Tumgik
#or what powers any of them grant
dimiclaudeblaigan · 2 months
Text
If there is at least one thing I can credit FE for doing better than Tales in localization, it's not trying to actively go out of their way for an entire game to avoid subtext or direct text between two men that is romantic or implied romantic. Funny when it's so present that the attempt doesn't even work; infuriating that it was attempted to begin with.
So as much as I often have issues with some of FE's localizations, at least they have a leg up on loc Tales for that.
#DCB Comments#imagine changing entire sentences and vocal tones just to try to avoid it#if anything I'd say at least in FE the locs just... keep what's there like#they could've toned Soren and Houses Yuri down and they didn't. they just kept their lines or in some cases#especially with Houses Yuri I'd say leaned into them#have to specify bc Houses Yuri got to keep his bi agenda. Vesperia Yuri had the unfortunate issue of#the loc not wanting to keep his gay and trying reeeeally hard to avoid it#including altering entire sentences to avoid any woe is them misunderstandings about men having feelings for each other#meanwhile Houses Yuri is free to call men cute and lo and behold everyone loved that for him#they removed and altered a LOT of Vesperia Yuri's personality traits#(including any ability to express real sadness or fear bc woe is them if he's not a cool edgy man)#but they also really changed his tone toward Flynn PLUS some of what they say to each other#and twisted it to make it sound like Yuri was either angry or wasn't actually emotional abt him#forget the way they brought Grant George in for the DE release and made him sound just completely DEAD with zero personality#like. I can tolerate playing Houses dubbed despite my gripes with it (story based stuff)#it didn't feel like they were trying to alter LBGT+ aspects and they even for some rly leaned into it#basically if you haven't played Vesperia Yuri is... really gay coded. the loc pretended not to notice#in fact he's queer + gay coded bc and doesn't fit male gender norms and the gacha games LOVE that with his hair/outfits#Rays mind you is JP only bc it was shut down very quickly in the west and Vesp Yuri's story in Rays is uh#basically it centers around Flynn he loses his shit to protect Flynn and they do the usual like#don't-admit-it's-gay-outright in fictional media by using the ''Yuri's important person'' shtick#but he activates a special power in the middle of utterly raging to get Flynn back from their enemies#funny thing? that game never made it to that arc. I was told in about five months the western ver would've gotten that#but in some way I'm glad it didn't bc who knows how they would've tried to spin that#It's BAFFLING to me how you can get characters in Tales like JAY but the locs shake in their boots at the idea of queer gays#but given how allergic fictional media is to admitting a male character is gay -gestures to Ike and Vesp Yuri-#I'm not surprised I'm just actually angry that the locs try to censor homosexual relationships as much as possible even when they barely ca#if anyone does know Vesp Yuri and is confused on why I'm calling him gay coded despite what the dub did with Judith feel free to ask#bc I do ship them a little bit myself! but I just recognize that canon wise I really can't see him as anything but gay-demiromantic#but again at least FE locs don't shake in their boots anymore abt same sex pairs including men (side eyes Lucius/Raven)
7 notes · View notes
roobylavender · 5 months
Text
if i really scratch my head i think maybe the one thing all of this could stem from is mere discussion of the fact that talia and selina's histories with bruce sort of operate in the reverse and inevitably that factors into any contention with either relationship. like it can't really be helped that bruce and talia were married very early on into the latter's history and that this is integral to analyzing talia's entire dynamic with bruce, her evolving perception of her own place in the world, and her eventual decision to break free of bruce entirely. the constraints of a marriage with bruce as desired by her father are foundational lore to the early aughts of her character in a way that selina's settled domestic life with bruce is not. if we're talking about the golden age what was foundational to selina's dynamic with bruce was his ability to recognize above everyone else her consistent capacity for mercy despite her villainous goals on the surface. in post-crisis that was translated along the lines of a class struggle specifically. the villainous goals were interpreted to represent a defiance of men and the state and their collective violence, and they also formed a means of survival. what was initially merely a recognition of selina's capacity for mercy now became a potential recognition of bruce's own hypocrisies. selina acted as a symbol for petty criminals in gotham whom bruce would otherwise have written off as immoral wholesale bc to him the law was the law. and the remarkable thing about it was that none of it required selina giving even an inch to bruce. she was who she was and that was what made her utterly compelling to him. it's not a slight against selina that neither marriage nor a close civilian relationship formed the basis of her relationship with bruce and i don't understand why anyone would take it as one. marriage and domestic life for talia was a mark of the utter tragedy of her relationship with bruce. it was a fantasy and a delusion and it could never have given her what she wanted nor lent her any kind of agency in the long term. and i think when we meander into the realm of comparing the relationships we really start to diminish why certain aspects are important to either. why are the various patriarchal restrictions on talia's agency so integral to her character arc and its exploration of freedom? why is selina's existence in a sphere of life entirely distinct of bruce so integral to her character arc and its exploration of class? the constant back and forth between shippers on either end trying to equalize in terms of what either relationship has gone through in canon like it's a checklist to romantic validity is a bit absurd and i wish we would move away from it when analyzing the relationships or the characters
#it reminds me a bit of when i said that i think selina becoming a millionaire was a stupid development#that was insulting to everything newell and grant and moench had tried to build up about her in the early 90s#and people got upset and called me a hypocrite bc talia is rich. like my guy. can i help it that talia is rich#i can't erase her foundational character traits to make some sort of even playing field..#and frankly the fact that she and bruce are rich /is/ precisely what drives the whole argument about duty between them#they are in no position to complain or grow tired or languish in their reams of wealth#there is a duty they owe to the world while they have power and they have to suck it up and uphold that duty#it is the absolute least they can do and they know that. hence why talia is repeatedly on bruce's ass about it#it is also not lost on me that the above complaint may largely stem from the lazarus affair#where talia was portrayed to be ridiculously haughty and more than willing to show off her wealth#even though she didn't do that in like. any other comic in her pre-assassination era#and the lazarus affair as i have said so many times was a ridiculous comic anyways bc it setup talia and selina to be#combative ship fodder to fuel disagreements between dick and bruce. it is literally the first comic where they were ever#pit against each other. despite the fact that they had co-existed in harmony for a decade prior#and denny o'neil had gone so far as to establish both of them as bruce's definitive love interests in the 70s#like idk man it's not hard to entertain a little more critical thinking and poke at why the comparisons between them are nonsensical#a lot of it. a Lot of it. is stemming from people wanting either ship to one up the other. and you shouldn't fall for it#to be deleted#anyway. not making this rebloggable bc i'm sure you're all annoyed already but this whole thing has really confused me. so i've rambled
6 notes · View notes
navree · 1 year
Text
god grant me the serenity not to vaguepost about a reply to a post about the memery of the ides of march
4 notes · View notes
orcelito · 1 year
Text
so yea i finished watching tristamp. absolutely bewitched by the animation. but also wanting MORE... and so . i am planning on watching the original anime. at some point soon.
sometimes joining the bandwagon of what's currently popular is fun if it coincides with my preexisting interests lol
#speculation nation#me ABSOLUTELY refusing to get into any popular live action shows bc that's not what i'm about#(minus The Untamed. that's like the only exception lmao)#you can rave about it all you want. i'm not watching it.#but an anime? Oh Yea bro now we're talking#ok really though i'm just fascinated by the concept of Whatever vash is#inhuman. the bridge between humanity and plants. and in a way an Angel#that's not what he is in a literal sense but with the framing of it all in a religious sense and him and knives being the Core of that all#and just. the Way They Are... they are like Angels. for all the power and immortality that grants them#and yet. we have absolute babygirl Vash who's the sweetest nerd and PAINFULLY caring#the dichotomy between him and knives is just................... aghhhhh#and in the FINAL EP when knives was chasing him across the city and they both had wings#but only one each. mirroring one another. they are each others' mirrors.#it's all just so. it's Captivating. genuinely. i adore this concept and i want to see it in action more.#and of course i'm a wolfwood girlie(gender neutral) i cant deny my nature#ive already been reading fic for trigun sdlkfjsldkjf#tbh i was reading it even before ever watching. bc it just. got to me ok#i knew i was probs gonna watch it and after the last ep came out it became a certainty. and i'm so glad i did watch it#i'm probs gonna rewatch that last ep bc i'm a little buzzed and i wanna absorb it all with a clear head#bc the animation is SOOOOO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD helppppppppppppppppp#but yea sorry if u dont like trigun lol this is gonna become in part a trigun blog now
3 notes · View notes
esyra · 7 months
Text
Haven't heard from family in days. I feel like it's time to accept they're gone. I know in my heart Palestine will, one day, be free, but it wasn't supposed to be like this.
