nestled around your neck. he pulled on the necklace, nearing close to your neck where you fault his breath against it before taking one of the candy from the necklace.

this was gonna be long.

bite after bite, dare after dare, and truth after truth. the necklace was halfway done and your embarrassment was starting to get to you.

the way he kept slowly tugged the necklace to his mouth while maintaining eye contact and biting into the candy made your breath hitch every time he did, he was teasing you, like he always did.

and the students knew aswell, that’s why they kept drawing this game out.

“truth or dare, gojo?” yuuji had asked, his phone in his hand as he stared up at his teacher, “dare.” he had more balls then you. after kugisaki had given you the candy necklace, your choices of picking dare was very unlikely.

“i dare you to show us your last photo for your eyes only.” oh. oh! the last photo was your blushing face in bed. was gojo gonna take this dare and have his students see him and you differently?

it looked like he was thinking long and hard until he had answer, “can i not take it?” you let out a relief breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in.

yuuji and megumi looked at eachother before shrugging, “okay but you’ll have to finish [name]’s necklace and tell us your favourite position—“

“you guys are minors! how do you know this stuff!?” you interjected with embarrassment, taking notice of gojo’s twitching fingers. he was holding himself back from throwing your legs over his shoulders and eating all the candy on your neck.

megumi slapped the back of yuuji’s head, “let’s just go to sleep.” you agreed with megumi’s words, hearing the other two whine before stomping to their rooms you had offered them.

sighing in relief, you threw your head back against the couch, feeling your embarrassment disappear from your entire body— until the necklace was tugged again and placed into gojo’s mouth.

there was a clear and evident look in his eyes that he wanted more, fixing your positions into something more comfortable before throwing one of your legs over his shoulders and leaning closer to your neck.

“i’m not finished.”

oh shit.

[verysmallcyborg]

Fornax Val'ethtue

B A S I C S

Name: Fornax Val'ethtue (or Fyrstyrn [fire star] Dotharl, when thinking of the two naming conventions)

Nicknames: They don't have much nicknames, however friends that know Fornax well enough can call them "Lily" (Delmira especially calls them that, this is because of their association with the flower), otherwise only Ryss gets to call her sea puppy or treasure

Age: 37 (by Endwalker)

Nameday: 5th Sun of the 1st Umbral Moon

Race: Sea Wolf Roegadyn + Xaela Au Ra (au roe, if you will. tehe)

Gender: Non-binary Butch (she/they)

Orientation: Lesbian

Profession: Outside of WoL responsibilities... bodyguard and marksman

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: Black with a bunch of grey hairs. If it's short, it's spiky and either has the sides and the lower back of it shaved down, or they have their sideburns. If it's longer, then it's generally messy and uneven with a "wild" look.

Eyes: Black sclera, slit pupils, and vibrant orange. Fornax's eyes only glow because their dad taught them how to apply limbal rings when she was young, but never learned how to accurately do it (or when to stop doing it, until there was a full glow) after his death.

Skin: Dark grey, has a black gradient starting at their forearms and goes all the way to their hands. Has a fair amount of scales, though some are broken and ripped off around scars.

Tattoos/scars: Decorated in scars all over their face and body, but the most notable ones are on their face, neck, and torso. Some of her face scars are from saving a coeurl kit from hunters, and briefly got mauled by its mother when returning it (they understood the protective instinct, but OUCH). The scars across their neck and chest was an incident that put them at deaths door, and then a large scar on their side is from... WELL. Ryss. :) Don't worry about it :)

Very important: their top scars!! Those tits: chopped off. Also the end of their tail (that doesn't have the top layer of thick scales) has a bite scar from the Major-General, no one believes them when they say a tiny shark with tiny legs bit them while fishing.

Fornax has a very subtle trail of faint orange stars on their back for a tattoo!

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unnamed Roegadyn mother & Xaela father. Her mom was a traveling merchant of sorts, while her dad was part of the Dotharl clan. Unfortunately, both were murdered while Fornax was young... :')

Siblings: No siblings

Grandparents: N/A (I don't think that far with family LOL)

In-laws and Other: No idea about in-laws, but for other: their lovely spouse, Ryssrael!!! :)

Pets: Befriends every stray and animal that they cross, but specifically, they have a little black coeurl and a baby amaro that follow them around.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Very skilled with a rifle and axes of any kind (WAR/MCH combo), though they are in their best element when within melee range. Weaponizes their teeth, claws, and tail as often as they can, and wields terrifying, brutal strength that amplifies when angered or under a need to win and/or survive. Best not to piss off a butch who could pull an entire ship with just them and their partner!!

Hobbies: LOVES cooking and all kinds of hands-on crafts, but specifically knitting and crocheting.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Their unwavering determination

Most Negative Trait: Has a self-destructive habit of fleeing and attempting to isolate themselves when hurt

L I K E S

Colors: Most warm colors, baby blue, black, and purple

Smells: Burning firewood, ocean breezes on the sunrise/sunset, the stinging metallic scent of blood, flowers in a field, freshly cooked food (especially stews and bread)

Textures: The subtle raised skin of old scars, the wool off of freshly sheared karakuls, tree bark, warm hands against their scales, horns, and tail

Drinks: Apple cider, hot chocolate, fruity beverages

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not really, unless offered

Drinks: Only in good company/socially

Drugs: Recreationally? Maybe, otherwise nah

Mount Issuance: Still has their red chocobo (HEH...) but he spends his days sleeping and chilling in the garden of their yard. Nowadays they use a comically tiny airship.

Been Arrested: Several times by the Maelstrom and Flames, mostly when they were a teenager & young adult because of petty thefts and getting in trouble for some of the jobs they took on to scrape by. Fornax has gotten significantly better at escaping and hiding though, which is kinda funny when you wonder, how does anyone lose a 8ft/244cm tall au roe with a big ole tail?

Tagged by @hazelkjt and @cindernet-explorer!!! thank you <3

UHHHHHH i've seen most folks i follow be tagged already, so i'm pointing at the viewer. Your Turn

[dellalyra]

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦：𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔．

𝑝𝑖𝑥𝑖𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠：ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟！𝑖 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟， 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒．𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 － 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠！𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑤 － ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦．

The fireworks lit up the night sky like a symphony of stars, each promising a granted wish for the year to come.

Satoru didn’t know what to wish for, anymore.

How could he think of anything else that could make his life better?

The shining twinkling lights lit up the night sky and the eyes of the little girl held tightly inside your fluffy winter coat. Shrieking in delight at all of the colours exploding across the inky blackness as singing and cheering tumbled through the air making the booming of the fireworks all the more magnetic.

The eyes of his girls, the eyes of the woman he fell in love with all those years ago - mirrored in the 2 year old on your hip, identical looks of awe of both pretty faces, astounded by the shimmering magical explosions ringing in the year.

The wiggling on his shoulders intensified with a particularly extravagant display of red and gold - shouts of ‘wow, papa! Papa! Did you see that one?!’ along with taps to the crown of his head as his 5 year old son squirmed in excitement, keen to share the joy with his father (considering sitting atop his very tall father’s shoulders was the world’s best viewpoint).

“Yeah, I saw them mochi! Aren’t they pretty?!” He responded, securing the hold on Akio’s leg.

“Oh! The countdown, everyone get ready!” Came the voice of Yuuji Itadori from behind them.

“10!”

“9!”

“8!”

He looked at you, finding you were already looking - smiling and securing your daughter on your hip as you shuffled closer to him.

