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cherrycheridarling · 3 years

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dap me up | t.h.

tom holland x actress!reader

warnings: somewhat smut? swearing and fluff

summary: during an interview for your new film, tom exposes your odd routine during intimate scenes and your favourite flower.

a/n: i got carried away. there's a lot going on in here. enjoy?

wc: 2.6k

"Hello! I'm Adrien Fox with Pop Sugar and we are here with stars of the new film 'Week Off', Tom Holland and Y/N Y/L/N!" Adrien introduced you and Tom to the cameras.

You and Tom gave little waves, "Hello!"

"Now, let's get right into it."

Adrien began asking generic questions while you tried your best to prevent any spoilers from leaving Tom's lips.

"Can you explain the movie a bit to anyone who is unfamiliar with the book or hasn't watched the trailer?"

Tom opened his mouth to speak before closing it, "I think I'll let Y/N do that."

Adrien laughed before you spoke, "Yeah, um. It's basically a comedy with a little rated R content. Some romance, but mostly raunchy and hilarious stuff. It follows the employees in this law firm and their vacation away from work. Lots ensues during said trip including relationships, arguments and too much drinking."

"And you guys worked with many famous actors and actresses in this film. Like, Jennifer Lawrence, Emma Stone, Anne Hathaway, Zendaya, Chris Hemsworth, Kevin Hart, Jonah Hill, Channing Tatum and The Rock. How was working with that many iconic people in the industry? You guys are obviously incredibly well known as well, but I imagine some of these people were your idols growing up." Adrien asked and you and Tom nodded.

"Yeah, uh, yeah. It was an honour. Absolutely amazing. Like, I never imagined I'd be making films, let alone films with stars like Kevin Hart and Emma Stone, you know? I'm just really proud of this one and I love everyone who we worked on it with." Tom gave his answer making you nod.

You cleared your throat, "Yeah, Zendaya is my best friend and she has been for years, long before this movie came along, but I still got so excited about working with her. Jennifer Lawrence is amazing, so hilarious. You put her and Chris into a room together and it's just comedy central." you laughed with Tom at the memory.

"We've seen in the trailer that you two share many intimate and – may I say – risqué scenes in this film. Was it hard to keep that level of professionalism and friendship while shooting those scenes?"

You let out a little chuckle at the question before Tom rubbed his chin and spoke, "Since Y/N and I are already good friends off screen, I thought it would be awkward filming those scenes, but Y/N does this weird handshake after every take and it wasn't awkward 'cause it just made me laugh."

Adrien laughed a little before speaking, "What handshake?"

You shook your head with a smile as you recalled the first time you ever did the handshake with Tom.

"Ready, Holland?" you had your pyjamas on and were making your way to your mark in the set of your character's hotel room.

Tom nodded before following you in, cameras and crew hot on his heels, "Ready as I'll ever be."

He was shirtless. A pair of loose fitting grey shorts hung low on his waist. His costume for this scene as Niko Sai.

A black silk slip hung carelessly off of your frame. Ending at the middle of your thighs, v-neck dipping low on your chest. Your costume for Kora Patel.

"We're going to take it from Tom's line; 'You want me just as much as I want you'. Okay?" you and Tom gave a thumbs up, "Action!"

"You want me just as much as I want you. Everytime you sneak a glance at me and you think I don't see, but I do because I'm already looking at you, Patel." Tom walked behind you, looking at you through the mirror in front of you. "I don't blame you, I am incredibly good looking." he smirked to himself.

"I'm guessing you couldn't fit your shirt over your ginormous head?" you rolled your eyes.

Tom's smirk only grew, "Is that a little bit of drool on your mouth, Patel? Who knew the Kora Patel had a thing for Niko Sai? Oh, the Lord is good."

You rested your hands on the sink and leaned forward, "This is a useless conversation, Sai." you turned to face him, "I feel nothing for you. Don't you get that?"

He stepped closer to you and cupped your face in his palm, "Yes you do, you just don't want to." his face showed pain, all humour drained from his character.

You shook your head with a dry laugh, "You're only trying with me because it's convenient. The company's quiet little Kora Patel, right?"

He took another step towards you, holding your hip in a tight grip, "That's a lie. Nothing about us is convenient."

You chuckled before your hand flew to grasp his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls. Your other hand pressed against his pec. Nails tracing patterns on his skin. Tom's breath hitched along with yours as his body automatically drew closer to you.

You tightened your grip on his hair, "It is convenient because you know I keep to myself. You know that I won't go running my mouth about how long you last or if size really does matter. You know that I'm an easy one to fuck," you pulled him closer, "And toss aside, right, Sai?"

"No." Tom swallowed, "You're wrong, Patel."

You shrugged, "I can give you what you want," you ran your thumb across his bottom lip, "Physically." your eyes met his with heavy lids, "Not emotionally. That's why you need Remedy. Not me." your lips brushed his as you spoke, your voice just loud enough for the mics to pick up.

He leaned in and nearly kissed you before you pushed him away slightly by his chest, foreheads still touching, "Let me kiss you." he whispered, sounding so desperate that you nearly abandoned the script and pulled him into you.

You rolled your lips between your teeth, "And if I don't?" you raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

"I'll leave you alone. If that's what you want, I'll go and have a useless one night stand with a girl who could never measure up to you." he pulled your hips flesh against his, "But if you let me kiss you. I promise to show you how much I mean it when I say that I'll spend all night showering every inch of your body with the love it deserves." he brushed his lips against yours again before bringing his mouth to your ear, "Just say the word, darling, and I'm yours."

Your heavy breaths were the only things that could be heard besides the small sound of shuffling behind the cameras. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips before you closed the distance and pushed your lips to his.

Fighting for dominancy, teeth clashing, hands roaming. Unscripted groans falling from Tom's lips as you tugged on his hair, running your fingers along his scalp. His hands gripped the bottom of your thighs before you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist.

"I still hate you." you breathed against his lips as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

You felt him smirk, "You sure have a funny way of showing it."

He carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you down and climbing on top of you, never breaking the kiss. His hands running down your sides, squeezing and rubbing. Your lips moving in sync until he pulled away only to attach his lips to your jawline, leaving slow but hard kisses down your neck, leading to your collarbone.

"Still hate me?" Tom mumbled against your skin.

You let out a breathy moan, "More than ever."

"What do you hate about me, Patel?" he lifted up the bottom of your black slip.

"E-everything." you fake gasped as he rolled his hips into yours.

He laughed dryly, "Everything, huh? The noises you're making say otherwise."

"You're such a dick." you moaned.

He smirked against your breast, "You're about to take my—"

"—Don't finish that fucking sentence, Sai."

Soft moans fell from your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist again and pulled him closer to you. He groaned against your skin as the cameras picked up every noise, every movement, every kiss. You ran your nails down his back, surely leaving marks in its wake. His grip on your hips was almost punishing, as if he wanted there to be bruises the next day.

"And cut! Great work, guys. Ten minute break and we'll shoot it again."

Tom immediately got off of you and sat to the side of the bed before looking at you with concern, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

You let out a laugh before shaking your head, "No, you didn't hurt me. Dap me up." you held out your hand and he stared confused.

"What you up?" he chuckled.

You smiled before lifting his hand and doing the movements for him, "Just like that." he finally got it down and smiled.

"You Americans are definitely odd." he teased.

You tossed him a wink as an assistant handed you a robe, "See you in ten, Holland."

"And that's the handshake. It's not really a handshake, more of a greeting. I just did it after our first intimate scene because Tom was acting weird and I didn't want things to be awkward." you explained with a shrug as Adrien and Tom laughed.

Tom nodded, "I thought I hurt her! So I asked if I did and all she said was 'dap me up', like, what?" he laughed with you.

"You guys have really great chemistry on and off screen." Adrien complimented making your cheeks heat up.

You nodded, "Thank you. It took a lot of work to break through his industrial ego." you joked with an exhausted sigh as Adrien laughed.

Tom gasped beside you, "I do not have an industrial ego!"

"Mhm, sure." you joked before reaching over and giving Tom's thigh a gentle squeeze, "I meant indestructible."

Tom huffed and crossed his arms, "This is bullying."

Adrien laughed again, "We have to talk about something," he started and you already knew what was coming, "Lots of fans have speculated that the romance on screen carries on off screen." he smirked.

You and Tom laughed nervously. Almost awkwardly.

The situations that you went through with Tom while filming definitely built your relationship with him and strengthened it. In all honesty, you didn't know if the feelings you had for him were reciprocated.

In Tom's head, he was adamant that you had no feelings for him beyond the big screen. Both of you were too timid to confess first. His feelings for you developed a few weeks into filming and since then have only gotten stronger as your friendship grew and you spent more time together.

The amount of times that this topic had been brought up today was tiring. Every answer was the same: "No, no. We're just really good friends."

You decided to joke around, "Honestly, I've asked Tom out at least twenty times and he keeps rejecting me." you pouted and sniffled.

Adrien let out a joyous laugh as Tom gasped and choked on air at your words.

"That is not true! She has never asked me out!" he defended himself.

You shook your head with a deep frown, "He's broken my heart too many times. This is probably my last time acting with him." you continued on with the joke.

Tom shook his head furiously, "That is one hundred percent false. If she had asked me out, we would already be dating." he let the words fall from his lips without a second thought.

You fought the instinct to snap your head towards him. His confession catching you off guard. You played it off with another pout and shrug. Unsure if he was joining in on the prank or not.

Adrien raised a suggestive eyebrow, "What I'm hearing is that Y/N just needs to ask you out and we have our new couple."

You fake gasped, "Why do I have to ask him out? He should be asking me out with a million roses and a horse drawn carriage." you flipped your hair over your shoulder.

"You don't even like roses." Tom laughed, "You like dandelions because they turn into those fluffy things that you can make a wish with." he remembered the information off of the top of his head, "And because it sounds like you're saying 'dandy lions' when you say their name."

You nodded with a smile, "A million dandelions then. And maybe I'll think about it." you joked with a yawn making the two men laugh.

"You heard it here first. We have a new couple on the rise. Tom just needs to find a million dandelions and a horse drawn carriage." Adrien laughed again.

Tom scoffed dramatically, "Find? I already have them in my garage, ready to go."

Adrien cheered as you felt a heat creep up your neck, "Did I say dandelions? I meant daisies."

"Got those, too." Tom smirked making you roll your eyes.

"Okay, we need to end this interview before Tom buys all the flowers in Berlin." you joked.

After the interview ended, you said your goodbyes to Adrien and the crew before you and Tom made your way back to your temporary hotel suite for the week of press junkets.

Tom walked you to your room, stopping at the door, "That was an odd interview." he chuckled.

You nodded, "Indeed. It was fun, though." you smiled and he returned the expression.

There was an awkward beat of silence before he spoke again, "T-that whole asking me out thing. You were kidding, right? Like, just a show for the cameras?" he laughed nervously.

You swallowed air before replying with a timid smile, "Y-yeah. Totally. Just for the fans." you nodded again, "Um, I should head to bed. More interviews tomorrow. See you in the morning." you gave him a little wave before turning to your door and pulling out your key.

He nodded with the smallest of pouts before turning on his heel and starting the walk back to his suite.

Just as your hand was turning the knob, Tom's voice called out to you again.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" he spoke in one breath.

You bit your lip to conceal your smile, but it was no use. His question sparked a flame in your stomach that wasn't dying out anytime soon.

You turned with a bright grin, "I'd love to."

His features went from pure fright to relief in a matter of seconds, "G-great. I'll- uh, I'll text you the details. Goodnight." he gave you a little salute making you laugh.

"Sounds good. Night, Holland." you nodded your head before entering your hotel room.

You leaned against the door as soon as it shut. A euphoric glow radiating off of you. You were going on a date with Tom Holland.

Tom happily punched the air. Skipping down the hallway, a new found joy in his step. Chris Hemsworth walked out of his room and examined the gleeful boy.

"What's got you all smiley?" he chuckled.

Tom stopped and smiled, staring at the ceiling, "I just got myself a date."

Chris raised an impressed eyebrow before laughing, "You really are Peter Parker. Night, kid."

"Goodnight, Chris." Tom's smile never faded as he made his way back to his suite.

Not even ten minutes had gone by since he last spoke to you and he already missed you. He pulled out his phone and pressed on your contact.

Tom: sorry i didn't have any dandelions. hope you can make an exception x

Y/N: i suppose but the horse drawn carriage is a must x

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vic-chaos · 3 years

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Where do I even start- this might sound weird coming from some stranger but thank you- for rambling about south park so much lol. I felt like I needed to say this, I have some intense feelings about the Post Covid special and just hearing and relating to your thoughts is kinda comforting as I´m trying not to put too much thought into the ending scene because it´s upsetting me what they did to Cartman. To be honest, I´m not a fan of Rabbi Cartman either (I try not to be vocal about it as it seems a lot of people liked him… oh well), but how he ended up was just… too cruel. I dunno, I just love seeing people rant about this, I feel less alone with my unreasonably strong opinions about things that weren’t meant to be taken this seriously. And I keep finding myself chuckling about “why did they have to ruin everything right in the last few seconds what´s their obsession with doing that” at the most random times throughout the day, lmao. I´m saying, please never stop typing your thoughts bc I love reading them,,

Oh it's not weird at all!!! And thank you for this actually 🥺💕 I feel like I ramble a lot for someone whose not even intending to be like a commentary/analysis blog or anything, I just have a lot of strong feelings lmao. But I totally know what you mean about it being kind of cathartic to hear someone else rant about something you yourself are angry about, its like second hand getting it off your chest haha. And yeah! I mean, this show is intentionally ridiculous and not intended to be taken too seriously (also a comedy above all else - even though as fandom we're more interested in the character drama aspects of it), but it's also really hard not to get in too deep when you're emotionally attached... even if that level of attachment is against your will dfjsd. But at least you're not the only one for sure, like we are all here in this together lmao 😭

Also that about their obsession with ruining everything in the last few seconds:

I keep just kind of hoping everyone knows what I mean by this because I assume it pisses everyone else off as much as it does me jsdgbsdfjsf. But if anyone doesn't know what I’m talking about or has been wondering, it's something like..... hmm... I think the most glaring examples I can think of are episodes like the underpants gnomes one where they spend the whole ep explaining why big corporate businesses overtaking small local ones is harmful, and then right at the last second they're like "nevermind lol!! 🤪 we love big corporations actually! its the fault of the small local ones for their product not being good enough". And in the goobacks episode we spend the entire time learning that the solution to preventing the future from becoming uninhabitable is to look after the earth in the present, and then in the last few seconds they're like "actually this is stupid, fuck the environment!!". Like....... !?!?

These are just two examples but they do it SO often, sometimes in slightly different or more subtle ways (like Stan's parents getting divorced - this one happened twice actually - which they desperately need to, and everyone was happy and better off... then they get back together at the last minute for like, no reason? Just to make Stan miserable again?) Speaking of Stan's parents another clear example of this is dead kids, where we spend the whole time sympathizing with Sharon being the only person who is as worried about the situation as everyone else should be. And then when her son gets shot you expect Randy at least to understand her now? But instead SHE'S the one whose like "actually you're right, who cares lol!!"

I think the reason they find it funny is because it's a last minute reversal of expectations, because you're expecting the kind of happy or logical ending any other show would give you and its like - oh wait!!! actually, *long fart noise* instead.

But like.... I wish they would fucking stop doing this 😭 LMAO..... or at least don't do it in a way that fucks up character development, that's already a mess on this show.....

#x #sp spoilers #sometimes I wonder if this is something thats just way funnier when you're the one writing it #bc the audience of people watching the show are not laughing?? sdgbgf #or maybe its the kind of people who love the tegridy jokes who also think this is great

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lillianofliterature · 4 years

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LOTR preferences || 2/?

main masterlist | imagines/preferences masterlist

DO NOT REPOST.

if gifs not sourced, they were found on google, lmk if they’re yours! I couldn’t make out the url on the elrond one or I would have linked it!

I wrote these sort of in an imagine style to make it more immersive since the prompt for this one is dialogue based.

some are longer than others (by a lot, oops) and some phrases or descriptors may have been repeated a few times, but there’s so many characters and I only have one brain and I didn’t feel like reading through all of them again to make them all perfectly unique. it’s been a long road writing these xD

elvish translations: melamin = my beloved/my love, melda = beloved/dear/sweet

tw: slight gore mentioned in aragorn’s

(more below the cut-off)

their first ‘i love you’ (confession)

aragorn | word count: 647

Aragorn was always quiet about his feelings and often times reserved, being an introverted person. Those three words came when he could no longer withstand the pressure of not telling you how he truly felt. The risk of your eyes wandering to find another had crossed his mind more than once and the possibility of something happening before he had had the chance to overcome his nerves was overwhelming. And one day, as he was in the midst of this inner turmoil, you slit your hand open while sharpening the blade of your sword against a whirling grindstone.

He had been nearby, working with the string of his bow, when your cry of pain pierced the air. The sword rattled to the ground as you stood and pressed your hand against the palm of the other in your best effort to quench the rush of blood. Without a second’s hesitation, he came to your aid and whisked you into the smithy shop where there was a store of medical supplies for such an incident.

In his panic, he chastised you.

“Why aren’t you wearing the guard I gave you? I explicitly told you not to use the grindstone without it!”

Tears burned in your eyes as he poured a stout smelling liquid over the wound. “I took it off because it was chafing my wrist when I pushed against the blade,” you said.

“It would have prevented this, (Y/n). Look at what you’ve done to yourself!”

“Aragorn, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to happen!”

“You must obey my instruction when I give it to you. I do not speak just to hear my own voice.”

There was a tense pause in your urgent conversation as he rinsed your hand in a basin of cool water and examined the wound up close with gentleness. His relief was audible as he realized the cut was much smaller than the loss of blood had let on. With a slower pace, he began bandaging your hand with linens.

His voice softer, he spoke again. “I tell you these things to protect you, (Y/n), not to patronize you.”

“I know,” you sniffled.

He could see that his chastisement had startled you as much as the wound itself. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but he needed you to know how serious this could have been, how badly you could have injured yourself.

“I apologize for my harshness,” - he caught your gaze with his own as he continued - “But I need you to take care of yourself. Especially when I offer you the means to do so.”

He knotted the linen and tugged at the cloth with his teeth before snipping it short with a pair of shears lying nearby. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent a wave of chills across your skin. When he glanced up at you, he saw a twinge of embarrassment in your expression.

“I always end up doing something reckless or clumsy, no matter how much I try to better myself,” you muttered. Avoiding his gaze, you stared at your wrapped hand as he released it from his grasp.

The next words that left your mouth caught him off guard.

“Why do you bother with me, Aragorn?”

He swallowed.

His eyes drifted downward to your bandaged hand. Carefully, he took it in both of his and cradled it between his palms. Your breath caught in your throat, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. Of course, there was none. When his eyes flickered up to meet yours, there was something glimmering in his eyes. Something quiet and untamed. Tender.