We feared another Nakba, and it happened. 700,000 pushed out of their homes in 1948 to 1 million being forced to leave their homes in 2023.
We thought it couldn't get worse or more deadly than the Israeli invasion in 2014, and it happened. We lost 2,251 people in 50 days then. Now we're past 2,300 in one week.
What I heard most from my grandmother the first days it's that "this time is different". And I feel like a rock is crushing my heart in pieces because i've been hoping that speaking out, teaching people about the historical oppresion of Palestine would help but it's not helping. Nothing is changing.
I feel like I'm screaming into a void. There's some sympathy from people online, until I see content documenting Palestinian oppresion being flagged as 'hate speech' or check the comments of any updates on Gaza and it's: "blame it on hamas", "tell them to give up hamas", "the hamas asked for it". They're not even among civilians!!!!!
My heart feels full seeing the manifestations in favor of Palestine, then I see police forces breaking protests apart and remember that the people that can actually save Gaza don't care.
If there's nothing left to do but to watch the extermination of my people, then I'm going to beg for anyone reading this to please don't forget. Please.
Israel is hiding behind Judaism to commit genocide against Gaza. Netanyahu supported the Hamas militant group to prevent the establishment of the Palestine State, and now he's using them to justify his agenda of ethnic cleansing. He abandoned Israelis and left them to die because he cares more about seeing Gazans dead!
Every single person and institution supporting and financing Israel is complicit. I hope the deaths of every Palestinian haunts you for the rest of your lives and that you never find an ounce of forgiveness, for you do not deserve it.
Just as in the Iraq War, the US government is financing and cheering for the slaughter of millions of innocent Arab lives. The media is complicit by engaging in biased propaganda and other nuclear powers, such as the UK and Germany, are complicit too. You are fascists and war criminals and every drop of Palestinian blood is in your hands. I hope every single day, for the rest of your lives, you look in the mirror and see nothing but the blood you've helped spill.
This serves as yet another proof that not a single Western in a position of power, be it in the media or in government, sees Arabs as humans beings.
For decades, the US has comitted terrorism and crimes against humanity in the Middle East and has NEVER been held accountable. Over one million in Iraq; over 150,000 in Afghanistan; and now they'll turn Gaza into a graveyard. Punishing selected soldiers over the years does not erase the fact that the American military and its government validates their crimes during execution and are never punished for it.
Please never forget: Joe Biden is a genocidal terrorist, Rishi Sunak is a genocidal terrorist, the American Democrat Party and UK's Labour Party are led by genocidal terrorists, the European Union is led by genocidal terrorists, fuckass Walt Disney Company is led by genocidal terrorists; every celebrity that called for Palestinian death or stood by silently while ignoring our suffering is a genocidal terrorist.
May Allah protect the people in Palestine and grant the martyrs the highest level of Jannah. Wallah what keeps me here is knowing that the Akhirah is theirs. May Almighty Allah grant us imaan and Taqwa as high as the people of Gaza. Ameen.
13K notes · View notes
shirecorn · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
What we call "ponies" are actually 3 different species that have managed to intertwine with each other through centuries of love and friendship.
Earth ponies are unique in their strength and solid, powerful hooves built for running and moving heavy objects. Ancient ponies only displayed earth tones in their fur and hair, but even one pegasus ancestor many generations ago can imbue colorful hues to all their descendents.
Pegasus are completely covered in feathers, with long feathers forming crests much like horses' mane and tails. They are usually the smallest species, but some exceptions do appear. Hooves are usually small and cloven, with prehensile dewclaws for gripping branches and perching in trees.
Unicorns are much closer to deer than horses, and their horns are actually a set of two antlers that wind around each other from a single base. The coiled structure pulls magic from the world around them and concentrates it at the tip, allowing the unicorn to cast whatever spells it wishes, while the other species can only use magic for flight and affecting the environment.
That is, until new alicorns began to ascend and through their power, grant magical properties to intangible concepts like friendship and love
Alicorns are mysterious, ethereal giants who fill the entire sky as they pass by. They are not a mix of unicorns, pegasus, and earth ponies, but a creature beyond any of the species; an ascended form that could supposedly happen to anyone... But but that's just an old foals' tale. Right?
10K notes · View notes
prokopetz · 8 months
Text
One of the occupational hazards of being so preoccupied with game design as a discipline is that sometimes I'll have dreams that are just some unknown force explaining an idea for a game to me, and last night I dreamed what is possibly the most obnoxious mechanical premise for a game I've ever come up with.
In brief, it was a traditional JRPG-style game with an atypical levelling-up scheme. Rather than gaining XP or levelling up at milestones, party members would grow in power by finding and absorbing or ingesting these little extradimensional parasites, represented in the dream as small grub- or fetus-like creatures with smiling humanoid faces. These parasites would be found as treasure and enemy drops, and could freely be given to any party member, except for the player character; the player character alone was unable to use them for Plot Reasons, and was entirely reliant on equipment to grow in power instead.
Absorbing a parasite both granted permanent stat boosts and unlocked weird psychic powers. However, they'd also cause progressive personality changes in the party members to which they were assigned, reflected by changes in dialogue and interactions, and eventually in granting or denying access to particular side quests. This function of the parasites was undocumented, and would likely go unnoticed by the player on their initial playthrough, as they'd level up as they went and would never see the unmodified dialogues.
A further wrinkle is that this effect was mediated by the game's expected progression. Farming parasites and "over-levelling" beyond where the game expected you to be would accelerate the personality changes, while going deliberately under-levelled would slow them (i.e., by giving your party members more time to acclimate to having bugs in their brains); like the personality changes themselves, the existence of these hidden modifiers would not be hinted at to the player.
If you spent a long enough stretch of the game sufficiently over-levelled, you'd eventually receive a non-standard game over where your party would betray, kill, and eat the player character. Furthermore, this non-standard ending had a deliberate "eclipse phase" whereby it would wait for a while after you hit the required threshold before pulling the trigger, in particular making sure that you've saved at least once, leaving your save file irrevocably fucked.
As a final twist, the non-standard game over would only trigger after resting; though the game's mechanics would heavily incentivise resting on a regular basis, it would theoretically be possible to massively over-level your party on purpose and avoid the bad ending simply by never resting again, potentially as a speedrun strat. However, doing so would alter the game's ending to replace the usual final boss with a hopeless solo boss fight against your own massively over-levelled party.
6K notes · View notes
yabakuboi · 12 days
Text
There's an incredibly pretty girl at the front desk in Family Video, and Steve—Eddie's boyfriend of eight months—is leaning over the counter with a sly smile and half-lidded eyes.
