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voxmortuus · 11 months

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Can i request a roman godfrey x plus!size reader. Maybe she is the new girl or Peter's sister or cousin that moved there because of her Father’s job or something and roman becomes obsessed with her or something and he dose all this because he is in love with her and just a really fluffy ending pls

I just want to say I am SO sorry for this taking as long as it did to produce! I have been feeling so out of sorts with my writing and I had taken a super long hiatus. I found this half written in my drafts and felt I NEEDED to finish this! So, Here it is! The finished piece!!! I hope it finds you well.

PAIRING: Roman Godfrey x Fem!Plus Sized!Reader - Reader is 18+

UNIVERSE: Hemlock Grove

WORDS: 1.1K

SUMMARY/PROMPT: See above

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Obsessive Roman | Stalking Insinuated | Fluff | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision.

IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

DIVIDER CREDIT: @firefly-graphics

My Master Masterlist | Taglist

Welcome to Hemlock Grove - That's what the sign read as you entered the town. Remote, and almost nothing here. Rubbing your face you look around and take in the bare land from the death of winter. Your father had gotten a job working at The Godfrey Institute. Unknowing what was in store for you you take this as a new opportunity to reinvent yourself, to start fresh in the way of hoping for a new beginning.

Making your way inside your new home with the last box for your room, you place it down on your bed and look out the window that looks over the street that leads to Godfrey Manor. Making a small face in slight disgust, you let off a small sigh and start putting things away.

It wasn't long before you hear a knock at your bedroom door, and it was your father asking you if you'd like to go with him to see where he works. Shrugging you had agreed to go. The way you saw it was it got you out of the house and around civilization. Grabbing your coat you throw your hair up into a loose bun and follow him to the car.

Your father didn't work far from your new home, so it was less than a few moments before you found yourself in the elevator on your way to the top floor to look around your father's new place of work. Looking around for a moment you look up at your father and tell him you're going to look around.

As you wander off you find yourself in the rather large conference room. Little to your knowledge you are being watched, by Mr. Godfrey himself. Watching you as your fingers graze against the solid wood table, across the leather backing of the chairs. Watching you as you look so unamused and so done with today that you're ready to go home.

You weren't like the others that had come in and out of here, you were shaped differently, you were a snack, in a matter of ways. While you questioned yourself sometimes, you were truly a beautiful person. Even when you didn't see yourself that way. Looking at your reflection off the surface of the table, he let out a breath, push the loose stray hairs back into place, and look around once more before wandering out.

He follows you and watches you. It was that moment he knew that you, you were it. That something different in his life, that spark he felt he's been missing. That itch he's been needing to scratch and could never find the right tool to scratch it. Roman knew that you were going to change his way of thinking when it all boiled down to it.

Spring is here, it's been five months since the move, and you've become settled, relatively. But something's been going on. You've been getting flowers and other little gifts off and on for the past three or so months. It's regular, on queue, and it never changes, once, every two weeks, a fresh bouquet of something different, and either a card, or a little trinket, be it a charm, a piece of something to wear, or a small stuffed animal accompanies this bouquet. Today, was no different.

Lurking in the distance, as he always had from the moment you met, you let out a soft yet slightly heavy breath and you look down at the flowers that sat on your doorstep. "What the heck…" you say softly. Pushing your lips to one side you look around and you pick up the sunflower and rose bouquet and pull it to your face and take in a deep inhale and smiled with a slightly somber look on your face. "THANK YOU!" You call out before you walk in and close the door.

The flowers become a regular thing, and you start visiting the office a little more, the light anonymous things putting you in a mood of happiness and genuine love. You feel this love and you don't know how to channel it, so you start bringing your father lunch at work, and you start talking to his co-workers. But it's when you meet his boss that your own heart begins to beat a little funny. You give a slightly goofy giggle, clear your throat, put your head down, and walk away.

It was his scent, you knew that scent. It was on the stuffed bear you had received with a bouquet of peonies not long ago. You excuse yourself and make your way out of the building. Running your hands down your thick thighs you lean against your little beat-up volkswagon bug and you feel your heart beating miles a minute. Shaking your head you look up at the building and burst into laughter. Why? No? Really? Was it him?

You look back down, and you lean against your car a little more, and before you had a moment to really recall everything you see him approaching from your peripheral vision. Licking your plump lips you look over at him and draw in a deep breath.

"Has it been you?" you ask. "Since the beginning." He stated "But why?" you ask him. "Why couldn't you tell me? I come in to bring him lunch every day and you couldn't tell me?" "I didn't know how. I was in awe of you." Roman admitted. "Mr. Godfrey--" "Roman, please, call me Roman." He stated. "Roman." you pause a moment. "I am nothing to be in awe about, my curves have curves, I'm far too out of your realm of normal woman, I'm just--" "Perfect. You're perfect and you don't see it Y/N. You won't see it, but I want to help you see it… if you'll let me." He smiled. "Let me take you out tonight. There's this cute little coffee shop in town, join me?" He asked.

Charming, he was charming, and he was sweet. Nodding your head you had agreed to his proposal of coffee. He holds out his hand and you place yours in his. Your hand feels so small in his, you feel like you're about the size of a damn munchkin from The Wizard of Oz. But it feels good. You feel good.

Sitting in the coffee shop after you two walk a little ways from the building you find yourself enthralled in each other, in the conversation, the mindless nothing of conversation that has led to laughter, and genuine raw emotions between you. Nothing but calm, cherished moments. Sure, people stared, but he never took his eyes off you, his attention was on you. You were important to him.

What really made you feel on top of the world, was when he reached forward and tucked some hair behind your ear, helped you up, and walked back to the building with you. From that day on, you realized that you are perfectly imperfect and that no matter what, you are beautiful, and because of Roman, seeing yourself as anything less, that's just not possible anymore.

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 2 months

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can't stop thinking about someone comparing roman and darling's relationship to harley and joker's...roman would not respond well to that.

this would probably happen with a darling who loves him back. maybe you did hate him at first, maybe you have stockholm syndrome, but it doesn't matter. you're devoted to him now. you accept the affection he gives and the pain he inflicts.

and the thing is...his darling is not a well kept secret despite his efforts. you might be locked up in his penthouse 24/7, but it's impossible to hide you away from everyone.

his goons and staff know about you out of necessity. some of the more trusted ones are assigned to guard you when he's not around. they can all hear him fucking you, hear him making you scream almost every day.

maybe one of his goons makes an offhand comment about the boss getting his own little version of a harley. or maybe word gets out about you and another rogue slyly brings you up in a meeting and implies black mask and joker having something in common.

oh, he'd be seething. he'd hate it so fucking much.

Frrrr

I mean Roman and Joker are both very aware that what they're doing is wrong, they just don't care. But they differ in that Roman will never lay a hand on Darling outside of getting rough in bed (even when he gets that initial violent urge, he just throws furniture or beats someone else in the vicinity). If he's gonna punish them, he's making them watch while he brutalizes someone or leaving them confined until they beg to be let out. He's drugging them so they're too out of it to try running. He's keeping their family at arm's length and he's not above going after them if it means he can get what he wants. I say that he won't outright hit his Darling but he'll do pretty much everything else. Ffs this is the man who tortured a teenage girl to near death and who killed an entire wing of a hospital just to get access to his father.

Both of them DO view what they're feeling as love, but they have a very different and fucked up way of showing it. Joker DOES sometimes have a weird affection for Harley that he can't explain and doesn't like acknowledging, but it isn't love. In No Man's Land when she goes off on her own and is distant towards him, he actually finds himself wanting her around. I like versions of their relationship where Joker feels...something. Not love because he's incapable of it. But something that he can't really feel with anyone else.

Roman on the other hand does feel love, but he's a violent and angry mob boss who will prioritize himself over Darling's freedom and well-being 99% of the time. But he won't take any kind of comparisons to himself and Joker. For one, he keeps his girl safe and doesn't slap her around the way Joker does with his girlfriend-cum-sidekick. He doesn't string Darling along the way Joker does with Harley and her desire for a truly loving relationship.

Also Roman doesn't neglect Darling emotionally or sexually the way Joker does Harley. Like if Darling hopped on Roman's desk in lingerie and wanted to "ride her favorite Italian stallion", he would throw everything he was doing out the window. If she appeared naked out of a tub filled with pudding, he's gonna lick it all off and fuck her so much that the cleaning staff won't tell what's coom and what's vanilla.

Also even with a wooden lacquer mask melted to his face, he can still eat pussy better than Joker. Not a high bar to pass but still. He's the only one allowed to joke about Darling getting a splinter down there tho

#thots #.dc #.arkhamverse #yandere dc #yandere arkhamverse #.black mask #yandere black mask #.myshit

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marzipanandminutiae · 1 year

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"oh barbie was the first woman dol, it was only babies before her"

crepereia tryphaena didn't die for this kind of slander

you are so right

crepereia tryphaena (2nd or 3rd century CE) did not die at the age of 20 and get buried with her clearly beloved ivory lady doll for this

(this doll had fucking JEWELRY. and G*rwig says Barbie was the first fashion doll? give me a break)

honestly, most of the Firsts or Onlys people want to attribute to Barbie aren't real.

"but she was the first fashion doll meant for play, not just showing off clothing!"

there's actually less evidence of dolls meant only for displaying new fashions in history than dolls intended for children to play with AND to incidentally show their mothers and older sisters the latest styles. even so-called "milliners' models" of the late 18th-early 19th century are now believed to have been primarily toys

"but she was the first one with a [cis] woman's body!"

see above. the ancient Roman doll has breasts. she was not the last doll with breasts before Barbie- and lots of the intervening lady dolls weren't flat due to prudishness as many suppose, but because the same bodies were often used for male dolls. saves money, work, and time to just bang out a bunch of gender-neutral stuffed or carved bodies and let the clothes and hair determine the gender. Creatable World isn't new, either

the reson for Barbie's massive success wasn't that she was the First Fashion Doll in a sea of baby dolls. it's that she filled a very specific niche that was empty when she came along: a small, relatively affordable fashion doll that gave a 3-D paper doll experience. (Everyone likes to talk about Barbie's roots with the Bild Lilli doll; nobody brings up that Ruth Handler was equally inspired by her daughter's movie star paper dolls.)

lady dolls WERE scarce when Barbie came out, and she DID face pushback for her adult, somewhat sexy look. That's true. But she was not unique in history- she was just the right idea, in the right place, at the right time

#ask #anon #dolls #doll history #ancient history #ancient rome #barbie #I don't hate barbie or anything! I have two vintage Barbies who are married and changing their clothes seasonally delights me #I just hate Mattel stealing earlier fashion dolls' thunder

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cato616 · 10 months

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NEGOTIATING OVER US (part two)

roman roy x fem reader

• note! : so i know it isn't A LOT of people who has seen this but, i actually thought no one would've come across of my blog soooo i made a part two!

• also: don't forget english isn't my first language lol

summary: roman roy has now taken you to his office, of course it's still about buying your shop, but why all of the sudden decided to take you there?

warnings: nothing,, just roman being roman :) and maybe some heat ;)

You finally arrived at the grand building. If the Range Rover wasn't fancy enough for only a 10 minutes ride (actually even less), you could imagine how uneasy you felt while entering such a place like Waystar Royco; you felt pretty unfitting right there, and you think, thank god i remembered to take the fucking apron off.