“7!”

“6!”

Satoru looks down at you, moving one large hand from the boys leg on his shoulder to bring it around your waist, pulling his soulmate and baby girl into him, and pressing a kiss to the white curly head of his little girl’s head.

“5!”

“4!”

In the corner of his eye, he saw his eldest - tall and sharp edges and spiky raven hair sneaking closer to the boy he loves - and being quickly engulfed in the arms and lips of one Yuuji Itadori. He wouldn’t disturb them, New Year’s was theirs to enjoy. He also saw Shoko pouring two flutes of champagne, handing one to his daughter’s godfather - Choso Itadori (previously Kamo).

“3!”

“2!”

He looked back at you.

Fuck, he is lucky. Another year as the luckiest man alive. Lucky to be alive, with his girl by his side. In your firework eyes, he saw adoration reflected. Glimmering with that love he saw whenever he looked at you, whole - unwavering.

“1!”

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a practised movement that still elicits the same boom of fireworks that it did when you two were still 18.

“Happy new years, ‘Toru.”

“Happy new year, princess.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Happy new year, mama and papa!” Akio says, hugging the crown of his head.

“Happy year!” Claps Mirai, with her very confused two year old vocabulary.

“Happy New Year, our babies.”

[merakiui]

VNSJSCJSKKGKSKWKF PUNK JADE????? as a jade stan i am CLAWING my walls istg

so we have himbo jock virgin floyd,, WE HAVE TO ELABORATE ON PUNK JADE CUZ THE THOUGHT OF HIM JUST MAKES MY WORLD SHAKE

seriously still kicking my legs at that tag omg the thought of punk jade fkkfjsjjc like those stereotypical wattpad bad boys but somehow he's a little more charming and... tolerable (to an extent), i guess...

he leans on lockers, probably rides a motorcycle his rich ass mafia father gifted him, and is definitely brooding and mysterious, but oh my god is it so attractive... you don't mind and it's as if you were put into a spell; especially after you realize you're tangled up in the sheets of his bed, your mind hazy and memories hardly legible <3 you realize he's just as bad as his brother but then again, he's soooo much better in bed, you don't mind in the slightest anymore !!! <33333

fjsjjfjdkrjv i'm just spilling my brain worms now jade has affected me once again

— (a new-ish follower named star hehe <3)

orz punk Jade is so fine omg,,,,,, he has so many piercings, a few very intricate tattoos here and there, and in my heart he kills it on the electric guitar. <3 he rizzes you up with just a few chords and you know his fingers do more than skillfully play chords. Omg omg and he has a split tongue!!!!!!! He always wears his hair in messy styles, uses hair gel to keep it spiky when he wants it to be, and maybe he smokes on occasion; perhaps even coerces you into smoking. >:) getting high with him is an experience omg,,,,,,, maybe you hotboxed with him in Floyd's van once and the two of you kissed a few times and you learned that he's so good at kissing???? So much better than Floyd, and you have to wonder how he's leagues better when Floyd's so social, loved (and feared) by all, popular enough to be with anyone he wants. Jade's just so alluring in a way that his twin isn't. Whereas Floyd's all broad shoulders and bulk and muscle, Jade's all lean muscle and willowy and agile.

You don't trust him to take you for an innocent ride on his motorcycle, so Jade suggests using Floyd's van for stuff. Floyd doesn't really care because he's so busy with sports; his van is already messy enough (he draws the line at cum stains, though. At least, cum stains that don't belong to Floyd himself lol). It's a little unfair that Jade's really good at sex because you want to experience all of this technique with Floyd (who has yet to make you cum with his dick, mind you). Jade just knows what tips you over the edge. He wrings orgasms out of you like he's trying to prove something, and maybe he is. You never really paid much mind to him because he was the "quiet twin," the one who, despite his notable fashion and style, didn't really draw your eye.

Jade just loves showing up in your life when you're trying to avoid him and his bad influence. He teases you about that all the time, playfully calls you good girl/boy/goody-goody when you insist you're only visiting his apartment to see Floyd. He has the stickiest, sleaziest smile on his face when he lets you in, speaking in that mocking drawl of his, "You know Floyd has practice at this time, right?" And god you want to punch him, kick him in his dick, tear his hair out. But you don't because you can't. Because he's addicting. Because he's good at fucking you and talking to you and being your friend and making sure you're safe and sound when you have a bad trip and asking if it feels good when he lays you down in Floyd's van and ruts into you like he has all the time in the world. You hate him, but then you don't because he's so much better than Floyd. And of course you still like Floyd, but he doesn't hit in the way Jade does.

You wake up in his bed more times than you can count, twisted up in the sheets or, more recently, in his arms, and Jade has such a fun time teasing you for it. But then he's so tender in the mornings, so soft and gentle, caressing your cheek or pressing kisses over the marks he left the night prior. The two of you are way more than friends, but neither of you say anything to make it official and so you're stuck in a situationship that feels so comfortable and enjoyable.

Omg and when he plays the guitar for you....... orz Jade is the worst thing to ever happen to you (or so you adamantly claim), but he's also the best because if it weren't for him you'd never form such a genuine connection with him. <3 also, he opened your third eye. You shouldn't settle for bad, sloppy sex with his brother when he can fuck you six ways from Sunday and leave you satisfied each time. He takes immense pride in this, too. Annoying, but you love him. You really, truly, honestly do.

[esperanzagalaxy]

The kobold crew ? I just love all those funky little dragon gender guys

 RQG requests #11, FUNKY LITTLE DRAGON GENDER GUYS!!!! thank you so much for your prompt!! i’d never sat to think about their individual designs before this, and as much as i prefer to plan beforehand, it felt great to just doodle and build them as i went! this is pretty much exactly the result and vibe i wanted, so i’m very happy with this one. it’s really cute! they’re all so cute!!!!! character design is great!!

 going from top to bottom we have meerk, draal and driaak, natun and tadyka, sassraa at the center, and our guy skraak on the front. what absolute lads.

 mechanical pencil on cream paper, with digital colors.

 ID under the cut!

[ID: an illustration of all the kobolds. it's drawn with mechanical pencil on yellow paper, and is colored digitally with flat, warm colors. the style is simplistic and shows everyone in profile. they're all shown in full body, and are bunched together each posing and doing their own thing. skraak is on the front, crouched down, and sassraa is just behind them, standing up straight, at the center of the composition. natun and draal are standing out to the left from behind her, while tadyka and driaak are doing the same, but opposite them, towards the right. meerk is directly above sassraa, at the cusp of the pyramid. they are all variations of red with yellow fins, horns and eyes.

  skraak is crouching and leaning towards the right, resting his left arm on his knee, and keeping balance with their right hand on the ground. he's the biggest of all the kobolds, bright red, with a longer tail and spikier, fan-like ear-fins. he's frowning and has his eyes narrowed, with his head turned to the left but looking right. he has tight black armor on his torso and long gray cloves.

  sassraa is wearing a white lab coat and goggles. her fins are spiky and pointing diagonally upwards, making them look like cel. she's facing left and is looking right, with her left arm behind her back, and her right holding a test tube up to her face. she's smiling softly.

  behind her and stepping towards the left is natun. they're small and reach to about sassraa's chest. they're leaning forwards and have syringe spear on their right hand, and are wearing plain leather armor on their torso. they have a shorter, snubby snout, small horns that curl like a ram's, and two sets of ear fins, which give them a more aquatic look. they have an attentive, eager face and look younger than the rest.