Eddie pauses in the doorway, struck dumb for a moment as he takes in the scene, and then gleefully ducks down behind the nearest shelf.
"So tell me," Steve says, all low and intimate. "What kind of movie were you looking for?"
"Um," the girl says. She doesn't sound very enthusiastic—barely indulgent at best. Eddie wishes he could see, but any sight of him will ruin Steve's chances right now. He's got a pretty good mental picture though. "I really like those old black and white movies, the really glamorous ones, you know?"
"Oh, totally," Steve sighs, like he's swooning. "Like Cary Grant, Clarke Gabel?" Eddie can practically hear his smirk. "Katharine Hepburn? Ginger Rogers?"
"Oh, I love Ginger Rogers!"
"Really?" Steve says matching her excitement. "Well, you're just in luck! Robin here knows all about those old black and white movies, don't you Robin?"
Eddie presses a hand to his mouth to hide his snickering. Robin had looked like a hooked fish when he'd walked in, she's gotta be gaping stupidly right now. "Uuuh," he hears her mumbling, and tries not to snort too loud. "Y-Yeah, uh, golden age of Hollywood stuff, absolutely. I could? Show you where they are?"
"Oh my gosh, that would be amazing!" the girl says, her interest in the conversation now warmed by several degrees. Eddie is still a little in awe of how well his boyfriend can sniff out gay girls.
"I got the front here, Robin," Steve cuts in smoothly. "You ladies take your time, make sure you pick out a good one!"
Eddie waits another beat, listening at their footsteps shuffle away, before he pops up from behind the shelf. Steve, lighting up like a Christmas tree, beams at him.
"Am I a genius or what?" he whispers, grinning ear to ear.
"Your lesbian powers know no equal," Eddie says just as quietly, taking the girl's spot at the counter, leaning into Steve's space. Steve happily mirrors him, until they're tucked together, the world narrowing down to the two of them. It's Eddie's favorite place to be. "All hail Steve Harrington, blessid he, lesbian whisper. Come to aid all useless queers in the fight against singledom."
"Thank you, thank you," Steve says with an air of novel benevolence. "I promise to only use my powers for good."
"Dingus. Doofus."
They jump away from each other as if shocked. Robin glowers at them both, but the pretty girl behind her is giggling and standing way too close for friendly, just at Robin's elbow.
"Move it, lovebirds," she hisses as she rounds the desk. "I need to check Claire out."
"I think you already have," Steve says. His smile this time is down right evil.
Robin actually hisses at him, and hip checks him away from the register. Eddie does a bow, sweeping his arm out to give Claire the prime spot in front of the desk, before he turns back to Steve.
"My dear, if you could please," he simpers, all posh and nasally. "Show me to your finest, grossest horror movie, thank you my good sir."
"Ugh," Steve groans already heading off into the shelves, not waiting for Eddie to follow. "You're lucky I love you, Ed. Shit gives me nightmares."
"I know," Eddie sings, chasing him. "I love you too."
2K notes · View notes
reunionandthen · 1 year
Text
also last rb
0 notes
iceunhie · 30 days
Text
“and i can go anywhere i want just not home” : genshin men
Tumblr media Tumblr media
premise. home is where the heart is—perhaps it's why they feel so empty whenever they're away from you. or, what it's like when they miss you while they're/you're away.
featuring: kazuha, lyney, wanderer, neuvillette.
notes: gn!reader (you/your pronouns), welcome to the depths of my drafts, you can tell where i got lazy and when i got motivated tbh 💀 an attempt at humor (i am unfunny) reblogs are appreciated! like usual, might make a part 2 idk
...alternative title: 3 twinks and a dragon
Tumblr media Tumblr media
NEUVILETTE: wait, why's it raining so hard?! 😱 “oh, it's just the monsieur sulking ^^”
neuvilette finds that one of the most inconvenient things granted in his power is the fact that his emotions can be broadcasted live over fontaine at any given moment.
subsequently, it's pouring; buckets of rain that clearly weren't on the daily weather report yesterday. he can see parents ushering children into their homes, the melusines providing umbrellas to those who had the unfortunate problem of not bringing one at the side.
all in all, fontaine is as is, but neuvilette feels even emptier than before.
it's probably because of you. it's definitely because of you. as fleeting as the rain on a summer day, you'd come and went, wishing him well before you'd leave for liyue for a short vacation.
2 weeks....
(the rain showers even more, heavily pouring over the nation.)
his shoulders tighten uncharacteristically, and if you were to see him, you'd tell him he'd resemble a sad fontainian otter with its seashell taken away.
. . . .
BONUS:
"i'm back- GAH! why are the streets flooded?!"
"oh, mx. [name]! welcome back! i'll tell monsieur neuvillette that you're back now!"
two hours later, the sun shines back again as if it hadn't poured consistently during the entire duration of 2 weeks. the people of fontaine rejoice.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
KAZUHA: like a bird longing for the sun to shine again (the most normal) 😭
kazuha isn't the type to brood. he isn't, because he knows he has nothing to brood about. well, most of the time, anyway.
this, however, is partly because you're usually with him, you in all your glory, nourishing him with affectionate kisses and letting him feel the breath of fresh air he desperately needs after a long, enduring trip on the crux.
the days you aren't there however are the days he finds himself most appreciative of his reclusive nature. as the rock of the ship against gentle waters make it sway, kazuha thinks of you.
you, you. were you at liyue, doing well as he hopes you always are, trudging away as you work wonders in the kitchen, preparing meals and watching day turn to night, waiting for time to pass, missing him too?
he hopes you are. (he feels like every time you're gone, a part of him can't erase the sense of homesickness. even if liyue wasn't his home, you are the closest to it.)
"you look a bit blue these days, kazuha. missing a certain someone?" a certain captain guffaws, to which the white haired vagrant can only smile to, though the smile betrays his rather dour mood. beidou's tease is only indicative of his longing.
he does miss you. a whole lot. he misses the way you run up to him as he finally steps off the crux's arms, embracing you with fervor and inhaling the cool scent of your hair. only then, kazuha thinks, he could really feel at home. "only a fool wouldn't miss the one they hold most dear to them."
beidou pats him on the back, sympathetic of his plight. he feels a bit embarrassed. beidou always saw through him. "gotta tough it out, kid. just a few more days and we'll be back to liyue in no time."
he wasn't a kid—beidou knows this, but she felt the need to emphasize so, what when kazuha looked akin to a kicked puppy waiting for its owner in the rain. "I'm well aware."
and so she's gone, warbling an old sailor's tune, leaving kazuha to deal with the ache of you behind.
he also misses a lot of things about you whenever you're gone. though temporary as his wanderlust may be, because he promised you—"i will always return to you"—this has brought him to associate everything he sees in your likeness.
is it the poet in him? perhaps. but loving you is as natural as him taking in the sights of nature, as lovely as the moonlit nights he spends, alone, and without you.
tough it out, as beidou says. that's difficult.
watching as the moon seems ever perpetual in the sky, kazuha only hopes he can tough it out well.
(when he comes back, he's thinking of running towards you this time.)
. . . .
"welcome back, kazu-" you don't even make it to the harbor's docks before you're being tackled and literally thrown off your feet. "what the fuck are you doing?!"
or should you say, swept off your feet? you feel every ounce of shame right now, and burying your head in the crook of kazuha's neck. profanity aside, it's hard not to be ashamed when almost every person with a pair of working eyes can see you being carried by your lover.
you can hear the playful whistles and cheers of the crux crew from behind, and beidou's knowing, knowing smile.
