#more art coming soon dear children

[jinuaei]

Cleaning up

Yandere! Husband! Alastor x Fallen Angel! Accidental Spouse! Reader

Part 1 --- Additional art

Maybe it was a bad idea to be married to this man. You thought as you saw other demons run away and cower from him, you would have also ran with them if only the person that everyone is so terrified of wasn't holding your arm hostage. 

It would have been embarrassing getting dragged around by this tall deer if it wasn't the fact that you're also pissing yourself sacred. But the good thing is he actually believes that you are his ‘spouse’, so you don't think you'll be hurt…much. Besides, he’s such a gentleman that he gave you his coat to cover up your wings so that it wouldn't be exposed to any more harm.

After a while of trying not to trip, actually stumbling, and Alastor dragging you up again and again, you manage to notice the change of scenery, from tall depressing buildings to smaller, more quaint establishments. The demons that also frequent the streets changed from shark demons, to red imps, and finally to black eyed demons with sharp teeth. 

Well, at least they look friendly.

“This place here is the cannibal town! We’ll be visiting a good friend of mine, I’m sure she’ll be able to clean you up in no time!” your ‘husband’ exclaimed. 

I reclaim that statement.

The town is charming, and rather calming in contrast to that chaotic, overstimulating city you crashed landed in. Despite being in hell, there were flowers growing here, clearly being taken care of wonderfully by the citizens of this town. Vintage cars roam around the road and you see children playing in the parks you've passed through. It’s almost identical to what you see in heaven, but more demonic and nobody uses cars because well, everybody has wings. When you are reminded about the wings, yours twitches in response, rubbing against the deer’s coat. Because of that, feathers, still stained with blood, fall off. Alastor’s shadow tendril grabs it midair and pockets it into his trousers.

Finally, the radio demon abruptly stops, giving you enough time to stabilize yourself properly. With a wave of his hand he shows off to you a building named ‘Franklin and Rosie Emporium’, and you notice on the side there is a huge line of people waiting to enter. Whatever they sell here must be quite popular. Now that you think about it, it might be related to the ‘cannibalism’ part of the town.

Alastor must be important here because people moved away from him as he waltzed through the entrance and into the door. As soon as you both step in, an exclamation of his name catches both of you and your ‘husbands’ attention.

“Oh Alastor! It's always a delight when you come to visit the Emporium, how have you been? And oh! Who is this adorable birdie? Though they look absolutely filthy,” the demon steps into the view, a sweet looking lady with a polite smile who gingerly holds your hands.

“Rosie, meet mon cher, sent by the heavens to become my beloved spouse,” the radio demon lifts up your chin with his fingers, moving your head side to side as if to show you off to Rosie, “Also, would you be a dear and help them clean up? I expect my spouse to be absolutely pristine considering they're married to the greatest radio host of all time!”

“Well, I’ll be delighted to play dress-up with the sweet thing, maybe you can run to the tailors real quick and find them new clothes too.” 

Agreeing to that, Alastor waves you goodbye and leaves, Rosie then ushers you to follow her while shouting at Franklin to man the store while she's out. You both emerge to a room above the shop, Rosie leading you to a spare bedroom with an en suite bathroom. It's quite homey, with mostly red as its main colour, other than that, nothing stands out to you.

“You can stay here for the time being as you wait for your husband, bathrooms over there, and there should be bandages and such under the sink. I will be down below to help Franklin with the customers, just find me if you need help!” Rosie closes the door to the room and leaves you to your lonesome. It's time to clean up, you think.

Stepping into the normal looking bathroom, a bathtub greeted you, thankfully it's big enough to fit you and your broken wings. You absentmindedly fill up the tub as you think back to before you fell, trying to determine what happened to cause you to fall from heaven's graces. Nothing comes to mind and eventually the tub fills up. 

Shrugging off your ripped clothes and Alastor's coat, you sink into the water, seeping into the open wounds on your body. As much as you want to climb out the tub, it's important to rid yourself first from the golden blood and debris that cover you. You look over your whole body under the tainted water, you are covered in cuts and bruises but other than that, there's no concerning wounds to be found. Well, other than the numbing pain of your wings. Now that you think about it, your halo has been missing the whole trip. You can sense that it's there, but you cannot feel it above you, nor do you see it illuminate the room.

Maybe it's just hidden? 

As you think that, the halo starts to manifest just above you, the glow weaker and flickering just slightly as if it's a broken bulb. You frown at the sheer difference from when you were in heaven, when it was incredibly bright, the other angels would tease you for being a walking lighthouse sometimes. When you lift up your hand to touch the halo, you notice a mark on your ring finger. Looking closer, it seems like a tattoo, of two snakes twisting into something akin to chains. How odd.

A knock pulls you out from your thoughts and a voice from the other room calls out to you.

“I’ll be leaving out your clothes on the bed my dear, Rosie will come by in a moment to help you with your hair!” 

You quickly finish the bath and stumble in front of the mirror. Eyes darting to your mirrored self, you gaze upon the broken wings and dim halo, you are ashamed to see what you are now. Though you have done nothing to cause the fall, you still feel the undeserved guilt of being wrong. Ingrained to you during your time alive and dead, but you yourself know you've been good, so why berate yourself over other people's definition of good and evil?

Still, you try to will away the angelic limbs attached to you, and are successful in hiding it, leaving only red patches of burned skin on your back. Thankfully, you were able to soothe the irritated skin and patch up the area fairly well. 

You close the door behind you and check out the clothes Alastor got for you, it's similar to his in design but also suited to you. How he was able to get your size right you're not sure. Regardless, it fits you perfectly, and there's even an opening at the back for your wings, though you've already willed it away, still you appreciate the sentiment.

“Are you done honey?” a knock reverberates in the room and you answer with a ‘come in!’. Rosie does and is pleasantly surprised at the lack of wings on your back. You remember the coat left in the bathroom and grab it, shrugging it on to cover the exposed skin and bandages. 

The cannibal guides you to the vanity, starting to brush your hair.

 “So you're Al’s little angel hm? How’d he manage to catch such a cutie pie?” The woman's Boston accent grabs your attention from the various tools in front of you.

“Well… As he said earlier I’ve been assigned to him as his spouse haha…” you laugh awkwardly,”but enough about me! How about Alastor…What is he like?”

“Oh! He’s such a sweetheart! Well he is an Overlord, he eats other demons, and kills for fun, but don't you worry about that! You're his darling, he wouldn't do anything to harm you. You're in good claws sweetie.”

“Sorry, what???”

“Hm?” 

Rosie just smiles at you before finishing up your look. And might you say, looking at the mirror you look absolutely breathtaking. Coming out of the room, you find Alastor in the kitchen cooking. The smell wafting around the house is magnificent, you are reminded how hungry you are after falling from heaven.

“There you are my dear, I made some Jambalaya for you! My momma always said once I got my own cherie I should always provide for them for the rest of our days. So, expect more of this dear,” the man hums an upbeat tune as he gives you a plate of the food. 

Adorably, he wears a yellow apron that says ‘Deer-est cook’ at the front, you also notice that he had his hair up with a ribbon in a low ponytail.

You were excited to consume the meal right in front of you but then you remember where in hell you are now.

“...Did you put demon meat in the Jambalaya…?”,eyes glancing up at him, the question lingers in the air as he catches your eyes and stares back, still smiling. A few unnerving seconds pass before he answers with a ‘of course not!’

You breathe out in relief and trust your so-called ‘husband’.

Or maybe I shouldn't trust what he says, but he's still staring, what if he gets angry that I won't eat it?? Oh heavens, please forgive me.

With closed eyes, you finally bite down on the food. Praying to all things holy, hoping that you did not do anything blasphemous by accidentally eating demon meat, you find yourself pleasantly surprised at how delicious it was. You almost forget proper etiquette when you start ravenously gulping down the rest of the food. 

The demon before you chuckles in delight at the sight of you enjoying your food. As much as he would like to feed you his exotic diet, he would rather not force you to do anything you don't want to. And oh…the pleased shiver that ran down his spine at the trust you've shown him by not questioning him any further regarding the meal was truly delicious.

Dear angel… MY dear angel. How perfect you are… I'll never let you go. After all, you were made for me weren't you?

“I forgot to tell you how absolutely darling you are in that outfit! I must say I have quite the taste! Haha!” he laughs at his joke,“might I ask where your wings are? I could’ve sworn it was there when I left! Unless you cut it off? You should’ve asked me though, I’m sure your wings would be a delicacy…”

“I was able to hide it, I don’t want to be a walking target you know? An angel down in hell seems like a bad thing to be.”

“Oh don’t worry about being a target! I’ll kill whoever tries to even look at you wrongly,” crooning at you, he brushes away invisible dust on his coat, “also you may keep my coat dear, it’ll be a good way to show people that you belong to me now, that is until I can find a ring worthy enough to be worn by you!”

“I-uh thank you…” 

Crap. If I don't escape soon I'll be officially married to him. Then again…if he keeps cooking me good food I guess it won't be too bad…

With that in mind, you hope your future will be brighter than your descent to hell.

A/N GODDD THAT TOOK SO LONG. Honestly, the more people kept asking for part 2 the less inclined I was to actually make one but here I am.

That being said, I will be making more fics at my own pace. Finals is coming up so please do not expect new parts for this fic. Truth is ITS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE MULTIPLE PARTS! It was merely an idea I had while I was in an art block. Nonetheless I hope you enjoyed it :DD

(I unfortunately do not do taglists)

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Divider by @/cafekitsune

#yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader

[edenesth]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Dear Soulmate

I'm sorry it took me so long, anon! I didn't know how to approach this and was waiting for a friend to do it first🙈

For my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast💖

Choi San — soulmate au (idiots to lovers)

In a world where soulmates exist, most people discover their other halves before reaching twenty-five, you struggle to find yours, even when he had been right in front of you all along. You've witnessed those around you revelling in the bliss of finding their destined partners, all the while blindly awaiting your own.

"I cannot believe this, I'm dying alone!" you cried.

"Pooks, he'll come when the timing's right, I just know it," Eve, your closest friend and platonic soulmate, reassured you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you poured out your frustration. Despite being on the cusp of turning 26, your soulmate remained elusive.

"How did you and Hwa find each other again?" you asked, desperate for answers.

Eve sighed, "Whenever one of us gets hurt, a flower tattoo appears on the other in the same spot of their body. You know how clumsy I am, he found me through those blossoms. But each soulmate pair has their own unique connection. Haven't you felt anything special?"

See, in this world with soulmates, each pair discovers their connection in their own way. There's no universal formula, and you despised that fact vehemently. It only added unnecessary complexity to the already challenging quest for love.

Your parents had found each other through their inner voices, where their internal voices are the other's instead of their own. Your sister had found her soulmate through a compass on her body that led her to where her other half is.

And then there was you. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Absolutely nothing at all.

And as your birthday drew near this year, panic set in. You'd soon be a year older than the age when most people found their soulmates. Maybe you didn't have one, maybe he died, maybe he got aborted as a foetus, maybe—

"Woah, woah, just take a deep breath, everything will be okay," your friend reassured, trying her best to help in any way possible, "Hey, didn't you say you've been having a lot of dreams lately? And it's always that same dream?"

You blew a raspberry in frustration, "Yeah, but I doubt my recent dreams have anything to do with my soulmate, assuming I even have one. They're always about that art museum I go to on weekends. I think it's just because I spend so much time there."

She pondered for a moment, "Wait a minute, didn't you mention that San guy you always see there? What if—"

"Oh, hell no," you exclaimed, shuddering at the possibility of that annoyingly gorgeous mountain of a man being your destined lover, "I'd rather be alone forever than end up with someone like him."

It all happened on a day when you sought solace at the museum after a taxing week at school. Exhausted from dealing with incompetent classmates and antagonistic professors, you longed for a moment of peace as you approached your cherished spot in the corner. But to your dismay, you discovered an ignorant man occupying not just one seat, but the entire bench with his belongings. And not just any bench, your bench, the one everyone knew better than to occupy.

So you did the first thing that came to mind, you might have uttered some unkind words out of irritation. Looking back, you acknowledge it was all very unnecessary, considering it was likely his first visit to the museum and he clearly didn't realise it was your spot. However, your pride prevented you from admitting fault.

Consequently, he responded with equal unpleasantness. Even the museum guards had to intervene before things escalated into a fight. Like dealing with children, they persuaded both of you to share the bench since there was clearly more than enough space for two.

You adamantly refused to yield your spot and relocate, asserting your presence since you were here first. Similarly, it seemed his foolish pride prevented him from budging as well; thus, you both found yourselves locked in a silent standoff, exchanging wary glances as you engaged in a weekly silent war.

"Ugh, was hoping I wouldn't have to see your face today," San sneered, earning a glare from you as you settled down beside him. You were running slightly late, having trouble getting up after yet another frustrating dream, one slightly more annoying than usual.