   above them is draal. they're wearing a fur-lined, dark brown coat and are holding a fang on their right hand, holding it in front of their face with a big grin. their horns and fins are sharp and short, pointing backwards in spikes.

   opposite natun is tadyka. she's a slim, lanky kobold, standing with a bit of a stoop. they're holding a syringe spear in both claws, in front of them. she has a long, less angular snout, and her fins are split into two horizontally. they have plain leather armor. her horns are short and slightly curved forwards.

   above her and opposite draal is driaak. they're as tall as draal, and are also wearing a fur-lined coat for the cold. theirs is white with light brown fur, anf they're a dark maroon rather than red. their horns are very small, and their fins are wider towards the top. they're stepping forwards and have a left claw up to their eyes, looking into the distance with a cheery smile.

   behind them all is meerk. his body is facing right but he is yelling upwards, sticking his tongue with a grin out and holding drumsticks on each claw. they have a black headband around their heard, spiky bracelets on their right arm, dark gray gloves, and a shiny leather vest. they're bright red, their fins are short and spiky, and their horns are shaped like lightning bolts. his tail pokes out from behind draal in a curl, and the tip of it is a small spiky ball, like a morning star. end ID]

[paintedstories]

"issues"

⚠: Sid is an addict, cussing, mommy issues, I think that's all (please, if you ever need the help of advice or just to be listened to, contact me, I will never judge! I love you)

'you miss your friend, he changed... from the clean, porcelain skin and silky smooth hair, to a ragged man who looked rotten in every bit of his aspects...'

We are standing in a dark alley, looking at each other, he looked high...and he was. Why were still there? you fucking loved him too much.

you look at the destroyed man in front of you, half-naked covered in blood, with spiky hair that smelled weird, and a bloody face from a fight he caused... he felt happy when he was beaten.

He had severe Mommy issues. He was destroyed, yet still such a pretty human. You fully knew he wasn't a bad man... a bad boy, he was your boy.

you lean on the wall resting your head as you look up at the smoke flowing from his lips towards your face, pushed by the wind. you sigh as you shakily muster your words.

"I'm leaving" silence.

"good joke bubble-gum" he snorted, then stopped and looked at my serious face.

"oh..." he backed away slightly and continued.

"you've got bored of me innit?" he said with a scowl on his face as he spat blood on his right and threw the cigar.

"... I told you before... I wanted us two to live together! go to another country! go study! you promised... yet here we are, you all covered in blood...you've changed...and after all of this!" you gesture with your hands towards him up and down then to the dark alley we were standing in "Unfortunately, I still love you..."

your lips trembled, you did not want to cry...

"you chose those weird guys who just make you get hurt...." I pause "Over me..." you could not hold it anymore it drove you mad crazy, to see that beautiful smart, and kind boy turn this way

"You broke our promise, you started doing drugs, smoked even more than before, started cutting yourself again, you did not come to visit me, did not even let me know you're still alive for three fucking months!" he starred now with sadness and shock as if he got out of a dream and realized.

he stepped closer to you yet the smell of alcohol and more things made you want to gag and you backed away looking at him with pure sadness.

"I know I shouldn't... but I give you one last chance"

you saw his eyes lit up and that made you continue.

"Either you come with me right now, leave them behind" you gesture to the building as in his band "and you come with me. I will help you put yourself back on track... or you stay here like a fucking rat and never contact me... the only person who will ever love you this much, ever again." you finish with a stern face and tone.

you let him think as I saw a stray cat and went to pet it.

"I can't..." he said under his breath

as you sat up you saw him crying, you went up to him and put my hands on his face gently holding him. he shock his head as he looked at you like a lost boy... the lost boy you first met at that kindergarten.

You slightly smile "You can, I am her to help you, I will be by your side all my life, but only if you come with me" He fell to the ground as he started sobbing, and you crouched and let him bury his face in your chest as he cried and you held him, shit, this heroin made him sensitive, more sensitive than he was already.

"m-mom...?" he said as you held him, humming a song from our favourite childhood cartoon.

"no sweetie, It's me y/n" he then hugged you tighter and sobbed harder, dampening your white shirt.

"help me...please...fix me, I'm fucking broken, please" he sobbed, he was back.

you helped him stand, then went through your backpack to take out a jacket, always carried a spare one, taking it out you opened it and helped him slide his hands trough it, then zipped it up making him hiss as the jacket came in contact with his chest full of scars.

you hold your hand for him, you start walking as he keeps holding your hand and continues to softly cry.

"It's fine now, you're safe, everything will be fine," you tell him with a motherly tone as you walk to your apartment.

When you stepped into your apartment, then told him to go shower and use your shower gel. As he was in the shower hopefully washing himself, you made the bed, added more pillows and another blanket.

you were in the kitchen preparing tea, to relax him so he will be able to fall asleep, when you heard him coming out of the shower and calling your name,

"here, in the kitchen!" You say as his footsteps are heard, you hand him a cup of tea as you walk to bed.

"come, we have to sleep. tomorrow we will leave." You tell him as he sits down ad slowly drink his tea as his head is rested on your shoulder.

you've got your boy back...and you're never letting him go and get hurt.

hi!

im sorry for not being active...some things have been going on. I've been inspired by the series "Pistol" to make this small imagine.

as always, if you want to request, you can!

and as I said at the start, need someone to talk to? Im here!

[minaturefics]

Misunderstandings

Request: Howdy! Your writing is perfection! If you don't mind, maybe you could write an Aragorn x fem reader where the reader has been friends with Aragorn since childhood and is in love with him, though Aragorn doesn't know it. Then her mother tells her that she had arranged a marriage for the reader with another man. Aragorn finds the reader crying, and you can decide what happens from there. Thank you!

A/N: Hello hello thank you! It's finally here! I wanted to explore a bit of the feelings of anxiety that develop when you fall in love with your best friend lol hope you like it!

Aragorn x Reader

Fem Reader

No content warnings

3.3k words

---

You stared at the letter in your hands, fingers tightening around the thin paper, and tried to steady your breathing. The faint bustle of Minas Tirith drifted in through your window, the distant shouts of the sellers in the market, the clatter of carts and clops of hooves. Birds chirped in the eaves and you tried to focus on their melodic cries. The words on the page echoed in your mind and you swallowed. 

…have been patient with you for so long… allowed you liberties…Lord Feandil has proposed… this is your duty…

You ran your eyes over your mother’s spiky script. How was this possible? She let Gandalf whisk you away to Rivendell all those years ago, happy to be rid of you, and now she demanded this of you? You laid the letter on your desk and stared out of the window. 

Minas Tirith spread itself before you, each circle like steps down the hill. It was one of the few rooms in the King’s House that had a view of the entire city; the majority of them overlooked manicured courtyards or faced north and only viewed a portion of the circles. Aragorn had arranged it, breaking a tacit arrangement and offering the spacious room to you instead of one of the more titled nobles. ‘I know the city makes you feel trapped,’ he had said, grey eyes soft and gravelly voice low, ‘I hope the view of the circles and the plains beyond will lessen that.’ 

When he had stood at the window, dressed in velvet robes and haloed by the bright sky beyond, it struck you that he was a king. Aragorn had always just been Aragorn to you. The wild boy you explored Rivendell’s forests with, the study partner in the lessons Elrond insisted on, the grave man you confided in. When did the love you had for him shift to something more? When did his gazes from across the room start to put a flutter in your stomach?