You entered the big doors slowly, like if it was a new world for you, having your arms crossed against your chest, basically thinking, i know im unwelcomed here and im practically super uncomfortable with all this so im gonna make myself look intimidating. well you think that but your face is having a panic attack. You stopped moving to look around the place, so many people, i mean, you were an insecure introverted gal surrounded by so many people above your level, and that got over your head, shit... i showered today, right? without anyone notice you sniffled your hair to see if you were correct. "great! so let's keep moving" said roman from behind making you jump a bit. shit. you were hoping he didn't see you sniffing your hair like that. "yup, coming- going i- sorry... im following you" you make yourself cringe, felt caught in the moment and got tongue tied.

You step in the elevators with roman and some really jacked security guy, now that guy seems intimidating. Roman couldn't hold it and started laughing at the awkwardness of it all. You can't help but making a weird uncomfortable smirk at the situation. "you realize we don't bite here right?" said roman. im pretty sure you do, you think for yourself. "a lot of... floors" you said quietly, really impatient to get to his office. "now, we're here" roman said a few seconds later being a little cocky about it.

So you enter the floor and roman suddenly put himself in front of you stopping you from moving forward. "first I'd like for you to meet someone" and then you start moving to his direction; he opens a big glass door and let you come in. You first took a glance over the office turning to the right; then you hear a voice from the back that makes you jump again. "that's some first level jeans you got there" you turned and it was fucking logan roy sitting at his desk, that made you jump a little bit as well. "yeah well im not usually dressed for this kind of occasions, see, i only ran a café" you awkwardly laugh at yourself feeling pretty threatened by his presence. "let's talk about that" he seemed serious the whole time so your smile disappeared trying to be more in the moment, you sit down, you frown and tense your lips, and try to make eye contact, but it feels like he's looking at your soul. "your dear lovely, um... coffee shop, it's uuh cute" he smiles at you, you don't say anything because you know he's going to keep talking. "it is also a nice location you got yourself"... he pauses, damn he likes suspense you think. "right next to fucking corporate buildings... that must get a bit annoying doesn't it? so big... over your little humble shop" you silently nod agreeing, you can't fight that logic. And then he tries to get to the crucial part of the conversation. "You could get any part of the city, nice view, where a building doesn't cover all of the sunshine, you can make it bigger even..." You don't say anything, you just keep staring at him, maybe even considering what he's saying, but you don't want to. "how about... 40 mil..." he said. You have your eyes wide open, stayed completely silent. "dad, come on" roman said to logan. "fine, fine, 45 mil then".

You now have roman roy and the emperor of his father staring at you waiting for you answer, at the same time you're feeling like you're sweating under your blouse; The only thing you can think of is not only the fact that the café means a lot to you, but also, why your coffee shop? why do they want that spot or is there something else i don't know about? You haven't said anything yet, you're terrified of making a sound. "you know what? how about you get yourself a nice cup of coffee while you think about it huh?" Logan said trying to be nice?. "roman go with her somewhere around here, in the building" Logan asked roman. "great, im now the service dog of the fucking definition of anxiety here" while he points at you with the palm of his hand. I'll try not to get offended... but maybe you're not that wrong.

Roman decides to take you to his private office and have one of his assistants to bring you two some coffee. He offers you to take a seat in front of him at his desk, where he then sits. The assistant comes back with two coffees on each hand and leaves them on the desk. You rapidly take a sip and of course you drip a bit of coffee, somehow that usually happens to you; you usually get to be a bit awkward around people and somewhat clumsy, nothing wrong with it obviously but, roman can seem to take advantage of that. "fuck, don't you know how to drink coffee? you're dripping like a fucking baby" you ignore his teasing while trying to wipe the coffee out of your blouse but there's no fucking napkins around you. "here... i- i can help" roman said very decently; he stood up, and obviously takes out one of those napkins stored inside of those fancy suits; he took it out, and while you were still sitting on the chair, he stood in front of you, slowly lowering his torso, then gently starts to clean your blouse, very focused on his duty.

You realize how close your faces where to each other; you could feel his warm breath hitting your chest. He still didn't take his eyes off his mission, taking those stains off your shirt; he was frowning the whole time. You didn't want to move, it was taking a bit long, but there was something inside of you that wanted this to last forever; you start staring at him, analysing his whole face, and you could feel your breathing getting stronger. There was a moment where your heart stopped, when suddenly his eyes meets yours and for a moment there's nothing but silence between you two. You felt so much tension that made you intensly grip onto your chair. He suddenly breaks the tension and warmly says, "well, it's off" while he goes back to his chair. Before sitting down he says "well not that much actually, but it looks fine".

After that situation you can feel yourself relaxing and your heart pounding no more. So that's when you start going on about it, thinking, roman roy had let down his guard and had a little moment with each other, but none of you said anything about it, like it was nothing; however, you thought it was, fun. You liked the adrenaline of it, with him.

"so i think we can ta-" you interrupted him when you realize it was getting late, knowing you were supposed to close your café because you promised your co-worker Liza she could leave early today. "oh- shit shit sorry" he looked stunned by your sudden cut off as you look over your watch while quickly getting up from your seat. "actually i think I should come over another time, i ought to go back to my shop- tomorrow! I'll come back tomorrow, Sunday" you tell him.

You rapidly leave the room and not looking back since you were in a hurry. You find yourself unconsciously smiling while you walk to the elevator; you're looking forward for this kind of moment to happen again... and so does roman probably.

continue ✧⁠*⁠。

#roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy fic #succession #succession fic #part two #kieran culkin

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dedalvs · 11 months

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Hi!

Just came to ask on an issue I've ran into regarding neography.

People in my circle of conlangers/worldbuilders/neographists say that what I do isn't right and is not to be considered neography - here's what I did:

I made over 500 neographies made since the creation of my Reddit account last year, all documented on @thecrazyneographist

And while some of them are seen as cool and all, most are trash bullshit I throw at the wall waiting for something to stick. I literally have diamonds laying under heaps of crap.

I love neographying, this is out of question. But I, despite making a couple WIPs, cannot make a conlang for every script aesthetic I come up with, thus, 90% of my works are just English ciphers (and a devastating part of them are alphabets).

Question:

Am I a valid neographist if most of my creations are nothing more than "children-level ciphers" for English, or not? No matter the answer I will continue making them because that's what I like to do.

Thanks in advance.

Hey, sorry I didn't respond to this sooner, but there are a lot of issues in here, and I wanted to tease them apart, so I can be quite clear on each one.

First, "I am a valid x", where x refers to some sort of artist, is always kind of a sad question to me, because those who ask it are undoubtedly asking it as a result of one kind of gatekeeping or another. For example, fanfic authors who ask "Am I real writer?" are undoubtedly asking it because someone (or several someones) have told them that they're not because all they write is fanfic. There are often a set of assumptions that come with the definition of a given art, such that the belief is if you haven't fulfilled certain criteria, you can't claim to be an artist in that field. For me, I think the definition is rather simpler.

In any artistic field, you qualify as that type of artist if you attempt that type of art. Notice I didn't say finish. This is especially clear for conlangs, as no conlang is finished. If the criteria for being a conlanger is having one finished conlang then there are no conlangers, and there never have been. There's no such thing as a finished conlang. There is such a thing as a finished painting, though, but I don't think you have to have finished a painting to be a painter. You need to be working at, but you don't need to have finished anything.

This doesn't mean that anyone is an anything. For example, to be a novelist, you have to be in the process of writing at least one novel. If all you've ever written is short stories, you're not a novelist. You are a writer, though.

For a neographer (or orthographer or conscriptor or whatever term is in vogue), all you have to do is attempt to create one conscript. That is the only criterion that needs to be satisfied. You've done that in spades, so you are a valid neographer.

Now, when it comes to an invented script, there are a number of elements involved—or that may be involved. They are as follows:

A unique set of glyphs (i.e. letterforms that are crucially different from any other glyphs in any other script—at least partially).

A unique flow (i.e how the glyphs look when lined up to make wordforms).

A specific instantiation or presentation (e.g. the Roman script has a unique set of glyphs and a unique flow, but in presenting a script, Copperlate looks different from Arial, Times, Palatino, Verdana, etc. Each one is a specific presentation or font face or style).

A unique assignment to a set of sounds and/or words/concepts.

Each of these involve artistic decisions, and they all can be assigned different levels of importance/interest. The fourth bullet above seems to be where unhelpful people in your circle are complaining. That is, one thing to do with a script is assign it to, say, the English version of the Roman alphabet. This is a cipher. Here's an example that's used on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland:

Let's evaluate this based on the criteria above:

There are a unique set of glyphs—kind of. However, if you kind of stand back and evaluate, you'll see that in fact, every letter is a stylized variant of a letter in the Roman alphabet—with, perhaps, the slight exception of I, which looks like a stylized eye (because this is for Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye. It's a theme). So, actually, it's not super unique. Additionally, making each vowel glyph red is rather silly.

When written together, the script has a unique flow, but that flow is actually pretty poor. It's a bit like writing in all caps in English, but even all caps Roman has a better balance than this script. It's honestly kind of tiresome looking at this script on the wall. For an alphabet, the characters aren't distinct enough, so it gets poor marks there.

The style of the swooshes/wedges/talons is nice, for the most part (I and U cause me to raise an eyebrow—O, too). The distinction between the very short wedges (as in A, B, and N) and the dots (as in J, L, and M), and the few characters with an even smaller dot (E, X, S, and Y) is, frankly, baffling. Additionally, sometimes the wedges are balanced nicely (A and N are great examples), and sometimes they're way too close (cf. B and Z). While the line work is clean, this honestly even the best version of this style of this script, which is unfortunate, to say the least.

This is a straight-up English cipher. That can only be evaluated based on the goals of the script designer. If the script creator is doing it for fun, then there's nothing to say. That's their choice. If this were done for an Indiana Jones movie or television show, I'd cry foul (cf. Star Wars and their incredibly lazy work). However, this is for a ride. The intended level of interaction for this script is for fans who are standing in line anywhere from 15 minutes to two hours, depending on the time of year and time of day. There are actual messages written in this writing system that fans are supposed to decode. Given the time allotted, I think a cipher—and, in fact, a cipher that can be somewhat easily deciphered—was the right way to go. It's either do a cipher so park goers can actually read the messages without working at it beforehand and have some fun as they're waiting in line, or go all-out stylewise with the expectation that NO rider will ever figure out what's been written.

That's how a script needs to be evaluated. Sometimes purpose overrides style; sometimes not. It totally depends.

It SHOULD go without saying that if you're doing this for your own purposes, then no one can say shit about its intended purpose, or lack thereof. I always thought that in fora like r/neography posters share their script for the look of it, unless they say otherwise. There's both positives and negatives to that. Sometimes the way a script is used makes it cool, so presented without that background renders the script a bit less interesting, but other times, as with your scripts, it should be rather freeing. That is, it doesn't matter if the script is a cipher, is for a conlang, or is asemic: The question is, does it look good? If it does, it shouldn't matter what the hell it's for.