Deliberately nudging his bag aside with irritation, you narrowed your eyes, "You wish, loser. This spot is mine, and it's staying that way."

He smirked in response, "Someone's in a foul mood, but then again, when are you not? Hope it's not because of that dream where your precious bench gets snatched away for good."

"Shut the hell up—"

You stopped short, a sudden realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't shared that dream with anyone, not even Eve. No one should know about it except... No freaking way. He couldn't possibly be the one you've been waiting for all this time. It seemed too absurd to be true. Why, out of all people, would fate pair you with this insufferable, infuriating, irksome yet undeniably attractive, bastard?

"Surprise, genius. It's me, your soulmate."

"I knew," he confessed, his voice carrying frustration and resignation, "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my other half. That's why I came here in the first place, why I was in this exact spot."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. All this time, he had known, yet he had still chosen to engage in your petty conflicts.

"But when I met you," he continued, "I was excited, hopeful even. But your attitude, your stubbornness... it's unbearable. As much as I feel the pull towards you, I can't ignore how immensely annoyed I am by your behaviour."

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

"I know that if I had a choice in who my soulmate is," he admitted, his gaze intense, "it would never be you."

After a moment of processing his words, you gritted your teeth in anger, "Well, joke's on you, buddy. I don't want you either. Maybe it would be best for both of us if you stop showing up here from now on."

Days turned into weeks, and true to your request, San ceased his visits to the museum. At first, you felt a strange sense of relief, but soon, that relief morphed into a tumult of conflicting emotions.

You didn't know how to feel. Did you truly mean what you said, or were those words simply born out of anger? Your emotions were a tangled mess. On one hand, you had just turned away your soulmate after yearning for his presence for so long. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the resentment that it had to be him, of all people. Part of you longed to be near him, to reconcile and embrace your destiny. But another part recoiled at the thought, recoiled at the frustration his presence brought.

Unbeknownst to you, San wasn't doing much better. His heart felt hollow, the absence of your presence leaving a gaping void. He tried to carry on with his life as before, but the weight of your rejection hung heavy on his shoulders. But his pride also kept him from reaching out to you.

He suppressed the pull towards you, buried it beneath layers of denial and indifference. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, your essence lingered in his dreams, haunting him with visions of what could have been.

Then, one day, fate intervened in a way neither of you could have predicted. You fell ill with food poisoning and ended up in the hospital. In a panic, San saw it in his dream, a vision of you lying pale and weak in a hospital bed. Without hesitation, he raced to your side, his heart pounding with fear. As he stood in the hospital room, watching over you, he realised the depth of his feelings. Despite everything, he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You were his soulmate, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected appearance, "What the hell are you doing here? Who invited you?"

His heart sank at your coldness, but before he could form a response, Eve intervened, giving you a playful smack on the shoulder, "Stop it, you! He came all this way, and you're still going to be mean to him?" Turning to San with a warm smile, she continued, "You must be San! I'm Eve, her best friend. It's nice to finally meet you. Oh, and please don't take her words to heart. She likes to pretend as if she hadn't been dying to see you again."

Blushing furiously at her blunt revelation, you shot her a glare, but she simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Behave yourself. I'll be back shortly after settling the bill with Hwa," she said, brushing past San. As she passed him, she gave a polite nod, "Please take care of her for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Eve," he replied, nodding in return.

As soon as your friend left the room, he took a step closer, his tone serious, "Listen, I'm tired of playing games. I came here because I realised I can't bear to lose you again. So, tell me if you feel the same right now. If you still want me gone, I'll leave and never show my face around you ever again."

His words struck a chord, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He couldn't resist the pull any longer, sitting down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you. Relief flooded through him as he felt you relax in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you again either. I'm sorry I was an idiot," you whispered.

"You should be," he teased, planting a kiss on your hair, "But I'm sorry too. Perhaps I should have told you who I was from the start. Let's just... not say things we don't mean and hurt each other again, okay?"

You nodded, squeezing him tightly, "Okay, Sannie."

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

#edenesth #lovely asks #my pookie #itstheghostofmypast #ateez fanfiction #choi san #ateez san #soulmate au #choi san x reader #choi san x you

[mayuichi]

“Oh, you're still here ?„

Arlecchino x Reader. No warnings!

note: aaaaaAAAAAAA that one isn't as good as the others but my brain ran out

Official art from Hoyoverse!

A child comes to you, handing you a card orned with drawings of trees and snowmen. “Look! That's my wishes to Santa!„ a smile creeps on your face and a chuckle escapes you. You carefully grab the card to read what the child had written.

“Dear Santa! I hope on Christmas we can all play together and that Father will be home with us!„ your heart warms up at the sweet words. You know every children in the orphanage hold Arlecchino dearly in their heart. After all, she saved their lives.

You hand back his card and gently pat his head. “That is a lovely wish you have made. I'm sure Father will be home to spend some time with you.„

You could feel an hesitant tug at your sleeve. A little girl looks up at you with big puppy eyes. “I... I don't know what to write on my card...„ she shyly admits. You chuckle quietly and take her hand to guide her to the nearest table.

Helping that poor child, you yourself hope your wife will manage to get home to spend time with you, but you'd understand if she can't. After all, being an Harbinger isn't an easy task now, is it?

You already met Pierro once, and Archons, you felt so tiny and vulnerable, as if he could crush you at any moment. You almost met all the other Harbingers in fact, beside Dottore. Arlecchino always forbids you to, she doesn't want this sick twisted doctor to try anything funny with you.

Once every children finished their cards, you gesture them to come over and give it to them. “I'll go deliver them to Santa~!„ is the plan, but you know that it isn't the case. You'll keep it to yourself and try to make their wishes come true, as best as you can.

You aren't actually working in the House of the Hearth, but since you are Arlecchino's partner... You are allowed to come and go as you please as long as you don't do any harm to the children.

As the last kid hands you his card, he takes your hand in his, pleading eyes. “Could you make Father do a card too ? It'd be nice!„ the others' eyes shine with stars at the thought. “I will.„ you promise, not even knowing if she'll come home, and that even if she does... How the fuck are you going to do it?

Anyway, it's only three days after that while you're chilling in your quarters, or more likely - Arlecchino's quarters -, reading a book, you hear the door shut close and her figure walking closer.

“Oh, you're still here ?„ she glances at you, tossing aside her jacket. “I thought you would've been to your house.„ stepping closer, she leans against the desk, taking the book from your hands.

“Still reading Princess Mina of the Fallen Nation? Wasn't it what you started when I left?„ she questions. Well, that is true that you're taking a while to read it, but... “I have been busy around the orphanage...„

Raising an eyebrow with a smirk, she places back down the book, “Oh, really ? How so?„ her voice drips with malice. It gives you butterflies. Your cheeks take a soft pink tint. “I helped with the children, of course... I tried to keep them entertained.„

She loves the idea of you taking care of a kid, that's a fact. Her hand reaches to the side of your neck, and you slightly jump at her sudden touch. “... Such a scaredy kitty. What have you done with the children? I hope they haven't caused any trouble.„

You quickly dismiss her words - or somehow worries - “No, no of course not! They are adorable!„ she chuckles, cupping your cheek, caressing it with her thumb while being careful to not hurt you with her nails. “Since it's soon Christmas, I.. I made them do some Christmas cards.„

Her eyes close, seemingly in thought, and she sits on the table. “Christmas cards, huh... What a stupid thing. How can it be useful?„ she opens her eyes once again, letting them bore into yours. “It isn't specifically useful but... It made them happy to do it, so I wouldn't call it stupid.„

“No, it's true. It isn't stupid. It is just very childish, and it doesn't surprise me from you.„ she teases, creeping closer to press a kiss over your nose. “I bet they love you.„ you nod. You couldn't deny what's true.

“They do, but they love you too. And they miss their Father.„ her eyes widen slightly in surprise, a deep chuckle leaving her lips. “Is that so... I am glad they recognize to who they owe something.„

You roll your eyes at her words. Suddenly, you feel yourself lifted, and pinned down to the bed. “However, I missed you the most. Would you be so nice to let me engulf into you again?„ she asks, but you know it isn't a question. It's an order.

“Wait...! The children want you to do a card too..!„ she shakes her head, “Not now. Right now I need to be with you. So anything else isn't important.„

She doesn't leave any room for argument. Her lips collapse against your in a fervent and hurried kiss. She claims your lips for the first time of the night, but clearly not the last. You are definitely in for a very long night.

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not repost, copy or translate without permission.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin impact arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #x reader #/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ's writing

[sotwk]

can you tell us more about the celebrations and dances in the Woodland Realm 🥺 (plus extra related headcanons regarding the 5 princes 😁 like what are their favorite celebrations? favorite dances/dance moves? dance styles?)

What an awesome question, dear Anon! In regards to the celebrations in the Woodland Realm: there are SO MANY of them, in my worldbuilding headcanon, at least! Feasting is such a major part of the Silvan/Woodland Elves' culture that I must take the time to write separate posts describing each one. Mereth Nuin Giliath is the one movie creation, but I have several of my own to add.

For now, while I work on those, I hope you don't mind if I offer you some general headcanons about dancing in the Greenwood culture, and describe in particular (as you requested) the customs and preferences of the Thranduilion Princes.

Dance Culture of the Greenwood Elves

Silvan Elves love to dance. Along with singing, dancing is an art form highly valued in their culture long before the Sindar arrived to assimilate with them.

Silvan styles of dancing are primarily informal and done in large groups during community gatherings. They are joyful, vigorous, and incorporate skills in jumping, spinning, and various acrobatic feats. Such dances are done in lines or circles and require no partners. All participants perform generally the same movements, which are learned organically and usually passed down as traditions to the succeeding generations.

Many folk dances involve the use of "props" or objects that vary according to the function of the dance and the season or festival.

For example, spring dances have scarves or floral crowns, summer dances are done with more acrobatics and less clothing, fall dances integrate baskets and food, and winter dances use lanterns.

Every celebration or feast in the Woodland Realm includes dancing--no exceptions. Needless to say, every elf in Greenwood knows how to dance. It is considered a basic and necessary life skill.

Partner or "social" dances were first introduced by the Sindar Elves towards the middle of the Second Age, but they did not gain much popularity until the arrival of Prince Thranduil's betrothed, Lady Maereth.

At the betrothal celebration of Thranduil and Maereth, they danced with each other in front of the gathered guests (a form of the waltz), and this was the first demonstration of dance as a romantic activity, extending its function in Greenwood society as a part of the courting ritual.

Balls devoted entirely to social (i.e. partner) dancing became popular in the early Third Age. At these events, attendees can dance with their established partners, but balls also provide unmarried Elves chances to closely socialize with each other, with or without romantic intent.

Greenwood balls are considered formal, invitation-only events. They are typically held indoors and usually hosted by the Royal Family. Many times, they include guests from other realms.

The biggest annual ball is held at the palace in the wintertime, as the culmination of the season's main festival.

Attendees are not expected or required to come to any ball with an escort or partner.

The King and Queen dance with each other once to start the celebration, and then spend the rest of the evening dancing with other attendees. The same is practiced by their children; a married prince (i.e. Mirion, after he married Itarilde) has the first dance with his spouse and then is expected to give the rest of his dances to other partners.

Within the first millennium of the Third Age, other styles of dance were introduced by the royal family to Greenwood society as a result of their travels and dealings with other kingdoms and races.

Dancing with the Princes of Greenwood

Thranduil's sons may be of Sindar and Noldor blood, but due to their upbringing and the culture they embraced, they consider themselves Silvan.

Like all Silvan children, the princes learned to dance as soon as they could walk. Not only do they all have a natural talent for it (inborn athleticism and musicality certainly helps), but it is something they all genuinely enjoy doing.

Feasting with the people of Greenwood is something the royal family does regularly. There is no class separation at feasts, so the king, queen, and princes have no special seats or places; they dine and dance with their subjects for the entire celebration.

At most gatherings, dancing is still done in groups. But for balls or certain dances that require a partner, the princes may invite anybody to dance with them.

It is also perfectly acceptable for maidens to approach the princes and ask them to dance. (There is no expectation among the Greenwood Elves that the males have to ask the females.)

The social etiquette for the princes at balls is stricter than it is for their guests/regular attendees.

Public celebrations or balls are not opportunities for the princes to "bring a date"; those must be done privately, on their personal time.

It is understood that every ball hosted or attended by the Thranduilions comes with their willingness to dance with anyone who might ask them.

Protocol calls for the princes to dance with as many different partners as possible, and to avoid "doubling up" or attaching themselves to one person for the entire celebration.

Giving noticeably extra time, favor, or attention to one specific person is frowned upon and seen as rude to the other guests.