"i'm home." kazuha's breath is close to your nape, and you feel the soft press of his lips to your neck. you flush. face him, and you see his dreamy, lovesick eyes.
if he was looking like that, how could you be ashamed? you laugh, even if you see people side eye you into oblivion. brush your noses together, and close your eyes.
"welcome home, kazuha."
he smiles. the day is bright today.
BONUS:
"kazuha?"
"mm, what is it, love?"
"if you do that ever again i will literally drop dead on the floor from the shame, so don't make it a habit."
"haha, i wouldn't dream of it."
(one voyage later, you find out kazuha is a liar.)
Tumblr media
LYNEY: 😐 'insufferably insufferable,' given by lynette
if lynette could choose between smelling every perfume in emilie's shop (and put herself through an attack to her very delicate senses) and seeing her brother mope like a deflated balloon over his absence in fontaine, she'd pick the first option.
you are to blame. rather, maybe it's her brother's utter lack of propriety, proclaiming just how much he misses you with almost enough talk to make her want to rip her cat ears out.
or maybe she'd actually claw at him. lyney was just that infuriating. is this what they mean by love changes a person?
(if so, then lynette reckons her twin has changed for the worse.)
okay, she was exaggerating a bit, because she loved you very much and considered you family as well—but she would gladly dropkick lyney any time. they'd been stationed at poisson for a while, set by father. it was cleanup for the remnants of the prophecy, but it provided them sufficient time away from the court of fontaine, away from distractions.
and, in lyney's mind, it also means he's away from you. in lynette's opinion, he should've stayed. that way, she won't get to listen to him prattle on and on about—
"do you think [name] will still love me even if i've been away from them for far too long? ahh, and lynette, these rainbow flowers, do they need a bouquet matching their eyes instead?"
and of course, her brother being the drop-dead love-drunk fool he is (bless your heart for being able to tolerate her sappy and corny brother) has not. stopped. talking. about. you.
you'd probably accept a bouquet with a dead fish in it if it meant lyney gave it to you, but lynette doesn't voice it out. in a corner of her mind, she wonders if she should just actually become a clockwork meka so she could voluntarily tune herself to tune out lyney's voice.
she crosses her arms, putting her (4th) dessert aside. "they'll like anything you give them. and there's no way they'd get sick of you just because we're away for a week, lyney."
her brother sighs, dreamily looking away at the sky. probably thinking about the flutter of your eyelashes and your smile that makes a magician want to bottle it up and never let it show to anyone else—
blergh, she was beginning to let lyney get to her.
"a week is far too long for me." lyney sulks. lynette resists the urge to roll her eyes. you and me both, brother.
"what if they might be in danger somewhere I can't reach?"
but because she's such an amazing sister (factual), she lets go of her temporary reprieve and comforts her utterly hopeless (factual?) brother.
(for your sake too. because lyney has changed. though she may say it's for the worse, that's not true at all. in fact, it's the opposite.)
"relax, lyney." her tone is sincere this time, that in which always gets lyney to look up to her. they're children again, and lynette is facing her older brother, and they're hand in hand together. "[name] will be fine. as long as it's from the heart, you know that they will cherish anything you give them."
because it's you, someone that accepted them, every part of them. lynette doesnt show it much, but it's one of the reasons why she's so fond of you. she grateful, really, that you love her brother.
thankfully, (to her great relief) it seems the hint that you'd rather have him home without anything than not be home at all, has gotten through lyney's mind. he goes silent, and lynette takes it as a successful mission success. another lovesick crisis averted, her brother's relationship with you stabilized.
at last, peace.....
. . . .
"alright then!" lyney says enthusiastically, with an unhappy lynette and a sheepish freminet in tow.
"let's commence operation steal their heart the moment we finish this mission!"
"the what now?"
lynette facepalms. she shouldn't have said anything....
BONUS:
"uh, lynette, what's that?"
"headphones."
"why?"
"....noise cancellation."
freminet looks at lyney, who's pacing around the room, muttering to himself as his grip on the rainbow flower-marcotte bouquet tightens.
"oh." lynette nods at him wearily.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
WANDERER: warning! ⚠️do not approach, he bites (scowls) 😨
there are many times when wanderer wants to bash his hat and let it squash the traveller's flying companion, and today was one of those times.
"hey, hat guy! why are you looking even more scary than usual? your scowl can be seen from miles away!"
he can hear her irritatingly cheery voice in the distance, undoubtly exposing him to the eyes of others. damn it.
"paimon, shh...!" aether silently prays to whichever god may hear (hopefully nahida), because for someone so small, wanderer was emitting a very ominous aura not akin to an aura of death.
"quit your nonsense, you-" wanderer barks back, insult at the tip of his tongue, but he tempers his temper (heh), going quiet instead. "forget it. i don't want be pissed off even more from that disgustingly chatty pet of yours."
"what did you just say to me?! urgh, you, you- ugh, paimon can't think of an ugly nickname! help out here, traveller...!"
"i think you should just let it be this time, paimon..."
he ignores the chatter of the two—mortals—thumbing at his vision, and then tenderly at the little doll he's sewed in his likeness, as well as.... your doll.
(you gave it to him once as a keepsake, in exchange for him sewing you the mini him he painstakingly made. when you got your wish, you made the two dolls kiss, saying something so ridiculous as, "that's us now!" his face burned the entire way back home.)
instead, he finds his thoughts lingering to you. you'd seen him off, staying back at sumeru city with nahida as company, leaving him to escort the traveller and paimon to the desert to clear out some ancient ruins. how boring.
you kissed him breathless back there— much to his chagrin at seeing nahida's knowing smile; but he finds himself longing for your voice and your hands in his hair more than ever. at least then he'd be able to solve the ringing in his ears from paimon's voice.
he's long stopped denying his erratic, tumultuous feelings, but he misses you. unbearably, because at least you were better than the two he's forced to babysit accompany.
and he also misses how you would take shelter in his hat in the sweltering desert heat, kissing his cheek when he flew you around to explore the pyramids, and when you would hold his hand as you complained about how long you two would be walking up, all sand and sweaty.
(he'd tease you about leaving you for dead, but was always the first to worry whenever you get dizzy from heat. a walking contradiction, this one.)
"hey, wanderer, you there?"
"you're a little red. are you overheating?woah, so puppets really can do that.... ah, you're spacing out, too!"
ugh. "what am i, a tea kettle?" he scowls, crossing his arms.
he's already counting the days he can finally return to your arms.
paimon stomps her feet at the nonexistent ground, "we're just a tiny bit worried, you know!"
"yeah? well you should do me a favor and shut your mouth a little. otherwise you'll end up overheating from the amount of nonsensical words you spit out."
"this guy's a real piece of work, only being kind to [name], jeez..." to his glee, the pixie mutters angrily. something about being a meanie and insufferable. well deserved.
aether watches the exchange with the soul drained from his body. 800,000 mora, 800,000 mora.....
. . . .
"uh... wanderer?" you chuckle nervously, not knowing where to place your hands as he buries his face head-first into your chest the moment he's home, allowing you to gently caress the soft strands of his hair.
"..."
"so are you gonna talk about it, or?"
"just let me hold you, will you?" he bites, but there's no bite at all. you kiss the top of his head as his ginormous hat is taken off his head completely. he nuzzles deeper into you. "....i missed you."
that shut you up real quick. you try to hide the giddy smile you have, but he lifts his face up to see it anyway.
"i missed you too."
BONUS:
"[name], is that an insect bite on your neck?"
"huh?!"
aether squints at you, "what kind of insect leaves that big of a bite-" his eyes pop out. turns red. "oh."
you look away. one less pure soul in the world.... sorry, aether.