I've looked at your scriptwork here, and I've also seen it on r/neography before. Yes, some of it's a little sloppy, some of it's a little basic (i.e. variation on a theme without thought to how the system as a whole hangs together), and the presentation of some of it could use polishing, but a lot of it is quite interesting, quite striking, and presented quite well. Given the volume of work you've done, it's not surprising that some of it isn't as interesting, but by percentage, your work, on the whole, is outstanding. I honestly never noticed they were ciphers because it's, frankly, totally irrelevant. It'd be like going to an art exhibition and complaining that the titles of all the paintings start with the letter s. lol Like who gives af. That level of criticism is uncalled for and plain silly. Unless someone posts and says, "What do you think about this writing system that I created for a conlang?", I don't see the relevance of commenting on how the script ties to a phonology.

I would also like to take a moment to comment specifically on r/neography. I've frequented there for some time now, and I've seen a lot of good work, but the percentage of good work to bad work (or even relevant work) is extremely low. This is why I say so:

My biggest complaint is there are a metric ton of posts that are Romanization systems or Cyrillicization systems or the like. There is absolutely nothing ne about that ography. I joined that subreddit to see some NEW scripts, not already existing ones assigned to some phonology. There can be interesting discussions about that, sure, and I'm happy to see those types of discussions if I go to a forum specifically for those discussions. A place that purports to be about creating new scripts is not that place—period. If I were a mod, I would ban all of those posts as wholly irrelevant—and yet it is the majority of posts there on any given day.

The presentation of scripts is often abysmal. I mean ABYSMAL. For example, take an English-speaking preschooler writing their name. That's an example of the Roman script. Now imagine presenting that—and only that—as an example of the Roman script, which the viewer has never seen before. What would you say about that? I mean, it looks like garbage. You can't evaluate a writing system if it looks like it's written with one's offhand on a crowded train. And yet that is precisely the type of work that is OFTEN presented there. How can anyone expect to have their script evaluated if the way they present it makes it look like someone tried to handwrite "happy birthday" on a card but started too close to the edge? It's embarrassing—or should be, anyway. I couldn't imagine presenting my own work like that to anyone for critique or showcasing.

The scriptwork itself is often poor. Honestly, there's nothing much to say about this. I rarely comment there, because sometimes the most helpful comment I can think of is, "Maybe creating conscripts isn't for you", which is not a comment worth sharing. Part of it is talent, but part of it is patience and knowing (a) what makes a good glyph, and (b) what makes a good flow for your glyphs. A lot of it is subjective, but "subjective" means that there will be some scripts that 90% of viewers will think is subjectively good; some that 60% will think is "good"; some 20%... So even though it's subjective, it doesn't mean that every single script is equal. There's a lot of room for improvement.

Because of the above, the kind of feedback you get at a place like r/neography is, frankly, suspect, and often not worth the effort it took to type. For my own stuff, I respect the opinions of people whose work I respect. If I don't respect someone's script work, their criticism is worthless. For your own work, I'd recommend you adopt a similar approach.

Finally, I'd like to applaud you for the very last thing you wrote—that you were set to continue whatever I wrote. Because if you enjoy it, you should keep at it. There's no other reason to do it.

Thanks for the ask, and keep it up!

#ageblue #conlang #language #neography #orthography #conscript #thecrazyneographist

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 months

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The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: New year new book! Welcome back -Danny Words: 2,342 Series' Masterlist Previous Book // Next Chapter Listen to: 'How Far We've Come' -by Matchbox Twenty

I: No Thoughts, Head Empty

Nothing prepares you to be a leader. You can be born as one, or climb your way up, but you rarely fall flat on the spot. You don't want that to be your case, but it is mine.

I'm not the only one with a new job, Rachel Dare got a job as our new oracle. Apollo's there and everything, he even talks to me and says the next solstice is going to be fun now that I'll be there to report how I'm handling everything in the mortal world.

When Rachel gives us the next big prophecy, Chiron offers her a room in the Big House until they figure out where to put her. Then he turns to me. "Our Daughter of Olympus," he states gravely. "Let's talk."

Percy steps forward. "Chiron, she's my little sister. What is—?"

"I'm not little," I interrupt him. "I can look after myself."

"What?" He scowls. "That's not what I'm saying, Ara, you're too young to be a General."

I'm the same age he was when we explored the labyrinth and no one told him he was too young to do that! I was twelve myself, I'm experienced enough to do whatever I want.

Chiron gives Percy a look. "Ara is our General, Percy. If she's willing, you may ask her what her new rank entails, after we're done talking."

Never before had I been above Percy, I'm usually the one pushed out of the room. Things are about to be very different from what we're both used to.

Ara wakes up to people arguing on deck and she just had the worst talk of her life with Aphrodite. She has no time to process any of this, so she leaves her cabin and goes to the deck to see what's the commotion.

"Impossible!" Someone's yelling."Lay down your weapons and surrender! Leave my city immediately!"

"Which is it?" Leo taunts the stranger. "Surrender, or leave?"

"Both! Surrender, then leave. I am slapping your face for asking such a stupid question, you ridiculous boy! Do you feel that?"

"Wow," the boy continues. "You're wound up pretty tight. You got any gears in there that need loosening? I could take a look." Someone gets hit and Leo hisses.

Ara walks into the scene, still too drowsy to understand. "What's going on?"

Annabeth turns to her. "Strategus, this is the guardian of New Rome."

When her friend moves to the side, Ara realizes they've been talking to a statue. She has 1.5 seconds to accept this and nods at the bust. "You must be Terminus. I'm—"

"The Praetor's little sister," the statue isn't as rude when he talks to her. "The daughter of Olympus."

Ara frowns. "Did you just call my brother a Praetor?"

"Leo, stop the ship," Annabeth orders unexpectedly.

"What?"

She's looking over the railing. "You heard me. Keep us right where we are."

Leo looks at Ara for permission and she nods. They stop midway down, and Annabeth turns to the statue.

"Terminus, there's no rule against hovering over New Rome, is there?"

"Well, no..."

"We can keep the ship aloft," Annabeth explains. "We'll use a rope ladder to reach the forum. That way, the ship won't be on Roman soil. Not technically."

"Okay," Ara pipes in. "That's a safe middle ground for all of us. Terminus?"

"I like technicalities," he hums. "Still..."

"All our weapons will stay aboard the ship," Annabeth continues. "I assume the Romans—even those reinforcements marching toward us—will also have to honor your rules inside the Pomerian Line if you tell them to?"

"Of course! Do I look like I tolerate rule breakers?"

"Uh, girls..." Leo wavers. "You sure this is a good idea?"

Annabeth's face is telling her that no, she doesn't think this is a good idea and probably the rest can tell that too, so Ara steps in.

"If anything happens, we'll handle it like civilized people—and god."

"I suppose," the statue raises a brow. "For now. You may climb down your ladder to New Rome, Strategus. Please try not to destroy my town."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she places her compass on the god's platter.

Chiron guides me across the strawberry fields. Lily and Nico follow us from a distance.

"Are they you're official guard?" The centaur asks bemusedly.

"Lily's my second in command. Nico is just following Lily, but he doesn't support my decision, not entirely."

Chiron glances at them and then eyes me with uncertainty. "You're the first child of Olympus in this camp, I don't know what kind of responsibilities you'll have here, but I know what must be done at once."

"I'm listening."

"You'll remove your stuff from Cabin Ten and take them to the Big House before dinner."

"Oh. That means I won't eat with my siblings either?"

"You're the caretaker of camp now," he explains. "You'll sit with Mr. D and I."

"But I... I was supposed to be Cabin Ten's counselor," I continue hesitantly. "What about that?"

"The position goes to the person next in line. You're the caretaker of all the campers," he repeats patiently.

"What about my lessons? And the chores?"

"At the risk of hurting your friends' feelings," he makes a face, "that's beneath you. Now you watch over the barriers, the campers, and our oracle. That, and any quest the gods may give you. Could be a trip to pick up Zeus's suits from the dry cleaner, could be leading a war."

"But I'll still live with Percy and my parents, right?"

"If you want," he looks at me. "But it's not ideal, Ara."

I glance back at Lily, it'd be fun to be with her, but I would miss Percy and my parents. "I think I'll try New York if it's all the same to you."

"It's not. You're a priority, and must train twice as hard as everyone else."

"I already do that..." I mumble.

"What your friends taught you makes you a skillful demigod, but they didn't prepare you for bigger threats. That's my job."

I'm not going to contradict Chiron, he knows better than me. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are you happy for me?" I shake my head. "No, scratch that, I know you're not. What I mean is... there's gotta be an upside to this, right?"

He ponders my question, circling back to the Big House. "What do you expect to get?"

"Nothing," I reply. "I'm half-hoping my friends will be left alone, that's it."

"What about you?"

I smile. "I'm just getting started."

"You might get tired faster this way."

"There's only one way to find out," I shrug. "When I was little, I didn't know what to do with my time, but I always enjoyed helping my friends. I think it's my calling."

Chiron looks at me funny when I say that, but he doesn't question me. Lily and Nico are waiting for me near the end of the fields, and the centaur stops right before we reach them.

"Meet me at Apollo's cabin after you move. They'll need your help there, some of our campers will arrive in shrouds."

I get an unpleasant feeling at the thought, but being a General means I have to look after my army... and give them a proper farewell too.

Ara's wearing her cloak, and before leaving the ship she glimpsed into her dino bag and found her laurel crown in there. Lily must've packed it for her, but she doesn't know if it was to upset her or not. Ara has opted to hang it on her belt. She'd feel stupid wearing it, like a kid showing off, although she's feeling like a freak either way.

The Roman crowd points fingers and whispers when she walks past them. The statue mentioned Percy was a praetor now, if her brother's in charge, maybe they're looking forward to meeting her...

When she reaches the end of the road, she spots a girl with a purple cape just like hers. Ara's not impressed by the stranger, but surprised, because she recognizes her.

"It's you!"

Reyna's brows knit together. "Do I know you?"

Ara chuckles. "It's okay if you don't remember me," she offers to shake the praetor's hand. "You taught me how to do boxer braids!"

Reyna steps back, eyes widening. "You? But... Percy said you're his sister!" The girl exclaims, now with a bit of outrage. "You told me you didn't have a family!"

"Percy's mom adopted me the summer I met you," Ara grins.

"You've changed," Reyna's in distress, but Ara doesn't have time to ask why, because Percy decides to show up then.

He's acting like this is a party and he just happened to get there earlier than them. Ara's insides decompress when she sees him, but she barely manages to open her mouth when Annabeth rushes past and kisses him in front of everyone.

Ara diverts her gaze when the scarlet flash goes off. Without warning, Annabeth throws Percy to the ground and whispers something through gritted teeth. Percy laughs while Annabeth is still choking him.

"That's normal," Ara informs Reyna with a smile, "don't worry, Annabeth won't attack anyone else."

Jason clears his throat. "It's good to be back." He introduces everyone but leaves Ara to the very end. "This is our Strategus, Ara Jackson. I think you know her?"

"The daughter of Olympus," Reyna eyes her, serious and calculating. "The leader of all mortal armies."

Ara fixes her posture to look confident and excited. "Yes. I'm here to be your Praetor adjacent."

The people around them make noises of contempt that both, Reyna and Ara ignore. Reyna holds out her hand, and Ara shakes it.

"Welcome to New Rome, General. Centurions!" The girl raises her voice. "Tell the legion to stand down. Dakota, alert the spirits in the kitchen. Tell them to prepare a welcome feast. And, Octavian—"

"You're letting these intruders into the camp?" A boy that looks like a terminally-ill version of Luke interrupts her. "Reyna, the security risks—"

"We're not taking them to the camp, Octavian," Reyna drops Ara's hand, but the girl still senses a wave of dislike from her as she talks to Octavian. "We'll eat here, in the forum."