Did he realise your feelings had changed? You tried to carry on as you always had. Taking his arm when he offered it, ignoring the twisting of your stomach, or braiding his hair when he requested it for a particularly important event, focusing on your moving fingers instead of meeting his searching eyes in the mirror.

How could you tell him? How could you risk losing what you had by asking for more? You had Aragorn in the way few people had — soft by the fire in the library, playful on the secret rides out of the city, relaxed with a pipe shared under the stars. And how would Aragorn feel if you told him? Would he tiptoe around you, careful of his words, his actions? Would he feel he had lost a friend? No, no. You could not do that to him. There were few that he trusted.

Whatever feelings you had, you had to bear alone. 

Tears leaked from your eyes and you allowed them to slide down your cheek. How were you to escape the arranged marriage? Staying in Minas Tirith was not possible; your mother already knew where you resided. Rivendell was soon to be emptied, and Elrond, who had sheltered you for so long, would sail to the West. Perhaps you could hide in Rohan, assisting Eomer with his reluctant kingship, or seek refuge with Farmir and Eowyn in Ithilien.

But it would mean you would have to leave Aragorn’s side.

A sob broke from your throat and you wept into your hands. Your chest heaved, your breaths ragged in your ears. 

“My friend, I knocked but —”

Your head snapped up and you swiped at the tears blurring your vision. Aragron stood in your doorway, lips parted in surprise and grey eyes worried. Why did it have to be him? Him who you wanted, him who you could not have? A fresh wave of tears streamed from your eyes and he rushed to your side. 

His arms were warm around your shoulders, his low voice soothing in your ears. His scent, soap and leather, filled your nose. You sagged into his side, giving in to his steadiness. His hands rubbed slow circles into your shoulder, and your breathing began to even out. You blinked away the last few tears and looked up at him. 

He swiped away a tear with the back of his fingers. “What has distressed you so?” You gestured at the letter in front of you and he leaned forward to read it. His jaw tensed and his frown deepened. “She has gone too far.”

“What am I to do? I must leave Minas Tirith, go where she cannot find me.”

His grip tightened around you. “There is no need for that, my friend. You forget that I am king. If you do not wish this, I can make it so.”

“Aragorn, you would not… You are too fair in your power as king. Is this not too personal? Will people not speak behind your back?”

“And is this not an action that is fair? Your mother has long since given you up as her own, that much was clear when she let Lord Elrond raise you. I do not see why she should dictate who you should marry.” The crease between his brow deepened. “No one should be made to marry who they do not wish to.”

“The court will think you are playing favourites, they will think that you and I are —” You pressed your lips together. “And Lord Feandil will not be happy.”

His gaze softened and a gentle smile played about his lips. “Do not worry yourself, my friend. Whatever comes we will deal with together.”

His warm hand closed around your own, his rough fingers curling around yours. You offered him a shaky smile, and he squeezed your hand. Before anything else, he was your friend, and he had never left you on your own.

--

Aragorn wandered out onto one of the larger balconies in the Citadel, eyes trailed on the glittering stars overhead. The city was quiet, save for the occasional dog bark or the distant march of the patrolling guards. He laid his hands on the cool bannister and sighed, the tension from the last week melting out of his shoulders.  

The letters from your mother and Lord Feandil had finally arrived, with both of them agreeing to the quiet breaking of the engagement. 

Lord Feandil’s letter was short. He claimed that he did not know you had not agreed to it, and asked Aragorn to convey his apologies to you. Your mother’s letter was twice as long, and held more well wishes and platitudes than some of the letters he received from court. 

He had told you the fortunate news after dinner, and you had thrown yourself into his arms. He could still feel the echo of your body against his, your arms circled around his neck, your bright laugh in his ears. When he drew back and looked into your eyes, he almost gave in to the tugging of his heart, almost leaned in towards your soft lips. 

How many months, years, had he longed to do that? To reach out and take your hand, to hold you close and breathe in your scent. In truth he had missed your embraces. It seemed as the two of you grew, the less frequent they became, and one day it had stopped altogether. 

You seemed distant of late, never knocking on his door to speak about something, drawing away from him when his shoulders brushed yours as you walked. 

Was there a reason for your distance? Unease settled in his stomach. He thought that the pain brought about by your mother’s letter was borne out of the frustration of being forced, but perhaps there was something else. 

Someone else. 

Your words echoed in this mind. ‘… they would think you and I are…’

Why had you sounded so dismayed by that? 

Perhaps it was because there was someone who you did not wish to concern. Someone who you feared might take your closeness with him the wrong way. 

Was there another in your life who was privy to all the little things he adored about you? The fire in your eyes when you sparred, the gentleness of your voice as you read, the amused smirk you tried to hide when one of the court was being obnoxious. 

He had not seen you with anyone else of late, but he had been so occupied with his duties it was possible it slipped his notice.

Perhaps he had grown too complacent, too at ease with your constancy, believing he could reveal his heart slowly. It had only been two months since his coronation. You were still adjusting to peace, to Minas Tirith. He would not add another burden to your shoulders should you not return his feelings. 

Had another come to fill his place by your side while he had been waiting? Someone without the weight of courtly duties, someone you could spare you more time than a few afternoons and evenings a week. Someone who could roam the fields that he could only afford to give you a view of. 

His chest tightened and his fingers curled on the cold stone. He would be happy for you if there was. He would clasp your hands and wish you joy, and never speak of the affection in his heart. The corners of his eyes burned with tears and he sighed, tilting his head up to the stars wishing they could bring him some relief.

“Aragorn?” He turned to find you standing a few paces away, a small frown on your face. Your nightgown peeked out of the thin cloak thrown around your shoulders. “Night terrors again? Shall we sneak into the kitchen for some hot chocolate?”

A smile tugged at his lips, and he shook his head. “I simply could not sleep. Why do you wake at this hour?”

“I was up reading and got hungry.” You chuckled and gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “Come, my friend. I’m in search of the blueberry muffins they had at lunch. Will you not come with me?”

For a moment, he considered going with you, like he always did when one of you had nightmares. 

The both of you would sit by the fire, hot chocolate in hand, chasing away the dark vestiges of the dreams away. The glow from the fire would outline your profile and he would trace it, from the slope of your nose to the curve of your chin, and he would wonder how it was possible that you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. 

But the tightness in his chest would not loosen and the thought of you so close, but always just beyond reach, stayed his tongue. 

He shook his head. “It is late, and I have an early morning meeting. Perhaps another time.”

You blinked at him before nodding, your smile fading as you turned. “Goodnight, my friend.”

--

You stared at Aragorn from across the room as the party swirled around you. Warm orange candlelight filled the small hall, smoothing the fine lines on his face. His hair fell, unbound, in soft waves to his shoulder. The celebration was only a small one, something Merry and Pippin contrived to cheer Frodo up, but it seemed odd that he had not asked you to braid his hair.

He had been strange the past week, ever since he told you of your broken engagement. He was pensive, brooding almost, the few times you caught sight of him around the Citadel. He didn’t invite you to his private quarters for dinner as he usually did, and the one time you asked him to read with you in the library he had been quiet and sullen. Even now, in the midst of the party, there was a line between his brows and a hardness to his lips. 

It was like him to dwell on things, to turn them over in his mind, but eventually the words would spill from him. The anxiety, the dismay, the dark things that weighed in his heart and on his mind. Your ears had always been the first to hear them, but something was staying his feet from searching you out. Your troubles with the arranged marriage had been dealt with, and your short chat with Faramir earlier assured you that there was nothing wrong with Minas Tirith or Gondor.