“I care for you, (Y/n). I care for you very deeply. So deeply, in fact, that I think there is no better word for it than love,” he confessed, gently tracing his thumb over your knuckles. “I love you, melamin.”

boromir | word count: 952

Boromir had never been one to display much emotion. He had been taught from a young age that a man was not a creature of sentiment or expressive feeling, so he was not well versed in the commitment of making himself vulnerable. It wasn‘t until he began to see how this pattern of detachment and stalwart solemnness began to affect your relationship that he worked harder to make larger strides in undoing the toxic misogyny his father had engrained in him since boyhood.

You of course knew that Boromir had an emotional side; a softer, sweeter disposition he bore around his younger brother and even around you on occasion – before he subconsciously corrected himself. He had begun to notice that whenever he puffed his chest or resumed that “manly” behavior, you pulled away from him. You grew quieter, you sought solitude, you became annoyed more easily. His arrogance, you knew, often acted as a wall of self-preservation. But you were tired of being on the other side of that wall, waiting to be let in.

It was after an argument between the two of you that he realized this wall of his was going to have to come down. Even though he had been defensive at first, he soon realized his refusal to be wrong, his hesitance at expressing emotion, his worry about becoming vulnerable – it wasn’t worth the risk of losing you.

You had since shown him that emotion wasn’t a weakness, it was a strength. He knew you understood where his hesitance and his way of thinking brimmed from, you always made the effort to understand. You weren’t asking him to change – you were asking him to grow.

To allow himself to be Boromir. Fully, completely, without restraint.

This was his moment, so to speak, in which he knew he was ready to give you everything. His pride had been holding him back for so long under his father’s approval – it was finally time for him to trust you and allow himself the comforts of self-expression.

He was ready to say it first. He was ready to be the one to get vulnerable first.

On the evening he decided to take his first big step into that growth, Minas Tirith basked in the white hue of moonlight. He sat beside you quietly, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. Twirling in between your fingers was a pale blossom from the White Tree that he had plucked for you. Patiently, you waited. You could tell by his calm demeanor and open countenance that something had shifted within him since your last talk – his shoulders were relaxed as he walked, he had let himself stroll along slowly beside you instead of marching quickly like a soldier. He seemed relieved. At peace.

“I have something I must ask of you, my dear,” he began.

Your attentive gaze gave him permittance to continue.

“Your forgiveness,” – his hand covered yours as his voice softened – “I want to apologize for my arrogance throughout our courtship thus far. It was not my intention to hurt you with my attachment to my own pride.”

You leaned forward to interrupt him, but he held up his hand to stop you. You hadn’t wanted him to apologize – you didn’t blame him for a learned behavior he had had no choice in being raised into. But evidently, Boromir felt in necessary to express his remorse. Shutting him down was the last thing you wanted to do, especially if this was what he felt was right. You decided to listen.

“I never knew that I would find someone who would open me up like you have. I never even knew there was such a possibility for me to learn to allow myself to feel as you have. You know I was never allowed to show weakness as a child, or what my father perceived as weakness,” he glanced down at your intertwined hands as he swallowed over his next words, “I was not even allowed to cry. It was not the way of a soldier, or a steward’s son.”

When his eyes lifted to meet yours again, you could see the glistening of his tears in the moonlight. You tightened your grip on his hand, covering it with your other.

He seemed comforted by this as he continued. “But I am able to do so now, to allow myself to feel and become vulnerable. I owe you my thanks for that, (Y/n). If it weren't for you, I fear I never would have allowed myself to grow, to become a better man. A stronger man.”

He leaned forward suddenly, his peaceful expression shifting into excitement. “I love you, (Y/n), with a passion that even the fires of Mordor could not compare. And I thought that I would have to swallow my emotions to be the man you wanted, but instead you had given me freedom I have never been offered before.”

“Oh, Boromir,” you murmured. The image of his smiling face blurred as your own tears gathered and spilled over your cheeks. Your eyes fell to the blossom in your hands and the promise it held of everything to come – of what you already had, here, in his company.

His thumb gently tugged at your cheek as he wiped your tears. When you softened to his touch, he cradled the curve of your jaw in his hand. You leaned into him, covering his hand with your own.

This is all you had ever wanted.

For Boromir to be free, for his heart to be opened, for him to accept your love.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, pressing your lips to the palm of his hand that caressed your face.

faramir | word count: 522

The complete opposite of his brother, Faramir had little to no trouble in connecting to his more emotional side. In fact, he was always eager to shower others in kindness and compassion. It had long been the thing his father hated most about him – Faramir was weak in Denethor’s eyes. Luckily, Faramir’s gift for sentiment could not be so easily squelched. It was what you loved most about him.

Faramir adored you all the more for your acceptance of his openness and empathetic abilities. He never had to filter himself around you or attempt to not be “too much”. He was expressive, kind, and vulnerable. He wasn’t afraid to cry, he wasn’t hesitant in displaying his softer side. He was just Faramir, the way Faramir was supposed to be. And in your eyes, he was perfect.

Those words of declaration, those three tender notes of sweet promise, when they finally came, did not necessarily come as a surprise. He had always been upfront with his feelings towards you – and respectful - with his affection and doting words of affirmation. Shy, but honest. But that did not mean they meant any less when you heard them spoken for the first time.

Faramir, though he had long known that he loved you, had not planned the moment he would confess to you. He knew the right moment would happen along, and happen along it did.

One fine afternoon in the sunlit halls of the library halls, your laughter echoed with an unkempt ferocity that made his heart melt. Evidently, the way he had attempted in retelling his brother’s joke was far funnier than the actual content of it. You had laid your hand upon his shoulder as you doubled over in a chortling fever of amusement. In seconds, his embarrassment had been assuaged your beautifully wild laugh that in turn encouraged his own to spill forth.

There you both stood under the setting beams of the warm sun that filtered into the halls, leaning into each other for support as you felt your sides begin to ache. His gentle hands gripped your forearms as you gasped for breath between cheerful bouts of laughter. He had been able to calm his jovial fit much sooner as his admiring gaze fell almost blissfully solemn.

He couldn’t look away from your lips that were split into a wide smile, unconcerned whether your laugh was ladylike or if your posture was stiff. Those little crinkles in the corners of your glimmering (e/c) eyes were like the fine details of a painting. Oh, how deeply he had fallen for you.

When you finally began to catch your breath and your laughter had quieted enough for a lower octave to be heard, the words slipped effortlessly between his smiling lips with a soft chuckle. “I love you.”

Your boisterous laughter faded into breathy vowels as you asked, “What did you say?”

“I love you,” he repeated.

His smile didn’t waver. He was so sure, so sincere.

You could only smile up at him graciously, a light laugh of merriness flowing through you.

How perfect this moment was, how blissfully perfect.

eomer | word count: 413

It happened one the eve before a long patrol - that could result in battle - that he and his men were preparing for. Eomer, knowing he could promise himself a certain outcome, did not want to leave you waiting until he returned to say all that he needed to. He wanted to be sure he left no loose ends fraying in his absence. He wasn’t one to leave things to chance.

As he walked out to the stables to prepare his supplies and brush out his steed, you followed along with him, eager to spend every minute you had left together before his departure. There were inquiries and concerns exchanged while he filled Firefoot’s bale with oats and cleaned his shoes of any muck. When he was reassured that you and Eowyn would care for each other in his absence, he felt one last thing needed to be said.

His hands wove through Firefoot’s mane as he considered his next words, soothing the horse’s nervous anticipation. The lull in conversation reminded of you how close dawn truly was. He would be gone soon and you would be left to worry and pray for his safe return. Busying yourself with tasks that would seem miniscule in comparison.

He patted the broad neck of his steed before wiping his hands clean and stepping nearer to you. “There’s something I think you should be aware of before I go,” he began.

His tone made you worry.

“I think we are both aware of our feelings for each other since our courtship began,” he took your hands in his as he paused for breath, “It’s no surprise to you that I feel passionately for you. I don’t think it would be news for you to hear these words, but I would feel better having spoken them before I take my leave.”

You waited on baited breath. Was he truly going to say it after all this time?

“I love you, (Y/n), with every inch of my being, and I plan to act on that knowledge when I return.”

Yes, you already knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. But to hear those words spoken aloud after the years you had pined for each other and in the months you had courted, it was the last bit of resolve you needed to face the world while he was away. And evidently it was the last bit of peace he needed to carry himself forward.

eowyn | word count: 312

Eowyn had long been sure of her love for you, but had lacked the courage to admit it. of course, she had no qualms with being the first to say it – of course a woman could say it first just as easily as a man and with just as much meaning. But when would the right time occur? How could she be sure you felt the same? That she would not be left with a gaping pang of regret?

But Eowyn, against all of her worries, knew the moment when it came.

And of course, her bravery shown through.

Her confession did not happen under the moonlit stars or in the halls of her uncle, nor even in the walls of her homeland. It happened in the uncomfortable, sweaty musk of battle as arrows pierced hide and swords battered shields. It happened as an enemy blade came bearing down on your armor as you lie defenseless in the wreckage, your weapon thrown own of reach.

You had accepted your death just as the thudding of boots came nearer and the Uruk’s bloodthirsty gaze drifted upwards, its blade halted. The beast stepped over your impaired body and poised the tip of its blade toward the approaching figure with a twisted smirk – and it was then that the sharp twang of her blade meeting the Uruk’s pierced the air. She parried quickly, shoving the beast back into a stumble. She stood over you, wielding her shield and blade with grace and courage enough for a hundred men – or perhaps a thousand.

“You will not harm the one I love!” she shouted.

Your heart raced in the frenzy chaos of the moment – both from adrenaline and from the realization that Eowyn, the great lady warrior, the bravest heart you had ever met, had confessed her love for you while protecting you with her own life.

elrond | word count: 928

Elrond was extremely mindful of his feelings and how he attached himself to others. He was quiet, reserved, and did not care for taking unwise chances – especially when it came to feelings such a love. He had given much thought to the subject and took his time in considering what his feelings might be – if it was simply the fleeting sensation of infatuation, a connected sensation of friendship, or truly the sensation of love itself.

When he found his every thought resolved itself back to you and nearly everything he saw or read prompted him to share it with you, he knew that he had fallen in love. And thus, it soon came time to be honest with you about his earnest feelings for you. It was time to finally say it.

During a private dinner with him, Elrond had prepared his words carefully. As he dotted the corners of his mouth with a red satin cloth, he cleared his throat. But before he could speak, your voice incidentally interrupted him.

“Elrond, do you think I’m a witless human?”

The words he had almost spoken caught in his throat. He lifted his gaze to yours across the table, studying the remorseful expression that had overcome the smile you had worn only minutes ago. He had felt that something about you was off that evening; your spirit seemed dampened like the fallen leaves of autumn when drenched with the harvest’s cool rain.

“Of course not. Why would you ever think that?”

He watched as you toyed with a piece of warm pastry, poking at the flakey crust distractedly. “I suppose I- I…I worry that I am unworthy of your company. You are a great lord and I am nothing but a wanderer who happened upon your halls years ago. There are many who are still uncertain of me, many who would rather I leave your courts and make my home elsewhere.”

“Anyone who say such things about you must be the witless creature, (Y/n), not you,” he reassured.

Your eyes met his. There was an urgency to your tone, an urgency that taunted him unintentionally. “I am dull and plain, milord. I do not belong in your world of elegance and majesty. I am like the dust of the earth and you- you are like stardust.”

Still silence fell as Elrond processed your words. You had returned to formalities, which you seldom did unless the situation called for it. This time, in the comfort of your shared solitude, it was not expected of you. Where had this all come from? Had someone chastised you? Spoken ill of your character?

He rose slowly from his chair and made his way to you. You kept your eyes on your plate, suddenly overwhelmed by a bashful sense of embarrassment. Every step he drew nearer, your pulse quickened.

The warmth of his hand stilled the nervous fidgeting of yours.

As near as he was to you now, knelt by your chair, you wondered if he could see the tears burning in your eyes. You blinked, dissolving the blurry liquid from your vision. You held your breath very still, only taking shallow breaths –you feared anything deeper would encourage more emotions to present themselves.

When his other hand swept your hair from your face, your breath caught in your throat. “You are the furthest thing from dull, melda. Do not compare yourself to the dust that is trampled by the feet of beasts – you are far more precious than even the light of the stars. You are worth far more than you give yourself credit for.”

The soft touch of his finger pulled your chin towards him, warranting your gaze to meet his. “I have spent these last two months considering how I might tell you this, and I find that is more perfect a time than ever,” he paused only to admire your eyes and the loveliness that reflected in them, “I am in love with you, (Y/n), and I fall more in love with you each day that passes.”

Your (e/c) widened and you felt your chest tighten – how could this be possible? How could he, the great elven lord of Rivendell, think of you as anything more than a wanderer? No matter how much you doubted yourself, you knew you could trust his words, despite the shock they invoked. He was never one to speak with haste or make himself vulnerable to anyone apart from his children. You were stunned to silence, waiting for him to take it back. But he never did.

In fact, his brows drew together in an expression of absoluteness and he spoke again in a calmer, more pronounced tone. He took one of your hands in his and pressed it to his heart. “You are the most marvelous creature that has ever walked into my life. I am the one who has been graced by your presence. You have enriched my life when before it was simple and lonely…you are stardust, melamin, not me.”

Your sorrowful tears turned to joy as they poured from your eyes and spilled over your flushed cheeks. When you leaned forward to embrace him, he opened his arms to accept your human display of affection. A little too enthusiastic, it might have been – you wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling yourself to the ground where he knelt.

His chuckle reverberated against your body and you found yourself wondering how you had ever doubted your belonging here with him – there was no other place in Middle-Earth that could hold your heart.

arwen | word count: 420

Arwen had known from the moment she had met you that something was meant to last between the two of you. Call it instinct, desire, or elven wisdom – whatever it might’ve been, she felt it clearly much like her father’s visions. Although she hadn’t been sure if it was the bonds of friendship or kindred spirits for some time, until her connection to you was proven by your shared desire to be near each other whenever you could.

She confessed to you on the morning of your departure with part of her father’s guard to oversee the treaties between your peoples. There was much riding upon the success of your deliverance and the treaties themselves – there was much hanging in the air, stiffening the backs of many anxious elves that mounted their steeds alongside you. Just as you finished loading your saddle, her voice carried across the yard of the stables and met your ears, drawing your attention towards you.

“I thought you were supposed to be with the farewell party at the gates?” You inquired. The smile her presence brought onto your lips warmed her heart.

“I am,” she drew near until she was within arm’s reach of you, “I came to say goodbye personally. I have something to tell you before you go.”

“Oh? What is it, my lady?”

“I want to offer you this,” – she took your hand in hers and discreetly place something within the grasp of your fingers, folding them back over it – “If you would but promise to take great care of it.”

Opening the palm of your hand, you found the cool glint of the Evenstar glistening back at you. To say that you were stunned was an understatement – surely this was not what it seemed to be. Was she offering her heart to you?

“Arwen, are- are you asking…?”

“I am offering you my heart with this jewel, that you may carry me with you while we are parted.”

You searched her eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but you found none. She knew what she was doing, placing this jewel in your care. She was offering you her love, her fidelity, her loyalty. Herself.

“But this must mean that-“

“That I love you,” she murmured, taking a step closer. She curled your fingers around the Evenstar again, this time enclosing her hands around yours. Her eyes flickered down as she placed a soft kiss to your knuckles, sealing her promise. “And I will be waiting for you when you return home.”

legolas | word count: 259

It came in during one of the many nights that you sat close by him during the Feast of Starlight in his father’s halls. When he had seen your ceremonial gown laced with silver ribbon and your hair flowing free of any braids or decorum, he felt as though every thought and feeling he had harbored for you in his heart had been sealed by that moment. The need to confess his feelings came on so strongly that he could hardly speak throughout the feast, knowing the next words that passed through his lips would be ones of affirmation and promise.

It happened in the basking glow of moonlight, just after you pointed out the constellations that glimmered brightly above you. He had placed his hand over yours gently, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.

You glanced at him as his fingers enclosed around yours. His glimmering blue eyes narrowed down at your delicate hand, not yet meeting your inquiring gaze. His brows dipped together as though he were working very hard at thinking of what to say.

“Legolas?”

He swallowed back his nerves before looking up to say, “(Y/n), you have been like my very own star, illuminating every part of my being with your passion. I think it must be time that I tell you just how much I care for you,” - his other hand came to cup the hand he held, encasing it in the warmth of his touch - “I love you, (Y/n), with a fire that burns brighter than the sun itself.”

galadriel | word count: 207

The lady Galadriel, even in her vast grace and eloquence, could not find the words to say all that she felt for you. In the dusk of a summer evening over a private supper, she handed you a carefully folded letter that had been sealed with silver thread. You took it gingerly, looking up at her with curious eyes before unfolding its contents and delving into her written speech.

In it she had poured everything - from the moment she had met you to the very minute she had realized how her heart was binding itself to yours with the slow cadence of the changing seasons. She expressed that though her life had spanned a great millennium, you had brought a youthful curve to her smile, a liveliness she had not known for some time. At the very end of her confession that had been penned with her delicate penmanship were the concluding words of affection. She was in love with you.

When you looked up at her, the letter quivering in your hands, she glanced away momentarily before saying, “Every word I wrote is but the truth I feel in my heart,” her smile was as dignified as ever, “and I cannot deny it any longer.”

haldir | word count: 365

He will have thought about it for a very long time and have every word prepared to the syllable. The setting was carefully planned, the way he spoke and carried himself was rehearsed - for declaring your lifelong love for someone was no lighthearted matter. It could determine the course of his existence, as well as yours. Haldir wanted nothing less of himself than utter perfection, knowing well that you were worth every bit of his effort (and so much more).

So there he waited in the beauty of the Lothlorien moon glow for your arrival. He had your favorite delicacies made in the kitchens by the skilled elves in the upper palace. There were pastries filled with tart berries and lathered with warm crème, a centuries-aged mulled wine, and votives shimmering in the grass. All to tell you that he loved you - to declare his heart as yours.

But all of that changed when you arrived suddenly and rushed up the slope to meet him. Unexpectedly, you took him in your arms and held him there without warning. There was a quiver to your body that he felt against his skin. He returned the gesture without hesitation.

“Melda, what is it that troubles you?”

You spouted off about how horrible your day had been and how glad you were to have had this meeting with him, how it had kept you going throughout the gradual disappointments that had taken place since that morning. You went on to tell him how much he meant to you - all without explicitly saying ‘i love you’, but somehow he knew that had been what you meant.

Without thinking, he said it over you shoulder in a whisper just loud enough to be heard by your human ears. It hadn’t been the way he had carefully planned out, but somehow it had been sweeter this way than any other way he could have imagined. It was natural, pure, and made his heart full.

“I love you too, Haldir,” you murmured in return. He permitted himself to succumb to your human expression of affection completely as he tightened his embrace and gently nestled his chin over your shoulder.

gimli | word count: 346

The saying “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” must have applied to dwarves as well. For one night as you and the other members of your Fellowship bedded down for a meal and a few hours’ rest, the savory flavor you managed to infuse in the meager ingredients you rationed had done just that to Gimli, son of Gloin. It had been only a brief moment between handing him his own helping and sitting down next to him with your own that the words of adoration escaped his mouth.

“My love be yours, lass! This brew is delicious!” He had proclaimed, his voice rising higher above the hushed sounds of delight as the others enjoyed your cooking. Then his own words registered in his hungry mind - as they did to the rest of the group.