"Oh, much better," he replies sarcastically. "You want us to relax in the shadow of their warship."

"Our warship is as harmless..." Ara glances at the plushies hanging from his belt. "As a teddy bear, if it's left alone. The ship was made to protect us from the threats outside your borders, that's all."

"These are our guests." Reyna nods in agreement. "We will welcome them, and we will talk to them. As Augur, you should burn an offering to thank the gods for bringing Jason back to us safely and for bringing a child of Olympus to make us stronger."

"Good idea," Percy adds. "Go burn your bears, Octavian."

Reyna gestures at the blond guy before walking away. "You have my orders. Go."

The girl starts to walk in the direction of a building, but Ara stays behind and approaches her brother and Annabeth. As the crowd disperses, Percy holds Annabeth's hand and squeezes it.

"Don't worry about Octavian. Most of the Romans are good people—like Frank and Hazel here, and Reyna. We'll be fine."

Ara looks at the kids Percy is pointing at: they're the demigods of her dreams. She steps forward, the speech she's rehearsed about a thousand times spilling out faster than she can make sense of it.

"Percy, it's been so long, and I know—"

The boy pulls Ara in a bear hug. He's taller and stronger than he used to be, his skin looks darker thanks to the weeks spent under the sun, and his hair is longer as well, it's like a whole cooler version of Percy, which makes her feel a bit of a dork.

He kisses the top of her head. "You got bangs now! They make you look like a middle schooler, that's funny."

Ara's a little annoyed that he's talking and treating her this way in front of others. "Yeah..."

She holds him by the shoulders to take a proper look. Ara spots the SPQR tattoo on his forearm, identical to Jason's except for the trident. She can't help feeling the Romans marked him like cattle, and she dislikes that, so she focuses on the purple cloak around his shoulders instead.

"Praetor?" Ara raises a brow. "You just can't let me have one thing..."

He laughs. "I'm sorry, Birdy. I tried to suck, but they loved me right away."

Ara's been called Birdy all this time, but it was Percy who came up with the nickname in the first place, so hearing it from him hits differently after all these months of not hearing his voice. The girl cups his face and beams. "I missed you tons, you jerk."

Percy playfully flicks her nose and then goes back to Annabeth, holding her hand as he starts walking. "C'mon, I wanna show you around..."

Ara sees them holding hands while glowing scarlet and remembers they're not done with the introductions yet. "Wait! There's someone I want you to meet—"

"Later," he says distractedly. "Come, they've got an elephant and—"

"Percy," she presses. "This can't wait."

Her brother seems a little confused but smiles anyway. "Alright. Who is it?"

Ara looks over her shoulder and smiles at Leo a few feet away, he'd stayed behind waiting for her. She encourages him to approach, and when he does, she holds his hand. "Leo, this is my brother Percy. Percy, this is Leo Valdez, my boyfriend."

Percy's smile fades, and so does the joy in his eyes.

"Hi, man!" Leo grins, which only makes him look even more dangerous from Percy's point of view. He reminds him of the Stolls. "Ara was worried sick about you for months, I'm glad you're okay."

The older boy stares at Leo, which is not great because he doesn't have a gentle gaze. He looks downright murderous, and Leo tries very hard to act like he isn't scared shitless.

"Boyfriend?" Percy turns to Annabeth, his voice full of concern.

Annabeth holds back a smile. "I'll explain. Ara, you two go ahead, Reyna's waiting for you."

Ara doesn't argue, now that the worst has passed she wants some alone time with Leo to tell him about what Aphrodite told her.

She looks at her brother with what she hopes is a confident smile. "I'm really happy you're back, Nemo."

Something about the way he keeps looking at Leo makes Ara feel like he knows something she doesn't. Right now, however, she's got more important things to figure out.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles

#twoidiots writing #pjo #percy jackson #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez fanfic #doo #pjo fanfic #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus

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like-rain-or-confetti · 11 months

Text

I'm Done.

You knew the only real way to be free of the rogue was to turn yourself in. Not because you wanted to face accountability but because a set of bars would be around you at all times. Naturally, the rogue has called for you and makes an attempt to free you. As to which you would not take.

Victor Zsasz: "(Y/N)," Victor began, his tone in warning. "don’t be that way." He seemed to try to keep himself composed. "Go away, Victor." You grumbled. "Let's go!" He shot back. "I'm not going." You retorted. "Let's go." He said icily and the two of you ended up in a stare off. "Please!?" He screamed. You shook your head. Victor didn't have the time for your refusal. Literally. The GCPD would step in soon and he was very much outnumbered other than a few friends. "This isn't over." Victor informed you with a piercing stare and a clenched jaw. "Not over..."

The Riddler: He isn't above shooting the messenger. As a matter of fact, guns are much to easy for a messenger. Nope, the messages got beaten to death with a wrench. A big, heavy wrench that once was silver is now very much red. He trashed his workshop at the news. This wasn't just an act of defiance- it was a statement. No one ditches the Riddler, and no one defies him either! So the Riddler is very possessive and the fact that you haven't betrayed him for another rogue and in fact are a loose end that might actually save your life. Clearly you're so stupid that you've lost your way and he'll most certainly drag you back kicking and screaming if he must. You best comply or your life will be his for the taking. He owns you after all.

Black Mask: Another who shoots messengers... in the face. "Done with me, huh!? Guess again bitch!" He roared as he threw his glass against at the opposite wall and it shattered. "No one fucks with Roman Sionis!" It's seriously not recommended to do this with Roman. He won't take kindly to it and if you don't die for him, you'll die by his hand. That's just how it is in the mob. Roman's taking a trip to the GCPD...with a gun.

Mad Hatter: Jervis gets attached to certain henchmen by a matter of pure luck...for him. Not for thise ge gets attached to. They have no luck at all. So when he sent a group of henchmen to bail you out and they returned empty handed? Well that wasn't good enough and it called for Jervis to get it done himself. "Sorry, Alice but this simply will not do." He mumbled as he grabbed one of his specially made hats. He didn't want to get forceful but it's necessary when his special rabbits get difficult.

Scarecrow: No one wants to be the one to tell the Scarecrow that you're done and refused to be bailed out. He looked the henchmen over silently before he finally spoke. "I told you to bring them back." "They...they wouldn't." Another henchman replied. "I told you to bring them back, kicking and screaming." Seconds later, he gasses the messenger because they don't do well on the bad side of the law. Meanwhile, Jonathan mutters to himself. "It appears I'll need to do this myself. Pity, I was trying so desperately to be kind." He didn't look sorry at all.

#batman #batman villains #batman scenarios #the riddler #victor zsasz #scarecrow #black mask #mad hatter #edward nygma #jonathan crane #roman sionis #jervis tetch

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thewidowsghost · 1 year

Text

Seeing The Beauty (Piper Mclean x Fem!Reader) - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Here I am, actually posting something :0

I know it's something a lot of people won't read, but this is a fic I'm passionate about, and what I decided to work on :)

The storm churns into a miniature hurricane. Funnel clouds snakes towards the skywalk like the tendrils of a monster jellyfish.

Students scream and run for the building. The wind snatches away their notebooks, jackets - including (Y/n)'s black bomber, revealing heavily scarred arms - hats, and backpacks. Both Jason and (Y/n) skid across the slick floor.

Leo loses his balance and almost topples over the railing, but (Y/n) grabs his jacket, pulling him back.

"Thanks, man," Leo yells.

"Go, go, go!" orders Coach Hedge.

Piper and Dylan are holding the doors open, herding the other kids inside. Piper's snowboarding jacket is flapping wildly, her dark hair all in her face. Jason thinks that she must've been freezing, but Piper looks calm and confident - telling the others it would be okay, encouraging them to keep moving.

Jason, Leo, (Y/n), and Coach Hedge runs towards them, but it is like running through quicksand. The wind seems to fight them, pushing them back.

Dylan and Piper push one more kid inside, then lose their grip on the doors. They slam shut, closing off the skywalk.

Piper tugs at the handles. Inside, the kids pound on the glass, but the door seems to be stuck.

"Dylan, help!" Piper shouts over the roar of the wind.

Dylan just stands there with an idiotic grin, his Cowboys jersey rippling in the wind, like he is suddenly enjoying the storm.

"Sorry, Piper," he says. "I'm done helping." He flicks his wrist, and Piper flies backwards, slamming into the doors and sliding to the skywalk deck.

"Piper!" Jason and (Y/n) try to charge forward, but the wind is against them, and Coach Hedge pulls them back.

"Coach," Jason protests, "let me go!"

"Jason, (Y/n), Leo, stay behind me," the coach orders. "This is my fight. I should've known that was our monster."

"What?" Leo demands. A rogue worksheet slaps him in the face, but he swats it away. "What monster?"

The coach's cap blows off and sticking up above his curly hair are two bumps - like the knots cartoon characters get when they're bonked on the head. Coach Hedge lifts his baseball bat - but it isn't a regular bat anymore. Somehow, it had changed into a crudely shaped tree-branch club, with twigs and leaves still attached.

Dylan gives him that psycho happy smile. "Oh, come on, Coach. Let the boy attack me! After all, you're getting too old for this. Isn't that why they retired you to this stupid school? I've been on your team the entire season, and you didn't even know. You're losing your nose, grandpa."

The coach makes an angry sound like an animal bleating. "That's it, cupcake. You're going down!"

"You think you can protect four half-bloods at once, old man?" Dylan cackles. "Good luck." Dylan points at Leo, and a funnel cloud materializes around him. Leo flies off the skywalk like he'd been tossed. Somehow, he manages to wrist in midair, and slams slideways into the canyon wall. He skids, clawing furiously for any handhold. Finally, he grabs a thin ledge about fifty feet below the skywalk, and hangs there by his fingertips.

"Help!" he yells up at them. "Rope, please? Bungee cord? Something?"

Coach Hedge curses and tosses Jason his club. "I don't know who you are, kid, but I hop you're good. Keep that thing busy" - he stabs a thumb at Dylan - "while I get Leo."

"Get him how?" (Y/n) demands. "You going to fly?"

"Not fly. Climb," Hedge kicks off his shoes, and (Y/n) almost has a coronary. The coach didn't have any feet. He has hooves - goat's hooves. Which means those things on his head, (Y/n) realizes, weren't bumps. They were horns.

"You're a faun," Jason exclaims.

"Satyr!" Hedge snaps. "Fauns are Roman. But we'll talk about that later."

Hedge leaps over the railing. He sails towards the canyon wall and hits hooves first. He bounds down the cliff with impossible agility, finding footholds - Hoofholds? (Y/n) wonders - no bigger than postage stamps, dodging whirlwinds that try to attack him as he picks his way towards Leo.

"Isn't that cute!" Dylan turns toward Jason. "Now it's your turn, boy." Dylan ignores (Y/n) for the time being, and (Y/n) uses the moment to pull the pen from her pocket again.

Jason throws the Coach's club. It seems useless with the winds so strong, but the club flies right at Dylan, even curving when he tries to dodge, and smacks him on the head so hard he falls to his knees.