(in a corner of the house of daena, wanderer sneezes.)
Tumblr media
more hsr content soon, also for very important reasons: do you think sunday would let you bite the wings by his ears yes or no
© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.
1K notes · View notes
zvaigzdelasas · 4 months
Text
[NewYorkTimes is Private US Media]
Over the past month, we’ve watched an astonishing, high-stakes global drama play out in The Hague. A group of countries from the poorer, less powerful bloc some call the global south, led by South Africa, dragged the government of Israel and, by extension, its rich, powerful allies into the top court of the Western rules-based order and accused Israel of prosecuting a brutal war in Gaza that is “genocidal in character.”
The responses to this presentation from the leading nations of that order were quick and blunt.
“Completely unjustified and wrong,” said a statement from Rishi Sunak, Britain’s prime minister.
“Meritless, counterproductive and completely without any basis in fact whatsoever,” said John Kirby, a spokesman for the United States National Security Council.
“The accusation has no basis in fact,” a German government spokesman said, adding that Germany opposed the “political instrumentalization” of the genocide statute.
But on Friday, that court had its say, issuing a sober and careful provisional ruling that doubled as a rebuke to those dismissals. In granting provisional measures, the court affirmed that some of South Africa’s allegations were plausible and called on Israel to take immediate steps to protect civilians, increase the amount of humanitarian aid and punish officials who engaged in violent and incendiary speech. The court stopped short of calling for a cease-fire, but it granted South Africa’s request for provisional measures to prevent further civilian death. For the most part, the court ruled in favor of the global south.[...]
The court was not asked to rule on whether Israel had in fact committed genocide, a matter that is likely to take years to adjudicate. Whatever the eventual outcome of the case, it sets up an epic battle over the meaning and values of the so-called rules-based order. If these rules don’t apply when powerful countries don’t want them to, are they rules at all?
“As long as those who make rules enforce them against others while believing that they and their allies are above those rules, the international governance system is in trouble,” Thuli Madonsela, one of South Africa’s leading legal minds and an architect of its post-apartheid Constitution, told me. “We say these rules are the rules when Russia invades Ukraine or when the Rohingya are being massacred by Myanmar, but if it’s now Israel butchering Palestinians, depriving them of food, displacing them en masse, then the rules don’t apply and whoever tries to apply the rules is antisemitic? It is really putting those rules in jeopardy.”[...]
The military campaign has “wreaked more destruction than the razing of Syria’s Aleppo between 2012 and 2016, Ukraine’s Mariupol or, proportionally, the Allied bombing of Germany in World War II,” the report quoted researchers as saying. The researchers, hardly some raving left-wing activists, are experts cited in one of the most respected news organizations in the world, The Associated Press.[...]
The International Court of Justice issued a nonbinding opinion in 2004 that the security barriers Israel was erecting in the West Bank violated international law, but that ruling has had no effect. The walls still stand.[...]
Indeed, what is a rules-based system if the rules apply only selectively and if seeking to apply them to certain countries is viewed as self-evidently prejudiced? To put it more simply, is there no venue in the international system to which the stateless people of Palestine and their allies and friends can go to seek redress amid the slaughter in Gaza? And if not, what are they to do?
For the cause of Palestinian statehood, every alternative to violence has been virtually snuffed out, in part because Israel’s allies have helped to discredit them. The most recent example is the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement that has, in many places, been successfully tarred as antisemitic or even banned altogether. Efforts to use the United Nations Security Council have drawn U.S. vetoes for decades. Is seeking redress at the appropriate venue for alleged violations of international law also antisemitic, as Israel’s defense minister said on Friday? Does no law apply to Israel? Are there no limits to what it may do to defend itself?[...]
The Biden administration has made the shoring up of the international rules-based order a centerpiece of its foreign policy but, unsurprisingly, has struggled to live up to that aspiration.[...]
Occasionally straying from your principles because circumstances require it is very different from being seen to have no principles at all, and that is precisely how much of the global south has come to regard the United States.
It seems especially shortsighted in these times that the Biden administration elected to wave away the carefully documented case prepared by South Africa. One of the biggest threats to the rules-based international order is the growing consensus in the poor world that the rich world will apply those rules selectively, at its discretion, when it suits the powerful nations that make up the global north, such as when Russia invaded Ukraine.[...]
As far as the rules-based order is concerned, when it comes to crimes like genocide and ethnic cleansing, it simply does not matter who started it. [...] The best way to shore up the rules-based order is to be seen, in word and deed, as committing to the institutions and moral commitments of that order.
28 Jan 24
1K notes · View notes
ew-selfish-art · 7 months
Text
Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.
Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.
Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.
Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.
---
Tim Drake is having a horrible day.
He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.
Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.
They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.
"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.
Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.
The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.
"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.
"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."
"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"
"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."
"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"
"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."
"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.
---
Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.
Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.
And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.
Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.
But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.
The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.
2K notes · View notes
lace-coffin · 6 months
Note
Hi! Can I ask how the slashers would feel if they ever accidentally hurt their s/o? Gender and everything is up to you!
How slashers would react to Accidently hurting their S/O
Thank you so much for my first ever request ah! I hope you enjoy 💖
Requests are open!
Warning for blood/injury - mild sexual content/reference to sexual activity and power dynamics -unhealthy relationships (I think?)
Reader is gender neutral!
Bubba sawyer
Most likely happened via Bubba playing too hard and Accidently pushing you over or being a bit too heavy handed with you. If it’s a case of them mistaking you for a victim and catching you with their chainsaw before being able to stop then they’ll be even more in inconsolable : (
Stops and stares for a minute to process what’s happened before devolving into full blown panic.
She’ll drop whatever she’s doing to carry you back to the house, even if that means letting the victim escape and having Drayton yell at her.
Will hurriedly explain in rushed sign to either Choptop or Nubbins to go take care of the victim as he’s busy caring for you.
Checks you over frantically. Please explain you’re going to be ok and help them calm down.
Once he knows you’re not in any danger he’ll feel absolutely awful about it and whine apologies to you even if you tell him that it’s ok and it wasn’t their fault.
Please comfort them once you feel better and reassure them.
Will insist you come up with a verbal and nonverbal sign to give if they’re accidently messing around to hard.
Will make you agree to stay in the house out of the way when victims are around so you don’t Accidently get hurt again.
Thomas Hewitt
After another night of Hoyt berating him for things out of his control, Tommy storms off to the basement to cool off. You follow after him, intending to comfort and wanting to help. You place a hand on his shoulder without thinking, forgetting he doesn’t enjoy physical touch without warning, thinking it might help. Whipping around he grabs your wrist a little too hard, causing you to wince.
He snatches his hand back as soon as he realises what he’s done.
Tommy will bring you to Luda may to have her check you over and assess the damage.
Once he knows you’re safe he’ll confine himself to the basement for a few days, only coming out to eat but even then it’s tense.
He’s truly sorry and feels like all those people who called him a monster and an animal were right, he hurt the one he cares about most, after all.
After a few days apart, a lot of hushed words of affirmation and kisses/nose bumps he’ll feel comfortable being with you again.
You know to let him cool off by himself and come to you when he’s ready after a heated argument now.
Michale Myers
You jump out at Michael thinking it would be funny to catch the shape off guard for once and not the other way around. Unfortunately this backfires and he swings his knife at you, thinking it may be an intruder since you’ve never pulled something like this before, You manage to jolt out of the way but the knife still catches you in the shoulder. Thankfully, it’s only superficial and will heal, but it still looks like it needs medical attention.
Initially Michael looks at you unamused, granted it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling underneath the mask. He gives you a kind of “well If you weren’t being dumb this wouldn’t have happened” attitude. However this is a front for the actual panic he refuses to show on the surface.