What was in his heart, so deep and troubling, that he could not bring himself to tell even you?

“You’re awfully low spirited for someone who just escaped an arranged marriage,” Gandalf said as he came up beside you, his eyebrows raised and his lips pulled into a knowing smile. “Perhaps there is something else…?”

“If you already know what is in my heart, do not make me say it.” You flashed him a rueful smile and turned back to gaze at Aragorn who was talking to Legolas.

He chuckled. “No, but if you do not speak it aloud it shall sit in your heart, festering.”

“I don’t wish to speak of it to you Gandalf, please.”

“I do not mean me, no, no.” He inclined his head towards Aragorn. “There is another much more suited, I think.” You blinked at him and his eyes softened. “You will never know for sure until you ask.”

You glanced back at Aragorn. Legolas had drifted off towards Gimli, and Aragorn leaned against a pillar, the frown back on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Perhaps there was some truth in what Gandalf said; the twisting in your heart would not cease until you spoke to him plainly. Gandalf offered you an encouraging smile, and you crossed the room towards Aragorn. 

Aragorn straightened as you approached, but his frown did not fade. “My friend.”

“Are you not enjoying the party?” You forced a smile and gestured to the hobbits dancing in the middle of the room. “Frodo looks much happier.”

“Indeed, though I suspect Merry and Pippin wanted this for themselves as much as they did for him.” He bit back a smile. “It is good to have some laughter back in these halls.”

You hazarded another glance at him. “Have you… been unhappy recently, my friend?”

His lips parted, then he pressed them together and shook his head. “I will not trouble you in such a cheerful place.”

You stepped closer to him, reaching out to rest a hand on his folded arms. “Then let us go elsewhere. We will not be missed for a few moments.”

His eyes flicked around the room before he nodded and moved towards one of the doors that led to an adjoining courtyard. You followed after him and tried to calm your heart, swallowing as you passed through the door and into the night. 

The courtyard was dim, lit only by a few lamps on the surrounding pillars. The music faded into a muffled melody and the sound of your footsteps echoed on the stone path. There was a marble bench at the end of the path, bordered by low shrubs and flowers, and for a moment you thought he was going to sit. Instead, he paced the small clearing, his frown growing deeper with each step, and you watched, forlorn, in the middle of the path. 

“I…” He began and shook his head. “I do not know how best to say it.”

Your lips quirked up. Ever like Aragorn to ponder his speech, to choose his words with such care. “Plain and honest speech often does not go astray.”

He paused, soft grey eyes meeting your gaze. “And if it does?”

“Then at least the other party cannot fault you for being dishonest.”

He hummed and let his eyes wander to some point beyond you. “If I speak, I must ask you to be equally plain with me.”

“Of course, my friend.” What could be so important that he would request that of you before he spoke? You fisted your dress and braced yourself. 

“Is there… someone who you hold in your heart?” You blinked at him, jaw slack. Why would he ask you that? Did he discover your feelings for him and wished to decline you gently?

“There is,” you said, and his shoulders stiffened.

“I see,” he muttered, eyes drifting towards the ground.

“Why do you ask? Has someone told… did you know…” You shook your head and swallowed, ignoring the growing ache in your chest. “This will not change things between us, Aragorn. I will always be your friend.”

“My friend…”

You took a breath and offered him a small smile. “We have been friends for so long, I will not let my… feelings for you affect our friendship.”

His head snapped up. “Your feelings?”

You nodded and he took a step closer towards you. His grey eyes were silver in the flickering torchlight, his lips soft and parted. He reached up, fingers trembling and unsure, and tucked your hair behind your ear. His familiar scent filled your nose, the soap and the leather, the sweet lavender from the oil he untangled his hair with. You brought your hand to his chest, your fingers resting on the plush velvet over his heart. He sighed and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Meleth nin,” he whispered.

His words washed over you, melting away the tension in your shoulders. You brought a hand to his waist and tugged him closer.

“I cannot believe…” you mumbled. “Aragorn, how can this be so? I have watched you most closely for years and I have not seen any change in you.”

He chuckled and leaned back, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Perhaps it is because I have loved you for years.”

All those times you were watching him, your heart longing, breaking, he had been doing the same.

“Why did you not say anything?”

“I had my duties to fill, as a Ranger. As a king. And I did not want to burden you with my feelings should you not return them.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I thought the same for you. There are few you let into your heart, Aragorn. I did not wish for you to feel as though you could no longer trust in me.”

“I have been busy of late, and when your mother wrote… It made me wonder if there was another who had captured your heart.”

“I gave that to you a long time ago, meleth nin.” You brushed his face with the back of your fingers. “Would you have not said anything if it was not for her letter?”

“Perhaps, but I do not think my heart could have held much longer.”

You hummed and he pressed a kiss to your temple. You smiled, tilting your head back in an invitation. His lips were soft and warm, tentative and gentle. You felt him smile and you grinned, teeth knocking his. He chuckled and kissed you again, longer this time, slower, more languid.

You drew back and rested your head on his shoulder, tucking your nose into his neck. “Must we go back to the party?”

“It would be the dutiful thing to do.” His thumb stoked your waist idly.

“You have been dutiful for so long, my love.” You smirked at him. “Come, there is grass to sit on and stars to lie under. Tonight you are just Aragorn.”

He glanced at the door and then nodded. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you led him away. There were no crowns where you were going, no swords or cloaks.

Just him, with his shifting silver eyes. Just him, with his low gentle voice.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

omg I’m so excited to see the Shroud parents, I thought they’d for sure be locked only to hometown events!! did not expect them to be in the main story. speaking of, why do you think they haven’t shown their faces to us? do you think maybe twst had to cut corners to make it for this update?

Yes, the helmets have super cool and sleek designs ^^ Mr. Shroud has a more oblong shape like Hades’ face, and I actually notice those were flowers on Mrs. Shroud’s until one of these Anons pointed it out. (I think maybe because the “flowers” looked too spiky for my mind to register them as mimicking something organic?? Totally thought they were stars!) In hindsight, flowers makes a lot of sense given that there’s an infamous irl ancient Greek myth about how the seasons came to be (which, of course, involves Hades and Persephone becoming romantically involved—though there are variations across different tellings).

My guess is it probably would have taken just as much time to design new faces and hair as it did to design those complicated helmets. Because of that, I believe current looks are probably intentional rather than a last minute change for convenience. Now that the Shroud parents do wear those helmets, we may be given an explanation for them somewhere down the line.

The helmets could be a conscious fashion decision the characters make! What the reason for that is exactly, I’m not sure. It could be special equipment they wear to protect themselves, but then I don’t think it makes a ton of sense because if that’s the case then… why are the Shroud parents the only ones wearing them?? Why wouldn’t all the other STYX researchers also have them on?

It could be a medical issue limited to Mr. ans Mrs. Shroud (like maybe it’s an air purifier??), but we don’t really have any evidence to support that. Idia’s family isn’t described to be particularly sickly either.