The Thranduilions embrace this as one of their social duties as princes of the realm. Between the five of them, over the centuries, it could be said that every single maiden in the realm has danced with at least one of the Princes of Greenwood. Many maidens could even claim to have danced with all of them, multiple times.

Bonus: The Thranduilions' Favorites

The most popular and most requested dance partner among Thranduil's sons is Crown Prince Mirion. This is likely due to his reputation for being a most gracious and amiable companion; he is also greatly admired and loved by his people, who consider it an honor just to spend any time with him.

Mirion is the most practiced at ball dances, and with his sociable nature, he enjoys this style and the traditions it involves the best.

Turhir favors partner dances over community dancing, since he finds group dances "chaotic" at times. He likes being able to spend one-on-one time with people, which surprises those who don't know him well and misjudge him as "stern" and "distant".

Arvellas is always eager to learn new dances, especially from other places and cultures. Although an excellent dancer, he much prefers to be taught or to mimic movements instead of coming up with his own.

Gelir is not much for slower dances (and likes the restrictiveness of ball dances the least), but he would be the first to jump into a dance line or circle--the louder the music, the wilder the style, and the more people involved, the better.

Legolas is the one most likely to create new moves and dance variations of his own, and more often than not, it will involve some sort of showy acrobatics.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @asianbutnotjapanese @ratsys @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @lathalea @heranintomyknife23times @heilith @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @konartiste @g-m-kaye

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk answers #sotwk headcanon #mirkwood #thranduil #thranduilion #sotwk oc #thranduil headcanon #legolas #legolas headcanon #greenwood the great #woodland realm #tolkien #the hobbit #lotr

[sitp-recs]

15 fics with Militant Harry

I don’t know you guys but I’m equally soft for recluse!Harry and for militant!Harry. Maybe because I’m a sucker for political fics? Truth is, seeing Harry get involved can be so thrilling and inspiring. He doesn’t need to be attached to the Ministry to care about people - I love it when he’s doing the good deed behind the scenes, dismantling corruption while on the run, funding charities or unapologetically using his fame and voice to leverage better policies for those who are marginalized. That’s such a beautiful and powerful Harry trope imo, and the best thing is that in many of the fics I highlight below, Draco either seduces him into joining the revolution, or is there to inspire and help him along the way. Talk about a power couple! I hope you all enjoy these as much as I did ♥️

A Little Death Never Hurt Anyone by @tackytigerfic (E, 4k)

Harry's getting good at slipping through the Veil. He's determined to win the war, even if means he has to raise the dead to do it. Draco just wants a stiff drink and a good night's sleep.

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k)

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon by @the-starryknight (M, 16k)

The Ministry didn’t turn bad overnight. Harry didn’t suddenly turn rogue either. Between covert Legilimency links and Polyjuice disguises and running and running and running, Draco has forgotten what it is like to have a safe harbor that isn’t a person. If there’s an art to fighting back, then they’ll find it hand in hand.

Vortex by @xanthippe74 (T, 20k)

Ten years after that conversation, the idea of perfectly-matched soulmates feels more like a curse than a blessing to Draco. Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (T, 26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works. Choosing to lead it in Muggle Brixton comes with its own set of challenges, including Malfoys in the biscuit aisle.

The Nobility of Ascent by Lomonaaeren (E, 27k)

Not even his own fame and power are enough to get the Wizengamot to pass laws protecting Muggleborn and orphaned children, so Harry swallows his pride and goes to Draco Malfoy, who can teach him how to convince the prejudiced old bastards to listen to him. And Malfoy hasn’t even named a price. Which…concerns Harry, but he’s found a cause worth living for. And maybe someone, too.

Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by @writcraft (E, 65k)

Draco is lonely, Harry hates the press and it won’t stop raining in London. Harry discovers a magical street that’s close to disappearing forever and Draco realises he’s one rainy night in Soho away from finding everything he’s been searching for.

A Young Radical's Guide to Love by @blamebrampton (T, 66k)

Memories of the war are still fresh, which is all the excuse Decent People need to do appalling things. In this quietly waged conflict, Draco Malfoy is happy to be on the right side of things for once, and even happier to find he’s not alone.

Dear Enemy by GingerTodgers (T, 69k)

An anonymous benefactor makes a generous donation to Harry Potter's School for Squibs in exchange for a weekly letter from the Boy Who Lived. What begins as a chore soon becomes the only outlet Harry has to talk about the war, love, life, hope, redemption, his renewed obsession with a certain blonde nemesis and how he really, honestly, believes that this will be the year Puddlemere United reclaim the Quidditch League Cup.

Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love by @aibidil (E, 80k)

In which a group of wizards' rights activists goes on the offensive after a prohibition against love potions, forcing the magical world to confront the horror of magic's role in sexual assault and the murky legal nature of consent. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Draco are swept together to solve the case, and in the process they're made to confront their own love and lust—with and without potions.

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (E, 100k)

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

#Sitp recs #Drarry reclist #militant Harry #hbd Harry week

[mrs-snape5984]

“Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear…”

“To think I might not see those eyes, it makes it so hard not to cry. And as we say our long goodbyes, I nearly do…” (“Run” by Snow Patrol)

I guess, I have to flag this post with a trigger warning for some mentions of suicidal thoughts. Please skip the following three short paragraphs, if this might be hurting you. I’m sorry for that.

Since my condition is worsening, due to this goddamn bitch of a disease ME/CFS, my thoughts keep on wandering to some darker places…searching for a way out of this hell. And even though I’m telling myself, that I won’t leave my three children behind, I caught myself preparing for the final step.

Within the last two years, I’ve lost more and more of my freedom…my friends…my regular life…and myself. What’s left, is a life in darkness and solitude. Lying in bed day in, day out…struggling with pain and suffering from the increasing symptoms of this illness. Slowly wasting away…

I’ve set myself a limit…a point, in which I won’t endure the dilapidation of my body and mind any further. I don’t know, when this point of no return will come…but my limit is fixated.

In the course of these mental preparations, I’ve done something, which I deeply regret. I’ve told my closest friends…those, whom I love with all my heart…about these arrangements. As soon as I heard, that I’ve broken their heart with my wishes, I knew, that I’ve made a mistake….and I’m terribly sorry for that.

I’ve commissioned my friend @opalchalice for this beautiful piece of art, which shows my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules, consoling her husband Severus after unveiling exactly these preliminary arrangements, which I’ve mentioned to my friends, to him.

Well, as some of you know, I’m projecting my personal experiences onto the stories, I’m writing, as well as onto the artworks, I’m requesting from these talented and compassionate artists of our beloved Snapedom. So, this drawing shall be my apology to the friends, whom I might have offended and hurt with my thoughts and wishes. Please don’t forget, that I love you…and feel free to express your own boundaries towards me, whenever I’m going too far! I never meant to hurt your feelings…and I’m honestly sorry, that I already did.

Lia, I’m beyond grateful for your help to manifest my apologies and my attempt of consolation in your divine illustration. Please, don’t ever doubt your talent, my dear. I’m a sucker for your art and I will support you as long as I’m strong enough to go online for some time, no matter how restricted my abilities to bear screen time will be. Believe in yourself…because I do! You’re a true artist and a gem of a human being and my heart is filled with gratitude, that I was allowed to meet you here.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

#Severus x Julia #Sevy x Jules #Severus x OC #i’m so sorry #but i’m so tired #fuck me/cfs #commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism #this is my red carpet for all the artists of snape fandom #severus snape #i love severus #i love snape #snape #pro snape #snape love #pro severus snape #snape content #severus snape art #snart #snape art #mecfs #severus snape fan art #severus fanart #fanart severus snape #severus snape fandom #snapedom #snapedom is our safe space #i would protect him with my life #writing is my coping mechanism #tw suicidality #severus snape fanart

[fantasy-relax]

Brain rot about Cassandra

End. Warning: Violence

Kill the Stans the fuckers deserve it

Burn alcina art room again

Tell alcina that good parents keep their children away from dangerous cults, you stupid bitch.

"Rebehka? I heard something fa-"

The bat reached its target with deadly speed, in practiced motion you raised it again and again until the body stopped moving, until the skull gave in to the violence to which it was subjected.

Something hit you in the face, breaking your nose and knocking you away from the body. It seems Rebecca had come home from her tennis practice.

"RAMERA, IMBÉCIL..."

Ignoring her voice and the pain you blocked the next blow with your bat and with a low kick you knocked her down, without giving her time you swung the bat against her head until you finished off the last inhabitant of the room.

You threw the bat and your blood-filled jacket to the ground. You looked at the clock on the wall, it was an hour before Alcina arrived to check on her private room.

You walked away leaving a mess behind you. Leaving a part of you.

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

Seeing how the fire reacted with the materials was a spectacle in itself. Some burned quickly, others took their time, and a few exploded.

Those were the funniest.

Normally doing this would fill you with satisfaction, destroying the art that Alcina loved so much filled your chest with happiness, now you only feel grotesque fury.

Why did Cassandra get to that point?

You knew the answer.

She had sacrificed her family.

All the birthdays, all the events, all the moments, everything she had lost and put aside in search of fame. It would all be in vain if she didn't become the next celebrity.

Her anxiety and sleep deprivation affected her psyche more than she admitted or could understand.

Her poor relationship with her sisters deprived her of emotional support. In her mind it was just her against the world, just her and her mother.

Alcina who was the one who put those ideas in her mind in the first place, who separated her from her sisters, who denied her the childhood and proper care that she needed to grow up healthily.

Alcina who instead of giving her support and comfort to keep going through the whole fiasco that happened out of her control. She made her believe that there was no other way out, that there was no point in trying, that her image was forever stained and that nothing would clean it up.

But of course mom had the solution.

Alcina had seen the weak and vulnerable state her closest daughter was in and she decided that she had not sacrificed enough yet.

Now your dear little star had to sacrifice her humanity.

And she did it.

Blinded by her fears, she followed the hand that she always held.

And stain hers with your blood.

And how could you blame her?

You heard a sorrowful whisper in your head, the voice of a ghost that you couldn't clearly understand.

Why were you always betrayed by the one you loved?

You didn't know what it was saying, however it fueled the fire in your chest.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?"

Instead of responding you burst out laughing. There was really nothing that warranted it, you just wanted to get on her nerves.

"SCUMUL TĂU MURDAR!"

She grabbed you by the neck to slam you against the wall, you gasped in pain however you didn't stop laughing.

When she came closer to throw you again your voice was full of fury and indignation for your Juliet trapped in a tragic play written by her own mother.

"Good mothers don't let their daughters get involved in cults, you stupid bitch"

She stopped

"Good mothers do not destroy their daughters' self-esteem and sense of being"

A growl and a kick to your stomach.

"Good mothers do not indoctrinate their daughters to believe that their love is conditional"

A hand held your head to soon hit it against the ground, despite the disorientation and pain you looked at her straight in the eyes.

"But you don't even reach to be a mother"

Grabbing your leg she threw you against the wall again. You laughed breathlessly.

"Right, Alcina?" You remarked the last word, her name.

Her hands surrounded your neck to suffocate you, you spit blood in her face without stopping your smile full of mockery and spite.

She ended up breaking your neck.

#resident lover #alcina dimitrescu #my shithead mc

[ahomeforwisters]

ava gift exchange 2023! 🎄🥳

it's here! happy holidays, lulw (@tdlad), hope you're having a good one! this isn't a piece of visual art since i don’t have the tools to create one, so you get a dr. seuss-inspired fic + a part of a fic i might finish later!

due to irl events, i had to rush these a bit, but i hope you enjoy it either way :) have a wonderful winter (or summer, depending on where you are) week, and happy (early) new year! *gives gingerbread cookie*

(prompt: i tried to combine elements from all three, but i focused on “the dark lord with red coat (that tdl in my posts)” specifically—your art is just gorgeous, btw!)

word count: ~1400 for the first one/the dr. suess-y one, ~1320 (and counting?) for the second one/the unfinished one

(and special thanks to @avagiftexchange for hosting this!)

Fic 1: How the Grinch Dark Lord Stole Christmas (or: dark's christmas cake romp)

Every stick in Stick City, near the end of the year, Every stick in Stick City brimmed with holiday cheer…

But! The Dark Lord, who’s not far from here, Who lived in the wintry woods quite near— The Dark Lord held Christmas even more dear!

~-~

The Dark Lord loved Christmas, this is no bluff, And you’d best believe it, he just can’t get enough! Was it because he enjoyed the sound of children laughing clear, Or did he simply have a particular liking for reindeer? Well I’ll tell you his secret, his reason for this: He really, really liked log cakes, they fill him with bliss.

“Christmas awaits, on the very next day, Christmas really is just a day away!”

But, From his perch in the woods, Watching the stars from where he stood, With hungry eyes and vibrant ardor, With the growing desire for Christmas he harbors, (and a craving for frosting he just can’t ignore), The Dark Lord knew: he needed more!