Having a few cuts and scratches isn’t super uncommon when your with Michael considering his tastes involving knives in bed ; )
Usually hurting others comes naturally and without remorse to Michael, so it shakes him to his core that he’s actively worrying about your wellbeing instead of feeling the usual indifference.
It disturbs him that he actually cares about someone enough to feel remorse for his actions.
After unceremoniously pulling your shirt off and looking the wound over he forces you go to A&E, practically marching your ass out the door.
Since he’s basically an escaped criminal he can’t exactly casually walk in the hospital with you, however he will stalk you the entire time, lurking close by to make sure you arrive and leave safely.
Although he usually has his guard up he vows to try be a little less bristly with you from now on if it means he doesn’t have to see you hurt and feel that awful tug of regret/worry in his chest.
Jason voorhees
You went out looking for Jason one night after he hadn’t returned to the cabin by his usual time. You were worried he’d been overpowered by a group of trespassers or caught in a trap and didn’t have any way to communicate that to you. The woods were beautiful but so dense and vast, getting lost or injured in the thick of them may as well be a death sentence.
Whilst searching for your missing partner you get your leg snagged in a bear trap he had set out previously for the trespassers. You howl in pain as you hear the sickening snap of your ankle between the traps jaws.
Jason was trudging his way back to the cabin when he heard it. Knowing that wasn’t a rougue teen as he’d cleared them out already, alarm bells went off in his head. He stormed to scene as fast as he could.
He could have sworn his undead heart stopped for the second time as he saw you sitting there in agony, murky blood seeping into the forest floor.
He rushes to your side and looks frantically between the trap and your teary face, he knows he’s going to have to disengage the traps and for you it’s going to be..less than pleasent.
He signs for you to grip onto his arm for support. Since he’s already dead and regenerates fairly quickly he feels it’s the least he can do to let you grip his arm for dear life as he wrenches the trap from your shattered ankle. If you cause any damage to his arm (which is very unlikely) it will heal up in no time anyway.
Once he’s carried you back to the cabin he’ll be frantically following Pamela’s directions in his head for what to do and how to clean/ wrap it.
If the damage is extensive he’ll relent and let you go to the hospital, only if a trusted friend takes you though, he’ll be sitting by the window of your shared cabin every minute until you return back to him.
You’re no longer aloud to be out in the woods after dark alone if he’s set traps. You both carry whistles now so if he’s not home and you need to know he’s safe you can whistle to each other and feel more at ease.
Billy Lenz
Interacting with Billy when he’s having an episode is never a good idea. You thought it would be fine to just be in the room though, providing you stay out of his way. As you enter, Billy is in the midst of trashing his attic once again, the disgusting feelings bubbling in his chest too much to bear. You enter just as he’s angrily thrown an old glass christmas ornament at the floor that the sorority had kept in storage. It shatters and flecks of sparkling glass scatter along the floor. One piece catching you in the hand in a nasty glass splinter. You swear under your breath and rush off to take care of it.
Billy doesn’t even realise what’s happened until you return to him, him now having exhausted himself and you knowing it’s safe to try do some damage control. You bring him a sandwich and juice knowing he’ll need it after all the energy and tears he just used up.
Your hands touch as he’s accepting the plate from you with a muted “thank you” and he notices the bandage.
Billy essentially bristles up like an angry cat at the idea of someone hurting his piggy and demands to know who did it and what happened.
Once you tell him it was actually from the ornament he feels horrible. He doesn’t even remember it happening with the state he was in.
He snuggles into the crook of your neck and mumbles apologies into your skin.
Billy will place sloppy kisses over it as an apology until you forgive him. (Not exactly hygenic since it’s an open wound but i mean…you’re dating the attic rat)
Brahms Heelshire
When living with Brahms there isn’t usually much to injure yourself on considering the estate is fairly out of the way from the rest of the village. You most likely caught yourself on a pair of sheers. Brahms is being stubborn about you being out of the house and slings the sheers in your general direction from the door frame when you ask for them. You don’t even notice you sliced your hand when catching them until you see a patch of blood soaking through your gardening gloves about ten minutes later.
You come in to grab a tea towel to wrap your bleeding finger in, not really fazed as it’s only a small cut. Brahms was lurking from the window as you tended to the hedges, not wanting to be away from you but not yet brave enough to tempt leaving the house he’s been in all these years.
As soon as he sees it he’s panicking, it’s only a little cut and you’re not concerned in the slightest but to Brahms you may as well have just came in with an arm missing. He’s instantly flittering around you asking if you’re ok and if you need a hospital.
You stifle your laugh at his over the top concern, you find it rather sweet, it’s not his fault he’s a little bit sheltered.
After cleaning the cut and bandaging it, it’s totally fine. If anything Brahms needs more reassuring and coddling than you do to get him to settle.
He apologises a thousand times for his attitude because he knows If he hadn’t been stroppy about you leaving the house and passed the sheers nicely then you wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. He promises to try be more composed when he starts getting antsy.
He may need some ✨punishment✨ in order to encourage his behaviour change and to feel forgiven.
He begrudgingly lets you back outside to garden after about a week.
Asa Emory
If you’re the pet of Asa then it’s likely that most of your injuries are purposefully given from him and are no mistake. You’re poked and prodded often considering your residency in the collection. Wounds from experiments and correctional punishments when you disobey or refuse to submit are not uncommon at all. So it doesn’t bother him since he inflicted them. This also assures he cleans them with clinical precision. If you were anyone else he would leave the wounds to fester, if you died from a complication then that was just inconvenient. Not you though, you’ve caught his attention and heart. He loves you in his own domineering way.
If the wound was created by him on accident then he would give himself a hard time, chastising himself for his carelessness.
For example, if he had more trouble with law enforcement than he thought and that led to you to spending way more time in the trunk than you usually do, causing you to develop a sore from sitting in one cramped position for too long.
Asa would realise you’re injured once you’re let out of the trunk, hissing in pain as you stretch. He makes you show him where you’re hurting so he can inspect over it.
Despite Asa’s stony face his stomach is actively sinking. He knows you’re hurt because of him and it wasn’t purposeful or measured like it would be during a punishment. He sees this as failure in his pet care and it takes a blow to his god complex. Gods don’t make mistakes, but here he is, hurting his dolly by being so out of it.
He’ll make sure to clean it for you and even stop putting you in the trunk for a while. This does however still mean you’ll be attached to him via leash or chain connected to the ring sitting on his belt. Just because you’re hurt and his favourite toy, doesn’t mean he will except anything less than your complete and total submission.
He’ll be more tender and soft handed with you than usual for a while after. Punishments will be withheld until you heal. Then it’s back to normal routine as expected.
Predator/yautja
You were wearing a new perfume you’d picked up at the market during the day, You were only supposed to be getting meats and maybe a new fur for the bed but once the alien at the stand had convinced you to sample it you fell in love with it.
Your mate picks up on an unknown scent entering the house, hackles raising and stalking towards it. As soon as they catch the heat signature they throw a wrist blade in warning.
Their eyes widen in horror, rushing to the door as they catch scent of your tangly blood dripping onto the hardwood floor of your shared home.
The new perfume masked your familiar scent from them, making them believe the house was in danger and being intruded on. If their face could loose colour it would, cringing as they see the wrist blade sticking through your palm, groceries discarded at the door.
They start talking at you in rapid clicks before they realise you can’t actually understand. After making sure to keep the object in your hand so you don’t bleed out and that you’re not going to pass out on them, they insist on carrying you their medic instead of going to an ooman one.