Maybe it’s a shyness thing (and Idia takes after them)??? Like, they don’t want their faces to be seen by their coworkers because it makes them feel kind of awkward…? We’ve seen that Idia better communicates when it’s not face-to-face and/or when his face is concealed (like in a Pumpkin Knight helmet), so it could be a similar situation for his parents. Alternatively, maybe the headwear denotes high status in the organization…? But Idia was not wearing one when he was at STYX 🤔

If anyone had any other ideas or theories, I’d love to hear them ^^ (cbskxbkwbsi I did hear a few people jokingly theorizing that the helmets are equipped with voice modifiers because they were shocked at how youthful Mrs. Shroud sounded! I believe her VA is the same person that voices Cardcaptor Sakura and Mr. Shroud is voiced by the person that does adult dorm Kero aka Cerberus…? Idia was literally born from anime legends 😂)

[limbus-limousine]

Do you have design takes on Kromer, Knauer, Alfons, and Frau Eva. I'm dying to know

Okay first and foremost I apologize because this kind of turned into an essay but like❤️

When it comes to Knauer and Alfons, honestly, I don't have much of a mental image???I have aphantasia, so it's hard for me to imagine appearances from only text and usually stick to specific representations of them, limbus designs are like super ingrained in my mind but I do think of their book descs aswell. Mostly I'd say Knauer would be physically similar to Sinclair to some degree, but their main differences lay on face, eye shape and such. I usually draw Sinclair with round shapes, but then roughen him around the edges a bit (I make his eyes sharper, hands calloused etc). Knauer would look more soggy i think

About Kromer, I always try to make her look bulkier in a way?? Blocky and spiky at the same time if you will. I also love making her sclera a dark greenish hue, it makes her look like an animal being hit by camera flash a bit... I also lean more into her limbus character because I love how much more relevant she feels, I at least try to portray her in a slightly animalistic, scary way, in contrast to Demian with whom I also lean towards animalistic, but more like, sly??? If that makes sense, fox/snake like. Kromer to me is more feline (cat hunts bird uhu) but also insectoid, to represent that while she is scary and such, she lacks Demian's sly mystique and intelligence (in other words, the mark)

As for Eva, I imagine her very similar to Demian (obviously) although in my mind, both of them aren't super defined, the lines are blurry. I think I mentioned this before, but they feel to me like some kind of cryptid. I boost the "creepy/scary" aspect for them a lot, I think because I deeply resonate with Sinclair's more abstract view of love, it reads to me like he finds beauty in the grotesque, and I want to interpret that as nonchalance and even appreciation to something that is outwardly scary. Also going to the whole star symbolism... God, space is scary, but ohh is it beautiful as well.

It doesn't feel completely right to portray them as people sometimes tbh. They are more like masses of light and energy floating around to me. Demian to me represents camaraderie, guidance and a more childish (but still profound) love, while Eva leans more toward the whole mothery love thing, maturity, home, safety. But they are like, two ends of a spectrum?? Sometimes it will be an in-between of those shapes of love and feeling, is it Max or Eva?? Doesn't really matter, they give of the same light, same star... This is why I portray Demian differently as well, sometimes I will make his hair longer, face a bit older looking, etc.

IM SORRY this is really rambly and super long auughgg😭 I'm not very clear with specific design aspects but the way I see them psychologically really influences how I draw them... Thanks for the ask anyways!!! I love talking about these freaks mannn

[pumpkinhrat]

Martin nearly drops his glass of wine in his lap when the notification pops up. A bit does splash over the lip of the glass and nearly ruins his freshly folded laundry, but he can’t bring himself to care. The message blinks at him from his phone screen: Tinder (now) – Somebody Super Liked you! Find out who.

Martin stares blankly at it until the screen starts to go dark. A Super Like. A Super Like? It’s been a week since Martin opened the account and he’s barely had 5 matches in the time since. He’s not even really sure what a Super Like is besides the fact that Tinder keeps trying to make him buy them. Did someone pay to match with him? Martin’s pulse quickens and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s typing in his passcode and pulling up the app. Immediately, a profile pops up with a bright blue star under the scowling face of–

Jonathan Sims.

Martin freezes, the skin of his neck prickling suddenly. What… He takes a furtive look around his flat, suddenly and bizarrely self conscious, as if someone’s gonna pop up beside him to judge his every reaction – ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. He takes a large swallow of wine.

Martin’s first instinct upon discovering that his boss Super Liked him on Tinder of all places is, of course, to deny, deny, deny that it’s really happening. Because, really, imagining dour, dry Jon sitting down to set up an online dating profile after scoffing at Tim’s own profile so hard that he’d set himself into a coughing fit is unbelievable. It doesn’t help Martin’s denial, however, that the third picture on Jon’s account is one of Tim and Sasha crowding beside him at a bar. It also doesn’t help that Martin remembers that night very clearly and knows for certain that after Sasha had taken that selfie of the three of them, Tim had insisted on a photo with Martin as well. (“Gotta have documentation that I actually managed to drag all three of you out at once!” he remembers Tim shouting in his ear.)

Martin clicks through the rest of the profile with a deliberate sort of detachment, though his cheeks warm against his will. It’s not his fault that every previously unseen photo of his stuffy, starched shirt boss in jeans and a flannel ignites a new wash of fire down his back. The blue Super Like star continuing to glow merrily under each photo doesn’t help, either.

Martin mindlessly scrolls down a bit further and encounters the description he’d missed while scouring Jon’s photo album. The bio reads: ‘Stressed, depressed, well dressed. Put the bi in bibliophile. Looking for someone to raise a cat with.’ Martin’s attention catches on the second line, specifically the word ‘bi’. He knows that Jon had dated at least one woman before but he never wanted to assume anything about his preferences. It’s nice to know, he supposes, as his traitorous body sends another wash of elated heat down his back.

This is bad. Very, very bad. Jon had been alluring enough when he’d been Marin’s mean, unfairly hot boss who’d occasionally dress him down in a way that made his hands tingle. Cold, strict, and gloriously, mercifully unattainable. It’s been a few years since those rocky beginnings, though. Now, Jon has settled into his gig as Head Archivist and the spiky walls of his glaringly obvious inferiority complex have disappeared entirely. He still snaps and snipes, of course, but that’s to be expected no matter how close you are to Jonathan Sims.

This, unfortunately, means that Martin’s… interest (he refuses to say ‘infatuation’ as Tim had) in Jon has taken a bit more of a realistic turn. In the past year or so, Jon has turned into something of a friend, which is incredible on its own but also has disastrous implications for Martin’s ability to maintain his self control. And this? This is bad.

The wine (a thank you gift from Jon for hosting his birthday party at his flat the year prior) sits warm and soft in Martin’s belly as his thumb hovers over the swipe right and left options. Nothing about this makes a lick of sense, but Martin’s imagination never really needs much to go on in order to find the most ridiculous course of action and convince him to act on it.

He downs the rest of his glass in one go and swipes his thumb to the right. Who needs self control?

––

“And what, exactly, do you mean by concerned?”

Sasha cringes slightly at Jon’s sharp tone but Tim just slings an arm around his neck, snatching his phone and the offending Tinder account away from him. “Oh come on Boss Man, you know we worry! We’re just looking out for you! Consider it a favor.”

“A favor.” His tone is so dry that even Tim grimaces but he quickly recovers.

“Yeah! You were just whingeing about how terrible company Sash and I make on a night out, always running off for a bit of fun and leaving you by your lonesome. We thought we’d solicit you some company!”

“Must you phrase it that way? It sounds as if you’re hiring me an escort.” Jon gripes without much bite, crossing his arms where he leans against Sasha’s desk. Tim grins at him so widely he rolls his eyes and looks away. “So, what, you want to find someone for me to interact with while the two of you go off to- to do whatever it is you do? I’m just supposed to stay behind and rendezvous with some stranger?”