He needed more of all that Christmas had in store! And he will get more, he swore, He’ll claim even more of Christmas, ‘twas his right as a Lord!

But—how? Christmas is already drawing so near, Soon enough, Christmas will practically already be here! He needed more time, and he needed… a plan! A plan to put Christmas in the palm of his hand.

So The Dark Lord schemed, And he schemed, and he schemed, And he conjured a scheme, A terrible scheme!

“A-ha! I’ve got a brilliant idea!”

Dark cackled, a sound from deep in his throat, As he pulled from his closet his most dapper red coat. “They’ll never see me coming, even from the skies, “So long as I craft myself a most clever disguise!”

So he lined his coat with cotton, like Santa’s coat proper, Just as into the room, his friend Chosen entered— “Look, dearest Chosen, I’ve come up with a plan, “A plan to seize Christmas in the palm of my hand!”

Dear Chosen deadpanned, “Why are you talking like that,” And right after, he inquired, what about your silly Santa’s hat?

“No I didn’t—”

“Right here! I believe my night cap is sufficient,” Dark proclaimed, wearing the hat over his ears. “Now I only need a reindeer…”

But around this area, their part of the woods here, This much Dark knew: you wouldn’t find any deer! But was Dark deterred…? No! He said, “If I can’t find a deer, I’ll just make one instead!”

“...What do you think you’re doing with that big red nose.”

…And Dark ended up sticking the nose and antlers on his one last Virabot instead!

And so, with his little red cap on his hollow red head, And his feet firmly planted in his makeshift sled— He took with him a burlap sack, Which he then hoisted upon his back— He yelled, “Onward!” just before he took flight, Off to steal Christmas, he disappeared into the night!

~-~

Back on the ground, Chosen gazed down at the cardboard box—sorry, at the sled—Dark left behind. He stared at the confused Virabot, wearing an antler headband and sporting a red clown nose glued to its face, and sighed. “This is so stupid…”

~-~

A jaunty holiday tune played from an open Chrome window, But not a sound could be heard coming from inside their homes. He was here at last, and at the perfect time, too— They must all be in their beds, dreaming away without a clue! “Now to enact my plan…”

So he climbed down the chimney, one crafted from brick, It wasn’t too tight a fit, for he was literally a stick. Though he did get stuck once, or twice, maybe thrice— And he cursed his head, loudly, for it was massive in size. “Ow—seriously, who makes chimneys this small—”

“Second, is that you?”

Just as Dark managed to extricate himself, finally, Free from the clutches of that dastardly chimney— He came face-to-face with his first obstacle: Little Cindy-Blue Who, carrying fruits in a bowl.

“Wha… Little Cindy-Blue who?”

That’s right! Little Cindy-Blue Who, probably much older than two, Who… was actually awake at this time? But it’s two (a.m.)!

“Oh, no, we don’t actually sleep. Like at all. Except Second, sometimes, but he’s off doing his own thing right now. But uhh, anyways, hi, Dark Lord! What—what’s up? And why are you dressed like…”

And oh, there was a cautious glint in his eyes— He was nervous! But there was no need for such fright, Not if Dark wanted his plan to go without a hitch. So Dark would assure him, and explain his impromptu visit:

“You see, sweet youth—you see, the job of Santy, “Is to stock up your stockings, and fill them aplenty! “So that’s what I’m here for—but not you, my dear, “For this gift’s a surprise, so I can’t have you near.”

And the lie rolled cleanly off The Dark Lord’s tongue, For he was clever, and sure to fool the young. And surely enough, Cindy-Blue Who was nodding, Raring and ready to hurry back to bed a-plodding. You’re right, Santa Dark, he joyfully exclaimed, I’ll head right back to bed now! With a turn and a wave.

“What? But I didn’t say anythi—”

And so, with his burlap sack swinging, And with Cindy-Blue assuaged, standing there beaming— “Hey, don’t—get back here…!” The Dark Lord marched onward, his first obstacle cleared!

…only to find four more, all waiting at the door!

(…crap)

Ahem—what a surprise! The Dark Lord gasped, He can’t believe his eyes, ‘twas something he almost couldn’t grasp— What a sight, that they’d all come to greet him so, How happy they must be, to all rush out and greet him so!

“Hey uhh… what’s he saying?”

‘What’s he saying?’ They’re asking what game he’s playing! They ask why he’s here, and on what he was preying. But! faced with a barrier of four— Now five, as Cindy-Blue Who, panting, adds one more… They all block his path to the far kitchen door, But has this ever stopped The Dark Lord before? No!

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Cindy-Blue called when Dark showed no signs of slowing.

“Why’d you come here all of a sudden?” Said the yellow, placing a hand on his chin.

“The Cindy-blue-what now?” Slowly asked the red fellow.

“And what’s with the getup?” Queried Green, looking him from the toes up.

“Oh, Chosen told me he and Dark recently discovered these popular picture books. And ever since then, Dark’s been narrating everything he does in rhyme.”

“Ah, is that why he’s talking like that?” Yellow asked, eyeing his little Santa’s hat.

“That’s actually kind of impressive,” Remarked Green, who’s usually quite quick to forgive.

“Ooh, try rhyming something with orange!” Red said as Cindy-Blue stood next to Orange.

“Please stop calling me that, I don’t even know what it means,” Groaned Cindy-Blue Who, beside a laughing Green.

“Hey guys, Chosen texted me again just now—apparently Dark is here trying to ‘steal Christmas’ from us—which really just means he wants our log cakes.”

(goddammit Chosen you traitor)

“Wait, that’s it? That’s what that devious plan he was cackling about is?”

“I mean, Blue could always just make another cake. You could’ve just asked if you wanted one.”

“Yeah, and you’re… kind of really bad at sneaking? We could hear you narrating really loudly as soon as you got here.”

“And cursing out Orange’s chimney, too. Geez, that was vulgar…”

“Well,” with a flourish, the orange stick gestures, Towards the kitchen, where Dark had been hoping to plunder. “We’ve got some cake, if you want it. Next time just let us know you’re coming before you tear a portal through our wifi. And maybe keep your visits during the daytime, or at least don’t come crawling down my chimney past midnight…”

What was this? Could it be—no, it simply couldn’t be… But it was! “They’ll stand here and hand Christmas—to me?” For ‘twas the season of giving, of gifts freely given, Of gingerbread, batter, and cakes in the kitchen.

And there Dark stood and pondered, and pondered, and pondered, ‘Til a bright thought struck him! One that filled him with wonder: Could it be, then, that Christmas was not for the taking, But for shared cheer and laughs and all that in the making?

“Oh, for Adobe’s—just sit down and have some log cake.” And, well— ‘Twas simply an offer Dark cannot forsake.

- the end -

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

Fic 2: i don't actually have a name for it yet, but i think i'll call it thaw for now

Christmas. ‘Twas a time of joyous laughter and warm embraces, of fireside affections and wintry escapades. ‘Twas the season of giving, be it presents or sweets or even the simplest of smiles—‘twas a time when even the little things, when given to another, are made infinitely precious.

Christmas. ‘Twas an absolutely perplexing holiday, for a stick such as The Dark Lord—and ‘twas a completely pointless one, too, as far as Dark was concerned.

Yet, when a pair of glittery red envelopes arrived at the doorstep of his and Chosen’s cabin in the woods—and when he opened one of them up to find an invitation inside, filigreed in gold and writ upon with a blue gel pen (in rather shaky handwriting, he noticed)—he didn’t immediately turn it to ash. He regarded it for longer than he normally would’ve, longer than he should’ve, turning it this way and that under the light—‘You’re invited!’, it winked up at him. If he didn’t know better just how sappy the animator’s favorite and his friends can be, he would’ve thought this was some kind of taunt.

(“You’re invited!”? who in their right minds would want to invite The Dark Lord, the outernet’s worst cyber-criminal, to something as mundane—as warm alien pointless—as a holiday gathering?)

While he was still winning gots nose at the gaudy invitation, the only other stick around for miles appeared in his periphery—Chosen picked up an envelope, too, when he saw what Dark was studying at the doorway. Dark almost hadn’t noticed when his fr… when his roommate had snuck up behind him, his pronounced footfalls doing little to breach the chasm between them; it was all he could do to stop himself from launching a fireball at Chosen as soon as the latter reached past him (he hadn’t forgotten how well that’d gone for him the last time…) 

Clumsily, fumbling with it once or twice, Chosen peeled at the envelope. His invitation was inked in orange instead of blue, littered with tiny scribbled drawings, and written in much neater script, too. Dark couldn’t catch the rest; Chosen always stood with his feet angled toward him these days, so his invitation turned away from view. That, and he’d moved a few paces away from the doorway—and Dark wasn’t interested anyway, he wasn’t. Pointless, he told himself again, it was such a pointless gesture. It was something he didn’t need—The Dark Lord had better things to do, had more important things to do, than to entertain something as small and banal as a Christmas party—it was a pointless affair, that was all it was.

(and yet.)

And yet. Dark wouldn’t be able to say what possessed him to do it; if it was sheer curiosity, a part of him balking at his own degrading wonder—or if it was when Chosen’s fingers tightened their hold on his invitation, carving minute creases into the paper,

and when the other stick’s eyes crinkled, just barely, in tender longing silent laughter only Dark would recognize—when those eyes finally met his, carrying a question and a spark Dark hadn’t seen in so long—he couldn’t find it within him to say no.

(it was Chosen’s idea, he would say later—it was all his roommate’s fault, the first and last person to extend their hand to him, that he was crashing their little party. he hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t needed it—he didn’t need this, he didn’t.)

~-~

If he was being honest—Dark really didn’t have anything better to do than to attend the party.

Ever since he was blasted to kingdom come by the animator’s favorite, ever since a battered Chosen had found him at the foot of a volcano and hauled his near-corpse all the way back to their cabin—in the months since, he’d seldom left their secluded area in the woods to do anything more than take a short walk. His shoulder still smarted from the hole that’d been blown through it, his skin etched with throbbing green scars all over—he couldn’t travel far beyond the bounds of the woods without wilting, robbed of breath. Needless to say, his heydays of ash and destruction were far behind him.

(and even if all his progress hadn’t been deleted, rendered void when Chosen destroyed the rest of his virabots following the “incident”—these days, looking at the place where he’d once stood tapping away at his computer, believing himself the inheritor of a grander purpose than the one dealt to him by the animator—it left an sour taste in his mouth.)

In his current condition, even petty theft seemed beyond his capabilities. Which was going to be a problem, he realized, when he turned to the back of the invitation and saw the damning first rule of the party written in a bold green: “Come in a costume! No costume, NO ENTRY.”

Well, in the state he was in, he wasn’t going to be pulling any heists anytime soon, not even on cheap outfitters—and he doubted any store would simply let a notorious cyber-criminal waltz into their establishment, even just to look around. That left him with only two options: either go through his own closets, or brave Chosen’s minefield of a room to rifle through his. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. 

With practiced ease (and only slightly impeded by his still-healing injuries), Dark picked his way past piles of lightly-charred sweaters, discarded bandages, random knick knacks collecting dust over the years, a self-sustaining tornado of trash—all the way across his roommate’s bedroom to reach the far end where the closets were. While Dark considered his fashion sense to be impeccable, none of his clothes really screamed “festive.” It was all something along the lines of “looks like he could kill you” or “warning: would actually kill you.” Chosen’s taste in clothes, on the other hand, was more… eclectic. There was more variety; he’d probably have a better chance finding something acceptable to wear here than in his own wardrobe.

Dark threw open the leftmost closet, a mahogany behemoth with the price sticker still slapped on the left door, and oh, that was—what even was that? No, those pants were too long, and the pair beside them the wrong shade of green—and oh, that’s garish, why did he even think to nab this? What is this even supposed to be, a mop? Or some kind of shawl? That color is way too bright to ever belong on a shirt, that shirt is a visual safety hazard. And what—why aren’t these socks the same, where’s the other one in the pair? None of these socks are the same—is that a pair of googly eyes—

Dark shut the closet door. He should’ve expected this, really; he’d witnessed the affront to fashion that was Chosen’s wardrobe thousands of times before, whenever they had to disguise themselves to go into the city. The two other closets wouldn’t be much better, he knew, but just as he was turning to head back toward the door—had that box always been there?

Tucked away into the corner of the room was a small cardboard box, a little tattered and stained in several spots from years of disuse but otherwise appearing untouched by the surrounding mess. As an expert at navigating Chosen’s room, Dark knew for certain it hadn’t been there the last time he was here (just over three months ago. he’d been scrounging for one of the aprons he’d left in Chosen’s room; it feels like it’s been forever since then.)