The spoon halted in his mouth as he froze stiff under the several inquiring looks from around the fire. Legolas’ expression was contorted in such a confused way, Gimli would have make a jab at the elf had he not been the object of attention himself. He hadn’t thought it possible for the dwarf to harbor feelings - well, positive ones, at least.

Your smile drove the dwarf’s cheeks into a reddening fit. “Your what be mine?”

“Uh, ah,” he swallowed quickly and slurped in another mouthful of broth, “I dedn’t say anythin’.”

“Oh, I think you did, Gimli,” Aragorn chimed in with a wide grin on his face.

“I think he might ‘a said he loved her!” One of the hobbits proclaimed, encouraging a roar of laughter around the fire.

Gimli muttered something over his bowl of stew that he cradled close to his beard. You smiled at him, knowing he was too embarrassed to even offer a rebuttal. It may not have been outright or plainly spoken, but you could see through the hard-pressed and unfeeling exterior he always wore that there was something soft not too far below the surface. You were happy to hold the affections of a certain red-haired, axe-wielding dwarf.

frodo baggins | word count: 612

Frodo loved nothing more than a peaceful day spent in the flickering shade of the forests and crossing through little creeks and rivers - especially if you were with him. He often invited you to tag along with him on his adventures to find a good reading spot or explore some hidden oasis of the Shire he had yet to discover. He always wanted to be with you.

On one such day, Frodo couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every thought turned and found its way back to you. Each time he tried to concentrate on the book he cradled in his hands, his eyes wandered readily to find your peaceful face indulged in your own little world, just content to have his company without the need for conversation.

He adjusted himself where he sat in the forked trunk of a comfortable tree and tried one last time to immerse himself in the paragraphs printed on the yellowed pages of his book. It was no use.

Minutes passed and Frodo couldn’t try any longer. His eyes settled on the texture of your (h/c) hair that you had left down that day with no braids or ribbons tying portions of it back. The midday sun that filtered through the canopy of trees sent waves of gold across those soft tendrils he loved tucking behind your ear. You sat primly at the base of the tree, weaving the stems of flowers together.

Quietly, he admired the contour of your nose, the curve of your cheeks, the delicate shape of your lips and the pink tongue that poked out every now and then as you tried to concentrate on your pleats. A dreamy smile took over his quaint expression. The contented sigh that passed between his lips pulled your gaze up to meet his.

His sweet smile encouraged your own to make an appearance. Both of your hearts fluttered. “What’s that look for?”

“I was just admiring how beautiful you are with sunlight in your hair,” he said. His voice was sugary and tender. It reminded you of the rich pastries his uncle offered you each time you came for a meal. So delicately ruch with sweetness that it sat in your belly and warmed, mixing perfectly with the twang of a hot berry tea. Frodo was like that - the perfect mix of everything natural and sweet. Pure.

Your blush overtook your expression and your averted your gaze bashfully. As your thoughts rushed with anticipation, wondering what was to come next, if anything. Perhaps he would say something else or return to his book, you couldn’t be sure.

There was the definitive sound his book snapping shut and the scuffle of his feet as he hopped down from the tree. You teased him with a glance when he sat next to you and tucked his legs underneath him, turning your fingers around the stems of budding dandelions. His eyes studied your face for a moment longer before he wandered down to follow the steady work of your hands.

“What are you making?”

“I’m weaving a bookmark for you,” you answered. “After it dries, you can take it out and use it for other books.”

There was that fluttering in his heart again.

“You’re marvelous,” he whispered.

A short chuckle escaped you and your eyes widened with a mix of shock and curiosity. “I’m just weaving flowers, Frodo. It’s nothing special.”

His hand covered yours. Your fingers stilled.

“Of course it is. Anything you do becomes special.”

“Frodo, I-...”

“I love you, (Y/n).”

“You- you what?”

He traced his finger along your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear like he always did. “I love you.”

samwise gamgee | word count: 1,084

Sam had planned every minute of his confession. He would invite you to supper, cook every bit of it himself, and put it all in a picnic basket to be eaten in the quaint garden of his home. He had rehearsed his words over and over again, both to Frodo and the looking glass that hung by the front door.

When you arrived that evening, it was obvious that something was turning in that head of his (he was never any good at being discrete), but you didn’t let on as if you suspected anything. You figured that if Sam had planned something special, he would enjoy the surprise on your face better than the curious questions that would deflate his excitement. With a basket in tow, he led you back out the front door and onto the stone steps of his beautifully gardened walkway.

You paused to admire the lilies and tall-reaching sunflowers as he bickered with the key in the lock. Unfortunately, both of you were too distracted to notice the picnic basket slipping from his grasp. Before either of you could react, the beautifully packed picnic had tumbled out onto the dusty stones around your feet.

A loaf of bread that had been carefully wrapped in parchment seemed unscathed, as did the little pot of warm stew that had been tied shut with a thick ribbon over the lid. The jars of honey and jam clinked as they rolled into each other, a packed cheese board tumbled out and into the grass, and a lovely golden pie feel top-first onto the porch step with a splat.

Your first instinct was to clasp your hands over your mouth and stare idly at the unfortunate mess. Your eyes flicked to Sam, who stood with his back to you and his hand still on the key that stuck out of the door. His shoulders sank and an audible sigh of remorse left his lips.

“Oh, blast it!” he exclaimed under his breath, bending over to turn the basket right-side up.

Poor Sam.

“Oh, Sam! I’m so sorry!” You stepped forward out of your daze and tucked the jars in your arms. You picked up the stew that had only barely spilled a few drops when it tipped, careful not to knock the lid off anymore. When you set them down by the basket, you noticed the pie that had been smashed had splattered onto Sam’s feet and trousers. Helplessly, he tried to shake the gooey tart off, but to no avail.

“Let me go inside and get some towels,” you offered. Scooting between him and the doorpost – and narrowly avoiding the pie yourself – you took the key from his fingers and twisted it back, opening his front door wide open and quickly heading for the bathroom.

When you came back, damp towel in hand, Sam was slumped by the grass, picking up the cheese and berries that had hopped out like little frogs. You sighed at the sight of it, knowing he had most likely prepared and cooked every bit of this meal himself. You couldn’t help but notice that he looked rather defeated.

Approaching him, you could hear him muttering under breath, things like, “Samwise, you blundering fool” and “now the night’s all ruined because of your clumsiness”. Gently, you placed your hand on his shoulder and bent over to capture his attention. He stood and looked at you, a frown drooping his eyebrows together. It was enough to make your heart break right then and there.

“Here, leave that to me and let’s get you cleaned up.”

Taking his hand, you led him to the little bench by the potted tomatoes and gestured for him to sit. He sat down with a groan and reached for the towel, which you pulled out of reach. “It’s alright, Sam, I can clean it off.”

“You don’t have to do that, (Y/n),” he interjected. There was an embarrassed twinge in his tone.

“I know I don’t, but I want to help. You went to all this trouble to give me a lovely evening out and I want to do what I can to help make it happen still,” you reassured. You knelt by his feet and began wiping the crème and berries from his trousers, letting the water soak in and draw the hue out.

“Oh,” he sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand, “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

You glanced up at him curiously, quirking a brow. “Sam, it’s alright. It’s just one date – we can always try again and next time I’ll lock the door for you. Or I can carry the basket, although I can’t promise I won’t be the one to drop it.” Your snickering didn’t seem to assuage his deflated excitement.

“No, tonight was-…I was going to- to-...”

You leaned back on your haunches, your hands still. He was going to what?

“Sam?”

His silent anxiousness worried you. Tenderly, you placed a hand on his knee and bent forward to try and catch his gaze again. Bashfully, his eyes darted up, but they did not meet yours. Instead he focused on your hand that settled on his knee and found himself smiling softly, despite the tears that had welled in his eyes.

Following his gaze, you realized what you had done – the heat rose in your cheeks and you began to pull away, but his hand stopped you. With a sweet touch, he wove his together with yours and looked up at you. Your pulse quickened - you had never seen that look before, in his eyes. The one where they shimmered almost like stars and his smile tipped to the side. He looked almost blissful.

“I had planned on telling you I love you. I had everything planned, including baking your favorite pie with little hearts woven into the crust. I wanted tonight to be special, so you would remember it when we’re old and grey and start forgetting what we ate for second breakfast.”

Sam watched as your smile grew, shrank into shock, and then grew again. When you sprang forward and enveloped him, it took a moment for him to register your sudden warmth pressed against him. But when he did, he happily returned the gesture and wrapped his arms under yours, tucking his chin over your shoulder. He could smell the sweet scent of lavender wafting from your beautiful hair.

“Sam, I’ll never forget this night for as long as I live.”

merry brandybuck | word count: 409

With Meriadoc Brandybuck, nothing was ever subtle. The young hobbit had planned his confession like he might any other adventure or trip across the country. From morning until night, Merry had something in store for you to slowly build to the moment he was prepared to confess his truest feelings.

It started with pulling you out your door at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise over Bywater Pool with a quaint breakfast in the square (which you forgave him for when he presented those deliciously warm muffins) and was then followed by a light frenzy of morning shopping from the markets that were selling sweet-tasting goods and homemade wares. He had seen the way you had eyed that little locket with the (f/c) jewel dangling from it and bought it when you weren’t looking, slipping it into his vest pocket.

Not long after you had visited your friends in the Green Dragon Inn, there had been a lovely wagon-ride through the rich Green Hill countryside to reach the borders of the Shire, followed by a lunch under the trees of the forest in the curve of the hillside shadows. He watched fondly as you went about collecting flowers to braid into a crown for the two of you. After your meal had been finished (along with a day full of snacks and goodies he had brought along), he had led you on a hike the rest of the way to Tuckborough where the Great Willow sat patiently waiting for dusk.

There, underneath the swaying loveliness of the weeping branches, he turned out his pocket and clasped the necklace around you from behind.

A gasp escaped your surprised smile, “What is this?!”

“I saw you eyeing it this morning when we were in the square,” he planted himself beside you, tucking your hair behind your shoulder, “And I thought you should have it.”

“Oh, Merry,” you looked down and marveled at its glimmering beauty, pressing your fingers to the chain, “You really shouldn’t have! This cost a few good silver pieces!”

There was pure adoration in his eyes when you looked at him, a look you hadn’t seen so fully expressed before. It was then, in the pause between phrases, that he said it all with just a look. You had never felt such butterflies before.

“No price could ever compare to the amount of my love for you, (Y/n).”

Oh, he was smooth. He was very smooth.

pippin took | word count: 430

Pippin mightn’t have been the most creative when it came to planning elaborate dates or settings in which to confess his innermost feelings with, but he was no less sincere. When the quick knock had come at your door one morning before you had even had the chance to devour your first meal of the day, you hadn’t expected to find him standing anxiously on the other side.

He wore that same crooked smile that alighted his whole face and held tightly in his hands was a bouquet of wildflowers. By the looks of them, he must has run up the lane carrying them - some daisies had lost a few petals and you spotted the dirt-knotted roots hanging from his hands from where he had pulled them from the earth. It was messy and imperfect, but it was Pippin.

There was something so endearing about his childlike naivety when it came to the “proper” way of presenting things, such as the mop of unkempt curls on his head, the bruised flowers in his clenched hands, and the wide-eyed energy he never went without. You loved every bit of it.

You certainly hadn’t expected him to suddenly become shy when he began to explain the bouquet he placed in your hands, his fingers lingering over yours a little longer than necessary. He was never one to be slow to speak.

“I-I, uh, I thought you might like these pretty flowers, y’know, because pretty things like other pretty things,” he smiled for a moment and bounced on his feet, until he seemed to register his own words and how they might be taken, “Uh, not- not that I see you as a ‘thing’ or...anything.”

“I know what you mean, Pip,” you smiled at him through the blossoms as you pressed them to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent.

“I also came to- uh- to tell you about my feelings.”

“Your feelings?”

“Ah, those,” he giggled and spared a glance at his feet, “I just meant that I have feelings for someone. For you, that is. I mean. And, uh, I wanted to come out and say it. Like that.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh, Pippin, that’s wonderful becau-”

“I love you, that is,” he concluded before adding a rushed, “You don’t have to say the same, of course. I was just putting it out there.”

You tucked in your widening smile and concealed your blush behind your daisies. “I do feel the same way. Would you like to come in for breakfast?”

You knew he never turned down a meal.

tags: @moony-artnstuff @wellfuckmyexistence

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twosidesofthesameidiot · 3 years

Text

Fall

Word Count : (1735) Characters: Merlin; Gwen; Will; Lancelot Summary: A series of autumns in Merlin's life Warnings: angst A/N: Fill for a5 "campfires" for @merlinbingo AO3 link

“Come ooon,” a brown haired boy shuffled his feet as he stood outside his best friend’s home, resisting the temptation to go in and drag him out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I just need - hah!” a boy with black hair tumbled out of the hut with all of his usual grace and enthusiasm, which is to say, none and, in the first boy’s opinion, an unhealthy amount.

“What did you almost forget this time?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the shorter boy grinned, “I remembered it, and that’s what’s important.”

His friend rolled his eyes, “I swear you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to you,” he knocked his knuckles against his friend’s head.

“Oi, rude,” he stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

The brown haired boy just snickered.

The fallen leaves crunched underfoot as they made their way into the forest. The black haired boy kicked some at his companion who retaliated by throwing a hastily snatched handful back at him. Squirrels gathering last nuts into their hoards retreated to the safety of the trees as the boys rushed by stirring up the leaves. From above, the birds watched the forest floor spring to life in their wake. Leaves leaped and reached for the trees from where they had fallen, the mingling colours mimicking a fire like the one they sat near now.

The black haired boy’s eyes were wide, the light of their campfire making them appear a deep blue.

“... they’ll take your soul, the very warmth from your bones.” The brown haired boy paused, “ They say all that’s left is an icy corpse. Freaky, right?”

An icy wind cut through the otherwise still night and both boys start before moving closer to the fire.

“That’s creepy as heck, why’d anyone want t’go and do that for?”

“Dunno, don’t recon there’s anyone who would though, even if it could happen,” the taller boy shrugged.

“I thought campfires meant fun stories, not Samhain come early.”

“We ain’t little kids anymore, ‘sides you liked it,” he stuck his tongue out, recalling his friend’s childish tendency.

The boy just rolls his eyes before grinning and rummaging through his satchel, “Speaking of not being kids anymore - Happy birthday, Will!”

He holds out something carefully wrapped in a plain cloth.

��Merlin, I told you not to -”

“If you don’t accept it, ma’s gonna be upset,” Merlin cuts him off with a grin, “‘sides, you’re really gonna like it.”

“Insufferable, you are,” Will fakes a grimace before accepting the offering.

“Ooooh, big word there, maybe with age does come intelligence,” Merlin fakes wiping a tear away, “and here I had almost given up hope.”

Will ignores the comment, staring at the delicately shaped pendant in his hand. “Merlin, I,” his voice is thick, the words slow to come, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” his smile softens for a moment, “I told you you’d like it,”

“And the moment’s gone,” Will rolls his eyes even as he slips the cord over his head and tucks the pendant into his shirt, “just for that you get first watch.”

“No fair, i just gave you the best present ever, you should take first watch,” Merlin protests, completely forgetting the fact that they have never kept watch while camping.

“It’s my birthday though,” Will shrugs, biting back a laugh at the look on his best friend’s face.

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

“In hindsight, maybe I should have kept watch, when we got up the next morning the squirrels had gotten into our food,” Merlin grins, recalling the walk back to the village with Will chasing after every squirrel he found.

Lancelot laughed, “So, what I’m hearing is that we definitely should keep watch.”

“Can you imagine what Gauis would say if we went back without what he needs,” Merlin shuddered, “And I’d have to tell him what happened, too. I need to maintain some dignity, please.”

Lancelot only laughs harder and both men shift closer to their campfire as a cold wind cuts through the night. The flames flickered causing the shadows of the half bared tree limbs to shift eerily and the fallen leaves rustle softly welcoming their freshly fallen comrades.

Noticing his friend’s nervous scanning of the area, Lancelot nudges him gently, “You worried the blue ghosts are gonna pop up?”

Despite the teasing tone, Merlin can sense his concern and he shakes his head, “It’s fine, ‘s a bit stupid, but that story always freaked me out.”

Lancelot frowned as he draped his blanket over Merlin's boney shoulders, "It's not stupid. It is kinda freaky, but I don’t think they’re anywhere near this mortal plane, and even if they did somehow appear” he smiled reassuringly as Merlin glanced at him, “I’d fight them off.”

Merlin looks at him for a moment before a smile replaces the frown, “Really living up to the chivalrous code, aren’t you,” he lets out a small laugh, “gonna keep being my knight in shining armor?”

Lancelot grins at him, “Yes, and as such, I’ll even take first watch.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin protests, extracting himself from the blanket, “I can take it.”

“Merlin.”

“Seriously, Lance, you don’t have to - you’ve been training non-stop and I know how Arthur can be -”

“Merlin, go sleep, I’m taking first watch,” Lancelot rolls his eyes, “I’m used to this, and you deserve a break.”

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

“Merlin! The filling is for the pie not you,” Gwen laughs as she smacks his hand away from the bowl.

“I know that,” Merlin sniffs exaggeratedly, “ I am merely testing it, gotta make sure it’s safe for everyone to eat. And, you know,” he carefully snatches the bowl off the counter, “I really don’t think it is, I should prevent a disaster and eat it myself, spare everyone else.”

“How selfless of you, Merlin,” Gwen snickers, “But, I think everyone will be just fine, as long as you put that into the crust now.”

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he sighs, complying with Gwen’s order.

-----------------------------------------------------

The sky was clear and the campfire crackled softly, sending up translucent streams of smoke that curled into the pale tree branches.

“This is amazing, Gwen”, Morgana’s soft voice tugged Merlin out of the brief reverie he had slipped into, “Next time, you should let me help you?”

Merlin could hear the smile in his friend’s voice, “I’m going to be making another one tomorrow, you’re more than welcome to come,” she giggled softly, “I’m sure today’s assistant could stand to learn some things from you.”

“I am a perfectly lovely assistant, thank you very much.”

“Of course you are, Merlin,” Gwen patted his arm consolingly, still giggling.

Merlin’s reply was cut off by the sudden sound of clattering armor.

Morgana stiffened, then sighed, “I guess that’s my cue to return before I’m missed.” She stood, smoothing out her dress, royal mask sliding back into place, “Thank you for a lovely evening, I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwen. Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Goodnight, Morgana.”

As she slipped into the crisp autumn night, Merlin stared into the familiar flames, absently running his fingers over a pendant rubbed bright by continuous wear, reflecting the amber glow..

Gwen watched him for a moment before gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Turning slightly, Merlin rested his head against her shoulder, taking her smaller hand in his own.

A little ways off, at the end of a faint path a woodmouse happens upon a feast. Two slices of pie and two cups of apple cider, laid out side by side under a willow tree.

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

Lancelot feeds another log to the fire and the flames seem to burn a bit brighter for a moment. Their light makes the pendants hanging from Merlin’s neck glow, and the rings from Gwen’s glitter. The red of the fire makes the red of his cloak, draped over their shoulders, a deeper, warmer shade.