Piper isn't as dazed as she appears. Her fingers close around the club when it rolls next to her, but before she can use it, Dylan rises. Blood - golden blood - tickles from his forehead. "Nice try, boy." He glares at Jason. "But you'll have to do better."

The skywalk shudders. Hairline fractures appear in the glass. Inside the museum, kids stop banging on the doors. They back away, watching in terror.

Dylan's body dissolves into smoke, as if his molecules are coming unglued. He has the same face, the same brilliant white smile, but his whole form is suddenly composed of swirling black vapor, his eyes like electrical sparks in a living storm cloud. He sprouts black smoky wings and rises above the skywalk. If angels could be evil, Jason decides, they would look exactly like this.

"You're a ventus," Jason says, though he had no idea how he knew that word. "A storm spirit!"

Dylan's laugh sounds like a tornado tearing off a roof. "I'm glad I waited, demigod. Leo and Piper I've known about for weeks. Could've killed them at any time. But my mistress said two more were coming - something special. She'll reward me greatly for your death!"

Two more funnel clouds touch down on either side of Dylan and turn into venti - ghostly young men with smoky wings and eyes that flicker with lightning.

Piper stays down, pretending to be dazed, her hand still gripping the club. Her face is pale, but she gives Jason and (Y/n) determined looks, and he understands the message: Keep their attention. I'll brain them from behind.

Smart and violent, Jason wishes he remembered having Piper as a girlfriend.

Jason clenches his fists and gets ready to charge, but he never gets a chance.

Dylan raises his hand, arcs of electricity running between his fingers, and blasts Jason in the chest.

Jason finds himself flat on his back. His mouth tastes like burning aluminum foil. He lifts his head and sees that his clothes are smoking. The lightning bolt had gone straight through his body and blasts off his left shoe; his toes are black with soot.

The storm spirits are laughing. The wind rages. Piper is screaming defiantly, but it all sounds tinny and far away.

Instinctually, she uncaps the pen still in her hand, and suddenly (Y/n) is holding a sword - a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs.

(Y/n) tests the weight of the sword in her hand. (Y/n) can't tell who's more surprised, herself, or the storm spirits.

Dylan snarls and backs up. He looks at his two comrades and yells, "Well? Kill her!"

The other storm spirits don't look happy with that order, by they fly at (Y/n), their fingers crackling with electricity.

(Y/n) jabs at the first spirit; her blade passes through it, and the creature's smoky form disintegrates into golden powder.

The second spirit lets loose a bolt of lightning, and (Y/n) is blasted back into the glass doors.

(Y/n) slides down the doors beside Piper, her sword sliding out of her hand and skittering off the side of the skywalk and into the canyon.

"Shit," (Y/n) curses, staggering to her feet.

Then Coach Hedge leaps back onto the skywalk and dumps Leo like a sack of flour. "Spirits, fear me!" Hedge bellows, flexing his short arms. Then he looks around and realizes that Dylan was the only spirit left - Jason dispelled the other. "Curse it, boy!" he snaps at Jason. "Didn't you leave some for me? I like a challenge!"

Leo gets to his feet, breathing hard. He looks completely humiliated, his hands bleeding from clawing at the rocks. "Yo, Coach Supergoat, whatever you are - I just fell down the freaking Grand Canyon! Stop asking for challenges!"

Dylan hisses at them, but Jason can see fear in his eyes. "You have no idea how many enemies you've awakened, half-bloods. My mistress will destroy all demigods. This war you cannot win."

Above them, the storm explodes into a full-force gale. Cracks expand in the skywalk. Sheets of rain pour down, and Jason has to crouch to keep his balance.

A hole opens in the clouds - a swirling vortex of black and silver.

"The mistress calls me back!" Dylan shouts with glee. "And you, demigod, will come with me!"

He lunges at Jason, but Piper tackles the monster from behind. Even though he is made of smoke, Piper somehow manages to make contact; both of them go sprawling. Leo, Jason, (Y/n), and the coach surge forward to help, but the spirit screams with rage. Dylan lets loose a torrent that knocks the four onto their buts. Jason's sword skids across the glass. Leo hits the back of his head and curls up on his side, dazed and groaning.

Piper gets the worst of it. She is thrown off Dylan's back and hits the railing, tumbling over the side until she is hanging by one hand over the abyss.

(Y/n) gets to her feet, sprinting and vaulting over the side of the railing, grabbing the railing - and Piper's wrist.

Piper stares at (Y/n).

Are you insane?! Piper's gaze seems to say.

Probably, (Y/n) reads Piper's expression. (Y/n) didn't remember Piper, but Piper clearly trusted her, and (Y/n) would not let her die.

(Y/n)'s grip tightens on the railing, and she tries to pull Piper up.

"Hey!" Piper yells, seeing the sweat beading on (Y/n)'s forehead. "We could use some help over here!"

Jason starts towards them, but Dylan screams, "I'll settle for this one!" He grabs Leo's arm and begins to rise, towing a half-concious Leo below him. The storm spins faster, pulling them upwards like a vacuum cleaner.

"Help! Somebody!" Piper yells. And then, her hands slick with sweat, Piper slips out of (Y/n)'s grip, screaming as she falls.

"Jason, go!" Hedge yells. "Save her."

(Y/n) hauls herself up and over the railing, staring down at Piper's figure plummeting towards the little river at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

The coach launches himself at the spirit, lashing out with his hooves, knocking Leo free from the spirit's grasp. Leo drops safely to the floor, but Dylan grapples the coach's arms instead. Hedge tries to head-butt him, then kicks him and calls him a cupcake. They rise into the air, gaining speed.

Coach Hedge shouts down once more, "Save her! I got this!" Then the satyr and the storm spirit spiral into the clouds and disappear.

Save her? Jason thinks. She's gone! But again, his instincts win. He runs to the railing, thinking I'm a lunatic, and jumps over the side.

. . .

Jason isn't scared of heights. He is scared of being smashed against the canyon floor five hundred feet below. He figures he hadn't accomplished anything other than dying along with Piper, but he tucks in his arms and plummets headfirst. The sides of the canyon race past like a film on fast-forward; his face feels like it is peeling off.

In a heartbeat, he catches up with Piper, who is flailing wildly. He tackles her waist and closes his eyes, waiting for death.

Piper screams.

The wind whistles in Jason's ears.

He wonders what dying would feel like. He is thinking, Probably not so good. He wishes somehow they could never hit the bottom.

Suddenly, the wind dies. Piper's scream turns into a strangled gasp. Jason thinks that they must be dead, but he hadn't felt any impact.

"J-j-jason," Piper manages.

Jason opens his eyes; they aren't falling. They are floating in midair, a hundred feet above the river. Jason hugs Piper tight, and she repositions herself so she is hugging him too. They are nose to nose. Her heart beats so hard, Jason can feel it through her clothes.

Piper's breath smells like cinnamon. She says, "How did you -"

"I didn't," Jason says . "I think I would know if I could fly..." But then he thinks, I don't even know who I am.

Jason imagines going up; Piper yelps as they shoot a few feet higher. We aren't exactly floating, Jason decides. He can feel pressure under his feet, like they are balancing at the top of a geyser.

"The air is supporting us," Jason says.

"Well, tell it to support us more! Get us out of here!"

Jason looks down. The easiest thing would be to sink gently to the canyon floor. Then he looks up. The rain had stopped. The storm clouds don't seem as bad, but they are still rumbling and flashing. There was no guarantee the spirits were gone for good. He had no idea what had happened to Coach Hedge. And he'd left Leo up there, barely conscious, with a most likely guilty (Y/n).

"We have to help them," Piper says, as if reading Jason's thoughts. "Can you -"

"Let's see." Jason thinks, Up!, and instantly, they shoot skyward.

The fact he is riding the winds might've been cool under different circumstances, but Jason is too much in shock. As soon as they land on the skywalk, they run to Leo, (Y/n) sitting beside him, looking dazed and guilty - just as Jason had guessed.

Piper turns Leo over, and he groans. Leo's army coat is soaked from the rain. His curly hair glitters gold from rolling around in monster dust. But at least he isn't dead.

"Stupid . . . ugly . . . goat," Leo mutters.

"Where'd he go?" Piper questions.

Leo points straight up. "Never came down. Please tell me he didn't actually save my life."

"Twice," (Y/n) replies, studying the - possibly hundreds - of scars lacing her arms.

Leo groans even louder. "What happened? The tornado guy, the bronze and gold swords . . . I hit my head. That's it, right? I'm hallucinating?"

Jason had forgotten about his sword. He walks over to where it was lying and picks it up. The blade is well balanced. On a hunch he flips it; midspin, the sword shrinks back into a coin and lands in his palm.

(Y/n) reaches into her pocket, studying her pen before uncapping it, the ballpoint lengthening to the three and a half foot long bronze sword.

"Yep," Leo says. "Definitely hallucinating."

Piper shivers in her rain-soaked clothes. "Jason, those things -"

"Venti," Jason interrupts. "Storm spirits."

"Okay," Piper stares at Jason. "You acted like . . . like you'd seen them before. Who are you?"

Jason shakes his head. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I don't know."

The storm dissipates. The other kids from the Wilderness School are staring out the glass doors in horror. Security guards are working on the locks, but they don't seem to be having any luck."

"Coach Hedge said he had to protect four people," (Y/n) thinks aloud, touching the tip of her sword with a finger and watching it shrink back into a pen. "I'm ninety-five percent sure he meant us."

"And that thing Dylan turned into . . ." Piper shudders. "God, I can't believe it was hitting on me. He called us . . . what, demigods?"

Leo lies on his back, staring at the sky. He doesn't seem anxious to get up. "Don't know what demi means," he replies. "But I'm not feeling too godly. You guys feeling godly?"

(Y/n) lets out a snort of laughter, but then there is brittle sound like dry twigs snapping, and the cracks in the skywalk begin to widen.

"We need to get off this thing," Jason says.

"Maybe if we -"

"Ohh-kay," Leo interrupted. "Look up there and tell me if those are flying horses."

At first Jason thinks Leo had hit his head too hard. Then he sees a dark shape descending from the east - too slow for a plane, too large for a bird. As it got closer he can see a pair of winged animals - one black and one gray, four-legged, exactly like horses - except each one had a twenty-foot wingspan. The horses are pulling a brightly painted box with two wheels: a chariot.

"Reinforcements," (Y/n) says. "Hedge told me an extraction squad was coming for us."

"Extraction squad?" Leo struggles to his feet. "That sounds painful."

Jason watches as the chariot lands on the far end of the skywalk. The flying horses tuck in their wings and canter nervously across the glass, as if they sense it was near breaking. Two teenagers stand in the chariot - a tall blond girl maybe a little older than Jason, and a bulky dude with a shaved head and a face like a pile of bricks. They both wear jeans and orange T-shirts like (Y/n)'s, with shields tossed over their backs. The girl leaps off before the chariot had even finished moving. She pulls a knife and runs toward the group while the bulky dude is reining in the horses.

"I'm going to kill you," the blonde girl steps up to (Y/n), whose eyes widen with shock.

"What?" (Y/n) asks, looking so utterly confused that the blonde lowers her knife. "Did I do something to hurt you?" (Y/n)'s eyebrows knit with confusion.

The blonde stares at (Y/n) for a moment, her gray eyes are fierce and a little startling.

"What about Gleeson? Where is your protector, Gleeson Hedge?" she asks.