It took only a short hop for Dark to reach it. The next second, he was kneeling down in front of it, carefully lifting the top flaps—and sure, maybe a part of him was prodding at him, telling him whatever was in there was probably stashed away in the corner for a reason, reminding him that things are different now, the space between you and him, it’s different now—but that hadn’t ever stopped Dark before

(aaand that's all i have for this second one for now. i'll probs post the rest on ao3 or something if i finish this, but i'll def let you know!)

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

but yeah, anywho, that's all—have a wonderful holiday season! :)

#ava gift exchange #ava gift exchange 2023 #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #alan becker #ava tco #ava tdl #avm tsc #avm green #avm blue #avm red #avm yellow #for the first fic i just wanted to write dark being a goof #while the second was more character-studyish #anywho #it's here! gift exchange! :D

[tamayosclinic]

Hello dear ! Thank u a lot for all the things u write, I love them all so much !! I saw that ur requests are open so here I am with one ! Can I request a nsfw fic of enmu x female demon reader having vanilla sex ? Just smth full of love and affection. Thank u so much and have a nice day !

In the Last Train Car | Enmu x F!Reader

Warning(s): Smut, Semi-public sex, Cumshot, Short implication to pain kink, Cowgirl position

Author's Note(s): I kinda strayed from the vanilla sex momentarily with the pain kink implication, but I caught myself before I could go further. Enjoy.

Word Count: 493

If this was a dream, Enmu did not want to wake up. (Y/n) seemed to share the same sentiment judging by the lustful gaze she gave him as she ground herself on his cock. Her breasts bounced with each motion, and she could see Enmu’s eyes follow the movement. 

“Don’t be shy. You can touch me,” (Y/n) guides his hand to her breasts for him to fondle. Enmu’s free hand wraps around (Y/n) ’s shoulder and brings her down closer to suck on her breasts interchangeably. 

(Y/n) grinds more feverishly against his cock when his fangs nick her nipple. The tingling sensation that coursed through her body made it clear to do some experimenting next time. Right now, her cunt was begging for more. She held onto the frame of the train seat for support to lift herself slightly. They both held their breaths as Enmu’s cock slid inside her. 

Once she adjusted, (Y/n) began bouncing on his cock. Enmu’s hands held onto her hips to guide her pace. The train was on the move with unsuspecting passengers, including demon slayers, in the next train car. The two kept their volume low lest they alert the pests to their presence and get the sensual moment cut short. Or at least (Y/n) kept a low volume.

 “Keep it down, Mu. The demon slayers will hear,” she cooed into his ear. 

“They are falling under my spell. I can feel it,” Enmu mewled out. He is much more sensitive than (Y/n) initially expected, which made things more enjoyable. 

“Are you sure it’s not you who is falling under my spell?” (Y/n) picks up the pace as she feels Enmu’s cock pulsate against her walls.  

“Maybe,” he breathed out. (Y/n) whispered for him to come. She bounced until Enmu guided her off him and came on her ass. Enmu heaved as he was coming down from his climax. Before he could continue pleasing (Y/n), a knock sounded outside the train car. 

“It’s done. Please let me dream about my wife and children as we agreed.” The train conductor’s desperate voice begged, then succumbed to a deep slumber at the hand of Enmu’s demon blood art.

“Duty calls,” (Y/n) muttered, but it did not stop her from pouting. Enmu gave her a quick peck on the lips. 

“Once we take care of these demon slayers, we can come back for a second round.” 

(Y/n) got dressed in a hurry. “Then let’s get straight to it.” 

“I can’t promise I won’t take my time,” Enmu smiled sadistically. It left no room for (Y/n) to imagine what he was thinking. She did not mind if he liked to play with his victims, but right now, she had been denied orgasm and was not about to waste more time than necessary.

“Oh, so you don’t want my cunt anytime soon.” The rate at which Enmu dropped the smile had her smirking. “Let’s hurry up to get to that second round.”

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #enmu #enmu x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kny smut

[crowtrobotx]

Lottie has a book report that she has to present in front of the class. Tell me about it.

“Siiiigh.” Kris pretended not to hear Lottie’s dramatic exclamation over the sound of the television - she didn’t get many chances to watch garbage reality shows and dammit, it was a rainy Sunday and she would enjoy it. Summer was coming to an end - soon her free time would be engulfed by Lottie’s robotics and theater club fundraisers, parent teacher conferences, and the ever growing list of back to school items she’d have to fist fight the lesser mothers for. Karl’s deafening snores from the armchair to her left necessitated subtitles and the occasional rewind but it was fine - she had wine and a box of Cheez-Its all to herself. Nothing was going to ruin this moment for her. 

“Uuuuuuughhhh…” Don’t look. Be strong, woman. Kris couldn’t believe that Brandon was seriously thinking his batshit relationship with Stacia was going to work out. They were complete opposites, and not in the good way - not to mention Stacia was clearly only in this to further her influencer career. Kris privately was always rooting for a giant meteor to kill all the contestants, but she was truly addicted to the drama - it was one of her deepest, darkest secrets. She took a larger than average swig of her merlot when somehow yet another gratuitous pool scene graced the screen, adjusting her position on the couch in preparation for what was sure to be a very long and brain dead manufactured drama scene.

“MOOOOMMMM….” “....Yes, dear?” Kris didn’t make eye contact - maybe if she didn’t look at her daughter, she would give up. Like a tiny, space-bun sporting tyrannosaurus rex.

“Can you help me with my book report? Pleeeeaase?”

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out - you just need to focus instead of thinking ahead to whatever madness you and Papa have planned for this evening.” Lottie groaned on the opposite end of the couch before flopping back onto the pillows dramatically, a pile of worksheets in hand. 

It was a partial truth. The science and math teachers from kindergarten all the way up until now - her freshman year of high school - had always sung her praises incessantly. “Lottie’s a genius,” this, and “Lottie should consider advanced courses,” that. Karl practically vibrated with pride each and every time - it was adorable, but Kris would jump off a bridge before she let him know that. Their daughter, like most children, put forth a lot of effort into what she was interested in, and why shouldn’t she? The arts were something else entirely. Kris realized with every passing year that those particular talents of hers had been totally overridden by whatever methods the Heisenberg genes used to weasel their way into every crevice imaginable. She’d never come close to failing, no, but more than one exhausted looking and cable knit sweater boasting English teacher had commented that it didn’t seem like she was really applying herself in their subjects. Kris always promised they’d work on ‘encouraging her curiosity’ at home before invariably having to physically restrain Karl from attacking them for the audacity of criticizing Lottie in any capacity. It was only a matter of time before he was totally banned from the school grounds..

“Please? You’re really good at this woo-woo stuff and if I don’t finish I won’t be able to help fix the motor in the Thunderbird later!” Woo-woo stuff? Kris grimaced. Wasn’t she a cool mom? She glanced at the boxed wine, visible on the kitchen counter the next room over. She couldn’t possibly be becoming…. A lame Pinterest mom?

“What book are you doing the report on?” Kris asked far too quickly. She pretended to focus back on the elimination ceremony playing out dramatically onscreen. “Frankenstein.” Of course. “That’s a good one,” Kris nodded, tearing her eyes away from the TV to look at her daughter, who was putting on the most suffering, miserable expression she could muster. It seemed she’d even dressed to look as pathetic as possible - an old, stained hoodie with the faded logo of her father’s garage still vaguely visible on the front and socks with holes in them poking out from beneath the throw blanket. “What’s the basis of the report?” Lottie held out a worksheet with five questions printed on it. It was less a formal essay and more a series of thought exercises she’d apparently be expected to present to the class once summer vacation ended. To Kris’s surprise, four of the five empty spaces had been filled with Lottie’s barely legible chicken scratch - but they appeared to be largely literal questions. It was the fifth and final question that seemed to be turning Lottie’s little brain into dust. “Consider the gender roles in the novel. Is it possible if Dr. Frankenstein’s love created the monster instead of him, that she would have been a better role model, and would her maternal nature have changed the creature’s outcome?” Kris read the question aloud, mildly impressed with the magnitude of what was being asked. “Well, the way I see it, you just need to assert your opinion and defend it. It’s actually kind of hard to get wrong.” Lottie worried at her lower lip. Karl mumbled something that might not have been English in his sleep. Kris took another sip of her drink, privately ruminating on the question herself - it had been a long time since she’d had to write a paper and even longer since she’d read the book.

“I mean… is she asking if a girl made the monster if the story wouldn’t have been so dark?” “Sort of,” Kris commented. She reached over and tucked a stray curl behind Lottie’s ear, much to her teenage offspring’s dismay. “Your teacher is asking you to think about how men and women are portrayed differently in the story, and if you think a being like the creation might have benefited from a gentler touch versus the hyper masculine figure he was given. Again, I don’t think there’s a wrong answer. You just need to think about it. Would you have done anything differently from Dr. Frankenstein?” Lottie blinked. “I would have given the creature chainsaw arms.” Kris shut her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose. Chainsaw arms. A part of her wanted to pat her daughter on the head and tell her to carry on, just to make the first parent teacher meeting more interesting. She wondered how Mrs. Hernandez would work fucking chainsaw arms into a conversation. “Well, see,” Kris began, choosing her words carefully - a task that felt Herculean against the asinine conversation on the television. “That’s a thought. For sure. You could argue that women are entirely capable of unethical and insane decisions as well, and the gender of the creator matters less than their belief systems and moral compass. But I think you need to address how 

Elizabeth is characterized - which is more traditionally feminine - and if you think the story is making a nature vs. nurture argument.” “I think that the creature would have been happier with chainsaw arms. And a laser eye - like Cyclops from X-Men.” “Wouldn’t we all,” Kris stared at the dregs at the bottom of her glass in dismay. Lottie scribbled something down hastily, giving her mother a false hope that perhaps she’d gotten a spark of inspiration and would finish her procrastinated summer work at last. Netflix asked Kris if she was still there, and she hastily smashed the “yes” button ten times in response. “You know,” Lottie began, mercifully either ignoring or missing the tightening of Kris’s fingernails on the arm rest. “I thought I’d like this book more than I did. I mean, maybe I’m crazy, but it seemed like the author was condemning what she thought was unethical science.” “Oh? Do you think?” Kris was torn between feeling proud and wanting her daughter to stop talking before she extinguished the little flame of hope she’d unknowingly ignited. “Yeah. It seemed like…. I don’t know. It’s weird, it’s almost like she was saying there’s a difference between scientific advancement and like… I don’t know, humanity? Like even well intended ideas can have monstrous outcomes?”  Kris nearly fell out of her seat, her eyes glued to Lottie with baited breath.

The teenager held her mother’s gaze a moment before laughing and going back to frantic scrawling. “But chainsaw arms could have solved everything. There’s no problem that can’t be fixed if you can turn anyone who pisses you off into hamburger meat.”

This is a punishment for a horrible transgression committed in a past life. I know it. It has to be. Kris smiled and patted Lottie’s hand affectionately. Wordlessly.

“Snrk… HUH?! Shit… how long was I out?” Karl, having apparently not died in his sleep, sat up in alarm, looking from his wife to daughter like a man stepping out of a time machine.

“Long enough,” Kris said blankly, rising from her nest on the couch at last to refill her wine glass. “Lottie was just finishing her homework, why don’t you two head out to the garage while I start dinner?”

“Hell yeah!” Lottie exclaimed. “C’mon Papa, I had a great idea while you were sleeping…”

#asks #the chaos family is at it again #thank you for the asks/prompt that was not really a prompt LOL #grisailledreams

[godly-paternity-testing-dot-com]

Hi! First of all I hope you are having and amazing day/night! I happened to find this little blog that his helping demigods to find their godly parents and as someone who really unable to solve their own personality I would be very happy if you could help me out too!

Sooo somethings about myself:

1) I study at the univeristy at the moment for two different professions (One is Gastronomy and Culunary Art while the other one is Ethnography)

2) My hobbies are drawing, listening music, reading, writing, swimming, hiking, cooking, conduct research on history and cultures and doing some little crafting projects. Most of the people who knows my hobbies often tells me that I'm good at drawing and writing. Also from some experience I'm pretty good at acting too

3) I have an interesting connection between kids and animals. Somehow I make most of the young kids relaxed and happy when I take care of them. Same could go for animals too. Many of my acquaintances said that veterinary medicine or teaching could be good professions for me when choosing a department but I really didn't want to leave my love for researching.

4) I mostly have a mixed taste when it comes to music but most of my playlists consist of alternative singers and music groups. My fave Alt music category is Glam Rock, I can listen any kind of Glam Rock for ours.

5) My love languages are speding quality time and giving gifts.

6) My social life is kind of weird tbh. Most people a little shy about approaching me. One of my close friends actually straight up told me that I was looking so intimidating and happy while being alone that she got scared to approach me for a while. But in realty I'm just afraid that I won't make a good impressions in people (I thing this is some kind of anxiety ?). Also I'm not very good at endure people who are not willing to develop or do good things for themselves, "stupid" people (which there is a lot of them in my country) in my book so whenever I get in a chat with them I somehow use my expressions more than normal so that they understand I don't wish to talk with them.