A wreath of Aster and Sedum lie under the willow tree with the woodmouse’s feast.

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

It’s not a campfire, not really, but it is a fire and it’s autumn and Lancelot recalls uttering these same words under similar, yet vastly different circumstances.

“Merlin, go sleep, I’m taking first watch,” Lancelot cannot mask the worry in his voice, “I’m used to this, and you deserve a break.”

Over the blanket Merlin has wrapped himself in, Lancelot has draped his cloak, but Merlin is too on edge to find his usual comfort in the gesture.

There is one bed in the little house they entered, and it is occupied by the frozen remains of its former owner. But the fire is warm, casting its protective glow to the corners of the room.

They are jerked out of a light sleep by the shrieking of a dorocha, Merlin immediately bringing the fire back to full flame before they run out of the house.

The dragon is a shock to Lancelot, but he takes it in stride, or at least he hopes he does.

After the immediate danger has passed, they feel lightheaded and Merlin starts to laugh.

Sensing Lancelot’s confused look, he manages to blurt out, “Will really was right after all.”

Confusion gives way to laughter, “On both counts, too. Should have kept a better watch.”

If had Kilgarrah cared to listen, he would have heard the hysteria laced through the sound.

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

For the first time in years, Merlin lights the campfire completely alone.

Gwen is safe in Ealdor and although he knows she probably has done it for herself, he still sets out her gifts under the willow tree.

The wind cuts through his thin clothes and Merlin shivers. He’d forgotten to bring a blanket and could not bear to touch Lancelot’s cloak. He cannot stop the tears that escape as he lays down the Sedum and Aster flowers he has gathered.

Tonight, the sound of happy harvesters cuts him more than the cold wind and he feels as lost as the yellow leaves it flings around.

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

The fire is warm, and a blue eyed man adjusts the camping kettle hanging over it. There is a soft clinking sound as he moves and for a moment something shines brightly as it reflects the flames, before it is covered again by his red scarf.

There is a container on the ground next to him with a slice of pie in it. On top of the container rests a heap of aster and sedum, which he is slowly braiding into a wreath and around him red and yellow leaves fall.

#lance writes #bbc merlin #merlin #lancelot #gwen #will #bbc merlin fanfic #fanfiction #merlin bingo

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urmomsstuntdouble · 4 years

Note

If ur still doing the 100 followers thing, well I challenge YOU with deciphering Lithuania.

ok anon thank you so much for asking this question because i have in fact recently fallen in love with lithuania, because they are such an interesting character! (also hhhh im so sorry for how late this is)

Gender

As you may have noticed, I usually use they/them pronouns to refer to Lithuania. I hc them as being nonbinary and using he/they pronouns, though I personally prefer to use they rather than he in that case because. Idk what pronouns you use. But in my experience it’s really hard to get people to call you ‘they’ when you go by ‘he/they’ or ‘she/they’ or smth like that. Though I don't imagine any of the nations are very attached to their “birth gender” (are nations born???), lithuania is one of those who is a bit less attached. They’re just sort of there, in terms of gender. In my headcanons i also think this has something to do with religion, as lithuania was one of the last european countries to convert to Christianity- just because so much of gender as we know it comes from christianity and what people in the 16th and 17th centuries considered a ‘good’ christian. Thats not to say that there are no gender roles in other religions, but that the way westerners typically conceptualize gender has quite a lot to do with the religious conflicts occurring within christianity. Like you can trace the ideas behind the nuclear family archetype back to the protestant reformation. Additionally, I hc them as being Jewish, which further distances them from the western christian gender roles (though that’s not why i hc them as jewish! More on that later). Finally, i just like myself some trans/nb characters. There’s so few popular trans hcs and that makes me kinda sad ya know? Welcome to the trans agenda its just me projecting onto all my faves

Mental Health

Okay, so, i think it’s pretty well known that lithuania’s mental health is wack. They’re often characterised as being a very anxious person, but i think the ways in which they’re anxious is super interesting. For one, they are extremely conflict averse and like to avoid it by being a sort of people pleaser. It’s a sort of defense mechanism, because nobody can hate you if you do whatever they say. Like, if you let people be shitty to you, they won’t hate you for your personality. This is clearly flawed logic because then people are still going to be shitty to you, but. It makes sense to liet. In their mind, it’s okay to let people hurt if your reason is sound enough- Because if they’re not super emotionally engaged in a relationship that’s unhealthy for them, then they can’t get hurt, right? Of course, they can. A good example of this is their relationship with Russia. I think tolvydas sees compliance as necessary there, in order to avoid being hurt. The thing is…compliance is also hurting them, even if they see it as ‘worth it.’ To them, behaving in a submissive way is a survival tactic. A really bad one, but a survival tactic nonetheless.

This also plays into their tendency to be self-martyring. I think Tolvydas is very good at fighting, and all around a really awesome warrior (strong aragorn energy), which makes them think that they need to be the one to save everyone. Hero complex, sort of. This, coupled with their almost maternal care for Latvia and Estonia, makes them feel like they have a sort of weight-of-the-world on their shoulders. Though Estonia and Latvia do look up to them a lot, Tolvydas can sometimes fail to realise that they are also their own people and can fight their own battles. He feels a sort of obligation to protect them due to their shared culture and languages as The Baltic Trio, though it doesn’t go much further than a sense of obligation. They spent most of their youth fighting, to the extent that that’s most of what Tolvydas personally knows as ‘life,’ but they never actually got to know the other two Baltics very well until the modern day. They have to protect, have to be a caregiver, but they don’t actually know super well the things they’re trying to protect. It’s both a sense of obligation to protect as well as the sense that this is all they’re good at and as long as they’re fighting for a morally just cause, that’ll do.

I think something that would expose this flaw would be when they were first taken over by the Russian Empire in the 1790s, they were pretty miserable about a lot of things- Like the loss of all their territory and the sudden statelessness of their people- but a big one would’ve been the loss of Poland. This isn’t meant to be super shippy, but you know. They were united into one kingdom, and they had been for centuries, so i don’t imagine it was an easy separation. Though this is more up for debate where real people are concerned, these characters were essentially a big part of each other, ya know? Regardless of how much Lithuania actually likes Poland, they’re still a part of each other and that separation will undoubtedly be painful. Anyway, all that is to say that this separation was at the forefront of their mind during the beginning of the 19th century, and they let it sort of prevent them from taking care of the other Baltics. The issue with that is that they still considered themself to be protecting Estonia and Latvia, even though, in reality, nobody was. Also in reality, Lithuania was making themself out to be the worst off, and were generally sort of annoying to be around at this point in time. Their whole woe-is-me attitude wasn’t fun, and they were hypocritical in that they saw themself as being a better friend than they actually were. They still see themself as being a great friend, and though it’s improved in recent years, they’re still sort of. Flighty, i guess, where friendship is concerned. There was also a lot of annoyance by the other baltics about them being so self-martyring- Tolvydas was Ivan’s favorite, after all (that’s not necessarily a good thing, but. He was softer on them in certain ways). Anyway, I guess the big takeaway of this paragraph is that Liet often lets their self perception cloud the way they act in relationships.

Much of the stuff I’ve mentioned so far is a result of them having quite a lot of PTSD. I think Lithuania’s character tends to be explored through a few common lenses, those being the medieval vibes of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and through being oppressed by the Russian Empire/Soviet Union. Not to say that there’s not a lot of other content about them, but this is what I see most often. I think that all the nations have some form of PTSD, but with Lithuania it’s very pronounced, and it’s made clear that a lot of their tendencies are a result of past trauma- Like the need to take care of others. This is likely originating with their childhood, as they grew up in a very violent environment where their survival was never guaranteed (survivor’s guilt much?) and violence was just the way of things. This is where the need to protect comes from. There used to be several more Baltic nations, though you could argue that now there’s only two- Lithuania and Latvia, as Estonia does not speak a Baltic language and would really like to be considered Nordic.

Finally, Lithuania is also an interesting character where forgiveness is concerned. I think their sense of morality is very black and white, so some people (Feliks) will be easily forgiven where others (Ivan) will not. In reality, I think it would definitely be valid for Tolvydas to hate both of them, yet they don't- Because they decided that Feliks was a friend and Ivan was not. Both Feliks and Ivan care very deeply about them, but neither treats Tolvydas in a very good way. Of course, I’m aware that the situation in the Russian Empire/USSR and the Commonwealth were very different, but I’m talking about these three dudes and their relationships with each other beyond the lens of politics. Because Feliks tried to be their friend in a way that didn’t hurt them tremendously, and because. Look at them, Feliks isn’t 5’4 and can’t hurt you. They’re not an intimidating person and they’re not incredibly powerful like Ivan is. Though that’s not all of it- Feliks’ feelings for Tolvydas are definitely a purer, more selfless type of love than what Ivan feels for them- it makes it harder for Tolvydas to hold a grudge against them. Whereas for Ivan, their relationship was about control. He needed to control them as a way of expressing how he felt about them. He represents a lot of what Tolvydas fought against in their youth, so of course they hate him. Of course, I don’t think they like holding grudges. They want to be able to care for everyone, because they know that everyone deserves to be treated well and cared for and all that. You can't exactly do that if you hold a grudge against someone, so it actually kind of sucks for them when they see someone they hate suffering. It’s a sort of conflict of interest- The caregiving instincts vs the hatred for this person- and they often don’t know what to do in that situation. Usually they wind up helping but not happy about it. They just don’t want to see others suffer, despite the fact that they dislike this person (Russia is of course the exception. They don’t want to help him at all anymore).

Relationship with family

So, this is a bit of an interesting topic. I think the Baltics consider themselves family just because of what they’ve been through together, but they’re not actually blood related. Though they share similar cultures, and languages, they’re just not related. Maybe Lithuania and Latvia are cousins, but yeah. Lithuania sees themself as the head of their little family, as they have the oldest surviving European culture and language. They sometimes get in their head about that, and can act like both a mom friend and a mom who is bad at mom-ing. It’s a sort of self appointed thing, and can be really annoying to the other two. They don’t pay the utmost attention to their fellow Baltics, and are more concerned with physical well being than emotional well being, so, despite establishing themself as a caretaker, do not wind up actually caring for the other Baltics in the ways they need to be cared for.

Fighting style

So, as I’ve mentioned, Lithuania is a talented fighter. They go hard as shit, and can very much kick your ass. I think they prefer to be very technical about how they fight, with something boring like a broadsword as their weapon of choice, but are not afraid to fight dirty. Like rip off an ear with their teeth kind of playing dirty. I think they take fighting very seriously. Though Lithuania as we know it is only about 800 years old, I think Tolvydas is much older. The definition of a nation (a large body of people united by common descent, history, culture, or language, inhabiting a particular country or territory, according to the oxford dictionary) does not require there to be a central governing body, so I think it’s quite possible for Lithuania to be well over 2000. Anyway, all that is to say that they didn’t grow up in medieval times, so by the time they’re like. Achieving dominance in Eastern Europe, they’re already very old and well versed in many different styles of fighting. In the modern day, I think they’ve learned more different fighting styles from other parts of the world, but will always fall back on the way they learned how to fight in ancient times.

Religion

So as I mentioned earlier, Lithuania is Jewish in my headcanons (orthodox, specifically. I think they're kinda traditional). I have a couple reasons for this- There has been a historical presence of Ashkenazi Jews in Lithuania, going back to the 13th or 14th century, and this is due to certain legal protections granted to Jewish people under pre-Commonwealth law. They were legally on similar footing to the average free people of Lithuania, and were able to create a slightly more prosperous community than Jews in other areas of Europe. This was also affected by the Black Plague of the 1340s. Orthodox Jews tend to put a high value on cleanliness, and often have two sinks in their houses (my childhood home, for example, had two sinks, and i lived in a majority jewish area). They also happened to be concentrated in Eastern Europe, due to the protections. Because of this, Eastern European Jews have some of the highest sruvival rates for the Black Plague and actually brought up the survival rates of the region as a whole- Though this also resulted in some intense antisemitism, as many Christians blamed Jewish people for the plague even happening, due to their higher survival rates. Despite various expulsions and the loss of legal rights, the Jewish population remained relatively steady up until world war 2. Jewish people made up about 10% of the total population of Lithuania in 1941, and 45% of the total population of Vilnius. (To put this in perspective, the entire world population is only about 0.2% Jewish). Anyway, all this is to say that it’s not out of the question for Lithuania to be Jewish.

Extras/Fun stuff

Lithuania loves reading, especially the fantasy/fairy tale genre. It makes them nostalgic without the trauma of reading historical fiction.

They’re also very musically gifted, and can play the piano, bass, ukelele, and flute.

They wear docs.

They love hot chocolate.

They remind me of both Aragorn from lotr and Hozier. They’re such a sweet lad.

Bicon who has like 5 people thirsting for them at a given moment but is either oblivious or not looking for a relationship right now.

Here are my fics with lithuania as a main character!

My previous character analyses of lithuania (sorry they’re mostly in shipping contexts, rip) and another good analysis someone else did

My playlist for them

and i think thats it! of course i could always talk more about them, but those are my thoughts for now! thank you so much for the ask, i hope i was able to meet your challenge!

writing requests

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dramaticsnakes · 3 years

Text

The Revived - Chapter 2: Connected

This is chapter 2 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

Thank you to @ r0w3n-1n-d0ugh for beta-reading this chapter.

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Technoblade

Word count: 3268

Cw: arguments, yelling, insults, miscommunications, recklessness, mentioned suicidal behavior, cursing, mentions of crying, mentions of food, jokes about drugs

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Wilbur had barely acknowledged his surroundings until they’d made it to the house, tucked in among the mountains and the snow. Once Phil opened the door, Wilbur groggily wandered inside, recognizing the smells, and the familiar furniture, that had changed quite a bit, but still held the same atmosphere somehow. Wilbur didn’t have a home, but this house with all the strained emotions and uncomfortable attachments related to it, was probably the closest he would get. For now, of course, because Wilbur had plans, even if he couldn’t think of them at that moment.

As they entered the home, Phil turned to Wilbur, with narrowed eyes, wrinkling his nose. “No offense, mate, but your eye bags are deeper than the hole of L'Manburg. When have you last slept?”

"Haha, good one," Wilbur said, absentmindedly taking his first steps up the stairs.

Phil had hesitated, his eyebrows furrowed. "Wil, please tell me you've had some kind of sleeping schedule since you've returned."

"And I wished I had a house when I returned back here, we don't always get what we want." Wilbur had responded with a shrug, because it didn’t matter, really. Wilbur was alive, and he didn’t have to count the days anymore. He stumbled, grabbing the nearest stationary object he could reach to prevent himself from falling on the stairs. Phil sent him a concerned look.

Before he knew it, Wilbur had found himself in a room with a little bed that he wished wasn’t as appealing as it was. The mattress was soft, accompanied by the sheets, and Wilbur was brutally reminded that he hadn’t truly seen a bed for thirteen and a half years. Soon, he was tucked underneath a duvet and felt himself drifting off into a dreamless slumber, which was far better than the nightmares he’d half-expected.

He woke up to a plate of food, sat up, and ate a few bites before he fell asleep again. He wasn’t certain how much time had passed whenever he dared open his eyes. He should get up! He should face the world he’d been denied for so long, but getting up meant so many things. He had so little time to finish his work, though the darkness called to him, like a friend he never wanted to leave.

And the voice was there too, unfortunately, whenever he woke up. The cries, the whines, and the words that became clearer and clearer. Wilbur held his eyes open for a long time, as if he was in a staring contest with the ceiling, as the cries refused to settle. “Ugh, would you shut up for one second.” he groaned.

When the cries immediately ceased, Wilbur tensed up.

“You can… You can hear me?” was all Wilbur heard now, and he stayed completely silent. “Please.” the voice added after a short while, “It’s so lonely here.”

Wilbur almost feared his heart had stopped once again before he whispered: “Ghostbur…” it wasn’t a question, nor a statement. He wasn’t certain what it was, but perhaps he shouldn’t have said it.

“Yes!” the voice said, giggling with more relief than Wilbur had ever heard from anyone else, “It’s me, Ghostbur! And you’re Alivebur, right?”

“Alivebur?” Wilbur chuckled to himself, “I’m certainly alive, but I typically go by Wilbur.” If Wilbur could hear someone smile, he would describe it as the sound of Ghostbur’s voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry! It’s been a while since I’ve talked with anyone… Gets quite lonely here. Hey, where are you?”

“Phil’s upstairs. Maybe you weren’t here often. He had to make a bit of room up here since he didn’t expect my arrival.”

Minutes went by without a response from Ghostbur. Just as Wilbur was about to ask if he was still there, he heard the friendly voice again, “But… I’m sorry but this doesn’t make much sense to me. I- I’ve been to Phil’s house, and this doesn’t look like a house of any kind.”

Wilbur made a confused noise. “I don’t know if ghosts are constantly on weed or some other shit, but it’s pretty live laugh and love in here. Spruce shelves with some nicknacks and those little windows halfway covered in snow. Hey- I just realized. The windows are made out of spruce fences because Dad can’t see glass! That’s sorta neat.” Wilbur felt proud of his realization, even if someone else probably realized it before him.

Ghostbur’s voice on the other hand held a slight amount of fear, “Nono, there’s… I’m not really sure what this whole place is. It’s this big cylinder tube. It’s… It’s gray and there’s some benches here, but there’s also this really long tunnel! I tried walking to the end, but I- I don’t think there is one.” Wilbur’s heart dropped when he heard that. “Ghostbur… brown benches with some shitty lights in the ceiling?”

“Yes!” Ghostbur let out a soft gasp, “Have you been here before? Are we on some long-distance phone line? I- I don’t see a phone here.”

Wilbur thought for a moment, “It’s… It’s more than a phone line.” He should’ve remembered already, but his head was groggy. The transparent version of him, tears streaming down his face, almost as if they were burning him. The one who took his place on the platform. Wilbur didn’t know how to break the news to his Ghost counterpart. “I think you’re in my limbo.”

Ghostbur giggled, “I love limbo! I’m not very good at it though, whenever I play the pole just goes through me.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes at Ghostbur’s train of thought, “Nono, it’s… a little more serious than that.” Wilbur’s words became more spaced out, trying his best to avoid the actual topic.

“Does the bar actually hit me now?”

Wilbur awkwardly laughed, “No, it’s-” he quietly groaned from frustration, he’d never been good at breaking bad news to someone. “There’s no limbo bar.”

“That’s silly. How are we going to play limbo, with no limbo bar?”

Wilbur sighed, Ghostbur deserved to know, “You’re-”

“I know,” Ghostbur’s words were covered in child-like excitement, “we can just pretend there’s a limbo bar! I’ll go under it first.” There was silence for a few moments. “I did it! Now it’s your turn.”

“Ghostbur, this isn’t some kind of game.”

“It is though! I can’t find a dictionary, but if you try lookin’ in one of those, you-” Ghostbur quietly gasped, “Do you not know how to play limbo? Oh, you poor thing.”

When Wilbur spoke, his voice was louder than he meant it, venom dripping off each syllable, “You’re in prison. You’re never getting out and you’re stuck there!”

The silence that extended between them was louder than Wilbur could ever yell. “Ghostbur, I’m-”

“Wilbur?”