They argue that their medicine is far more advanced and will heal your wound much more efficiently then your “ primitive ooman medicine”
Thanks to yautja medicine being far more advanced, It will heal like nothing ever happened in around two weeks. The wound stitched shut and given some kind of injection.
Your mate purrs and clicks for you deep from their chest the entire time you’re having the blade removed to try calm you.
They beg for forgiveness despite it literally being an accident and will need some reassurance that they haven’t failed you as a mate. Once you’re all healed up they’ll bring back an impressive skull from a hunt as an apology even if you’ve already forgiven them.
Whilst it’s healing you’re probably going be kept in the nest of furs and pulled tightly against them whilst they purr and sooth you.
My requests are open if you’d like to send any prompts or ideas for me to write!
2K notes · View notes
earlgreydream · 4 months
Text
His. | Loki x reader smut
I finally the Loki tv show… this does NOT have any spoilers, it’s set on Asgard with a newly appointed king and his coronation gift…
cw: d/s
Tumblr media
“Leave any traces of fear in this room.” The command was clear, spoken sharply by a royal attendant.
Your gaze didn’t leave the fragrant water of the bath you knelt in, the attendant taking care to wash every inch of your skin. Other women pulled fluttering silks from a wardrobe, lying it out for you and finding jewelry to match. So much led to this moment, and yet it didn’t seem real — anticipation and anxiety buzzing in your head. You’d been told once already to contain the obvious fear that lingered in your chest, but the daunting task of doing so seemed impossible when your fate was waiting on a silver platter, the moment you left the private chamber you were being bathed in.
“Come, out of the water before your skin wrinkles,” you were hauled to your feet, wrapped in towels and rubbed down by several girls with movements so quick, you were barely left time to react.
Hands massaged your tense limbs, covering them in oils that bloomed with exotic scents, leaving your skin gleaming. At the same time, your hair was fixed, emeralds — his favorite — twisted into the locks and fastening to bare your neck.
“It’s customary to dress her in white,” a handmaiden spoke of you as if you were not there.
“The prince prefers black.” The will of your all-powerful god silenced any protest, everyone moving to do his bidding.
The women fretted — you had to be perfect for him. They prepared you to be presented to the god, as a divine gift to honor the crown prince of Asgard. You were bathed, decorated, and dressed, all to please the god you were gifted to, an expectation that you’d been bred for. It was a great honor to be taken from the hills, to the castle of the gods, to walk amongst the divine, even if it meant your role was to do as your master saw fit, obeying every command. You had come to terms with it, knowing that upon prince Loki’s rise to the throne, you were the sacrifice — the gift — of the kingdom, a promise of good fortune and favor granted in return.
It all seemed like a far-away, distant dream in a future that would never come. Despite that, here you were, relinquishing your whole self to Asgard’s throne. You had never met the god, and never seen him up close. Of course you’d heard the stories, the wrath and prowess of the young prince, and even seen him from a distance — but being in his presence was something entirely new, before being expected to spend the rest of time at his mercy.
Asgardian silk draped over your skin, so light you wouldn’t know it was there. Your decency was concealed beneath expensive black fabric, hiding what was only meant for Loki to see in the moments after this. The handmaidens’ fussing finally ceased, ending the long evening of preparation.
“Come with me, and do as you’re told,” the woman in charge ushered you forward, opening the chamber doors, releasing you out of known captivity into unpredictability.
You swallowed the fear in your throat, steps silent as you followed her to the throne room, the festivities growing louder as you approached your fate. Before you were given a moment to hesitate, you were led into the cavernous room of gold and heavenly magic.
All at once, it fell silent as soldiers escorted you to the throne. There he was — the god himself, draped over his golden throne. Loki was the only one adorned finer than you, a golden helm atop his onyx waves, wild cerulean eyes that bore straight into your soul.
“Your majesty, a gift in exchange for your benevolence,” the ceremony’s representative from your kingdom presented you to Loki, a hand on your shoulder forcing you to kneel before the throne.
A dangerous smile curved the god’s lips, placing his scepter aside as he rose to his feet.
“A very generous gift indeed,” Loki’s lyrical voice wrapped around your throat, stealing the air from your lungs.
He was impossibly tall and lean as he approached you, toned muscles visible even through the heavy layers of leather and gold that adorned his figure. Loki was no mere prince, but a god of mischief, holding an entire world in the palm of his delicate hand. A dark mischief glittered in his eyes, the gorgeous royal leaning down to look closely at you.
He tilted your chin up, looking him directly in the eye, immediately disarmed and vulnerable as you did so. His expression changed almost imperceptibly, gone from his eyes in a flash as he looked away from you, addressing the court who had handed you over.
Your ears were ringing too loudly to hear what he said, your head spinning. A solider moved to guide you to sit at the base of the throne, at Loki’s feet, when you were suddenly snapped back into the present moment.
“You will not lay a hand on what is mine!” Loki’s shout thundered through the chamber, stopping the man before he could touch you.
The soldier quickly fell back, recognizing the lethal danger of disrespecting Loki. An entire room held its breath, the seconds agonizing, exhaling only when Loki motioned for festivities to resume.
Despite the advice to hide your fear, Loki could practical feel your startled fright. Everything else blurred into the background, the celebration entertaining itself, leaving you and Loki at the center of your own universe.
Loki leaned down with an outstretched hand, his expression softening as you met his gaze. He had not yet spoken directly to you, but you didn’t need instruction to place your hand in his, allowing his strength to move you forward. Loki guided you to kneel at his feet as he resumed his place on the throne, slotted between his long legs.
Delicate fingers gently tilted your chin to look up at him, the touch startlingly gentle, a stark contrast to what you’d been warned of.
“There is a long night of festivities ahead, you may rest on me if you grow weary,” Loki granted you permission to lie your head against his thigh, to sink back into the new shelter.
You gave a small nod of understanding, looking back down as his attention was demanded from another round of celebration.
Despite the dizzying commotion of Loki’s ceremony, your limbs became heavy and keeping your eyes open was a losing battle. Loki peered down at you as you slowly laid your head against his leg, letting your exhausted body rest for the first time.
A fierce desire to protect you swelled in Loki’s chest, suddenly cross with the noise and lights that combatted your sleep. As he continued to entertain offerings of exotic fruits and tributes from his kingdoms, Loki moved a leg in front of you, glaring at anyone who so much as looked too long in your direction.
He couldn’t imagine how drained you were, to sleep through the chaos. Your weight rested against his leg, though you didn’t let yourself fully drift into deep sleep, some part of you making sure that you were upright, not wanting to displease him.
Loki carefully supported you as he stood, lifting you off the floor with godly strength. The festivities continued without him — kings, gods, and valkyrie reenacting stories of battles and playing with magic in the great halls.
He’d had quite enough of the noise and empty affection, and desired nothing more than some quiet time alone with his offering.
“Careful,” he warned softly as you began to stir, strengthening his grip to keep you from falling.
“M’sorry,” you mumbled, your first words spoken in a haze of exhaustion.
“It’s alright, you’re free to rest,” Loki laid you down on his bed the moment you entered the privacy of his chambers.
Golden floors were etched in sweeping illustrations of history and mythology, telling the stories of your god beneath the bed draped in dark green silks. Huge doors opened to a veranda, a summer breeze ruffling the curtains, allowing glimpses of glittering astronomy overhead.
Your mind yearned to stay awake, to learn your surroundings and stay vigilant in the presence of Loki. Despite that, your body screamed for sleep, sinking into the soft bedding he had placed you on.
.
Loki watched you sleep.