The coach's first name was Gleeson? Jason might've laughed if the morning hadn't been quite so weird and scary. Gleeson Hedge: football coach, goat man, protector of demigods. Sure. Why not?

Leo clears his throat. "He got taken by some . . . tornado things."

"Venti," Jason clarifies. "Storm spirits."

The blonde girl arches an eyebrow. "You mean anemoi thuellai? That's the Greek term. Who are you, and what happened?"

Jason does his best to explain, though it is hard to meet those intense gray eyes. About halfway through the story, the other guy from the chariot comes over. He stands there glaring at them, his arms crossed. He has a tattoo of a rainbow on his biceps, which seems a little unusual to Jason.

"Annabeth," the bald guy grunts. "Check it out." He pointed at Jason's feet.

Jason hadn't thought much about it, but he is still missing his left shoe, which had been blown off by the lightning. His bare foot feels okay, but it looks like a lump of charcoal.

"The guy with one shoe," says the bald dude. "He's the answer."

"No, Butch," the girl insists. "He can't be. I was tricked." She glares at the sky as though it had done something wrong. "What do you want from me?" she screams. "What have you done?"

"Hey there, Boss," (Y/n) hears in her head and she turns to one of the horses, a jet black pegasus.

"Uh, hey," (Y/n) says aloud, stepping over to the horse. She reaches out, and the pegasus nuzzles her hand.

"You got any sugar cubes?" he whinnies.

"No, sorry, bud," (Y/n) pats the pegasus's head.

Leo, Jason, and Piper stare at (Y/n), their eyebrows raised, but both Annabeth and Butch look unfazed.

The skywalk shudders , and the pegasi whinnies urgently. "We'd better hurry, Boss. The glass is crackin'!" the black pegasus says.

"Annabeth," says the bald dude, Butch, "we gotta leave. Let's get these four to camp and figure it out there. Those storm spirits might come back."

Annabeth fumes for a moment. "Fine." She fixes Jason with a resentful look. "We'll settle this later." She turns on her heel and marches towards the chariot.

Piper shakes her head. "What's her problem? What's going on?"

"Seriously," Leo agrees.

(Y/n) stares after Annabeth for a moment before following. She places a gentle hand on Annabeth's arm, and the blonde turns to her.

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) says and Annabeth's expression softens. "I don't remember who I am, or what I've done, but I'm sorry if I've hurt you."

Annabeth nods.

"Come on," Annabeth says. "Let's go home. I'll even ask Chiron to get you a new shirt. For now," Annabeth swings a backpack off her shoulders and pulls out a navy blue and white lettermen jacket, "put this on."

(Y/n) studies the jacket, noticing the last name - Jackson - before sliding it on. "Is this mine?" (Y/n) asks.

Annabeth nods. "You were on the swim team," Annabeth's eyes glow with what (Y/n) guesses is sisterly - pride.

Word Count: 3521 words

Taglist:

@camaddison

@steinfellds

@p-taryn-dactyl

@oculusalien

@pink-widows

#piper mclean x female reader #piper mclean x fem reader #piper mclean x reader #percy jackson x sister reader #annabeth chase x sister reader

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sleepy-achilles · 6 days

Text

This song is so them all coded it's unbelievable.

The Black cats and their white cats.

The German shepherd's and their golden retrievers.

Drew refused to give up on Leon. He believed so strongly the man only saw him as a friend. It wasn't until he caught up on the program after he was knocked out by the bloodline to see that murderous look on Leon's face as he destroys the entire Bloodline. Drew watches in shock. Leon insisted he didn't want the belt, he wants nothing to do with that bloodline mess. And yet here he was holding Romans belt above his head as the champ and his family are sprawled out on the matt. "Touch Drew again. And I'll break every bone in the Anoa'i Family's bodies." Leon growls as he throws the belt, allowing it to his Paul sending the fat man flying.

"You wouldn't dare." Roman coughs. Leon chuckles darkly and leans down close to the injured man. "Thats where your wrong. I'd kill for Drew. I'd die for him. Either works for me." Leon whispers.

That's when Drew realised...this man would burn the world for him.

-----

John felt destroyed. He had promised so many he'd defeat the rock and his big ego. And he failed. "How could I be so st-" "You wanna speak up boy?" John pauses at the curtain at the Rocks voice. He looks in and is taken back to see Randy squaring up to the bigger man. "You can disrespect me all you want. But you keep John's name out of your mouth." Randy growls. "Since when did you care aye? Last time I checked you were chasing the younger michaels." Rock chuckles. John's heart tightens. He isn't as stupid as everything thinks. He knows something happened between Randy and Leon. It broke his heart.

His eyes widen as Randy bounces a chair off the rocks head. "Oh thats where your wrong. Id kill for john. Ill die for him." Randy chuckles as he throws the chair against the wall and stands over the man. "Come near John again and I'll destroy you. You and everything you care about. You'll never be able to step foot in an arena again without pissing yourself." Randy growls before kicking the man and storming off. John's heart races as he stares at the others back.

"Randy!"

----

"Awe look Uso. He's gonna cry" Shawn frowns and steps back. "Im not in the mood." Shawn whispers. He's already had enough off the harts, he didn't need this either. "Ha he is go-" Shawn looks up as the man falls silent. He's shocked to see Taker stood infront of him, a dark fire burning in his eyes. "You can go now Shawn. They won't be bothering you anymore." Taker states calmly. "I...okay" Shawn whispers. The man turns to his side to let Shawn past. Shawn can't help but stop and turn to the man.

Taker faces his friends. "You leave him alone." Taker tells them. "Since when did you-" "You leave him alone before I'm making you dig your own graves." Taker growls. "So what everyone else can tease him-" "I just got back from telling Hart to stay away from what's mine. I reminded him what I do to people who touch and hurt what's mine. That i will kill for him. Ill die for him" Taker levels them.

Shawns eyes widen and he covers his mouth to muffle a gasp. It doesn't work. His back hits the wall around the same corner Taker just came from as the men turn. He hopes they didn't see him.

Did Taker not only just threaten his only friends but call Shawn his?

Shawn clenches his fists against his rapidly beating heart as his eyes close.

"You really like him."

"I'd let the world Burn for him."

---

Cassies hands shake. How had everything escalated so quickly?

She was supposed to be marrying this man. Now she's watching him get beaten on live TV.

Rhea slams the chair against Austins head, splitting it. She throws the chair against the wall as he falls. "You had her. You had the perfect woman. The best girl ever and you failed her. You didn't treat her like the princess she is. You were selfish!" Rhea yells at him. "Rhea!" Austin croaks trying to escape the woman. She leans down and grabs him by the collar of his shirt. "I'd never do that to her. I'd destroy this world for her. Just so she could sit comfortably on her throne. I'd die for her. I'd kill for her. In fact, you owe the fact your still breathing to her." Rhea growls quietly. She shoves him back to the floor before walking past him. "I see you near her, you'll be waking up in a grave. She's mine now. Not yours." Rhea barks as she walks off.

Cassies heart races.

She has someone who'd risk their life to keep her safe. Someone who'll always put her first.

Cassie looks at the door as it opens, she quickly switches the tv off.

"Rhea.."

#wwe #shawn michaels #the undertaker #wwf #hbtaker #undertaker x shawn michaels #shawn x undertaker #leon michaels #drew mcintyre #randy orton #john cena #cassidy michaels #rhea ripley

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lokisgoodgirl · 11 months

Note

Directors cut: Hostile Fucks

Any outfits or locations left on the cutting-room floor? Any thoughts for using them in a future fic?

Lova ya, TTYL

Why heloooo my little Hostile cookie!! 🍪

Interesting about the outfits. Ones we could have also had (and may still have cos lets face it my outfit obsession isn't going anywhere) were:

🚒Fireman

It literally just did not make sense and so it was binned. Although tbf none of them do when you really think about it 😂 I think the situation didn't fit the 'plot' at whatever stage we were at. Hot though. It could work.

🇮🇹Roman soldier

See above. There was perhaps going to be infiltration of a high end mob costume party (Captain's Orders replaced it) - I do find the concept of his bronze breastplate smacking and that little skirt flapping as he does us up the bum intriguing so never say never right??

🍸Ruffled Shirt

Im saving this for a one shot instead. Loki S2 related.

👌Linen suit and kerchief

Very Knives Out.

It needed to be in Rome though for some reason. Maybe we'll have a romantic linen suit related outing there soon! The priest won, in this case.

Thanks for asking my love!! Xx

#hostile f*cks

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stackslip · 2 months

Note

Love hearing you speak on Roman so much like you get him!!

The man is leaking with paranoia and abandonment issues barely holding himself together with the title in his hand. Underneath the facade he shows, the manipulation, the gaslighting and the overall abuse he has been perpetuating he's just a man who's been rejected time and time again. From his peers,his family and the audience. He's gotten what so many have coveted but its empty and hollow. I'm interested in seeing how his character will progress after wrestlemania. Will people question his tribal chief title? Will he break down? How will the dynamics with his family members change? Honestly I'm waiting for Seth-Roman confrontation because it will be so ough

Side note but it's also really funny that he always gets betrayed by similar people like Seth,Sami and Jey. My little headcanon is that he lets his guard down with more light hearted people like Jey & Sami as a result of his Shield days. Roman to me is just in his own wrestling time loop lmao.

Feel free to ignore my gushing but your posts have been making me think of him more :]

YES HAHA YES the reason i talk about him so much outside of like, special interest, IS because there's like three, four people on tumblr max speaking of his character and the storyline and actually exploring the meat of it instead of like............. hoping Big Samoan Daddy Wins Again so they can write self inserts or whatever. like i see so many people talk about punk with such passion and it's great and i'm also like look i know he's the big face of wwe and you don't care to see much of him but that's a shame bc what he and the rest of the bloodline have been doing is incredible, bar some missteps and longer lulls in the story. i agree that so much of his current character stems from a deep fear of rejection and a history of abandonment/betrayal from both other wrestlers and the audience itself, it's what makes him so tragic to watch and also so fascinating. like roman. buddy! by setting up such a horrifically abusive dynamic you're literally setting yourself up for people to leave you kicking and screaming, triggering the abandonment issues even more!

i know people have been complaining about his schedule in recent months (which imo stem more from like wwe management + irl stuff we're not privy too--it's important to remember that joe anoa'i's cancer isn't gone and it never will be, it's under constant management and he's mentioned having to switch treatments and their negative effects before) and tbh it has its issues, but i've enjoyed how...... pathetic he's been since jey left him. people have bitched about how diminished he feels, but i think it's 200% on purpose? after he wins matches now he doesn't walk around smugly like a final boss, he clings to his belt and goes to paul almost like a child seeking praise and reassurance. he cant win without solo and jimmy anymore but he doesn't like or trust them nor does he rely on them. he's terrified of solo and despises jimmy. currently the bloodline is in tatters, a shadow of its former self, and that's why it works!

the rock's inclusion, as much as i think it was a pivot, could be a real interesting way to mix things up after mania. for one i think that the only good decision rn is for roman to lose that damn title. he's been playing it this way for months now--the title feels like something he's clinging to, he has no control except for this! but it's interesting that during the press conference, the bloodline family tree named the rock as "high chief" which implies he's above roman in the hierarchy. and like. this is a toxic, shitty hierarchy! the twins were literally given to roman to do as he pleased bc he pulled rank on them, and this is unambiguously presented as something deeply abusive and a terrible state of affairs. the rock could do the same with roman!