“Well,” Sasha says slowly. Jon turns his imperious look on her. “We tried to encourage you to, um, rendezvous with someone at the bar when the two of us break off but you didn’t seem to like that idea either.”

Jon puffs out an exasperated little sigh that is honestly endearing as fuck and levels a flat look at Sasha. “You know perfectly well that that is not something I’m–”

“That’s not what I meant,” she cuts in quickly. “It’s perfectly possible to make friends at bars even if you’re not looking for anything else.”

“Maybe for some people,” he mutters, looking away, and Sasha’s heart squeezes much in the way that had made her start this entire endeavor. She opens her mouth to explain just this but Tim beats her to the punch.

“That’s kinda the point, Boss Man. We know you aren’t particularly comfortable having full blown conversations with strangers, so we thought this would be is a great solution! Match with a few people, see who fits the best, then you can meet the ones who you think you’d actually survive socializing with.” Jon takes a breath and Tim quickly barrels on. “Aaaand if you don’t find anyone who meets that bar, then no harm done! Just delete the app and you’ll never have to think about it again.” He gently pushes the phone across Sasha’s desk toward Jon, the app open to the ‘matches’ page.

Jon stares down at it with clear disdain before eyeing them both doubtfully. “I appreciate the effort,” he starts carefully and Sasha has to bite her tongue to resist interrupting. “But isn’t this an entirely unnecessary endeavor? It’s not as if we go out all that often, anyway. Everyone’s far too busy to agree on nights to go out, and Martin hasn’t been able to attend in months.”

“Well, y’know, that’s also kind of the point, Boss Man,” Tim says. He yanks out a chair and sits on it backward beside Sasha so they’re both looking up at Jon. He taps his phone pointedly. “We want you to get out there, mingle with other people now that Martin’s lost his weekends to his mom and Sash and I are dipping into territory you’re not as comfortable with–”

“You two do know I am capable of hearing the word sex without bursting into flame, yes?”

“–and, hey, we get it, you’re not the most social guy. But everyone needs a little bit of time with a friend or partner. We don’t want you to miss out on that because our little quartet has encountered a few scheduling conflicts.”

Jon stares at them, a look Sasha does not like filling his eyes, and his lips thin slightly. “You think I’m lonely.” He says the word with such a tone of accusation that Sasha cringes again.

“We don’t think you’re lonely,” she corrects quickly. “We just think you’d benefit from new social connections now that we’re less available.”

“And we still wanna go out,” Tim adds. “As often as we can. We just want–”

“Me to have more options than just you three, yes, I understand the premise.” He turns his attention back to Tim’s phone and gingerly pokes through the app, huffing and making more Jon Noises. Precious. After an excruciating amount of time, he heaves a gigantic sigh. “I suppose it won’t hurt to- to test it out. See if your theory holds any weight.” He sounds reluctant but Tim and Sasha share an excited glance, Sasha giving an endeared little nose scrunch at the wording. What an utterly Jon thing to say. “It has– It’s been a while since Georgie, so I believe now is as good a time as any to ‘get back out there’. I hadn’t thought there’d be anyone particularly interesting on apps like these but…” He trails off as he clicks through one of his matches’ profiles and Sasha just barely catches a glimpse of a foggy silhouette on a mountain.

“We handpicked a few people that we thought you might gel with,” she cuts in quickly, before Jon can expand on his ‘but’ and shut the whole thing down. “The one you’re looking at right now is Tim’s favorite, though I think he’s a bit boring.” Tim makes an affronted noise but Jon just hums, scrolling slowly through the profile’s long winded description.

“Yes, quite,” he says, clearly not paying any attention to what she’s saying. Tim grins at her.

‘Told ya so!’ He mouths and Sasha gives him the finger under her desk.

“Well, whaddya say, Boss?” Tim asks after another few minutes, which Jon spends entirely on Martin’s profile. “Shall I get you all logged in on your phone so you can start chatting him up? Or am I gonna lose my phone entirely to you and this ‘Martin’?” Jon looks up at Tim, surprised, then back down at the phone.

“Oh, right, yes, this is–“ He fumbles to return the phone to Tim, as if looking through it hadn’t been the entire point of the account, and pulls out his own phone. “I’ll just take over from you now, shall I? It is, ah, apparently my account, after all.”

He says the last bit with no small amount of pointed wryness but Sasha ignores their squabbling, leaning back in her chair triumphantly. Another successful mission in order to expand Jon’s little world, this one possibly the most satisfying. She glows a little with the feeling of a job well done.

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

ANON YOURE BACK, THANK YOU FOR WRITING MORE I absolutely love it 😭

[Here is the previous part] --- [next part]

UPDATE: You can read the whole story by JJanuaryRain on AO3! Go give them lots of love -> "all's fair in love & tinder"

[legendary-pink-dot]

Pedro's curls are OUT OF CONTROL this week in the best way. As a fellow hair aficionado, I have to ask...sifting through all of the photos you have saved, what are your top 3 hair photos/looks of all time?

Pedro tax (and a spoiler for mine, but you already knew that 😜)

Ahhh mahhh god Jess, what a question! It's an arrow straight to my heart. 💜 I am still not well after all of Pedro's glorious CURLS this week. 😭

🫠

I love you, but you are so damn cruel for restricting me to only 3 choices. 😭

But I shall try.

So here are my top 3 hair looks/pics (in no particular order because I love them all equally):

First up: The next-day Golden Globes curls. I'm not a superfan of the slicked-back curls with a ton of product (like on GG night); I prefer them looser and softer. This next-day look is like he didn't wash his hair or even comb it after the GGs -- just rolled out of bed and went straight to Willem Dafoe's star unveiling ceremony. I love the longer length, and the curls are still holding their shape but are softer and cascade so wonderfully. And the ones falling over his forehead? SWOON. Doesn't help that those particular glasses are gorgeous on him too.

Second: The Javi G hair. Coco should have won all the awards for this. Soft and wavy and curly and highlighted... this beautiful longer style has it all. MELT.

Third: Since you already posted the Hollywood Reporter Roundtable hair *swoon* I will go with the Esquire-era short spiky curls. This is such a hot look on him. Again, a little too much product for my liking, but if that's what it takes to keep those little curls spiked up? Fuck yeah.

gif by @arcanefox207

[notabeanie]

You know. There are a lot of things you could say about the original scott pilgrim comics, and I find myself profoundly uninterested in saying most of those things. But there is one thing I will say and that is that for all the whatever you wanna say about it I still find the way Brian Lee O'Malley writes women pretty compelling and I think it genuinely changed my life for the better.

Like ok this doesn't mean that much in 2023 because the world is different now. But like imagine it's 2008 and you're 15 years old and you still think you're a girl because you won't figure out that you can be trans for like another decade and a half and up to this point your entire context for gender roles has been the cast of fucking Friends, and someone has given these comics to your brother who is Not A Reader in a desperate bid to get him to Read Something and he remains Not A Reader but you are a voracious little bottomless pit for words and for neat pictures and so you're like ok maybe this mine now.

And you open it up and here are all these girls that are WEIRD. Girls with spiky hair and punky boots. Girls who wear tracksuits almost exclusively. Girls who are surly and don't care if you like them. Girls who have ex girlfriends. Girls who disconsent to sex. This seems normal now, but in 2008??? This was RADICAL.

And not only are there all these weird girls, but the weird girls are DESIRABLE. They're the dream girl. They're the competing love interests. They have exes who are billionaires and movie stars. The main character is melting into a puddle of pathetic goo left and right for all these women who are so decidedly not traditionally feminine. Like these are not Zooey Deschanel "look I have big eyes and brown hair haha aren't I quirky" women these are "we defy the bounds of traditional womanhood and we don't care what you think about it but we will still kick your ass" women.