Wilbur jumped from the sudden noise, looking over and seeing Technoblade at the other end of the room. He seemed confused, which Wilbur thought must’ve been from the thought of him being alive and well, but it didn’t take him long to realize it must’ve been from talking- and yelling- to himself.

“Is Techno with you?! How is he?” Ghostbur excitedly squealed. Not now, Wilbur responded in his head, but Ghostbur must’ve not been able to hear it as he rambled off other questions. Through his babbling, he could hear mentions of Tubbo and Ranboo, but most of it was muddled together from Ghostbur’s cheerfulness.

“Hi, Techno!” Wilbur said too loudly. “How are you? I uh- hope you’re- it’s all going well.”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “I, uh… I guess it is. You’re back and stuff.”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, yeah I am.”

Ghostbur jumped in, “Techie, it’s been forever! What adventures have you been up to?”

A rough silence extended between the three, time feeling more present by the second.

Ghostbur chuckled and whispered, “I think Tech is ignoring me like you were.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes which only made Technoblade even more suspicious of the newly revived man in front of him.

“You alright? Phil told me you nearly died from hypothermia. Probably not the best way to reunite with your father.” Techno snorted quietly.

Ghostbur’s voice turned sadder, “But, I- that didn’t happen. I saw it myself, Phil gave you an enchanted golden apple and you guys hugged. Nothin’ bad happened, you did look a little uncomfortable though.”

That caught Wilbur slightly off guard, though he couldn’t quite respond properly or ask for more information. He nodded bashfully, “Yeah… uncomfortable is a word to describe it.”

“Yeah… hey, Phil told me to show you to the portal and stuff. He doesn’t want you dying again.” Although Techno didn’t say ‘literally,’ Wilbur could hear it clearly.

“Oh, Don’t worry! I can show him where it is! I’ve followed Ranboo through those portals a few times. He’s really nice. He seemed a little worried last time I saw him though, but Tubbo was there and he was also worried. Maybe we could give him a visit. We can visit both of them!” Wilbur heard quick echo-y claps, presumably from Ghostbur’s enthusiasm.

��Mhm, sounds like a plan.”

“Great…” Techno said, and Wilbur started to notice that there was something hesitant in the other’s posture. Something awkward, and restricted, though Wilbur found it difficult to place why. “Let’s go,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the door, and that was when Wilbur had no choice but to leave the comforting darkness. Perhaps it wasn’t too appealing after all because Wilbur had been alone for so long, so maybe it was time he saw how much the world had changed without him. Wilbur stood up from the bed and followed Technoblade out the door.

“Oh! I guess Techno is taking us to the portal after all. That’s great! Aliv- I mean, Wilbur! Haven’t you missed this place too? Did you even see this place, while you were alive? Did they-”

“Shh,” Wilbur said quickly and harshly, closing his eyes.

“Heh?” Techno said questioningly.

Wilbur’s eyes widened. “Oh, nothing! I was just thinking about something.”

“Thinking about something hush-able?” Techno said with a hesitant smile, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hearing voices too.”

Wilbur chuckled awkwardly, though he didn’t say anything else on the matter.

He hardly had the time to consider what it was like to see Technoblade again because Ghostbur was certainly an unexpected turn of events. Wilbur had simply assumed that hearing the cries and the begging words had been a side-effect of the revival. One he would get rid of eventually.

Prime, he hoped he could still get rid of it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle all the questions in his own mind, let alone whatever it was Ghostbur was talking about. There had to be a way to break the connection because that was what Wilbur did best. It was getting rid of things once they were a lost cause, and Ghostbur’s situation was a lost cause, wasn’t it? Even if Ghostbur wasn’t quite bright enough to realize it himself.

Wilbur and Techno walked outside, the wind reaching Wilbur’s hair and face pleasantly, making him realize that it was before noon. He wondered for a moment, how long he had slept. Wilbur looked at the surroundings properly, now that he was no longer collapsing from exhaustion. “What’s that place over there?” he asked, pointing towards what looked like a solitary house, nearby Phil and Techno’s.

“Oh. That’s Ranboo’s place,” Techno said. He glanced at Wilbur. “You know Ranboo?”

“I met him briefly,” Wilbur simply said, remembering the moments after his revival. The way Tommy had stared at him with fear, Tubbo looking vaguely concerned, the new face that stood slightly behind all of them, and all the words that didn’t matter, because Wilbur was alive, and this was his sunrise. “What’s he like?”

“He’s good.” Techno said, “I don’t know how long he’s going to stay here though.”

“What do you mean?” Wilbur asked.

Techno breathed deeply. “He just spends less time here is all.” He shrugged, “It’s not my problem. Plus I don’t think I’m the best choice for filling you in.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s with Tubbo now! I- I’m not very sure though, I just know they make each other very happy.”

Ghostbur had mentioned those names together before. The two stood next to each other, at the sight of Wilbur’s revival. Yet it was still odd to hear this stranger mentioned next to the man Wilbur remembered so clearly. The president of the fallen nation. Wilbur would almost say it was a failed nation, but that wouldn’t be true at all. A failed nation would leave him marked as a nobody. No, L’Manburg made everybody know his name. He even got power for a long while. It was all he could ever ask for.

“Soot?”

Wilbur slightly jumped, from the sudden noise, “Yes?” Techno let out a small laugh, but his eyes were tinted with concern that made it feel like it was supposed to comfort the two of them instead of being a genuine expression. “I’m not the best at conversations but I’m pretty sure that isn’t a yes or no question.”

Wilbur nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry, ’m just a bit tired. Sleep works a bit differently when you’re alive. Well- I suppose everything is a bit different. What were you asking?”

“Just if you were gonna stay at Phil’s or if you want a house for yourself. I was uh… offering to help if you needed it.”

“Awww, Techno is trying to be your friend. He seems all big and scary, but we were pretty close! Well- we never really talked or hung out much, but sometimes I saw him searching through some chests and he seems nice. I tried to offer him some blue, but Tommy said not to. Not sure why though.” Despite the topics he was discussing, Ghostbur’s voice stayed passively happy as Wilbur assumed would be a new norm. Yet, he’d never heard of this “blue” before. Maybe Ghostbur was on drugs after all.

“Actually, that might be pretty nice. I’ll admit L’Manburg was a flop, but my house won’t be! What should we call it? I’ve been thinking about what to call it if I started a new nation., or country, tomato potato, and- I think BimBom sounds neat.”

Techno glanced back at Wilbur, “BimBom was the best you could do? Look, man- I don’t respect government. Y’know, that’s my main thing. But I wouldn’t even respect a girl-scout cookie organization named that.”

Wilbur pouted, “Hey, you try spending thirteen and a half years alone and come up with good ideas.” His words became sharper near the end, becoming defensive as he subconsciously thought Techno would be on his side.

However, Techno only gave him a confused look, “It wasn’t-” he bit his lip, gave Wilbur a quick contemplative look, and turned away, “Nevermind.”

“Oh no, he’s in a bad mood now. You should apologize,” Ghostbur’s voice whined in his head.

“I-” Wilbur was going to claim that he wasn’t going to apologize, but he realized he couldn’t say that without Techno hearing him.

“Don’t worry, everyone gets a bit tongue-tied. I’ll help you!” If only Wilbur could communicate silently with the ghost. “The first word is ‘I’m’ and the second is ‘sorry.’ Words can be a bit hard sometimes, but I’m sure Tech will accept your apology even if you’re a bit bad at it.”

Wilbur frustratedly sighed. He didn’t know if Techno heard it and was pretending not to, or if he genuinely didn’t hear the exhale, but Wilbur was grateful to not be called out about it. Once enough seconds had passed with what he felt was an expectant look from Ghostbur he mumbled a quick “‘M sorry.” just to get the ghost off his back. He caught a nod of acknowledgment from Techno, and let out another breath.

Simultaneously, Wilbur heard what sounded like a relieved sigh in his head. “There we go.” Ghostbur said, “Good job! You’re getting the hang of it, I think. I don’t like it when people are mad. It’s hard to tell sometimes, but it’s good to try to keep them happy.” there was something strained in the last words, as if they held a hint of something less joyful, that someone attempted to shove out.

“We’re here.” Techno stopped walking, only a few steps away from the nether portal. Wilbur instinctively ran his hand along the border of obsidian, it was cool to the touch, and vibrated with a low hum. “We were planning to make a path, but we always had other priorities too.” Techno explained.

Wilbur nodded and walked towards the portal, only for Techno to grab his arm and pull him back. “For the love of subscribers, are you an idiot?” He heard Ghostbur mumble something, but he didn’t bother to pay attention.

Wilbur pulled his arm out of Technoblade’s grip, “Have nether portals changed since I was last here?”

Techno snorted, “No, but that’s exactly why you shouldn’t be going yet. I’ve got some armor back at my base, even some golden apples I can spare. Unless you’re-” realization spread across his face, “Oh that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“This-” Techno sighed, “This is just a suicide mission, isn’t it?”

Wilbur made a small step away from Technoblade. “What are you even talking about?”

Techno rubbed his head, he looked like he was trying to relieve a headache of some kind. “Look, I know that it’s supposed to be ‘twice is a coincidence and three is a pattern,’ but…” Techno groaned, “I’m not gonna sugar-coat with you. You were reckless before you died, you thought you could walk into a freezin’ cold biome without anything on you, and I don’t need a third time to realize what you could be doin’.”

Wilbur nodded despite not necessarily agreeing with his claims. Wilbur didn’t want to die anymore, and Wilbur wasn’t going to die. That couldn’t possibly be that hard to understand. “L’Manburg was ages ago and I’m a grown man, I can handle myself.” It wasn’t his strongest argument, but he knew he was right in the end.

“You’re the same grown man that thought he could run a nation with one of your dumb protocols bein’ that you don’t wear armor. You might be able to ‘handle’ yourself, but I feel like you’re gonna do a poor job at it.”

Wilbur’s eyes burned with fire, because while he didn’t care deeply, not really, that didn’t mean it was something that could be brushed off so easily. “It- It wasn’t dumb. L’Manburg was my nation-”

“Surely you aren’t blind. It’s in ruins!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter if it’s in ruins! I’ve done more than you will ever achieve in your whole pathetic life.” He shouted harshly, “All you go on about is how you hate governments and orphans, and it’s because you’re nothing more than that. It’s not my fault that I actually make an impact in this world while you’re up in your stupid house because no one can stand being around you.” Wilbur’s chest was heaving at this point, both of his hands curled up into fists.

Technoblade spat out at Wilbur, “Oh my fucking Blood God, Soot. Fine- I promised Phil that I wasn’t going to let you kill yourself, but if you’re so passionate about blindly throwing yourself at whatever comes your way, then go at it.”

Wilbur practically screamed, “Fine, I will!” and with that, he threw himself into the nether portal and felt the purple wisps surround him so loudly that he couldn’t even hear Ghostbur’s pleas.

#dream smp #dsmp #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #ghostbur #technoblade #c!technoblade #fanfic #dream smp fanfic #dsmp fic #alivebur #revivedbur #The Revived

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savnofilter · 4 years

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TW: MENTIONS OF DISCOURSE, GR//MING, P/D/PHILIA, ASS//LT, C//NSENT, D//RK CONTENT.

- this isnt under a read more because i want people to read this, but please read past this/tread carefully if you cannot handle such topics. this is not meant to be interacted with.

I'm not sure how to really go about this. I've been overthinking if I should address this and bring up some stuff while I've been gone, so sorry the absence. I deleted the tumblr app a few days ago and I downloaded it again today so i could post this. I really don't like making posts like this because it cuts the vibe that I've been trying to portray that everything is okay and it makes me feel really disconnected to you guys. I am sorry for the abrupt absence and cutting off any source of communication between us. I knew if I left any form of direct line of talk to me that I would receive hate and I just mentally decided that I cant sit through being harassed right now.

Have you guys ever paid attention to the same people who always have a statement to say or is always in discourse? It's very telling how everyone can post about me, but I shouldnt dare post about them. I'm tired of not being able to post about what I want without people vague posting about me, bringing me up every time they start another discourse with another writer or directly talking about me. My days on here are starting to feel the same. Its good then it goes bad. Good goes bad and bad goes good. It's not even tiring, annoying, or angering -- its repetitive. When I'm not saying anything people create fake stories about me, and when i speak about it im the one starting discourse. Don't get me wrong, I'm nowhere near perfect and I have made my own mistakes. But why the fuck am I always being told to be the mature one, why am I the one who should've done better, why do you people expect so much from me. It's the fact people are always quick to say, "no one cares about you, youre fishing for attention" when they're the ones who vague and interact with me while ive been minding my business for months now. Hm. The fact people have me proudly blocked but still harass me anyways shows a lot about themselves than it does for me. How its such an issue that im a minor until it comes to demonizing, tearing down my character, gaslighting, lying and bullying. I'm a literal example of how their friend group manipulates their followers and exiles people from fandoms for not kissing their ass. except now its in your face.

Consider this my last post about this discourse. I'm not going to waste my time on people who fail to digest other peoples thoughts and opinions time and time again because theyre weak narcissists. If I so choose to decide to shit post my opinions or argue with someone, none of you should be aggravated or moved by it because youre not even supposed to be on my page. If its not something serious i will not be wasting energy that i can be using to build on myself as a growing person than on miserable old ladies that have to use fanfiction to have excitement in their pity, depressing and lackluster lives. If people so do choose to create stories or vague about me, I do not care. So I ask respectfully to people who do lurk on my page to not attempt to message, post or vague about me please. This includes sending anons to yourself to make shit happen.

Past that, something got me thinking. My (older) friend had showed me screenshots of adult writers (no one i have spoken to) that were very excited to write underaged reader with adult characters. There are other instances where writers (that you have probably read from) on here openly made reader underage while aging characters up as adults/with adults. There are many more but there's really no point in listing them nor do I really care. But least to say, the same people who are gung-ho over these pedophilic themes/stories are the same people who support predatory people.

I've been thinking about whether or not i should continue writing for the students anymore. Granted, I still think they're attractive because one snap of the fingers cant stop that. I had been teetering on this thought for awhile because of how borderline pedophilic the people are here towards my age group. I enjoy writing but not to the point of willingly being in a straight line of sight where people who are well over 16 are harassing me and lurking on my page, especially to other minors solely because they are my friends. Backtracking to the statement before, I honestly dont know if I will either stop writing or just for the students as a whole. It shows that clearly some people are using their attraction to teens with the excuse that the characters are fake. The rapid normalization on dark problematic "kinks" is disgusting and vile, and the fact that its discourse now to shame said interests is appalling. Concluding that combined with my experiences here, i feel unsafe.

***(TRIGGER WARNING)*** I dont talk about my personal life on here that much cause I dont see the need too nor do i think its anyone's business. Paired with the fact that the people i have trusted personal information with have used it against me, I will be preventing myself from opening that door. Besides that for now, I have sparsely shared I've been assaulted before. This is my first time really opening up about this and i kind of find it necessary now. Coming from someone who has been a victim of assault and CP by people my age and well over, writing nsfw has been the only way where I could feel comfortable with sex in general. I won't get into details because mentioning this is triggering already and can make people uncomfortable. It feels like anywhere I go, I'm constantly putting myself in a position to be abused. The same people who told me I didn't have to worry about my age and be judged for it, exposed the minimum comfort of keeping myself private online to demonize, judge and hurt me. People call me "extra" for being distraught about my face and age being posted because they think im trying to be sneaky which isn't the case. Its the principle that they KNEW I wasnt ready to share said things, and coming from someone who is inherently a private and closed person, she knew damn well what she was doing when posting screenshots of me on Tumblr. There is no excuse for it. The same writers who write dub/non-con can BARELY understand basic consent and its fucking terrifying. This site was the only other place I could cope without being criticized. To see people who some i was close to proudly lie on my name, (adults) say that i sent them pornographic content without their consent is so very hurtful. To watch people supposedly be victims and then use their own trauma to invalidate my own was so fucking humiliating, disgusting and nerve wracking. Although I knew I made the terrible decision to interact with stories, I have never initiated any NSFW discussion with anyone in DMs unless they did it with me first and a few times -- and trust me raise your hand I'll show you the proof. I was sure that everyone I talked to regularly knew that I was a minor, and to my general consensus, people were under the impression I was 15/16 (which I was and am).***

Whether it be victim blaming from the grooming discourse, I've been met with racism, harassment towards my friends, people wanting me to harm myself and be assaulted. I fear what will happen when i will turn 18, if the harassment will escalate and what not. A big part of me is that I'm still here anyways because it pisses people off and I don't care when I receive hate. I can take it but I don't want it. A good conscious of me knows that I should be doing what's best for me but at the end I'm still attached to my ego-self with the added fact that I sincerely enjoy interacting with my followers and posting stories.

I just don't know how the options look. I'll probably be updating my blog rules as of right now. I've been writing more sfw lately because of this and it'd be nice if you guys supported those until I properly decide. I still have plenty of requests of a bunch of characters (mostly Bakugo and Dabi) and original stuff (all sfw & nsfw) that I really wanna share with you guys. But I just ask that what I do modify that you will respect it like you would to any other writer on here.

Stay safe, keep your mask on, and thank you.

#discourse #tw discourse #tw: discourse #sav talks

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aros001 · 3 years

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First time read through light novel vol. 6. Random thoughts.

Hey, can you guess what my favorite episode of the anime is? Here's a hint: it's one apparently a lot of other Subarem shippers hate. I say f**k that! Episode 18 and this book made me love the idea of them as a couple even more! But we'll get to that in a minute.

“By conducting these negotiations, you bear Emilia’s fate on your shoulders. Naturally, everything you say affects her, and it carries the same weight as Emilia’s words. This is not a decision you should make lightly, nor are the words you say easily taken back.”

“...Ah, uh...”

“Moreover, I ask again—should you owe me in this matter, it will mean the defeat of the Emilia camp. Are you truly fine with this?”

It really brings into the focus the problem of Subaru calling himself Emilia's knight without thinking and why the actual knights took such offence to it. At best it was a gimmick with no actual meaning to him and at worst he wanted all the rewards that came with being a knight (or at least what he perceived as the rewards) and not any of the responsibility. That's basically the reality Crusch is making Subaru face; the true burden that is on the one who claims to be Emilia's representative. Being a knight isn't just a game or a fancy title. Whatever he does will heavily impact his lady's future and he never once considered that.

“You hate the Witch Cult. That’s the reason you approached Emilia, is it not?”

Damn.

“—You have not said, ‘I want to save Emilia,’ even once.”

Daaaamn. Obviously, we know the witch cult has nothing to do with why Subaru wanted to hang around Emilia, but it's really telling of his current state that that's what it looks like from the outside. His hatred for Petelgeuse is stronger than his love for Emilia.

The fact that Roswaal has twice now been absent during events that his presence could easily have prevented tragedy is incredibly suspicious. Especially during the mansion arc, where he only left the mansion during the loop Subaru had made a lot of progress in finding the shaman and thus, unlike the previous loops, could have warned him about what was about to happen. It feels like Roswaal is intentionally removing himself as to invite disaster upon his house and Emilia, likely to manipulate her and Subaru.