so there are two things i'm hoping from roman post-mania, hopefully one or other other, or one after the other. this is assuming that he not only loses the titles, but that solo and rock tried to interfere only for roman's army of exes (now all cody's boyfriends) to get in there and stop that from happening.

the first thing i'd be interested in is roman sinking to whole new pathetic depths, to be stripped of what's left of his mystique until he's just a wounded mad king who cannot get over his kingdom being ash and dust. attacking others savagely (or pathetically failing to do so and being beaten the shit out of), others taking revenge after years of him dominating wwe in the same way the guys on raw tried to go after jey, and *especially* a potential feud with seth where the two are really at each other's throats, with seth confronting the monster he created and roman blaming him as the architect of his misfortunes, an easy target, something he can lash onto. i need him to lose that HARD and tragically. i need him to break and shatter to the point where the audience feels uncomfortable and even somewhat sad for him, same for seth.

the second thing i want to see is the rock pulling rank as high chief and roman, unconsciously or not, being relegated to the role jey used to be. rock proved in that conference he could do lowkey intimidating and more subtle acting that's not steeped in attitude era dramatics or flashiness, and wwe is playing on the idea that he and triple h are fighting for control behind the scenes in kayfabe. rock pushing roman out of the head of the table and roman slowly realizing what's happening as rock begins scolding and mocking him for not living up to what the family expect of him, progressively realizing he's going through what he put jey through (especially the manipulation and physical/mental abuse)--this would be a great way to eventually turn him face and build sympathy from the audience. it's gonna be HARD getting that sympathy, in part bc roman was such a charismatic heel and seeing him sink so low--it will def be harder to pull this off with him than with sami, the eternal underdog. but i think if they play it right they can have roman gradually realize the dynamics of the family are themselves hell, how much he contributed to it, and maybe others can reach out to him and try to tell him to get out. maybe even seth himself, or cody if he's still face, or sami. jey i'm hesitating on--i think it would work but only if he's yelling at roman to wake the fuck up and realize what this is at all. they would REALLY have to work for this, and it would take months if not a full year for it to actually be able to build to a face turn where roman would be *actually cheered*. i think it could work against the rock himself, now the authority over wwe, with roman having to make active amends with old enemies and gain forgiveness from people like jey and sami through active work. and it could inevitably lead to the roman/rock match they wanted so so bad. but i'd love a war games where roman isn't at the center, but has to learn to be part of an actual team and is struggling to not be at the center of the universe anymore. again this would be assuming wwe doesn't fuck it up and there aren't unplanned injuries or other plans. but to me it would be the most satisfying way to complete roman's arc--make him turn face *naturally*, and have him finally FINALLY receive the crowd's cheers and love after a lot of deserved work.

#eli talks #bloodline wwe #wrestling #also feel free to dm me i fucking love talking about the bloodline and there are like.#3-4 people in total on tumblr who watch wrestling actively and Get Roman

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wholesome-lee-trash · 2 years

Note

Janus teaches Roman to dance, but he keeps messing Roman up by tickling him.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Roceit/none

Characters: Lee!Roman, Ler!Janus

Warnings: Tickles, otherwise none. Tell me if I forgot any!

Word count: 536

A/N: This, is what you call a good idea. Thank you! Also, sorry this fic is weirdly short.

Dancing Prince

"Your turn, truth or dare?" Janus asked.

"Mm... truth." Roman said.

"Tell me... an embarrassing thing about yourself."

"Um... hm... Oh, I don't know how to uh... slow dance." Janus looked confused.

"You don't?"

"No. Truth or dare?"

"You're a prince, though. Isn't that like, the whole... prince thing?"

"Yeah. But it's fine! Seriously. Okay, truth or dare?"

"No." Janus snapped, and suddenly they were sitting at a booth table, off to the side of a large open room with wooden floors. It was really beautiful. Chandeliers lit up the room, and there was some slow instrumental music playing.

"Wha- Janus. I just told you I can't slow dance."

"So I'll teach you." Janus stands up and offers a hand to Roman. "May I have this dance?"

"I don't know, I'm gonna mess it up-"

"Now, how did you become the great and powerful prince Roman with your stage fright?" Roman scoffed.

"I do not have stage fright."

"Then come on." Roman took his hand, and was pulled to the middle of the ballroom. Janus helped adjust his hands, putting one on Janus' shoulder, and the other was holding his hand. Janus put his hand on Roman's hip.

"See, now we just move to the music. It's not that hard." He leads the dance, moving his feet to the rhythm. Roman seems very tense, probably from never doing this before.

"Am I doing it right?"

"You're doing just fine, Ro. Relax a little." Janus squeezes his hip, tickling him purposefully.

"Hey!" He squeaked. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"You're concentrating too much. You need to lose tension a little bit, okay?" Roman sighed and relaxed a little bit. "Good. Now, follow my lead."

They did many steps, going forwards and backwards and to the side, spinning each other around, Janus being a great teacher all along the way.

"I think I'm getting it!" Roman said happily.

"Yeah, you're doing great!" Janus squeezed his hip again, causing him to jump.

"Hehey! Stop, you're gonna make me mess up!"

"You're doing great, I don't know what you're talking about." Janus slowly walked his fingers up his sides, beginning to tickle him there, too.

"Wahait, Jahan! Dohohon't!"

"Don't what? We're just dancing." When his fingers reached his ribs, Roman's body decided to stop moving, and begin to just laugh.

"Jahahan! Nahahaha!"

"Are you okay with this?" He asks, not wanting to go too far. Roman let's go of his hand and shoulder, instead burying his face in the crook of his neck and wrapping his arms around the deceitful side. Janus takes his hands off of Roman, crossing over his back and hovering just above his armpits, which the hug has given him access to tickle.

"Yeheah." Roman mutters, Janus practically feeling the head radiating off of his face.

"Good." Janus attacked, and he squealed. His arms bolted down, but his hands were already there.

"Stopstopstopstop Nohohohoho!" He didn't mean that, and Janus knew it.

"Tickle tickle, Roman." Janus teased, smiling at how many more giggles it caused.

He would be laughing for a long time, and they both knew that. His nerves would be lit up like than a Christmas tree, and he would enjoy every second of it.

#lee!roman #ler!deceit #ler!janus #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides tickling

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tiktokitssinoclock · 2 years

Text

The Valorant Gals- Falling Asleep Scenarios (p.II)

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI // You will be blocked

Astra

Astra and you were the only souls to be found on the roof of the protocol, laying side by side on the gravel as you gazed up at the night sky. The night breeze was cool and you found yourself a little chilly, so when you huddled up beside Astra in an attempt to keep warm, she gladly welcomed you. She also took to pointing out constellations to you as the night progressed, delving into the myths that accompanied them and answering any questions you had for her. She ordinarily tried not to nerd out too much about that kind of stuff, even though it was literally her speciality, but around you, she felt like she didn't have to worry.

You were just as enamoured with space as she was.

"And this one over here," she continued eagerly, pointing upwards.

"Starting with that really bright star by the cloud, and then going to five others over there-"

Her finger dragged across the sky, connecting the constellation together with the point of her finger.

"That's called Pleiades. The Romans spoke of it like it signified searching for light in the dark- how you might not always see it at first, but you just have to keep digging and you'll find it. Ironically though, the seventh star in the constellation isn't always visible. We can't see it tonight, but it's out there-"

She turned to look at you to gauge your reaction, her eyebrows raising slightly as she immediately hushed herself. From where your head was resting on her chest, hair sprawled around and hands clasped loosely together, you had fallen fast asleep. She was surprised she didn't realize sooner, given how deep your breathing had gone and your lack of excited interruptions.

She lowered her hand back down and wrapped her arm around you, hissing at the coolness of your clothes. She supposed it was getting rather cold.

Instead of waking you so you both could head inside, however, she instead sat up and moved you soundly in her lap. Once she was sure you were situated, she closed her eyes and meditated, waiting until she could feel herself rise from the gravel before shifting your weight into her arms.

She let her feet touch the ground and carried you back inside the protocol, a soft smile on her face.

Reyna

Reyna's never been one to shy away from a teasing flirt, no no no. Rather, she enjoys meeting it with the same exact energy. Whenever Chamber makes a smart comment over comms during a mission, she's sure to smirk to herself and give an equally charged response in return. If Raze ever appreciatively whistles her way during a training exercise, there's hardly a fault in Reyna's step as she puts on a show while walking away, exaggeratedly swinging her hips and shooting a wink over her shoulder. The one time Yoru made a flirty remark about her hair, daring to pinch a strand of it between his thumb or forefinger, there was zero hesitation in her response. She threaded her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck, tugging his head ever so slightly so that he was looking into her eyes.

"And I think blue is your color," she crooned, her lips quirking up into a smug smile.

That was the first and last time he ever tried anything like that with Reyna ever again. Lesson learned. She could throw back whatever anyone tossed her way and quite enjoyed doing so. With you, though...

You were a special exception she loved to indulge in.

She loved the way your face went crimson every time her hand casually wrapped around your hip. During conversations, she would allow her violet irises to slowly fall to your lips before meeting your gaze again, your sudden inability to look her in the eyes pleasing her immensely. You were so easily flustered, so quick to trip over your words and drum your fingers against any available surface. She found it charming.

What she liked to do above all else, though, was pull you into her lap whenever you were least expecting. The small squeak you'd let out, your burning face and the way your fingers nervously brushed through your hair- she ate it up. That was exactly what she did that night while you observed the other agents training in the situation room, their battle for the spike muffled from your spot behind thick glass and metal walls. You and her had long since been situated on the bench, Reyna watching Sova as he landed a particularly impressive shock dart at KAYO's feet.

"That was a good shot, no?" She purred, her lips nearly grazing your ear. She waited for the oncoming shudder down your spine, or that noise of surprise she relished in. This time, however, you remained still.

Feeling slightly puzzled, she looked down. You had... fallen asleep. Your head was nudged against her shoulder, your chest rising and falling softly. Your hands were still gently clasped in your lap, your feet limp where they rested on the empty side of the seat. She watched your eyelashes flutter with each slight movement of your eyelids, finding herself enraptured in your relaxed expression.

She gave the agents a look that could've killed when they filed back into the room, making sure they stayed quiet so as to not wake you as they put their gear away.

Raze

Translations: Queridão - my dear

Much to Brimstone's dismay, Raze refused to leave for a mission without making sure her phone was fully charged and her playlist of the week was already downloaded. She often listened to music while they were actively under fire, her head bopping along to the beat as she pulled the trigger on her gun to match it. On the rides to and from wherever the team was going, she was loudly singing along to Gloria Groove, IZA, or Bad Bunny and keeping her spirits high. She'd often switch over to earbuds on the way back to the protocol, though, as the battery on her Bluetooth headphones was typically dead by then.

The end of today's mission was no different, with her humming and weaving along to Mayores in her seat. She could see Brimstone look at her from the corner of her eye, letting out an exasperated sigh before returning his attention to the helicopter's control panel. As the song came to an end, she turned excitedly in her seat to see what you thought of it.