And like do you know what that can do to to the psyche of a 15 year old whose main gender role model up to this point had been the Totally fucking Spies?? Huge. Enormous. The blasted landscape of gender is unrecognizable as any semblance of what it once was.

Not to mention that thanks to BLOM's art style, people of all genders are drawn basically androgynous and squarish. Sure there's a little tiddy but nobody is stick thin or hourglass curvy or with huge breasts busting out of blouses. It's not exactly body diversity sure, but these are normal ass looking women with completely rectangular legs and they still get to be sexy and wear leather and lingerie and fishnet stockings and be rockstars and dream girls and that was really fucking cool, to me, in 2008.

When I was a senior in high school I got a pair of big fuckin boots and some tights. In first year university I cut my hair like Ramona Flowers' with safety scissors in my dorm room in Toronto. I clomped down Bloor Street past the old Honest Eds and all these hyper local references directly from the books (it was Canadian! Nothing was ever Canadian!) and it felt like I could do this. This was a kind of girl I could be. Scott Pilgrim had opened up whole new vistas for gender expression that I had not previously even known were possible.

Like maybe there was a little roughness around the edges. But there was goodness there. It did good. It helped. It changed me. For a new generation who are looking at those books and can't imagine why they meant so much to someone I just wanted to explain.

[adobe-outdesign]

What are your thoughts on Mareanie and Toxapex?

Mareanie is based on a starfish, similarly to the Staryu line. The execution, however, is completely different, to the point where they don't even seem like they should be based off the same animal.

For starters, Mareanie is specifically a crown-of-thorns-starfish, which as the name implies, are incredibly spiky:

Said spines are also poisonous, hence the poison/water typing. You can also see where the line gets its colors from, even if most crown-of-thorns aren't as bright as the above one.

Crown-of-thorns are also known for preying on coral, something which the Pokedex doesn't shy away from. It's also incorporated in to the game, as it can be summed by Corsola's SOS cry. I'm always a sucker for Pokemon-foodchain information, so it's nice to see how much thought they put into this.

The visual execution is also vastly different. The Staryu line has no face and focuses on the iconic "star" shape, but the line tosses that out completely. Instead, the tentacles form "hair" of sorts, and the armless and legless body is what would normally be the stomach of a starfish. Not only is this a refreshing take on a well-known animal, but it gives it a distinct body shape and design.

Speaking of design, it's really solid. The body and tentacles are all soft, round shapes at this point, which help increase the design's cohesion through use of repetition. The pastel color palette is well-balanced, with yellow accents that draw attention to the eyes and the single head spike, and blue to separate the tentacles from the body. And the expression is also great—adorably mopey, with the eyes placed far enough away that they're not hidden by the tentacles. Honestly, I have no complaints here.

Some Pokemon have the issue of losing their most interesting traits and becoming more generic as they evolve. Thankfully, Toxapex isn't one of those Pokemon. Instead, it doubles down on what makes Mareanie good—namely, the tentacles are even more prominent, forming a protective dome over the now very tiny body. Like I said, the body shape was one of my favorite parts of Mareanie's design, so seeing it expanded upon even more is perfect.

It also keeps the repetitive shapes of Mareanie, but this time swapping out the rounder aesthetics for lots and lots of spikes, hearkening back to its crown-of-thorns inspiration. Likewise, the color palette is expanded upon, adding pink to the mix. These colors once again look great together, and are very carefully balanced as to not feel overly complex or messy.

Anyway, as a whole, this is an incredibly solid line. The body shape is unique, the colors are lovely, its place in the Pokemon world and how it interacts with other Pokemon is well thought-out, and it gets sufficiently more imposing as it evolves without losing its best traits. Definitely one of my favorites from Gen 7.

[the-hovel-of-a-nerdy-rabbit]

PokéOmens! Gym Leader 2: Anthony J. Crowley

I don't know why it took so long to post him, but here he is! In the flesh! Your Grass gymleader! I'm so sorry to the 79.5% who guessed the other likely choices. A good chunk of you are probably wondering, "Why isn't he a dark type gymleader? Isn't he the dark duke?" or "He's literally fireproof! He makes the stars, which are burning gasses of light! Why no fire?!"

Well, let's talk about him!

Back in 2019 (yes, 2019), I wanted to do PokeOmens, but instead of the GO cast being Gym Leaders, they were all Pokémon. Aziraphale was a Rowlett and Crowley was (originally) a Litten...that was until I saw a post from @speremint on her Instagram. She made Pokémon teams for both and gave Crowley a Snivy (if anyone knows what picture I'm talking about, hats off to you). From that day forward, I couldn't see him with a fire type team. Sure, he made the stars back in the day, but that was his past, not his present. He's resistant to fire, but he's scared that'll take away the things he loves. He is the dark duke, but that's a title, not him.

Mr. Crowley isn't just a gymleader. His gym works as a Grass Pokémon sanctuary for nurturing and training stray Pokémon, but he says that he does to rid fluctuating stray population in the region. The only downside is that some people don't have a keen eye and just give him anything that's green. A couple of those mishaps actually went to his partner roommate. His outfit (a mixture between Crowley's pub attire in the second episode of Season 2 and Cassius from Pokémon Scarlet & Violet) was created by his lovely friend who thought maroon would be a lovely accent color. "It's a bit purplish, right?" No, Azira. It is not.

Meet Anthony's adopted Care Team! (Created by my partner in crime)

Centi the Minior - Wait...that's not a grass type. Well, Anthony doesn't care. He's had Centi for as long as he can remember, and if other gym leaders have a problem with that, they can shove it. Besides, who else is going to nap with him when the grass Pokémon are sunbathing?

Duke the Serperior - He was Crowley's first grass type experience. Through trial and many errors, Anthony made him into a lightning quick attacker...and a bit of a spoiled brat. If Duke wasn't at the center of his trainer's attention or if another Pokémon were to invade his space by a hair, he would throw a hissy fit. Thank goodness he has Duchess to calm him down.

Duchess the Liligant - After spoiling Duke, Crowley felt it would be affective if he went in harsher direction for the next Pokémon. Thankfully, it didn't last after the first day. Poor thing was scared out of her wits. To make up for it, her trainer apologized with a little dance. She didn't know what it meant, but it did make her like him. In fact, she uses it to cheer up the sanctuary occupants, especially Duke.

Spike the Cacturne - The third time's a charm, right? Yes...and no. You see, Spike was trained properly compared to the other grass Pokémon and is quite great when battling, but Crowley never helped with her temperament. She's a fighter, not a lover. Honestly, she's barely even a tolerator. It's a good thing she only deals with training others and not caring. That's Stripe's job.

Stripe the Lurantis - He is the most caring and efficient when it comes to assisting Anthony with the nurture the sick, young and injured Pokémon. Stripe is practically harmless, and as much as his trainer dislikes that, his pacifism always wins people over.

Prickles the Maractus - While walking to his gym, Crowley spotted a box at the door. It read, "KEEP HIM PLEASE!" And he did. It's not his fault he pricks others and has a curious mind. He just needs someone who can teach him to be careful...if only it wasn't the spiky, scary one. Eh, he'll be fine.

Thank you for reading! Hopefully I'll post Gabriel next week. If you have any questions or comments, please leave them.

Have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night!