7) I have this weird thing about my look. I don't like to be standard. Just as I can express myself with my clothing, I think I can do the same with my body. That's why I like tattos, colored hairs, piercings and such. Also some little step to achive my thought made me realize I was and am genderfluid. Soo I think it was also a win win.

Hello camper! Glad to be of help 😌 honestly I had the same problem, and then as soon as I got input from others I was like "wait yeah it really was obvious" 😅😅😅

Ok so I had to do some research BUT

I reckon you're a Demeter kid. Demeter is traditionally goddess of the harvest, but she is also the goddess of culinary arts. Although it's not explicitly stated, I'm so very sure the Demeter kids are the most multicultural cabin. You can't tell me that Demeter doesn't travel all over the world to see all the different crops and plants and dishes other countries have, even if her home base is still America. She's also the goddess of fertility and her children are natural nurturers (despite what dear Meg McCaffrey may make you think), which makes sense why babies and animals are drawn to you.

Well, child of Demeter, welcome to Camp Half Blood! Cabin 4 is unfortunately still under construction, although hopefully it'll be finished soon - for the time being, you'll have to continue camping out in Cabin 11. On the up side, Miranda Gardner, head counsellor of Demeter Cabin, has just negotiated that her and her siblings get a section of the cabin exclusively to themselves, so that should be more comfortable. I'm honestly not sure how she pulled that off, although I will say I saw Meg walking around earlier with an extremely smug look on her face... and some shiny new steel-toed boots...

#camp half blood #pjo #percy jackson #riordanverse #cabin 4 #cabin 11 #demeter #child of demeter

[dinosaurzzz]

Fae!Ink Masterpost

Just a reminder for everybody; I MADE THE CONCEPT OF FAE!INK. @fandomsoda made the design of Fae!Ink. I approved of the concept art. Every idea or change made for Fae!Ink gets PASSED THROUGH ME.

I am highly protective of this character, especially since they can easily be mischaracterized on a dime. I am lenient a lot of times, and can forget things I've said, so not everything is set in stone. I love your thoughts and opinions, but this is mine... not anyone else's,,, I have the final say. But with that said, I also don't have to be contacted for every little thing. Use your best judgement and don't fight me.

Who is Fae!Ink?

Fae!Ink started out as a small thought, a drop in the constant sea of 'what if' in my mind. Originally, I was going for a miniture demon au that had no meaning but I jumped down a rabbit hole. This was the intial concept.

The idea was that XGaster more or less sought out Ink for an increase in talent.

Ink is not evil, just to be clear. They're a fae, a trickster, but they're not lying, simply witholding a truth. XGaster is interesting, he asked the fae about a contract after he was told about it. Whether he knows the consequences (that being a short life) or not, is up to you, my dear reader.

Ink highly encourages XGaster by telling of the rewards he will recieves if he takes the contract, not reminding him of the doom that befalls him. This is the tricking part.

XGaster offering up his hand is either out of ignorance or desire. Pick your poison.

What IS Fae!Ink?

Fae!Ink is a leannán sídhe, a fae of irish folklore, which are usually depicted as beautiful women sucking the life forces of men in exchange for talent. A lot of time the bond is created by blood or by love. Ink takes blood/marrow from XGaster occasionally, but regardless if they do or not, they still drink the life essence from his body.

What is Fae!Ink behavior during the story?

Originally, Ink had no qualms about tricking XGaster. He had come to them, after all! But after spending more time with him and his children, they slowly grow to love him.

It's doomed to end way too soon.

Ink has lived years, and years, others' lives inconsequential to their vast one. Ink becomes increasingly aware of just how short XGaster's life will be, but the snowball is rolling and it's far too late to stop it.

Every attempt to leaves is futile, bound by blood, Ink cannot go, but they cannot stay either. It's a hopeless fight, but one they try and hide, enjoying what they can... And when XGaster dies, survived by his children, -their children- Ink doesn't do very well.

However, loss is not forever. Loosing someone you loved dearly hurts, but it doesn't mean you cannot go on. Ink lives for him.

What/Who was the inspiration for Fae!Ink?

Arguably, the most important part, and kind of why I made this post.

Fae!Ink is based off of Red Currant from The Ancient Magus Bride.

I'm not a big fan of anime/manga but every once in a while, I will have a niche one that itches my brain very well. This is that anime. This manga is very important to me for it's messages on trauma and how to move on, so Ink being misinterpreted makes me feel VERY bad.

Red Currant is a leannán sídhe. She's a minor reoccuring character, and her story is about admitting to yourself love for someone, loss of loved one(s), and moving on from grief. These are the part of the manga that best describes Ink's behaviors should you ever write or draw them.

These pages are from chapter 14 and 21. They do get a happy ending by the way so don't worry about the fate. :']

Can I draw fanart?

ABSOLUTELY! You are more than welcomed to draw fanart, infact I encourage it. Make sure you tag me (and Soda!) if you do. PLEASE. Tag me. Soda is not the owner of this character, they only helped me design them.

What ships are plausible?

Fae!Ink can ONLY be paired with XGaster. Any other Ink ship would be completely non-canon. While I am not oppose to other Ink ships; Crink would be the MOST unapplicable ship in this. DO NOT SHIP CRINK. I will be in your walls./th (blocked immediately)/srs

The other ships are to your discretion, however. Within reasons.

Anything else I should know?

Pronouns for Fae!Ink is whatever you make it!

XI is also in this AU as a changeling, the child the two technically made.

XGaster is a writer and purely monster/skeleton, he doesn't have folk lore-y stuff about him, but he's always believed in that type of stuff. HOWEVER, as Soda said in a reblog bc I forgor this part-

"You’re allowed to write XGaster coming back as a ghost! Both this and the “healing and living for him” story are totally valid! That’s up to the reader! However, XGaster must die and Ink must go through his character arc. Me and Dino discussed this and he approved. :]"

Which is true. I did approve this.

The four guys, Chara, Frisk, Sans, and Papyrus are all brothers and his (adopted) kids.

The boys did not meet Ink until a little after the contract was made, since the fae only revealed themself to XGaster. They thought their dad was going insane because he was start to talk to himself.

Chara was immediately suspicious of Ink when they first met. His concern was proven right when he caught them taking blood from XGaster's wrist. It didn't go well.

XGaster never seems to acknowledge whether he knows he'll die young for taking the contract, even if it's directly stated to him.

XGaster once got very into writing his 'perfect' story to the point he started to neglect himself and his children. It scared Ink so bad that they stopped feeding from him for a while, knowing they caused it and shortened his life span exponentially. Here is where they started to realize how much they cared about XGaster.

Anything written here is mostly for MY personal faeverse sandbox, and may not be necessarily true for THE Faeverse me and Soda are working on together. HOWEVER. INK'S CHARACTERIZATION STAYS THE SAME REGARDLESS OF UNIVERSE

I believe that's everything! Drink water, eat some crackers, and have fun :']

#gdi i forgot the tags #dinosaurzzz rambles #ink sans #xgaster #undertale #underverse #xvials #xtaleunderverse #utmv #xtale #xchara #xfrisk #cross sans #papyrus #dino goes ill over xvials again

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Drowning in his gaze (part 1)

Elendil x reader

This is mainly inspired by this post by @the-haven-of-fiction about Lloyd Owen’s character in Monarch of the Glen. This is part one of three.

*****

Imagine being a family friend of Elendil; your parents die when you are very young, and his father, Amandil, becomes your guardian. The two of you grow up together, and are inseparable even after he joins the Sea Guard and you become an apprentice at the Scribes Guild, an art you are both capable in and passionate for. It has been Amandil himself to suggest you pursue a career as a copyist and writer: there is always work for a capable scribe, he told you, and once you were part of the Guild your future would have been secured.

Unspoken feelings develop between you and Elendil when you are still too young to understand them and to consider each other more than a playmate and confidante; you just know you are important for each other, get along very well and would trust each other with your life, and have no reason to think things will change in the future.

They do. 

A few days after you come of age Amandil talks privately to you concering your future. You are now old enough to inherit your parents’ estate, that he has managed for you in accordance with their desires, but it is not just that. 

“Your mother and father wished for you to settle down, marry and raise a family. You descend from a respected family and your dowry is... not unsubstantial, not to mention your personal qualities, and because of all of this it shouldn’t be difficult to arrange a good match for you. Do you have an intended? Is there someone who has... captured your heart? Otherwise, if you want, I can find an husband worthy of you.” 

It takes you a while to find an answer, since your dear guardian caught you completely unaware; even though you know you are now old enough to marry and some of your friends have already found a partner -or are desperately trying to, even resorting to professional matchmakers to select an adequate spouse- you never thought the same thing could happen to, or interest, you. You wouldn’t mind getting married, one day, and have children, but to actively pursue a relationship? That had, somehow, never crossed your mind, nor the idea to look for a person you could live and share your life with...

“So? What is your answer, (name)?” Amandil asks, sitting behind his desk as you stand in front of him; matchmaking is not really his area of expertise, or something that interests him in the slightest, but he takes the promise he made to your parents very seriously, and in his heart he has come to love you as if you were really a child of his own blood, and is determined to make an honourable match for you “You do not have to decide right now, and the last word will be yours in any case; but you are a grown woman, and while you will forever be welcome in this house, it is time for you to think about your future.”

Obviously he is right, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that to be a bride is the last thing on your mind, and you are much more focused on becoming a member of your Guild and earn enough to become independent. Therefore, “I appreciate your concern, father.” you answer; you have always called him that, spontaneously rather than because he asked, and it has made you both happy “I promise I will think about it.”

And in the following days you do, so much that Elendil, who today you have gone riding with as you often do, notices something is off. “Are you all right?” he asks; you are walking side by side on the beach, your footprints visible on the sand behind you and soon covered by the waves lapping on the shore “You have been... distant, these last few days. Is something bothering you?”

You hesitate, finding yourself unable to confide in him, maybe for the first time in your life, and for a reason you cannot quite understand. You are not surprised that he, alone among all your friends and acquaintances, has noticed there is something on your mind, since he knows you better, and loves you more, than anyone else, just like there is no one in Númenor that you care for and trust as you do him. You wouldn’t be too concerned if you really were to become an old maid, you could accept it, but what you could never renounce is Elendil’s friendship, his unwavering loyalty, his presence in your life...

In a word, you will never let him go.

“I spoke to your father, this morning.” you tell him in the end, as you sit on a rock at the far edge of the beach, where you often stop to admire the sunset; a gentle wind blows around you, flicking Elendil’s brown hair and the hem of your dress. Your horses are a stone’s throw away, nibbling on the sparse vegetation growing at the base of the low hills surrounding the beach. You tell Elendil of the conversation with Amandil, “... and so now he is ready to find me a husband, like those old ladies who plot to have their grandchildren marry.” you laugh in the end, expecting your friend to share your amusement.

But he doesn’t. Elendil, standing by your side, is looking at you as if you have suddenly grown wings, or stated you want to move to live under the Sea - as if, in brief, he is seeing a side of you, and a possibility, he never thought existed. 

“... and what did you answer?” he asks in the end, leaning on the rock; he is not even smiling.

“Well, that I would accept to meet a few potential husbands, were he to find someone he deemed acceptable, but that since I am in no hurry to get married, I would do it only if I were completely sure.” you explain, confused by his reaction “Elendil, what is wrong? Don’t you think I should get married? Or you fear no one will ever want me, whatever dowry I can offer?”

“Of course not! Any man would be fortunate to earn your hand, and your love."

“I am glad to hear that. Why do you seem so upset, then? You do know I will care for you forever, even when I have an husband and five children.”

He knows, he assures you, and he must know, because since you were barely more than children you have sworn you will never leave each other’s side; he cannot doubt of your affection and friendship, but then, why has he grown sad all of a sudden, and worried...?

“Elendil?”

“I am all right.” he answers quickly, almost curtly, as if he desperately wants to close the conversation “I only wish...”

“Yes?”

“Nothing. Shall we head back? Father has invited guests for dinner, we will have to clean ourselves.”

You wouldn’t say that he is angry, or saddened, but you know Elendil well enough to perceive there is something wrong, something bothering or scaring him. You would ask about it, to offer him your help as the two of you have always done, but you cannot, because for some reason, your friend has started avoiding you. Not openly, leaving as you enter a room or pretending to be busy when you know he is actually lying; it is way more subtle. He avoids your eyes when you sit in front of each other at dinner, and accepts the request of his friend Raumos, the assistant Sail Master, to help training some cadets for the Sea Trial, only two days after telling you he had decided to refuse, which leaves him much less time to spend with you.