Priscilla is an oddity to me, because she really feels like someone I should dislike more than I do, as I tend to have an instant dislike for very bratty, entitled, and/or spoiled characters. I'm not sure what it is specifically that's lifting her up so much for me. It's not just the looks, because I've seen attractive female characters I've hated because of their brattiness (I think she and Bitch princess from Shield Hero share the same english voice actor, in fact). I think that, one, there is just this sense of fun and amusement when Priscilla's around, like I just want to see whatever she does next, and two, despite her attitude, I'm not really getting a feeling of shallowness from her. She doesn't feel like she's putting people down just to prop herself up. There is actual strength and depth to her.

Rem followed behind both of them, and he could hear noises coming from her nose every so often. Rem had a keen sense of smell, and she’d apparently picked up some kind of unsavory scent, staring at the back of the iron helm as they walked along.

Well, Al is from another world like Subaru, so it wouldn't be surprising if he also had the witch's scent attached to him, assuming his situation is anything like Subaru's.

“Don’t be silly. You’re Ram, right?”

“I am Rem... Forgive my rudeness, but where have you met Sister, Master Al?”

Rem explained how he’d mistaken her for her nearly identical older sister as she posed the question. However, Al made no reply. He raised up his one arm and touched his helm, busily poking the metal.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here...?”

Al sounded nervous, seemingly unable to process the information. The increasingly rapid tapping offered further proof.

“So you’re Rem...and your sister is Ram?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“This might be a weird thing to ask but...is your older sister alive?”

“...? I do not understand the meaning of your question. Sister is alive, as she should be.”

The instant Rem gave that answer, Subaru, who had been listening to the conversation in silence, felt goose bumps all over his flesh.

“—This ain’t funny.”

Well...that got a lot of theory wheels turning in my head. I was already wondering if Al had his own Return By Death ability, so it's certainly possible he'd met Ram before a restart, though why he'd mix up her and Rem, I'm not sure. Another possibility is that he's maybe experienced Subaru's own RBDs, so while he can't trigger the ability himself he retains his memories from the original timelines. We've seen timelines where Ram has died but also one back at the mansion where only Rem died. Of course, there's also the possibility this story is going to go full Futurama: Bender's Big Score and Al is going to turn out to be a future version of Subaru sent back to the past.

That damn whale is like something out of a horror movie. I don't tend to care for gory horror but I do like movies with unique monsters and killers, so I could easily see myself getting into a movie about a giant flying whale that appears in a dark fog and basically consumes the entire existence of whatever it eats, including its past presence in the world. It's not just memories being erased. The person themselves never was.

You can tell the story is doing a good job of connecting when I know full well that Subaru's going to have another RBD and that everything's going to be fine and I'm still tearing up over Rem basically sacrificing herself to hold off the whale and Subaru is realizing he's allowed her to die four times over.

Huge difference between the books and the anime, as I'm pretty sure in the anime Puck just killed Subaru in the room Emilia died in. There was no bringing her to the witch cult's hidden cave like there was here.

“Unable to even pass a single trial, not even facing a single Deadly Sin, bearing great expectations only to stumble over the first stone in her path...”

The madman looked down at the sleeping Emilia, sighing.

“—Ahh, you were lazy!”

Curious as to what he meant by all that. Now that I think about it, I don't think it's been revealed yet the specific reason the witch cult went after Emilia. Yes, she looks like the Witch of Envy but it that a bad thing or a good thing to the cult? Do these "trials" she was supposed to face have to do with the dragon and royal selection or the witch?

I don't think they said why Subaru can now see Petelgeuse's previously unseen hands. I think I saw a theory about how Subaru's connection with the witch grows stronger with each RBD, beyond just the scent, so he might simply has just accumulated enough EXP to finally level up into seeing them. Then again, I did love Subaru's mocking line to Petelgeuse that the witch has been "cheating" on him with Subaru, so it's certainly possible he just has more of Satella's affection than Petelgeuse and thus he gets more special perks from her.

And finally, we get to the talk between Subaru and Rem at the end. Funny thing, when I first started watching the anime, someone I knew who'd seen it before me told me that, one, it's very different from Isekai Quartet, which introduced me to the characters, so don't go in expecting a comedy, and two, that episode 18 has a Subaru moment that a lot of people hate. Given how the arc had been since before that episode and how Subaru kept falling further and further, I had no idea what was going to happen or what was worse than what he'd already done that'd get people to hate him so much.

And it turns out it's just because of a shipping war. I'm still not sure if I should feel relieved or annoyed. Yeah, I ship Subaru and Rem over Subaru and Emilia, but hating this part of the story just because he still loves Emilia? I feel like everything else except for that one line gets ignored (the line I'm avoiding saying because I don't want a bot to flag this post) and that the lack of all context except Subaru loving Emilia while Rem loves him destroys a lot of why the scene works.

There's just so much to talk about with why I love this part between Subaru and Rem. I'm a big fan of superhero stories and a classic trope I love is when things get dark and everything is brought to its lowest point...only for the hero to make a comeback. And Subaru... The man is broken. He's given up. Not only has he experienced death, failure, and futility multiple times, he's seen the people he cares about be completely slaughtered, with Rem dying, being mutilated, and even erased to protect him and Emilia, the woman he loves, dying directly because of him. He's powerless to change anything, or at least everything he does change seems to just make things worse. He sees himself as selfish, greedy, and arrogant; that he never actually cared about anyone other than himself. He's just spewing all this very justified self-hatred...and Rem counters it perfectly, not saying a single thing that isn't true about what she loves about him. Last volume had her imagining running away with Subaru, so the possible life with him she talks about isn't just something she's pulled out of the air. It's something she's considered and wants, which means it has actual weight when she turns him down.

I think another reason Rem connects to Subaru so much is because she's no stranger to self-hatred. She's also seen her own existence as a blight on everyone and everything around her. That she's selfish and terrible. And the person who helped pull her out of that state, at least somewhat, and get her to start liking herself was Subaru, which is what she's doing for him now. It's what I love so much about the relationship between these two. It's not just that they've saved each others' lives. They've helped each other in incredibly personal ways, despite the fact that neither fully knows what the source of the other's pain is. Subaru doesn't know what Rem felt as she watched Ram's horn get cut off. Rem doesn't know about Subaru's RBD and constant failures. They didn't need to. They simply knew the other needed help and they gave it, with no strings attached. It's why, despite me shipping them together, I'm not upset that Subaru doesn't return Rem's love (yet?) in the same way. There was a great bit of art I saw of the moment, and the words alongside it were "I didn't say I love you to hear it back. I said it so that you would know." Despite her still having some issues, being a little too subservient and obsessed with Subaru, I can believe Rem's love for him is real. When Subaru hated himself and believed everyone else did too, Rem told him that she loved him, not to get anything back out of it, but simply because she wanted him to at least have that to hold onto.

Rem was clearly at least a little upset at the end of their talk, and I can see it being some regret that she turned him down or that he does still love Emilia more, and I'm fine with that. She did the right thing and she is happy the real Subaru is back, but her being a little sad afterwards keeps her human (even if she's a demon).

Honestly, while I do ship them, I think both did make the right call. If or when they hook up, it should be when there's no lingering doubts or regrets they're carrying with them. Where they can have a future where they can smile together and with everyone in their lives they love and can't just abandon. Plus, I want to see Ram as an aunt to Subaru and Rem's kid! That sounds amazing!

And Subaru saying he loves Emilia, even after Rem poured her heart out to him...well, yeah, of course he does. He just found out Rem loves him and has had no time to process it (he was trying to run away with her out of fear and guilt, thus why she turned him down). If his feelings for Emilia were that easily swayed then it'd be hard to say that they were ever that strong or real to begin with, and thus what would have been the point of everything he's been through? It's not like he said it to hurt Rem. Hell, here and in the anime he sounds pretty apologetic as he says it, because he knows it'll hurt her to hear it and he doesn't want that. But it is the truth. So I'm not going to get mad at him for it. It's consistent with his character and everything he's been through and lead to great character moments for both him and Rem. What's there to be angry about?

But yeah, there was a little bit of it in the last chapter but I'm soooooooo looking forward to next volume. I remember just the feeling of hype and "F**k yeah!" going through my chest on my first watch of the anime. Subaru, after hitting his absolute lowest point, pulling himself together with Rem's help and gathering up everything he's got to fight back against the previously hopeless situation and save the day. It made all that heartache and misery so worth the wait.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/gr9y77/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_6/

#re:zero #random thoughts #reddit repost

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astoldbycrimson · 5 years

Text

The Language of Love & Longing

Summary: Reader is a blind force sensitive Dathomirian (and kinda maybe a jedi). You don't know where you stand with Din Djarin, but another injury gives you the answer you need.

Just a heads up that I made up many parts of the reader's native language, Paecian, because we have only been given 2 words. So I took it upon myself to make stuff up as I go. And the reader is in place of my own character from this series I am writing. Feel free to ask questions if you want backstory. There is a lot of backstory missing from this.

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: Violence, injuries, near death experiences, angst, and some fluff

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5

---------------------

Din was a man of action and little words. While his face was hidden beneath his helmet, his body language gave away his expressions. His tone, even with the modulator, conveyed his emotions. There was a way to read the mysterious Mandalorian and you felt you could decipher his code with ease now.

The hunter cared for you, that was obvious in the way he spoke a little softer and relaxed in your presence. In the way he always kept an eye on you while you were on solid ground, guiding you cautiously without giving your weakness away. How he worried about you during fights, sometimes a little more than necessary for what was once traveling companions.

You noticed how he'd tried to keep the ship tidy and in the way you had memorized it, to prevent you from stumbling or stubbing your foot. How there was a place for everything and everything was always in its place, so you could find exactly what you needed whenever you needed it.

Many of his acquaintances didn't give him enough credit, condemning him to be just another arrogant, disinterested hunter. While he was that way towards most others, he was quite soft and lively with you.

You constantly wondered where you stood with the Mandalorian. Were you together? Just close friends? Your answer changed daily because you honestly didn't know. Without Din explicitly stating how he felt, you'd never know for sure.

However, you did know that you were head over heels and in over your head. Fallen hard from where you had started. He had grown attentive to your needs, both biological and emotional. Din always made sure you had enough food to prepare a meal or two a day. Always ensuring you had access to clean water and a shower when you needed it. And all this just made you love him more.

As confident as you were in your own feelings, you shied from confronting him about it. You didn't want to make the situation awkward or uncomfortable to point that he'd have to ditch you at the next stop to avoid it all.

It wasn't until this last bounty that you finally started to piece things together.

The gunman had an advantage and was ready to strike, but you jumped in the way, taking several shots to the back and shoulder as your body shielded him from the assault. Then, without collapsing, you had called upon your saber and swiftly relieved the gunman of his head. And, high on adrenaline, you managed to headshot each of the lackeys with your blaster.

Once all enemies were accounted for, you turned to face Din, who was back on his feet. You raised a shaky hand to touch the side of his helmet. "I'm glad you're okay… mulovda." Then your eyes closed as you fell forward, right into his arms.

You heard him frantically call your name as you drifted into unconscious. You slipped in and out for a while after that, hearing bits and pieces of what your Mandalorian was saying as he rushed you back to the ship.

"Kriff, (Y/N). Stay with me—open your eyes. Kriff. (Y/N), hold on. Almost there. You—me now… You're all—left… Kriff. KRIFF. (Y/N), cyar'ika, please, I—you."

---------------------

It was a while before you finally regained consciousness. You laid still a moment as you felt the familiar rumble of the Razor Crest and the comforting presence of Din. You tried to sit up, eyes fluttering open, before you hissed in pain.

"Jyunta," you cursed, laying back down.

Din was by your side in an instant. "Careful, (Y/N). Just… stay there. Don't move just yet." There was obvious concern in his voice, as best as the modulator could manage, as his hand brushed your arm. "How're you feeling?"

"Like a herd of mudhorn ran me over, but I'll manage," you tried to laugh, but it hurt too much.

"Stop doing that!" He said with a little more force than was needed, than he intended, moving to pace around you.

"What? I can't crack jokes?"

Din took in a sharp breath before stopping to give you what you could only imagine was a glare. "Stop… making light of this."

"I'm wounded, not dead, Guns. It's not that big of a deal." You rolled your eyes at him.

You heard the hitch in his breath before a gloved hand collide with the wall beside you. "Haar'chak! Can you be serious about this for 5 seconds, (Y/N)? You could've died!"

You jumped at the sound. You hadn't seen Din like this... well, ever. Never heard him filled with so much anger. The sudden jolt of your body had elicited a groan of pain as your injuries made themselves known once more.

And with that he was back at your side, kneeling to check on you. "Kriff," he huffed, "I'm sorry, I…" He couldn't find the right words to say.

After a moment of tense silence, you finally opened your mouth. "I'm very aware of what could've happened, but that will never change how I handle things. I'm not gonna let you die, Din." You closed your eyes and turned your head away from him. "I won't apologize for what I did either."

Of course he didn't expect you to. You were as stubborn as you were strong. You had made a habit of protecting him. It was how you two came to be. But he didn't like you repeatedly putting yourself in danger either. Not for his sake. He didn't deserve that kindness. You didn't owe him your life…

But why was he so upset by all this? How could one woman boil his blood so much? And why did his heart stop every time you got hurt? Why did it beat so loudly when you smiled or laughed? Din couldn't comprehend how one person could have so much power over him. He had so many questions and so little answers.

"Moo...luvduh…?" He finally broke the silence. Din knew he was butchering the language of your people, but he needed to know.

This made your head snap back in his direction, eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you trying to say 'mulovda'?"

"You said that before you blacked out. What does it mean?"

You silenced immediately as your cheeks flushed. You didn't recall saying that at all. And knowing he remembered it made your heart pound. Your mind was racing, trying to decide if you should be honest with him or lie to hide it all. He'd have no way of knowing the real translation or if you were lying. You could easily make something up to cover your little slip up.

But, as much as you feared saying it aloud and knowing the implications, you didn't want to lie to him. Or rather, you couldn't. "It means… 'my love'…" you replied, voice barely a whisper as you looked away, cheeks flushing even redder than before.

Din remained quiet. He had thought it meant something like that, well, maybe he hoped it did. That maybe you cared for him that deeply. And as you had laid dying in his arms, he had voiced his own response. He couldn't deny his feelings any longer then, knowing that you may die on him… because you had protected him like his family had many many cycles ago.

You had always found the good in him. Despite all the bad he did as a bounty hunter, all the death and blood, you always saw him. The quiet, honest type. The armor clad hunter with a surprisingly soft heart. A man who'd been broken and was just trying to live despite it all. You saw all the parts of him that he had carefully hidden beneath the reflective metal of his armor.

Part of him worried about your words and the weight behind them. You were practically saying you loved him. Love meant closeness. Attachment. Vulnerability. Weakness. Those who wanted his life would mercilessly use you as a means to get to him. You would become his biggest weakness. Your love for him could ultimately be the death of you. Could he handle the weight of that? And if he couldn't… would he really be able to let you go?

"What does 'cyar'ika' mean?" You whispered, slowly turning back towards him after having endured minutes of deafening silence.

Din's cheeks flushed and his breath caught in his throat upon hearing that word. His heart hammered against his ribs at your perfect pronunciation. Like you'd been speaking his language your whole life. And despite having been gravely wounded, practically dying in his arms, you had managed to hear that single word and remembered it. Kriff. Maybe it was a sign from the Maker...

He opened and closed his mouth many times, eyes darting between you and his hands. "...Basically… it means...it's the Mando'a equivalent to… mulovda."

Your blind eyes widened and your cheeks glowed brighter than a newborn star. You raised a hand to touch the cold steel of his helmet, smile tugging at the edges of your tired face. "I like it. The way you say it... Can you call me that again?"

He felt as though someone had shot him straight through the chest. Like he was suddenly exposed to the entire world, without his helmet or armor to hide behind. The thought was utterly terrifying, but Din couldn't stop his hand from moving to cup yours. "Cyar'ika."

#the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #reader insert #the language of love & longing #mandalorian fanfic #the force that brought us together #din djarin / mando / the mandalorian #din djarin x reader

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dafukdidiwatch · 4 years

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Fantasy High Rant (and why you should watch it)

Ok I got suggested this and I cant believe I've been sleeping on this series in the last two years. This series is freaking fantastic! I’m screaming.

Overview is this is a modern d&d fantasy land a la Onward Style, where we follow fantasy Scooby Doo gang as they try to solve the mystery of missing students while interacting with the fantastical citizens of Spyre.

I hella love it, because while it has such a great mystery of whats going on in the town, who is doing what and why, etc etc, and it just GROWS the more you watch it. You think it was something simple, but the conspiracy rabbit hole gets deeper and deeper. But to me the main pull is just seeing how our Party just interacts with everyone and each other. This is a very character driven series, which makes sense this is a d&d party, you have to get attached to the party if you want them to work together.

Fabian Seacaster: God he’s fun to watch. The rich kid high class type of character but is just has so much gusto. I love his relationship with his family, it’s adorable. He just adores his parents and his parents adore him back. Like Addams style adoration. He is a bit full of himself and arrogant and has a thing of living up to his father's legacy as well as his family name, but I think his arc is him learning that he doesn't have to define himself through his dad and can be his own person. Plus my favorite moments are him screaming “WHAT IS HAPPENING” because out of everyone he mostly the straight man dealing with people.

Gorgug: I just love him. He is just so sweet. He is just a gentle giant and confused all the time. I feel so bad that he keeps getting the shit end of the stick to save the rest of the party. Like the whole "stealing backpack" shit to basically set him up as the outcasts of outcasts. Granted I’m laughing my ass off when it happens, but he is just so anxious it’s cute. He is just very sweet and genuine, even if he is a little awkward. I also love him just asking if people are his dad lol he just wants to know. But when he rages he’s basically God-Tier Shaggy.

Fig: lol her angsty teenage years finding out she isn't who she thought she was. Tbf her dad basically said she was the reason for her parents divorce soooo take that as you will. Her being the "bad girl" but also very helpful when she can is great. Her flirtatious punk attitude, the winking, and rocking bard stuff. I low key like the idea of her being with Gorgug because of the moments in Barbarian class and giving him drumsticks. And I also like her with Fabian as just a wild cool kid power couple. Also her fucking with Goldenhoarde is the best with her being sexual,with him. Its super funny.

Riz: I freaking love him. Kid detective on the case. The business cards for friendship which I mean, makes sense. His goal from day one was to find the missing girls and babysitter. I'm sorry he has a poor house to use water cereal, but his mom just loves him and I think that’s sweet. His family is the coolest and he isn’t afraid to admit how cool his family is. But he has direction, he has a mission, and he does it with determination. Plus I love how he is The Ball and everyone is just going with it and now supports it. Him fucking with Fabian is great. And I'm glad he is reconsidering his life choices after meeting the AV kids.

Adaine: She needs help. The panicking one. I mean, her family,obviously looks down on her and she is literally jealous of all the other kids parents (love the gnomes). She is learning to find her own magic her own way and trying to shatter the expectation forced on her. God I support her just fucking people up, especially with Pixie Boy.She is just trying to deal with things which honestly this adventure is getting her to open up and not take shit. Character Arc: Don’t Take Shit.