She had long since invited you to share an earbud on rides home so she could introduce you to different kinds of music. While you were initially a little reluctant to participate, not wanting to do anything to piss off Brimstone, you warmed up rather quickly and it became a tradition between the two of you. You often danced beside her in your chair, your legs kicking in time with the music. If you happened to already know the song she had put on, you'd join in on her boisterous singing.

Right now though, you were doing neither. You're eyes were closed and you were openly snoring, your arms crossed over your chest and your legs stretched out comfortably in front of you. Given your assigned zone was little more chaotic than usual during the mission, it made sense that you would be wiped out. But to fall asleep with Becky G blaring in your ear? You had to have been exhausted.

Raze made sure your earbud was still securely in place before switching to a more laid-back playlist. As a Marc Anthony song began playing, Raze decided to make herself comfortable. She leaned towards you and rested her head on your shoulder, tucking her feet up so they were resting on the vacant seat next to her. She was usually a go-go-go kind of person, but just for a little while, she decided she could take it slow.

"Sweet dreams, queridão."

When Brimstone peeked back to check on everyone again, he almost did a double-take. Raze was now fast asleep as well, your combined snores almost enough to drown out the faint sound of Cambio de Piel he could hear all the way from the pilot seat.

Killjoy

Killjoy abruptly pulled away from her soldering tool, almost dropping the replacement blaster she was working on with a hiss. She very nearly ran a line with it down the entirety of her finger, but fortunately caught herself in time before she could follow through. She glanced over at her window in shock, noting the pitch-black sky with a noise of surprise.

How had it gotten so late already?

She stuck the tip of her finger in her mouth as she heard shuffling behind her. It was plainly obvious you had heard the close call.

"Klara?" You called, your voice thick with sleep.

Ah, shit. You and Sage were always getting onto her for working in the dark, but it really wasn't her fault. It would be light out when she started but before she knew it, it was pitch black outside and she had a sizzling burn running across her hand.

She moved to hastily flick on the lamp beside her.

"Yes?"

You were quiet before humming contently.

"Never mind."

Killjoy let out a sigh of relief and leaned back in her chair, swivelling on its wheels so that she could face you. You were already nearly asleep again, settled at the foot of her bed with a pillow wrapped up in your arms. The most she could see of you was the top of your head sticking out of the blanket, the rest of you bundled out of sight.

Although you weren't ever of much technical help, you typically volunteered to keep Killjoy company while she tinkered away at her gadgets or made repairs on her gear. Killjoy always happily accepted and whether Raze joined in or it was just the two of you, she quite enjoyed sharing music and a few laughs while working.

Despite how tired you were that day, you still insisted on heading back to her room with her instead of retiring to your own. The current outcome was easily predictable.

Killjoy rose from her seat with a groan, popping her back with a stretch. She made her way over to the bed and smoothed your hair down, a smile growing on her face when you leaned into her touch.

"I'm gonna grab a bandaid but I'll be back."

You merely grunted in response, earning a laugh.

Skye

Skye knew she should've been paying attention to the branches above her. She should've had her camera at the ready, moving slow enough to not snap any twigs or rustle any leaves around where she was laying on the forest floor. The owls would be out for an hour more at best, so if she was wanting to successfully take a few photos of them, now was the time to really buckle down.

But she found that she couldn't. She was instead transfixed by your sleeping form beside her, her camera limp in her grasp as you sent dirt softly scattering with every exhale.

While Skye knew you weren't a morning person, she still agreed to let you tag along on her trek out. You would make a wonderful addition to the usually solo trip, even if she knew you'd eventually fall asleep.

You were clearly tired when she met up with you in the common area, stifling yawns as you greeted her, yet you still had a toasted bagel waiting for her in your hand. When she told you you'd have to stay quiet while you hiked along the trail, you took to airdropping memes that forced her to hold back her own snorts. Even once both of you had settled down on the ground, you initiated several games of tic-tac-toe by drawing in the soft Earth beneath you, silently nudging Skye so she could see the board and take the first turn.

She tore her gaze away from you for just a moment, sighing to herself as she spared a half-hearted glance up. With no owls in sight, a new idea popped into her head. She brought the camera up, bringing the viewfinder up to her eye as she swivelled to look back at you. Your head was resting on your arm beneath you, your hair catching the light of the sun as it just started peaking over the horizon. With your softly parted lips and peaceful expression, she thought you'd never looked better.

She snapped a picture, hastily turning away when the sound of the shutter caused you to stir. She felt you jerk beside her as you scrambled to gather your surroundings, your head snapping left and right.

"Did you see one?" you quietly whispered.

Skye smiled to herself and shrugged.

#valorant imagines #valorant astra #astra x reader #valorant reyna #reyna x reader #valorant raze #raze x reader #valorant killjoy #killjoy x reader #valorant skye #skye x reader

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trickstarbrave · 4 months

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How is Norse Mythology incompatible with the Elder Scrolls?

the elder scrolls cosmology is fundamentally one focused on life after death. afterlives, honor in death, great cosmic wars at the end of time. a lot of faiths, including norse faiths, share similar stories. but the fundamental difference is the elder scrolls cosmology is built upon stuff like gnosticism. there IS a higher power--even above gods--called the godhead and nothing else is REAL. or rather its just about as real as the godhead and all really interconnected (also kinda hinduism but im not as well versed in that and kirkbride who developed a lot of the deep lore is a self admitted gnostic. bigger difference is gnostism is most often christian so that will factor in more but he was also inspired by hinduism and other faiths).

that might not mean fucking much in the way i am explaining it bc i am sleep deprived. esp given dominant western culture is very christian focused which also puts heaven emphasis on the afterlife and moral rules and regulations to get into a good one or everlasting torment. and a lot of people assume norse faiths follow this formula--they have vahalla! surely that must be viking heaven, the ultimate paradise (and is what sovngarde is based on) but uhhhh no.

in the norse faith there is much more focus on the here and now. the afterlife you will spend doing what you already did on earth. folkvangr and vahalla were most like consolations to grieving families--if you died on a raid, they probably couldn't take your body back home for burial. but the average person did not want to take up the job of being a viking (and it was a job specifically) just to get into vahalla. there were still death rituals and veneration of ancestors but there was no focus on morality or "fighting in the great war of ragnarok" or anything. the gods were also more down to earth and the differences between "spirit", "god", "ancestor", and other categories was uhhhh very blurry to non-existent. for instance there are a lot of pieces of evidence that loki might have been a common hearth spirit before he was a god. or maybe he was always just a very popular one so prolific he is basically a god. maybe several gods or local spirits used to be someone's ancestor. hard to say. there is also no strict hierarchy and rules of practice as it was entirely non-centralized. even saying stuff like "odin is the god of wisdom" isn't accurate as the norse gods don't really have "domains" like we think of in the roman or greek sense.

so its really a bunch of things that make it really incompatible but god does TES lore really try to shove it in there. they take a lot of elements but in the pop-cultural and ultimately christian interpretation of them that does them a disservice. or does things like "well the nords are based on vikings and vikings are raiders obsessed with battle and are brutish uncivilized barbarians so... lets just give them a bunch of "uncivilized" things that don't really make sense interconnected like totems and face paint and unsophisticated leather clothes because they are brutish savages!" which is. all really racist ideas at their core. not even racist to norse ppl just racist against BIPOC who have had these stereotypes built from bastardizations of their cultures by colonizers. which is just. not great.

hence why the adaptation of alduin being based on nidhogg was so. rough. you need a big scary world ending dragon, but he cant JUST be akatosh. bc the ending of oblivion and other established lore. and it would be a cop out to just say "actually the nords were wrong and alduin/akatosh who would be the same person in this case are great" bc then you dont get scary evil world ending dragon like they wanted. so they gotta make alduin his son and don't think through why nidhogg is even a thing in norse mythos bc norse mythos is only being used for aesthetics in TES lore. which sucks bc i wish they would have kept the theme of rebirth and change and renewal which is so prevalent in norse stories. norse mythos is focused on the natural world and cycles after all, but why do that when you want big buff white men with axes wearing furs and killing elves (who are totally not ever going to be repurposed by white supremacists as stand ins for irl minorities. nope. never.)

if you are more interesting in norse mythology bc my explanation makes no sense i recommend @skaldish who has various resources and websites and blog posts that break it down in more understandable ways. without me inevitably butchering it bc i have too many ideas rattling around in my brain

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heehoothefool · 1 year

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wrestling 👀

Anon I could kiss you

So I am hella interested in Wrestling as a mode for story telling.

I think anyone that sees my writing posts under the #spilled slime tag might be aware that I am sucker for unconventional storytelling- hell it's why I love DnD.

Pro Wrestling takes this to the next level. Sure, other competitive shows have their own stories to tell and may very well be scripted in this way, but every competition I see lacks something that Wrestling has so much of: Character Interaction and actual Writing.

In every other competitive show where they actually let the contestants talk to each other, it's always nothing but drama and life stories. Part of this is due to how the shows are structured with an elimination style setup. They don’t keep contestants around, unlike in wrestling where your story continues so long as your contract continues.

This means characters in wrestling have time to develop and change and go through arcs because they don't have the time constraint of However Long Before They're Eliminated.

WWE, which is the example I'm going to use because it's what I'm most familiar with, doesn't really function on seasons or anything, it just functions on What Big Event Comes next, so you prepare storylines in between these big events that reach their next big point at said events. Each main event is the end of one arc and the start of the next for these major storylines.

And the storytelling even goes beyond just character interaction and into the fights themselves! Sure, you get a lot of story out of promos and backstage shots, but ultimately it is all about the fights and those tell stories to! The moves that are executed, how they're executed, and even who they're performed on and how they're sold are capable of telling a story!

Quick point to explain a word I used above, many of us know that pro wrestling is choreographed. This is not a secret. This does not mean, however, that it is fake. The hits and injuries these people take on are incredibly real, but a lot of it is done in a way that will minimize the damage. Selling, therefore, is the art of making a move look as painful as it would be if they weren't trained professionals.

It's like in theater when the script says to smack someone and you hit them with your fingers more than your palm to create the sound but minimize the impact, and the person you smacked turns their head and holds their face to keep up the appearance that you did in fact smack them to pieces. That's selling.

My favorite example of the fight as story telling actually happened relatively recently at the last Survivor Series in a match type called War Games featuring The Bloodline (Roman Reigns, Jey and Jimmy Uso, and Sami Zayn) vs Kevin Owens's team. KO is the big important member of this because he and Sami have a very long history as close friends, and Sami is trying to prove his loyalty to The Bloodline.

Sami stops KO from winning by covering Roman and then hits with a Low Blow and follows it up with his finisher, the Haluba Kick (a running kick to the face). This is such good storytelling because finishers are the final nail in the coffin. The exclamation point that brings the sentence to a close. That is the end of their friendship. That is the final point of Sami saying he is with The Bloodline.

No other competition does it like this! This is the true peak of where sports meets theater and it deserves so much more respect than people often give it! Professional Wrestling isn't about proving who the best wrestler is! It's about taking these incredibly talented athletes and storytellers and letting them tell their stories by beating the shit out of each other between verbal bouts!

This is theater. This is what happens when you take a bunch of stunt doubles and tell them to write their stories, and I don’t think that gets appreciated enough.

Thank you, anon. I am so incredibly not normal about this.

(Also don't mind the gif I just really like Randy Orton, he is the epitome of action movie protagonist)

#slime responds #wrestling #wwe

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