He is avoiding you; Elendil, your dearest friend, is doing everything he can to keep away from you, something he has never done before, not even when you occasionally fought as children and were both too proud to make an offer for peace. This situation is painful enough, but not as much as not having the faintest idea why. You have not fought, and after spending a whole afternoon reflecting on the matter, you are quite sure you have done nothing to offend him; you really have no idea what might have caused this new surliness. You could ask, of course; confront him and beg him to tell you the truth. If only you had the courage, and were able to go beyond the deep, inexpressible but strong suspicion that sometimes, it is better not to know...

If Amandil has noticed the change in his son’s attitude towards you, he keeps it to himself, and in any case, as much as you love and trust him, you certainly cannot ask his opinion on such a personal matter. You try and focus on your work, and spend time with your other friends, but cannot stop wondering why Elendil has suddenly become so cold and distant... and why you have taken it to heart so much, and why, when you think about it, you cannot help being also reminded of the conversation you had with your guardian, about your marriage prospects. 

Do you have an intended? Is there someone who has... captured your heart?

The truth is so simple and evident, as clear as water, that you cannot understand how it took you so long to realize it. Someone has captured your heart; someone you could see yourself marrying, sharing your life and raising a family with, and there is a reason why it pains you so much to see Elendil grow so cold towards you, and you are unable to even contemplate a future where he is not by your side...

You have fallen in love with your dearest friend, maybe when you were still too young to know what it means, and since then that feeling has never wavered, nor, you suspect, it will in the future. You would be content to remain Elendil’s friend for the rest of your life but, with an ambition you have never experienced elsewhere, you cannot help wishing for more, and while you have never given too much thought to matters of the heart, everything has changed, in the blink of an eye, as if the truth had always been in front of you and you were simply too naive or blind to see it. Being his best friend and confidante is not enough; you want to be Elendil’s partner, his lover and his companion and one day, if you both so wish, his wife and the mother of the children you know he wishes for. You know you could never wish for a better partner, and you would gladly do your utmost to make him the happiest of men. 

How could you never see it? For years you have slept next to him, even in the same bed when one of the two had had a nightmare or simply you had so much to tell each other that it couldn’t wait until the next morning, seen him half-naked when you went swimming together and been held in his arms as you danced -he is an excellent dancer- close enough to feel his heartbeat, and you never realized... you never understood...

You do not feel as if you had wasted time; Elendil has always been part of your life, and because of it you are happy. But all the same, you feel you have to tell him the truth, and be sincere about your feelings.

Obviously, there is just one problem; you have no idea whether Elendil feels the same or not. Beginning a courtship is usually men’s duty and prerogative, and he has never given you the impression he has even just thought about you as a potential partner, let alone proposing. If anything, for a few days now he has acted as if he can barely be in your presence, let alone spend time with you - a behaviour that you cannot explain and that saddens you deeply, and not just because it suggests that he doesn’t share your feelings.

What to do? You think about it while you are at work, pouring over the old scrolls you are copying and the important letters you are tasked with writing under dictation, or you choose fruit and bread at the market’s stalls, or you mend a tear in Amandil’s favourite tunic. You fear that confessing your feelings might put a strain on your already tense relationship, but at the same time, you fear that if you don’t tell him what you feel, Elendil could end up slipping away, either because someone else catches his interest -it has not happened yet, but your friend does not lack admirers- or because whatever problem has arisen between you ruins the long years of close friendship you have shared.

When you were barely more than children, you had promised to be always sincere with each other; and so you will be, even though you are trembling with fear at the mere idea. 

The opportunity arises two days later; Amandil is supping with some friends, which leaves you and your friend alone in the house. “May I come in?” you ask as you peek in his room, and Elendil, sitting on his bed, is visibly startled as he quickly hides a piece of parchment, maybe a letter, behind his back.

“What is it?” he asks, forcing himself to smile “Is dinner already on the table?”

You assure him dinner is the last thing on your mind. “May we talk for a moment?” you ask as you step in the room, and he silently nods, making space for you on the bed. He is clearly ill at ease, so much that he can barely look you in the eyes, something that had never happened between the two of you; even when you occasionally fought, you have always talked about whatever problem there was between you, and in the end made peace without any lingering resentment. This is different; this is scary.

You sit quietly for a minute next to him before stating: “You have been avoiding me.”

He doesn’t protest; he doesn’t try to justify himself; he just looks at you, with those Sea-blue eyes that have never felt so full of emotion, so focused on you, after many days of avoidance.

“Have I done something to upset you? Are you cross for something I have said?”

“No; it is not that. You have done nothing wrong.”

“It pleases me to hear that. Then, would you please tell me why you suddenly cannot even bear to look me in the eyes? We have been friends for so many years, Elendil; I think we should be honest with each other. I don’t want to lose you, and... and I must confess that I also have something to tell you.”

Silence. You have never been shy, but suddenly you would rather jump in shark-infested waters rather than confessing your feelings; still, you force yourself to go on, eyes lowered to your now shaking hands.

“You have always been a part of me; my best friend, my confidante, my ally against whatever enemy or danger I could have to face, and I would be grateful for things to remain like this. But just now I have realized that for a while... maybe for a long time... my feelings have changed. I...”

“(name)...”

“No, please; if I stop now I’ll never find courage again. Elendil... my dearest Elendil, I have fallen in love with you." you confess, and now it is you who is forced to keep her eyes low on her knees “Fully and truly, my heart is yours. I do not expect that you feel the same, especially now that you have been so cold towards me, but I wanted you to know, and if there is a possibility, however small, that you see a future for the two of us, I wish you would, well... consider it...”

Why are you talking as if you were proposing a business offer, with that foolish formal tone? You sigh, feeling at once relieved and disappointed, and then a warm, calloused hand enters your field of view, and takes yours, the thumb caressing your palm. You finally meet his gaze, and those blue eyes express such emotion to make you dizzy; it is as if you are drowning in his gaze.

“Elendil...”

“You... you do not know how happy...”

That is enough. A hint of a smile, words that do not suggest a rejection, and all your fears and hesitations disappear; you look at him, your breath caught in your throat, and he is smiling, his hands outstretched towards you...

A moment later your bodies are pressed against each other, your hands have grasped Elendil’s tunic while his arm is wrapped around your waist, and you are kissing, desperately, hungrily, avidly, your desire fuelled rather than quenched the longer the kisses last, and your friend is groaning -a sound you had never heard him make, nor you ever thought you would, and it is exciting and delicious and so raw in its sensuality, and then you are the one moaning as his tongue caresses yours and Elendil’s warm, strong hands have started moving on your body...

“Yes... yes, darling, like this...”

“You are... oh, how beautiful you feel...”

For a few exhilarating minutes, it is as if you are flying; and then the warm, solid body you have been holding on slips away. Your friend stands and steps away from the bed as if he feared for his safety; he turns, his face in his hands, and for a whole minute it is as if he is fighting against himself.

“Elendil...”

“I am sorry. Forgive me, I... I cannot do it.”

You remain silent, kneeling on the bed, your heart in your throat and the presentiment that something terrible is about to happen, and in the end your friend turns to look at you. 

“The Sea Guard has offered me commission away from Númenor, in a kingdom we are at war with.” he tells you, and he is uncharacteristically curt in doing so, as if he wanted to get it over with “I have accepted. I shall leave in two days.”

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

“How long.”

“I do not know. Five years at least. Maybe more.”

Five years. Five years without seeing him...

You stand. You talk, hating the pleading in your voice. “Take me with you.”

“No.”

“I am serious, Elendil.”

“I am serious as well. We both know you are only halfway trough your apprenticeship with the Scribes’ Guild; you cannot give it up, and furthermore, I am going to war, and it will be dangerous enough for us soldier, let alone a civilian. If something were to happen to you, I... I wouldn’t know how to live with myself.”

He is sincere, it is easy to see it in his blue eyes, and he only has your safety and well-being at heart; still, the simple idea of losing him, just now that a new world of possibilities has opened in front of you, terrifies you.

“I do not care about the danger; and I can postpone my apprenticeship until we come back.” you propose, taking a step and then another towards him; your heart is beating so fast it hurt, and you can barely restrain yourself from throwing yourself in his arms, begging him not to leave you, and then kissing him until you can no longer say where one of you ends and the other begins. 

“We both know that cannot be done, unless an apprentice has fallen ill or for an equally serious reason. If you leave the Guild, it will mean wasting all your years of work. You need to stay here, where you will be safe, continue your studies...”

He is serious as he speaks, reasonable, focused on your good even if it means to suffer himself; it is exactly what you would have expected from him, selfless and kind, more concerned with protecting the people he cares for than himself, but in that moment you are not grateful at all; you are angry, and terrified, because you know you are losing him and there is nothing you can do to stop it...

“I will return.”

“When?!” you ask - you scream, actually, and you flinch when you realize that you are dangerously close to losing control. Elendil is still in front of you, and does not protest when you take his hands in yours; the sacrifice he is making is enormous, heartbreaking, but he believes he is doing the right thing for you, and this makes his convinctions as immovable as the Meneltarma.

"I care for you; more than I ever cared for anyone else." you state in the end, and while expressing your feelings has always proved difficult for you, your friend is the exception: he has always known your heart, without judgement or criticism, and because of this it has felt so easy, and natural, gifting it to him "Do you care for me as well?"

He sighs; he is the bravest man you know, but still what he is doing requires more courage than a man can have. "(name), please..."

"Do not beg me; be honest instead. If you want me as much as I want you, you will tell me, and I will leave with you; whatever danger, we will face it together, and I will be content to share your destiny. Tell me now, or... or...”

“Or what?” he asks, still in that brusque tone you have already started to hate; he doesn’t want to hurt you, far from it, and he has never been cruel in his life, but for a moment you are dangerously close to hating him; how dare he decide for both of you? What gives him the right to take responsibility for your safety, as if he were your father? “Will you renege on your confession? And accept another man’s marriage proposal?”

“Maybe I will!” you answer; you regret those words a moment after you have uttered them, but you are too angry, too humiliated, to stop and talk reasonably “Maybe I will, as soon as I find a man who is not scared of his own feelings!”

Elendil falls silent; the rage in his eyes is deep, burning, but unlike so many other men, he doesn’t express it with shouts, insults, accusations or fits of rage. He just looks at you as if he dosen’t even know who you are, and that... that is worse, and more painful, than a slap on your face.

“Very well. If this is what you want.”

You move to let him leave the room, silent, determined but not at a run, and half of you wishes you could run after him, apologize and confess that while you disapprove, you are grateful for his desire to protect you, and you will never marry anyone else, because your heart is his, and his alone. It would be enough to make peace between the two of you; and while it would not solve everything, it would make things enormously better.

Unfortunately that is not the part of you that you decide to listen to, and you wait to hear the sound of Elendil’s footstep reach the other end of the house before giving in to crying.

You do not talk about it anymore; not on that day, not on the next, not on the clear, cool morning the expedition Elendil is part of makes ready to depart, for only Eru knows how long. Amandil decides to accompany his son to the harbour, while you decline because, you explain, you have an important commission to present to the Guild tomorrow. 

He is more splendid than ever in his soldier uniform, the long blue cape shaken by the wind and the helm under his arm, as you say your goodbyes on the porch. 

“I will pray for you.” you tell him, and you hate yourself for that, because while the sentiment is sincere, you doubt your pleas to Eru and Ulmo will make some difference, and there is so much you should tell him instead, while you still have the chance “Be... be careful, I pray you.”

The ghost of a smile touches his lips; the sadness in his eyes breaks your heart.  “I will.” he promises; after a moment of hesitation a kiss touches your forehead, and then he has turned and left, his strong and stately figure silhouetted against the azure sky.

Tagging @starlady66 and @elvenenby .

#The Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power #The Rings of Power #Rings of Power #Elendil #Elendil the Tall #Elendil x reader #Lloyd Owen #Bellona's stuff

[leiawritesstories]

23. “What do you mean? I’m just making these cards for the kids.” “What kids?!”

have fun 😁🎉

😁😁😁😁😁 oh this was SO FUN hehehe thank you for the prompt! :D

word count: ~1.1k

warnings: mentions of infertility

enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good gods."

Aelin glanced up at the sound of her husband's voice. "What?"

Rowan made a vague gesture at the chaos sprawled all over the dining room table. "Um..."

She laughed. "Oh, you mean the Christmas card factory."

"Yeah..." His brows furrowed. "You want to explain?"

"What's wrong with making Christmas cards, buzzard?" She left the one she was working on atop the table and came over to him, looping her arms around his waist and beaming.

"Nothing," he chuckled, kissing her softly. "It's just, well, that's a heck of a lot of cards, Fireheart. You sending them out general delivery?"

She flicked his nose. "What do you mean? I've got it all planned out--there's some for our family and friends, some for our coworkers, and some for the kids."

Rowan's brain stalled.

"What kids?" he breathed, a flicker of hope crossing his face.