Kristen: I’m just watching a train wreck here. Like she was 100% Helios all the way. But now it is just watching her questioning everything about religion after dying. Its amazing from looking into other religion herself and just how it ALL escalates from there as she is pulled further and further away from her religion and old life. Learning that how she was raised was just so fucked. Like I'm just seeing how far this goes and if she will pick another god instead or just not be a cleric anymore.

Also I'm like never going to post a completed version of this post because I’m way too fucking obsessed. I went from ep 8 yelling about Kristen’s religious life to episode 13 plot-twist end. I basically am physically restraining myself from watching episode 15 before I type this or else this will never be typed. I can literally go off about all the characters there is just so many good moments.

Basically, check out the show yourself. It’s on Youtube, it’s hilarious. Watching the reactions and faces is just so much fun to see. 100% recommend.

Now excuse me while I scream spoilers for episode 8/13/14 underneath:

Midway through Ep 8:

Ok it was fucking Kristen! Like not her obviously, but she was the hellmouth! She was the initial sacrifice! Demon-Dad Garthox said that the Hellmouth can be opened inside a person, and Goth Kid Blane was working for the Harvestmen Helios to get that page. And lo and behold the page was in the corn vat that Kristen's book was pushed into! Coincidence? I think not!

They thought that it was somehow Adaine's magic that caused it, or the very least it was the bully,guy who chucked Kristen's book in. But no, the page was already inside her book and fell into the corn! If bully ass McGee didn't hit the book out of her hands, then she might have been the victim! Which makes sense, why not have a follower of Helios bring the end times in His name.

Which means that it could be Daybreak or her parents that gave her the page in her bible for this.

God,is this what Helios meant when it "wasn't her time?" Because she is needed as the Hellmouth Sacrifice?

And this makes the whole "sneaking into heaven" part make sense now. If Aguefort was trying to be assassinated by Helios, he could sneak into Helios Heaven and spy on them from the afterlife. He's a weird ass man I'm sure he can pull it off.

Also Fig's Dad is hella cool and I totally love him for,trying to be a parent and mature about this. Fig is totally supportive of him and I love it.

Ok I'm going back to finish episode 8 I just REALLY needed to rant about that.

Screaming about Episode 13:

The oracle was going to return,if the country was in danger. It was but she was,kidnapped/killed on an illusion ship to stop,her. Rix dad is a spy and he was 100%,super dope about it and him just finding his family secrets I was just crying like, he found his legacy, his entire family was,badasses he was so happy and took up his dad's gun for justice. Like how cool is it for a goblin spy,being small and already default evil to infiltrate that is so clever. That is what gets me on this show,is that they take these cool setting and ideas and how they are twisted to fit the fantasy. Cops? Fantasy cops. Skateboarders? Fantasy skateboarders.

Which lets be real, I think the best battle where they really,worked together was during the skateboarders.

This mystery is building and building and I,guess Penelope is,trying to,be queen,via homecoming queen which is,weird and has a Sarah berry vibe to,it. Which is fucking nuts.

Now I’m wondering if nice guy,pixie actually was in on it day 1, or if he was turned over after he was "beaten" like the bad guys offered him a way to make his dream girls his 2D pets. Which, gross. But Biz part doesn't necessarily fit with the main plot. He obv isn't behind this.

Kalvaxus is a demon with money. His money needs to be destroyed. So they are funneling his money through the banks. They used his ship in disguise to kidnap/capture/kill the oracle to prevent her from returning, which she said she would if the country was in danger. Yes the religious Harvestmen wanted to start the apocalypse via Kristen, but ass-elf diplomat said it wouldn't really work, but it would break the treaty and start war. Kalvaxus. Coach Daybreak had control,on Zane, who had control over Johnny Spells to kidnap girls, and since Alwin had a spell to find "maidens/virgins" they need the girls, either as a sacrifice or as conduits to power the arcane source. Was all of this to raise Kalvaxus from hell to the mortal world? That would explain the power source at the arcade with the trapped girls, to keep the connection going. The only,thing I can think,as to why Penelope would be as high up as she is in this conspiracy is if Kalvaxus is her dad. Which I guess,everyone has dad issues in,this group.

Side note, I appreciate how Gorgug thinks himself as,dumb but gets really smart ideas and the whole party agreed they are smart. Like,he was the first to,put 2 and 2 together about Kalvaxus== KVX bank, even if he didn't outright say it.

All,the adults are really,enjoyable,to see. I fucking love Rix’s mom shes so cool. And Gilear is actually really,pitifully funny. I wouldn't think I would like,him as much after that first episode, but he is actually hilarious being the lunch lad and just trying his best.

Live Screaming Episode 14 (lots of incoherent):

fucking He'll Riz got the drop on Biz but he fumbled the attack with a nat1.

Ah shit! This is their shit! The prizes are the girls shit as trophies. Zelda headphones. Skateboard girl. You need to give the items back!!!

Fig's German Shepard patrol finally works out

And Riz is now in Penny's game, oh this hurts because this is the girl that he wants to help.

Biz is like a terrible chucky cheese mascot.

I love it when Fabian says "whats happening" because for all his rich person elegance his bafflement amuses me.

It's so sad to see these girls just be this, shadow of themselves. Like no personality at all.

Adaine does will with the divination rolls, I don't think I,could be able to,do this that well.

Damn they are taking the girls,into the power source, they need girl power. Literally.

Gorgug is just so sweet to call his parents for help. Too bad it didn't work. Its a gnome game, sweet.

damn this is a lot more dangerous than before. This is why we don't split the party.

Make Gorgug fly again that would be awesome. But Adaine flying is good too.

Riz using his gremlin powers to fuck up the parascepts from the inside is fucking amazing, why the hell is it funneling to the school.

Sucks that Fabian just kept running all the way out the building. But lets say Fabian having that motorcycle is just so op. Plus it called him Daddy let's not forget that.

Gorgug using the headphones with Zelda’s music is just so sweet and clever. See hes a simple man but very smart. Practical I think.

Lol only the guys got sucked into the game. No girls in video game.

The Bebe raises Gorgug’s rage. Riz is right: hot topic vs av nerds.

Where is devil dad, like he wasn't kidnapped or kidnapped figs mom or whatever right??? Like i get suspicious when people don't respond immediately.

OMG Gorgug is God Tier Shaggy.

Biz is doing the Fantasy Truffle Shuffle.

Cut his wings Gorgug!

Riz!!! Keep her here!!! FUCK!!! HE DIDN'T!!! Biz is soooo creepy.

Yes! Keep the ghosts so sad I would love the bag of holding but too bad it didn't work.

Gorgug’s parents are just so freaking sweet and supportive.

Hold shit Gorgug’s honesty got him double crit. That sucks but I lowkey hope he keeps the white hair.

That motorcycle is so op. But hes in a racing game with the hangman, at least he has an advantage.

Kristen's philosophers are just so op. I love how her religion is just searching for eternal knowledge.

NAT 20 THE NAT 20 FUCKING YES LETS GO RIZ JUST FLIPPING IT OFF AND SCREAMING FUCK YOU holy,shit that was funny. Too bad it was wasted on such a dumbass moment.

Just smashed the palimpsest that's how the owlbear popped out. Wow it was hilarious how biz popped out. But holy,shit Riz not even giving biz a chance as he starts shooting off fingers that’s amazing

I love them fucking with him because hes an ass. Oh, Alwin modify memory to make him think it was his evil plan. You know still fuck him tho. Ugh are those pictures. No. They know it was the group and photos of their house. Ughhhhh and now things are getting more dangerous,

#dafukblog #fantasy high #fantasy high episode 8 #fantasy high episode 13 #fantasy high episode 14

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swtorramblings · 3 years

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Name: Richerd Class: Jedi Sage (formerly Seer, currently Telekinetics) Server: Star Forge Legacy: Ordannes

This one’s longer than usual, so it gets a cut.

Game role (my canon story for him): Former Alliance Commander, retired from that role after the events of Knights of the Eternal Throne and the second invasion of Odessen. While he understood that her history and her own choices may have doomed her no matter what he did, he never forgave himself for killing Vaylin. Not after listening so long to the monster that had made her what she was, not after using the techniques of that monster to control and humiliate her of his own free will. How had he expected her to react to that?

Was it his will? He is not truly sure. But, in that case, didn’t it mean he was too weak?

He may have been able to accept that. However sorry he felt for her, how many had she killed? How many more would she kill if allowed to continue? But then, with her death, with the urging of Valkorion and no attempt to take her alive, the Eternal Fleet went berserk, killing untold thousands, possibly millions. The final tally has still not been made.

And he was complicit in that horror, by provoking the Empress to bring her close in order to kill her, all according to Valkorion’s plans. It is what finally broke him.

He could not release his attachment. He could no longer be a Jedi, or the leader of the Alliance. He took the Throne, he freed Vaylin’s spirit at last, and together, he and Valkorion’s own family finally destroyed him. Having done what he could, he put down his lightsaber and rejected the Force. The Alliance he left in the hands of his advisers, who were always in charge anyway.

His sole order to the Fleet was to return to Iokath, to guard the riches and weapons he knew could be found there. He also hoped that, just perhaps, SCORPIO could return their free will once again.

After that, he lived in the Odessen wilderness for several years, wanting only to be left alone. Nothing bothered him, not predators, not people. His only contact was Lana Beniko, who insisted on bringing him supplies that she felt he would need and couldn’t acquire himself.

She had always cared for him, even when he did things that infuriated her Sith sensibilities, but perhaps there was more to it. Perhaps she blamed herself for putting a healer in charge of an army.

He kept a small farm there, and was reasonably content. Lana eventually stopped visiting. He was as safe as possible, she was busy, and she couldn’t stand seeing him give up any longer.

Eventually, though, things changed. It was not Lana that visited him that time, but his former Padawan, Nadia Grell. The Eternal Fleet was destroyed, the Alliance in tatters, Iokath was being fought over by fools. Beniko and Satele Shan had vanished. The best hope for the survival of the Jedi Order had been found by its enemies, which is what had brought Nadia to ask for the Alliance’s help, only to find they were in no condition to.

As he opened his mind again to the universe, he realized that, yes, he had made mistakes, he had been afraid, perhaps weak. He had taken the easy way and paid a steep price. That isolating himself had been one of those easy choices. How much of this would have changed if he’d stayed? He could never know.

But he is done shirking his responsibilities. He has let go of his guilt, but not the lessons. He cleared the cobwebs from his lightsaber, and the crystal sang in his mind again, a joyful song. With that, he and Nadia have returned to the eternal war.

May the Force be with them.

Stories I Shall Save Myself (2nd Draft): As in the canon story, again the Alliance Commander, but when he finally attempted to kill the Eternal Empress, she turned the tables and inflicted the very injury he had meant for her. Everything changes from that moment onward, including the fate of Senya and her two remaining children. The plan is for him to step down in that story, as well, but I’ve never gotten that chapter to work.

Bonds: The story where James Buchanan Barnes visits the Old Republic during KotFE/KotET, preventing the use of the command phrase on Vaylin and then guiding her to do certain things differently. Richerd is the Alliance Commander again, though in this story it is made very plain that he and much of the Alliance is being influenced by Vitiate lurking in his mind. He is likely to remain in that position after the Avengers arrive to help the Alliance take down Vitiate once and for all…

Relationships Richerd and Nadia were never a couple. He was her teacher, she was recovering from the murder of her father and her own barely controlled powers. Neither ever considered it. (Note: Yes, way back then I just went along with it, but I feel dirty now for having done so and I don’t want to go through the pain of the Lana breakup again if I can avoid it, anyway. I go through some effort now to make all the apprentice romance stories less awful, which, seriously, ALL FOUR Force sensitive classes?! And only the female characters? Ugh.)

His first official romance was with Lana, though it’s more than a bit rocky. Make no mistake, it doesn’t make sense to either of them, but war and trauma can make for strange relationships. Is it healthy? Neither of them are sure of that, either, but they are trying.

Felix is his best friend, and if Jarak weren’t already dead, he might have taken some time to hunt him down. He’s not entirely sure what would have happened.

Random Character Notes

He lost his healing powers soon after taking command of the Alliance. They just didn’t fit his new role, so his powers slowly shifted. He wishes he hadn’t changed so much, and is now trying to return to what he was in his connection to the Force. The galaxy doesn’t need more warriors, it needs healers.. (This is literally true, I changed him from Seer to Telekinetics either during the early stages of KotET or the later stages of SOR)

Random Other Notes This was my first character in SWTOR, way, way back when. And, yes, his specific story is informed by my feelings at the time when I played through those two expansions. I played him very little during the years since, pulling him out to get a few more tokens for the slots and things like that. Part of the point of the above longer-than-usual story is to explain his absence as I try to play him a bit more. For a while, every time I heard the male Consular voice, I kept hearing the smug, “Do your people know your… weakness?” It really left me turned off playing him.

I’d try to start his story off during happier times, but it’s been almost a decade since I played him through the class story, and the Knights stories are the ones that left their indelible imprint on me, so we start there.

He’s mostly based on an old Champions character, Richard Powers, the Sorcerer. I suppose he could have been Sith, but other than the name, he made more sense as a Jedi.

He’s also the closest I’ve ever made to a player insert, though it wasn’t really my intent at the start. He’s fitter and generally just better than me, sure, but I tried to make as much as a three choice system allowed the choices I approved most of, whether DS or LS or nothing. Not the ones I think I would actually make, since I’m not that good, but the ones I thought were right. I think that the fact that I couldn’t find any choices by the end of KotET contributed to whatever that was, along with the real life stuff I’ve alluded to before. I didn’t care for it.

Doing better now and would like to get him at least to Echoes of Oblivion, for reasons. My brain will keep chewing on this a little at a time until then, I think. Might also change him back to healing after that.

#Richerd (OC)#And yes I mention Vaylin heavily #Sue me.#Had to do this one next to help me answer one of my asks #Vaylin #Marked it with Vaylin because she was most of why I wrote this one

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davidjjohnston3 · 3 years

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The trees are straight and true here, and the help comes without seeming harpoons. I considered some insane things which were ‘above my pay-grade’ and as is my wont reflected on the state and implications of my former profession and what old friends and pharons meant to me. Right now think that my core goal in life is not to blow myself up. As a former would-have-been SecState said, ‘I love so many people.’ I am only sad that trying as I did to uproot that carrot of love just now could have resulted in the demolition of an entire root-network, of at least my own excision therefrom.

‘Some people’ want revenge against life for not going their way or not being the color or fragrance or face shape they like or feel it ought to be - ‘no that is not what I meant at all.’ They will never hold a life reliable which doesn’t resemble their ideal, imago, or ‘soul-idol’ &c. The meaning of the name ‘Cordelia’ as in King Lear is something like ‘heart’s ideal.’ I was driving and considering a novel that I feel touched absolute supreme greatness without knowing it or in a way that could mislead some readers Mrs. Mary HK Choi’s Yolk a novel I looked forward for a very long time. I had all these references and fractal coreferences and forgot about actual birds, like what does the chick eat in the egg.

‘Blood is the life’ - I liked etymologies for a long time and my intellectualism caused me acute trouble in Confirmation Class at Morrow Memorial United Methodist Church in about 1998. ‘Pastor’ Gretchen taught us the word root ‘consacramentum’ which comes from dipping the hand in blood in the concave of a Roman shield - those huge rectangular shields which could be used in formation as ‘testudo’ or turtle to stop projectile weapons and allowed soldiers to make pin-point stabbing attacks from a ‘matrix(?)’ of high protection. I forget what kind of animal was killed to pool the blood in the shield but it might have been a rabbit.

I was reading ‘Revelation,’ I don’t recall what everyone else was talking about. Some kind of community service project, interview your parents, buy a wedding-magazine and make a whole plan for how you would get married and how much it would cost (and while you’re at it describe how you would 1) restore a classic Shelby Cobra using newspaper and Krazy Glue 2) drive foresaid drop-top to the Moon).

The Pastor was a pipe-smoker named ‘Painter’ who used the NY Lotto’s ‘Hey you never know’ slogan to describe sth like Pascal’s Wager; OTOH St. Paul teaches us that everyone is born knowing God exists (Romans). The problem is that people fail or omit to glorify Him or subsequently ruin or betray their own best efforts through blasphemy, turning or falling away, cowardice, denial, attachment to certain sins or being ‘yoked unequally’ with non-believers.

I reflected starting in 2008 that I was shy of my ‘first love’ (rather, the woman I fell in love with at 14); at the time I gloried or reveled in the shyness like a Wallace Stevens poem that ends, ‘And not to have written a book.’ I could’ve written a few books by now or walked away from book-writing or changed my mind / specified which kind of book I might have written and for whom.

I remember always admiring the ‘magic’ of literature and feeling sad I had no characters or world of my own to work magic with. Star Wars and my own life and later much else supplied ‘materia poetica’ and till the point that I began to think in fiction and became addicted to interpreting my own in ‘story-ideas’ although that is not to say that what happened around me didn’t happen.

America is trying to become a better country in numerous valences, loving our neighbors, holding each other accountable. ‘Justice’ with or without the marks is important. It is a divine Judgment that Covid fell on the world even if eventually we all shall learn who devised the virus or leaked it or modulated its mutations. I was eager to rejoin the world feeling I might overcome my mental illness but I mishandled specific questions and tests. I ended up turning people against me and creating monsters more than ever as well as perhaps terminally sabotaging any chance I might’ve had of fulfilling a dream or making good on the past. I have a lot of opinions on the CCP but should’ve focused on love and family and personal responsibilities as in the past or at least held to my long-standing feeling that Chinese people deserve better rather than associating myself with hard-liners and racists or those who would simplify issues in order to bring about ultimate victory without temperance or concern for the side-effects.

In Milwaukee where I lived for far too long everyone’s spirit - electric, intellectual, visory(?), informational et cetera seemed to be militating against everybody else’s. There were fake vaccines, radioactive ice cream (or thermogenic ice-cream), gun-battles as usual, lines crossed, all kinds of scores that people tried to settle. I also realized that the police were probably tracking for years my various attempts to obtain weapons from samurai-swords to handguns though the purpose was defensive and I can only trust at this point that some good lawyer will prevent the bad lawyers and cops from presenting the most damning circumstantial case they could. People in Milwaukee own AK-47′s, automatic shotguns, probably all kinds of explosives, improvised chemical weapons and (’our Black brothers’ - Schopenhauer) biological weapons - the cops don’t stand a chance that I can tell and even the National Guard perhaps could get outclassed by retired military. I had told myself for years that it was only the ghetto’s that bore witness to this paramilitary equipage and that the retired SEAL Team 4 member with the ‘Stop Socialism’ and ‘Jobs Not Mobs’ sign on his front lawn would protect me from the Maoist-Covid Night of the Long Knives but I feel I tempted God a lot in the past.

I read all these books and took to heart that people thought I was just entertaining myself with but now as then I should’ve guarded my heart or not begged the question of what others thought about me or saw in me. I literally felt of late ‘I am the anti-Christ’ - good-looking at times, preach world peace, ‘form of godliness,’ want to be friends with everyone, build bridges - and had to rack my brains to come up with an ‘anti-Christology’ and science / concept of the Whore of Babylon just to make sure it was more than me alone. I also wished to simplify my past and help kids ‘get life right the right time’ doing battle with philosophies that opposed this consciously or otherwise but stepped into numerous minefields and also tried running when I should’ve flown over.