Aelin pressed her lips together and shook her head once, leaning closer into her husband. "Not...not like that."

"I'm sorry, Fireheart," he murmured, pressing his wife close to his heart.

They'd been trying to get pregnant for several years now and so far had had no success. Aelin met regularly with her fertility doctor, took all the preparatory vitamins, did everything she could to try and help her body understand that she wanted a baby, but so far, nothing. She knew infertility ran in her family, knew that her mother had only been able to have her, but still--both she and Rowan wanted a family.

"They're for the kids at Orynth Children's," she finally whispered, looking up at him. "Elide told me about the program, and I have some time, so why not?"

Elide was a pediatric surgeon at Orynth Children's Hospital, and she'd worked with several of her colleagues to expand the program through which the children in the hospital received Christmas gifts. She knew how much Aelin loved art and design and spending time with the children in recovery, so this was perfect for her.

"That's wonderful," Rowan murmured, kissing the top of her head. "You want me to help?"

Her lips quirked up. "If you want to, of course."

~

As she stacked up all the cards she was bringing to the children's hospital, Aelin set one aside, hiding the green envelope in the stack that was for friends and family. That one was Rowan's card.

She parked in the visitor lot like Elide had instructed her and walked inside, carrying the stack of cards and the box of stuffed animals that she'd collected at her workplace. The receptionist smiled at her as she came in.

"Mrs. Whitethorn?"

"That's me," Aelin grinned.

"Perfect." The lady handed her a nametag on a lanyard. "This will give you the access you'll need. Dr. Lochan should be down soon."

"Thanks." Aelin set down her box and slipped on the nametag, only waiting a few minutes before Elide walked through the double doors from the hospital, grinning at her friend.

"Ae!"

"Ells!" Aelin gave her dear friend a quick hug.

"Those are so cute," Elide beamed, looking into the box of stuffed animals. "The kids are going to love them."

"I hope so."

Aelin followed Elide into the hospital, keeping a couple steps behind the petite woman in her pastel green scrubs. Elide led her up to the main recovery floor and introduced her to the current staff team, all of whom would be helping to pass out this batch of gifts. So Aelin took her load of cards and followed Elide through the rooms, smiling and laughing and saying a few kind words to the children.

And ignoring how her heart squeezed a little more with each visit she made.

She came home to the warm, comforting scent of Rowan's cooking, kicking off her shoes behind the front door and heading into the kitchen to say hello. He knew she'd come from delivering presents at the children's hospital, and because he knew her so well, he didn't say anything, just let her lean into his side, inhaling the soothing smells of food and home and him.

"It breaks my heart," she whispered, her eyes closed.

He turned off the stove and pulled her into his arms, stroking her back. "I know, Fireheart."

She sniffled. "I'm scared, Ro."

"I wish I knew what to tell you," he breathed, his heart breaking for her. She didn't say anything, just rested her head against his shoulder and let him hold her, his solid, warm silence her rock.

~

Rowan woke up the next morning to find a plain green envelope lying atop Aelin's pillow, her half of the bed still rumpled from when she got up. Hearing the shower running in the background, he could tell she was there, so he reached over and picked up the envelope, which bore his name in his wife's loopy cursive.

Sliding one finger under the envelope's flap, he opened it up and withdrew a Christmas card, Aelin's design work evident in the watercolor painting of a smiling cherub, a holly sprig in its hand. A soft grin slipping across his face, he opened up the card.

And his brain stalled again.

When she emerged from the shower, Aelin found him staring at the card in wordless shock, his jaw hanging open, gaping at the pair of little black-and-white photos she'd tucked into the card.

He lifted his eyes to her, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Aelin--are you--" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Are you serious?"

A smile brighter than the sun split her face as she nodded, dropping down onto the bed beside him, letting her bathrobe fall open and settling his hand atop her stomach. "Ten weeks, and I had no idea."

"Aelin," he breathed, his other hand cupping her face, hardly daring to believe the precious secret she'd revealed. "I--how?"

"Doctor said the tests I took must have been false negatives, though she wasn't sure how that happened." Aelin threaded her fingers through his, resting their hands on the faint, barely noticeable swell of her belly. "It's true, my love. We're having a baby."

"I love you so much," Rowan whispered, kissing her soft and slow and deep, powerful joy radiating across his expression. Slowly, he moved down, settled himself in her lap, and pressed his lips to her belly. "I love you, little one."

Tears spilled down Aelin's cheeks, her heart near to bursting. "We love you too, Ro." She beamed through her emotions, carding her fingers through his hair. "Dad."

~~~

TAGS:

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#my writing #answered prompt #quick drabble #blizzard drabbles #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #fluff #and mild angst #and a little surprise #or two hehe

[thegrimdog13]

My Demon Show

This is a color guide to what info is we’re:

background info- red

story elements- blue

Basic info- white

For a long time I’ve had a demon series that I’ve been designing and I just kinda left it in the dust. And seeing Hazbin Hotel well it inspired me to pick back up on the idea. I’ve been redesigning old characters and revamping it. It inspired by stuff like Owl house ( I haven’t finished watching it yet at all ) , and Amphibia ( kinda because it similar to Owl house in the sense of beginning idea wise). I’ve had this series in mind since I was pretty young but it was never as well mature I suppose would be the word. I’m not sure If it would be a musical or not but I have always loved musicals since I was a wee child. I’ll be posting some designs of the characters soon and maybe one day there will be something.

Here is basically probably the Basic basic version of the story:

Two siblings separated when young find eachother again. Basically they are neighbors and they eventually or right away find out they are siblings I haven’t thought that far into it. On their way to school together they come in counter with a demon and make a deal with him. They turn into “demons” and are sent to hell in what is apparently not the way they are supposed to. Eventually finding out the demon they made a deal with is a powerful demon and there is something more to him then they think. But that is besides the point. They figure out they are still technically alive and can go back to the human realm if they do a special ritual. The fault in that is the ritual is very hard to do. They have to get an item from each deadly sin or upper ranks which is… supposedly.. 7 .. ( If this isn’t an obvious sign enough I’m not going to explain lol) Each of them having the same symbol on them to make it a bit easier to spot. They basically have to go on an adventure to get all these things and bring them back to this witch like character to do the ritual. All while Angel’s are in disguise in hell to kill the two siblings making it impossible to return back to earth and their regular life’s trappings them in hell. They do this simply because they don’t want humans to know all the truths of how hell and heaven and everything is. But the “princess” of heaven or one of God’s children has other plans on what should happen with the siblings. Hoping to help them escape damnation in the perhaps fiery pits since they are technically only young and she believes it is wrong to fault them since they may not know better.

Also guys I have no idea what to name this. If you go to the very beginning of my page there is old art of them not a lot though since I got rid of a lot a long time ago.And it used to be called Dear Demon. But Now I’m not so sure about it so If anyone has any suggestions It would be appreciated!

Btw I’m my hell and heaven the charcters have animal features if they have been human at some point and have elf like ears if they have always been a demon or Angel. Now this doesn’t mean that they don’t have horns or tails if they haven’t ever been human but for the most part prominent animal parts and specific animals are when they have been human.

#new series #Demons #demon #Heaven #hell #animation #show #new show #new show? #Ace #7 deadly sins

[randomwriteronline]

why is majora's mask a game about love?

Because every waking moment is devoted to the inevitability of death, and in the face of that inevitability the most pressing thought on many characters' mind is love.

The first example to come to mind is likely Anju and Kafei, who spend the last three days before their impossible wedding fretting to make so that everything is ready for it; maybe it will remind other pairs too - Madame Aroma and mayor Dutour, Honey and Darling, the Deku Scrub in Clock Town who wants a Moon Tear for his wife. The seahorses. The implied romance of Lulu and Mikau.

But I would argue that more than romance it's a game about platonic love first and foremost.

It fits with Link being a child, with him noting (after receiving Anju's letter for Kafei) that he doesn't understand all this grown up stuff, but someday he might. It fits with there being no love interests and it fits with all the examples of platonic love we are shown over and over.

You have the love of a parent for their child. You have Madame Aroma sending you to find her missing son with a mask of his likeness, the Deku King so heartbroken by the disappearance of his daughter that he can't even think straight, the Goron Elder distraught at the news of his child desperately calling for him, Lulu falling into despair after her newborn children are stolen and Mikau giving his life to save them; you have Anju's grandmother and the Deku butler who see their lost sons in every boy they meet. You have Anju's mother, whose love makes her distrust in Kafei and Cremia because they remind her of something that hurt her and that she doesn't want to hurt her daughter - you have Tingle's father, who is ashamed of his son yet cares for him all the same.

You have the opposite too, children's love for their parents: the bomb shop owner, as punkish as he may appear, worried sick for his mother walking around alone at night with valuable good that could get her attacked, and Pamela, who keeps the Gibdos at bay and her half transformed father safe and calm as best as she can.

You have the love between siblings. Between Koume and Kotake, one immediately urging you to help the other as soon as she hears she's in danger. Between the Gorman brothers, who are awful and conniving and still get tears in their eyes seeing the ringmaster's mask because miss their last triplet so much. Between Romani and Cremia, who makes her an adult right before the end of the world so her little sister too can feel fulfilled. (Maybe so that she can have her drunk and unconcious, so she won't feel anything.) Between Sharp and Flat, who even when betrayed and locked in his own grave worked on a melody that would free his brother's soul from the deal he had struck. Between Tatl and Tael - the reason why she teams up with Link in the first place being so that she can get reunited with her more timid brother for whom she worries.

You have the love for a people, a nation, so to speak. Darmani, dying to stop the winter that so threatens his tribe, and captain Viscen, who only wants the townsfolk to evacuate to safety while he himself will very likely have to remain directly beneath the moon.

You have the love for things that might not love back. The astrologist is infatuated with the Moon; the rooster man of Romani Ranch laments only that his dear chickadees won't ever be roosters; the twin dancers and twin jugglers love their jobs, but can get frustrated by them. The barkeep loves you, his favorite costumer who decided to spend their collective last hours with him. Mutoh and the councilmen love their town and remain in the face of imminent destruction. Gorman loves a song sung by a voice he will never hear again and a home he has forever left behind,

Unhappy kinds of loves are the swordsman's excessive faith in himself (which backfires and leaves him terrified in the end) and the postman's devotion to the mail and schedule (which traps him). Maybe even Kamaro's love for his art, which he laments having no one to pass on to.

You have the love for friends, which drives the story - without which there would not be a story.

Because it's Link's love for Navi regardless of the player's opinion of her that sends him on the quest that has him ending up in the Lost Woods, and it's his love for Epona that has him chase down into the hollow tree stump that ends up in his new adventure.

It's the love that Skull Kid feels towards the Giants, and that he feels has been betrayed by the Giants, by their leave and their banishment of him from Termina, that leads to the stagnating sadness and resentment that has him so vulnerable to Majora's influence.

It's Tael's love for Skull Kid that cues him in on how something is not right with him, and it's the Giants' love for Skull Kid that makes them implore Link to save him, and that they repeat for their friend to hear, to know now and forever.

It's love that Ikana lacked - the trust, the camraderie that comes with it - and that led to its downfall. It's love that Majora doesn't seem to recognize or entertain or care for. It's love that the Fierce Deity, as a personification of Termina's collective memory, embodies and unleashes so absolutely violently against its absence and the looming threat of eveything coming to an end.

It's the love that makes up, at least in part, the happiness the Happy Mask Salesman comments Link has brought to the people.

And all of these loves, it's important to note, fail.

They are all fated to fail.

Mostly, by no fault of their own.

After all, if an entire Moon is falling a hug can't do much.

Sometimes you're not strong enough, lucky enough. Sometimes you just feel too much and that keeps you from being able to think or act. Sometimes good intentions lead to bad decisions. Sometimes you're just faced with something you cannot fight back against and win, if you can fight back at all.

Love is powerless against death and forgetfulness.

But that doesn't mean that you can't feel it. That doesn't mean that, when faced with inevitable death, you shouldn't feel it. That doesn't mean that, on the last moment to feel it, you shouldn't allow yourself to feel it.

All over the Apocalypse, people look up at Thanatos inching closer in the sky and run to their loved ones to hold them tight, shield them, let them know of an affection that will have no other time to be told.

Majora's Mask is a game about love.

#majora's mask #random talks #its also a game about the past failing the future #as most older characters are unable to save the younger ones #ikana being the most overt example of course as there are no children in it. dead before they were born #though mikau darmani and the deku king are also obvious #anjus mother is a particular case bc in her case its two failings of sorts #the first one by her perspective: not being able to take anju away from town on the last day #the second from anjus perspective: trying to demolish what little hope she still has left #you may notice that the inside of the moon is not mentioned. its because i feel its about something else entirely #one of them could still fit. the one asking about friends #in your last hour who IS really your friend? who would die for you? #but even then it might be a stretch #anyways yea