Everyone’s trying to get rich and build back better and I profoundly admired the American President for doing, finally, apparently, what presidents had tried to decades even as I remember ‘Flowers 1881′ a poem that implies that basically teachers can do only so much before turning their kids loose in a world no one has yet fixed and which others keep breaking; from a California almanac that also instructed me that the same old debates and cross-fires and burdens plague teachers as always, not that it is an ‘impossible profession’ but honestly that God won’t let us establish Heaven on Earth or at least not me or at least not America or at least not teachers who savor the experience of being a teacher or the beauty of their students more than the outcomes or commitment or intrinsic value of the work or the confirmed identity / vocation / personhood of the instructor. There are always new and old at any rate and different cultures all describe the teacher as needing to keep both alive; as do descriptions of higher education and scholarship.

I questioned my qualifications / background and wondered about re-training but can’t afford tuition anywhere so I am trying to cling to the core of my capabilities / blessings. ABC and XYZ. The glory of the soul or souls.

I kept theorizing Russian literature as well as weapons-systems and ultimate destiny, sailing ships, noble names, divisions, the flaming sword of Archangel Gabriel, the mission of Russia today with respect to the world order. I am also simply trying to be healthy and stop for a while trying to parse out who was the love of my life or what it still left in terms of action or redemption or justice or surrender or mitigation or meeting new friends or propounding the kind of understand with carefulness I have believed in - ‘saving people from themselves.’ Driving up here I remember being distressed at a gas-station in California when I was about 5 or 6 since the pump was leaking, being very upset with my parents and family. In those days I also disliked animal-cruelty though the world today seems so depraved and deprived with respect to human interests I would make no bones about neglecting most all animals outside of military or police use. When I was about 3 I saw white kids set a frog on fire; my mother has a history of running over cats.

I dislike winging it and taking risks. There is a song I call to myself ‘Run Away’ though its title is ‘Paradise.’ I am not a utopian communist for believing in secular justice and its instrinsic value... I wonder whether when I helped people in the past there were always strings attached or maybe I was just trying to close my case and discharge my responsibilities too rapidly without allowing others to gestate or make an abode in my heart besides and beyond what I could get out of them, glorifying myself, or tell others about.

What is motherhood? What is travail? Is there a kind of problematic ‘female gaze’ as feminists talk of a ‘male gaze’ associated with sadism or fascination / fetishism? It’s psychology which is not my first love at all since it appeared pretentious and distracting and retarding (in the literal sense of slowing down).

I also remembered reading various things about Victor Hugo whose ‘93′ is an important novel today due to its techno-utopianism, feminism or ‘new model egalitarianism,’ fusion of revolution and religion, etc. But I had forgotten ‘Les Miserable’ with its themes of ransom or eventual recompense, genealogies, caution, and more none of which is to negate the various complains against me or death-warrant from China or my parents with their partial private readings of Proverbs (’Let’s stone David for embarrassing us / not doing precisely what we want’ - no mention of witnesses, tribunals, questions, mitigation-hearings, actual counsels of judges etc. but just American-German ‘coalitions of the willing’ ‘run and get my gun’ ‘team-building’ etc. which in my experience ends with tanks on the street and military dictatorships as when at the end of the CultRev PLA regulars were gunning down former justice-fanatics who’d been stripping women, kicking pregnant stomachs etc. as in The Vagrants). Naturally having grown up in a family fascinated with Lee Kwanyew and Arnold Schwarzenegger and conflicted about ‘fascism’ I had reservations about the United States’ ability to suddenly dress up and ‘stand at perpetual moral attention’ but I guess my own problems are just that I am poor with a rich kid’s mind and no one really likes me except strangers and faraway friends who were easily spooked and/or just couldn’t be there. ‘King of South shall attack and King of North shall crush them with chariots &c.’ - in the end righteous will prevail whichever side of the line I end up on in the final assessment. I also remembered today a novel called ‘The Old Capital’ about a bad artist father, a virgin daughter, straight and true pines. Some other aspects of this novel are silly as well as criminally problematic and there's a lot of that going on in new-old old news America / Babylon or at least to quote my favorite lawyer / leave lawyering movie 'First let's get out of Milwaukee.' Miss the land of June snow.

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aknymph · 4 years

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Truths Revealed

A/N: I needed Alina and Mal to not be together, so I wrote this. It picks up during the events of KOS. Mal and Alina have different names, Dimitri and Milena, respectively. I've started several different transitions from KOS, but Alina kept turning out weak in those renditions, so I kept writing new versions. This is finally one I like, though I'm less sure of how to transition it to where I want it, so we'll just have to wait and see how it develops from here. Wish me luck!

Characters belong to Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy, and King of Scars.

(Current) Characters: Alina Starkov, Malyen Oretsev

Chapter 1: Not Enough

He found her standing by the window that overlooked the meadow-- their meadow-- where the children were playing.

“Milena, there you are,” relief clear in his voice, “I wasn’t sure where you’d gone. The children were having so much fun playing--” His words died as she turned to face him. She wasn’t sure what he saw there, but it was clear he was shocked.

“Lena?”

“I want you to be happy, Mal.” He made to interrupt her at the use of his true name, but she held up a hand, giving him a look that she hadn’t used since leading the Second Army, one of determination, of resolve.

“I want you to be true to yourself.” He did interrupt her at that, “And you believe I’m not being true to myself now?” He was indignant, and for good reason--he could tell something was coming, and he was trying to prevent whatever it was. How could he, though? It had been coming for far too long.

“Oh, come on, Mal,” she knew she shouldn’t get side-tracked, should speak her mind before he railroaded her like he always did. He meant well, but Mal always tried to fix whatever she was feeling, and feelings weren’t meant to be fixed.

“You and I both know that this was never the life you pictured for yourself. Settling down, maybe, but running an orphanage? Rare social interactions beyond that of the children and the staff? Barely hunting? This isn’t what you had in mind for your life.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, things changed--” his sneer of the word cut Alina deeper than she could have imagined, but she’d known it may turn out like this; they so rarely spoke of the path that lead them here-- “when you became Grisha, things like me deserting the First Army, things like fighting to keep you from becoming the captive of a psychopath, things that led to both of us losing our abilities, so yeah, Alina,” he spat her true name, “this isn’t quite the life I pictured for myself. BUT--” he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, composed himself, and began again, calmer this time-- “But I did picture a life with you, and that is what I have.”

Oh, she was pissed now. ‘When she became Grisha?’ Did he hear himself? She didn’t become Grisha, she was born Grisha. And saints, that temper of his. It gave her whiplash more than she’d like to admit, but he’d sidetracked her. Her point wasn’t about him, or about arguing this with him. She’d already come to her conclusion.

“You don’t get it, Mal, I didn’t become Grisha, it’s who I had always been, but I’d shut it out. Don’t interrupt me again.” This time the look she gave him was one of fierce command, and surprisingly, he obeyed. “I'm tired of shutting out who I am. And just like I don’t want you to be untrue to yourself, I’d hope you wouldn’t want me to be untrue to myself.” There it was, her words were finally out.

She held his stunned gaze as she waited, but no words left his mouth, so she continued on.

“I can’t do this anymore, Mal. I can’t pretend that I am happy--I’m not. I put on pretty smiles, play with the children, run this household, hold you in my arms, but it’s too exhausting to pretend anymore.”

“You’ve been pretending?” The hurt in his voice was evident as he all but whispered the words, but she hadn’t expected him to sound so...weak. “I know you’ve been hurting, Alina, we both have, but we’ve had happy moments. Haven’t we? You love the children. You love me. Right?” his voice was almost pleading now.

She stepped to him, needing to close the distance. “Of course. Of course, I love you Mal, but it’s not enough. I thought it would be, but it’s not. The fleeting moments of happiness are not enough. And the love I have for you will always be part of me, part of us both, but it’s not what I thought it would be. We’re all secret giggles, and tender embraces, and that isn’t what I thought we would be.”

“I-- We’re not enough? Our love isn’t what you thought it would be? I-- I don’t understand.” His heart was breaking, Alina could tell, but she had to finish this, once and for all, even if it also broke her heart in the process, even so, her voice faltered as she tried to spit out the words.

“I thought--” Images flashed through her mind then, her body pressed against a door, kisses stolen in the dark, a man holding her to him even though he was nursing a gash to his side, a secret name spoken in quiet whispers. She blinked back the images as she’d blinked back her tears these long years without him. She wanted passion. She wanted someone who would push her, challenge her, not tiptoe around her. She wanted to be loved recklessly, with complete disregard for what that love might do to the rest of the world. She’d thought Mal would be enough. She’d thought losing the option of him would make the choice obvious. It hadn’t. Three years had passed since she’d slid a dagger into his heart, and with it, her own. She tried again, “I thought our love would be enough. Our tenderness. Our shared history. But I’m empty Mal. I’m empty, and I need to find a way to fill the hole.”

“And once you fill it, you’ll come back.” It wasn’t a question. He’d stated it as if that was the obvious answer, all weakness in his voice now gone. How was she failing at this, at telling him goodbye when it’s where her thoughts had returned over and over again? It’s what she had practiced in her darkest moments. She had to be strong. She had to do this.

“No, Mal. I won’t come back. If I find a way to fill the hole, I imagine I’ll have to work everyday to keep it full, little by little, because life depletes us, and this life, it’s depleting me faster than I can refill myself. I’m sorry.” She reached for him, to place her hand on his shoulder, but he pulled back.

“Mal.” This wasn’t the way she wanted things, but what had she expected? That he would smile and remain her lifelong friend? No, she knew it would be like this, that he would be hurt and angry.

“Goodbye, Alina. I will remember my wife Milena fondly. Maybe one day she will return to me.”

And it hit her then, that was the problem, wasn’t it? They’d taken on new names, new personas to hide who they had been. To protect themselves, yes, but also to run away from the truth of who they were, what they’d done, and the pain that came with it. The moment they’d taken on new names, they’d taken on a falsehood too great to bear.

“I will remember you both fondly.” Alina said. “Dimitri and Malyen will both keep a place in my heart.” She meant it. She had always loved Mal, and as her husband, as Dimitri, he had cared for her, even if it hadn’t been enough for her.

Alina gathered the final pack that had been resting at her feet and made her way out to the stable. She’d already loaded the many saddle bags and satchels now attached to her simple mare. She pulled the final pack on, and mounted her horse. She tucked her thick white braid into her cloak and pulled up her hood.

If she would have looked back as she rode away, spared a glance for the life and the man she was leaving behind, she would have seen it. But she didn’t look back, so the shadowed figure lurking in the shade of the house remained unseen.

#truths revealed #The Grisha Trilogy #the Grishaverse #shadow and bone #king of scars #leigh bardugo #TGT #tgt fanfic #alina starkov #the darkling

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fyrapartnersearch · 4 years

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Sci-fi shenanigans!

Hello ladies, gents and fellow rpers. After having a writing blast and seeing how I’ve got room for some more partners I’ve decided to come back in search of some partners who are interested in what I’m looking for.I’ve got a good ten or so odd years of rping experience under my belt but any potential partners do not necessarily have to have the same experience, they simply need to fit under these three things: -third person only with correct spelling, grammar and punctuation. - at least one small (no less than seven lines) paragraph per post as well as being willing to write more if the situation calls for it. Please do not contact me intending to give me only small paragraphs with each response as the above is simply the bare minimum I’ll accept if there’s not much going on in the rp that warrants a full paragraph. -no one liners, one worders, script talk, poorly written sentences or just laziness in general. This isn’t terribly much to ask for as picky as it sounds. An important thing I shall mention is that NSFW (i don’t fade to black nor do I care when the smut happens. Just please don’t leave me once the smut has happened like lots of people seem to unfortunately do) and dark themes are a thing that occur in all my rp’s so I require you to at least be eighteen before you reach out to me. I will not accept anyone younger than 18 since I myself am in my early twenties. Underaged characters are also a no go as well. Please know that I’m in the eastern Australian time zone but almost any time zone Is compatible for me as I am awake at very odd hours. Another important thing I shall add is that you must be able to post at least once or more a day and if I don’t get any response after two weeks then I shall simply move on (only exception is if you notify me beforehand as to why you may not be able to post for a while. I’m not that vicious). I only rp as male characters, as it’s simply my preference, but I will do either MxM or MxF pairings. I will not double and I do not play multiple characters. I don’t do sub/dom dynamics when it comes to any aspect of the relationship. My characters are also non human (they’re aliens since this is a sci-fi rp after all) but what species your character is doesn’t matter to me at all as long as it’s not some god modded Mary Sue. Please remember that alien simply means a creature not from earth. Aliens can have fur, scales, feathers, etc, depending on where they come from. An alien with fur or scalies is not a furry or a scalie and please do not refer to them as such as it’s rude to label someone’s character as something they’re not. I will not write with someone who will insist that the theory of chimpanzees and humans unable to crossbreed should apply to hybrid characters regardless of whether they’re alien/alien or human/alien. This is fiction, not reality. Please also do not control my characters or dictate their actions. My characters are also premade and only have descriptions, I don’t do face claims or pics. I also do not care if you make a character up on the spot. Please remember that this is a sci-fi rp and that I will not accept requests to do fandoms or any genre that doesn’t fit within the category of sci-fi.i will not accept a character that has no place in a sci-fi rp either like a dragon,harpy,demon, elf or some other fantasy creature. I do have a few ideas and I’ve listed them down below: Space criminals and the law: *humans and aliens have been living amongst each other side by side ever since humanity dared to venture beyond the Milky Way and made first contact with aliens. With the solar system no longer being man’s only playground other planets were quickly colonised under the new alliance between extraterrestrials and Homo sapiens. Whether you were an alien, human or a hybrid did not matter in the known galaxies. All that mattered was who you were. Not everyone took to the integration very well (there were numerous protests on both sides) but most people were willing to share in the hopes of peace. Not everyone had good intentions though……* Trouble in the alien kingdom: *the planet of (insert generic planet name here) was one of prosperity, hardship and wealth. The kingdom of (insert generic kingdom name here) was ruled by a king and a queen whose heir was betrothed to a rival planet in the hopes that a political marriage would prevent another war from happening. Only problem was that no one could see the rival planets true plans….all but one. Unfortunately no ones going to listen to a deranged commoner who probably may not even be telling the truth. What’s one to do when no one will listen?* Exile: *The wind howled as thunder crashed and shrieked all around the abandoned cargo ship. Rain pelted the metal hull, turning the ground into a cold, treacherously slippery and muddy shallow river. The ship itself had crashed into the planet countless centuries ago and was slowly being reclaimed by the environment. Plants grew from cracks in the floor as moss and vines decorated the walls. A figure sat miserably hunched in what was once the cockpit of the ship, their only shelter from the raging elements outside but not from the storm that raged inside of them. The figure leapt to their feet as the sounds of footsteps in the mud drew closer and they held their breath. Who would dare to venture out here on such a miserable night?* War of the worlds: *humans and aliens were never meant to coexist peacefully with one another. There was too much fear, Too much misinformation and too much bias on both sides for such a thing to have ever been successful. It was the humans fault that the war had started. They were the ones who’d shot down the alien ship that had been packed with specially chosen diplomats that represented each alien race known to the galaxies they dwelled in that had been on their way to earth to negotiate a truce and a plan for peace. They hadn’t even hesitated to shoot the ship full of aliens yet they’d been surprised when war had been declared on the spot. Two races. Two worlds so different yet the same fighting one another for what was either a mistake or intentional murder.* Rehab: *The UGWP alliance (unite the galaxies for the protection of all worlds and for peace alliance) portrayed themselves as calm, charismatic and kind men and women who held only the thoughts of a life together with all species living happily together. They advertised campaigns for inter species jobs, provided information to the public about human/alien interactions and encouraged diversity amongst planets. Their rehabilitation program for troublesome fellows was considered to be a god send to try and cut down on the amount of space related crimes. No one ever questioned what went on beyond the closed doors to the facility, if they did, the UGWP would have their darkest secrets revealed. Something they strove to keep under wraps. When the arrival of a particularly wild prisoner occurs, the threat of their first failure and first escaped prisoner is lurking around the corner.* (Important point of notice: in this rp idea I’d be playing said prisoner, I don’t mind if you choose to be one as well.) Academy days: *the galaxy alliance and military defence force academy was one of the most respected training academies in the known galaxies. Men, women, aliens, humans and all of those who were in between went there to study, train and, one day if they passed the mentally, emotionally and physically gruelling years of tests, fly and be put in their own squadron. There were approximately six spots to fill on any team and the cadet who suited that spot the most would be given the title of pilot, squad leader, second in command, engineer, gunner and navigator. Each team was similar but unique in what they did. Not everyone gets along though and rivalries grow high during that delicate time between graduating and being put on a team. What happens when the top student and the lonesome outcast with a temper clashes?* Captured: *Space criminals have been around ever since advanced technology allowed others to travel and live in space as if they were living anywhere else. They’re often cunning, tricky to catch and more often than not are clever at disguising themselves whenever those wanted posters come up. It takes skill to be on the wrong side of space law and true talent to get away with it. The galaxy's current most wanted man has finally been captured by an alliance captain and his crew. Will he beg for mercy? Will he be given a trial before being thrown into a cell to rot or will he be given a chance to turn himself around with some hard labour?* (Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the criminal for this one. You will be the alliance captain) Enslaved: *imagine living the life of one of the most successful people on the run that could exist. Galaxies trembled at your name. You and your crew swam in wealth and the going was good. Mutiny, sadly and sometimes not sadly, exists on its own accord. One man reflected on this as he was forced to his feet. A collar attached to a chain and electromagnetic handcuffs prevented his escape as he stood for all those who cared to glance as they walked by in the market to see. No one wants to have their only life’s purpose to be to serve another......only sometimes people don’t get that choice.* (Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the slave/servant. You’ll be the master/mistress.) Sooooo..... about those pairings. What is in Bold is what I’m going to play if we choose the scenario: 1: enemies to lovers or rivals. 2: **captured criminal** x prison guard or other prisoner. 3: two soldiers from seperate sides falling in love. 4: **academies bad boy** x top student 5: **low ranking ship crew member/second in command/captured space criminal** x captain. 6: **commoner/rogue/street rat** x prince/princess. 7: **slave/servant** x master/mistress. 8: army superior x **lower ranking soldier**. PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH ME IF: 1: YOU GHOST AT THE DROP OF A HAT. 2: YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO PUT EFFORT IN TO MEET MY REQUIREMENTS. I’m open to discussing and potentially mixing these ideas up till we get something that we both like. If you want to learn more about a certain idea tell me the name and I shall expand on it. The only platforms I rp on are discord,telegram,email and google hangouts. I will not rp on any other platform other than the ones listed. If you do not have any of those then unfortunately we cannot rp. When you reach out to me requesting for an rp please In the opening message tell me what idea you liked, why you liked it, give me a little introduction about you and you must put 123 somewhere in your message so that I know you’ve read all of my post, don’t just put “hi wanna rp”. Make it interesting. I look forwards to meeting potential partners. My contacts Discord: tiberionsunsconqourer#6187 Telegram: Tiberionwars Email and hangouts: [email protected]

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #long term #action #adventure #original #romance #scifi #submission

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