Exhaustion kept your body rigidly still, not moving once the entire night. You stayed curled up in the very corner of the expansive bed, out of reach of Loki, who eventually took his place as the sun cracked the horizon.
The only indication you were real, was the gentle rise and fall of your back as you breathed. As you slept, the frightened expression vanished from your face, softening the your features. Loki couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your almost peaceful face.
Loki drifted in and out of sleep, not bothering to wake you after such a late and overwhelming night. You must have been weary, because you couldn’t have been comfortable, making yourself as small as possible at the very edge of the bed, not wanting to take up too much of Loki’s space.
You slowly opened your eyes, sunlight streaming in through the open veranda. The morning seemed impossibly peaceful, despite waking up into a new life of servitude. This didn’t feel like what you’d expected — waking up in a comfortable bed with the warm sun on your face, the scent of breakfast wafting from a huge spread on the chamber’s dining table.
“Good morning, darling,” Loki’s voice was much softer in the privacy of the chambers, without an audience.
You sat up, looking over as he stood from a couch, setting aside a novel. He was more relaxed, wearing loose black linen, his hair tied up loosely.
“Hi,” you whispered, at a loss for words — partially in awe of how gorgeous he was, and partially cautious, as if he were a cobra waiting to strike at any wrong move.
He watched as you observed your surroundings, inspecting your golden cage in the light of day. Loki’s chambers were beautiful, bright, and serene. It seemed so divorced from the perception you had of the god before being let in to the most private part of his existence. Loki moved smoothly throughout the room, delicate hands attached to a lean, muscular body. Loki’s face was sculpted out of marble, so stunningly beautiful it left you breathless. Green eyes pierced straight into your soul, laid bare when he looked at you.
“Eat something,” he gestured to the feast at the table, as if he were the devil, offering food to a goddess to keep captive in his lair forever.
It was your job to obey, your body moving before your mind even considered protest. The shimmering gown you were wearing the night before swept the floor as you walked, Loki admiring how beautiful you were, even slightly disheveled.
You hesitantly took a berry from the table, bringing it to your lips, licking the sweetness off your fingertips. The sight stirred something inside of Loki, his gaze focusing on the contours of your body that were visible through the just-sheer parts of the fabric draped over you.
“Master?” You could feel the weight of his gaze, invisibly drawing you to him.
Loki stepped toward you, pleased as you sank to your knees without any encouragement, easing into his submission. You wanted it, needed it, like your lungs needed air. A shimmer of green made your clothing disappear, baring you fully to Loki’s intoxicated gaze.
“Look at you, fit for a god,” he praised, slowly circling you as you kneeled, appreciating you from every angle.
“Only for you, master.”
“Loki,” he permitted you to call him by name, a request that pulled the corners of your lips up with small satisfaction.
The floor was cold beneath your knees, and your skin began to prick beneath a cool breeze from the veranda. Loki swelled over the recognition that you were his, and his alone. He was hard in the loose linen pants, eager to claim full ownership of you in such an intimate way. You willingly surrendered to him, practically desperate for him to take you, to consummate your submission to the god.
Your hands smoothed up the solid muscles of Loki’s thighs — limbs you wish to be bent over — before clutching the linen waistband and dragging down his trousers. The sight of him hung heavy made your mouth water and your cunt throb, desire swirling in your belly.
“Go ahead. Touch me as you please, I’m as much yours as you are mine,” Loki murmured, realizing you were waiting for permission, to do as you were told.
Long fingers wove into your hair, cradling the side of your head, pulling only slightly as you licked the tip of his cock, sending a shock up his spine.
He leaned back against the wall, smirking as your left palm flattened over his toned abs to brace yourself, pleased that you were trusting his words.
“Gods,” Loki swore when you took him in your mouth, letting him push you down until he was filling your throat.
Pretty tears welled at your lashes at his size, your throbbing need beginning to smear between your thighs. Your free hand worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, your tongue dragging up his shaft. He was both long and thick, his skin like velvet on your tongue. It was a feat to take even half of him in your mouth, and you moaned and the thought of him fucking you, and how you’d beg to take it all.
“If worshipping my cock makes you wet enough to drip on my floor, I’ll let you do it every morning,” Loki purred with a grin, clearly taking notice of the effect he had on your body.
“Please,” you whimpered respectfully, dragging your fist up his length, giving your mouth a break.
“I’m close, darling, you’re doing beautifully,” he praised, watching your thighs squeeze together at his words.
“I want to come in that gorgeous mouth, feel myself in your throat.”
You tilted your head back just a bit, both to gaze up into his eyes and to let him in deeper. A low whine vibrated around his cock as his hand wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing.
“Fuck,” Loki hissed, spilling over into your mouth, filling your senses with his salty taste.
“Swallow it,” Loki commanded, and you were all too willing to obey, wanting to please him.
His thumb swiped over your lips, cleaning up the bit of mess he made, kneeling in front of you as you both caught your breath.
“Was that okay?” the question slipped out before you could stop yourself, puzzling Loki.
“Of course, it was perfect. Haven’t you done it before?”
“No, I’ve been kept pure for you,” you answered, earning a profane string of Norse as his dick twitched.
“You’ve made me insatiable,” Loki pressed a quick, messy kiss to your mouth that was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“No!” Loki shouted, standing up, displayed in his full glory to the guard who opened the door.
The furious god stood in front of you, blocking any eyes from catching even a glimpse of your body.
“Get out, now, or I shall have your eyes torn out!” Loki thundered, fiercely possessive over you.
“I’m so sorry, your highness. Odin has called on you—”
A sharp burst of Loki’s magic sent the man flying backward with a yell, the door slamming shut behind him.
“I’m sorry-” you began, as if you needed to apologize for being nude.
“I will never let anyone else touch you, see your body, or covet what is mine.”
A warmth spread through you at the words, taking his hand to stand up. He took a cloth, carefully cleaning you up, before guiding you into a closet that was full of the finest Asgardian fabrics.
“We’ll continue this later, darling, but for now, you’ll accompany me on whatever nonsense I’m being summoned for,” Loki explained, moving to dress himself as he left you to choose what maids had left for your arrival.
You chose green, pleasing the god as you adorned his colors, another sign of your growing devotion. Loki kissed your wrist, before a band of gold appeared in a shimmer, bringing a smile to your face.
He wordlessly led you out of his chambers, a hand at the small of your back. Being with him was intense — but the castle and all of its people was overwhelming. You found yourself leaning into Loki’s side, away from the noise of shouting and chaos of the everyday happenings.
He looked up from the throne to see what was bothering you before pulling you to sit between his legs where you could sink back into him and ignore the noise.
“We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished. Until then, you can entertain yourself by picturing what I’m going to do to your precious little pussy,” Loki whispered against the side of your face, gently nipping your ear.
You shuddered against his chest, feeling him chuckle beneath you as his arm tightened on your waist. Warmth flushed your cheeks and you turned your face into his arm, shy at the filthy words from Loki. He could feel your heart racing inside your ribs, anxious to tear the emerald gown from your body.
You were lost in your thoughts when Loki banished everyone from the expansive throne room, giant doors embedded with gemstones slamming shut, sealing you alone with him.
“Now, where were we?” Loki asked, mouthing hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.
“I believe you were about to fuck me, Loki,” you chirped.
“I love hearing those dirty words on your lips, all for me.”
“Only you,” you promised, closing the gap as he hovered above you.
The kiss was heady, his tongue warm and dominating as he pushed it past your lips. The sensation nearly distracted you from his hands, that were tearing the fabric around your torso, letting it flutter to the floor in shimmering pieces.
“I’m going to fuck you here, on this throne, like a proper king.”
You parted your legs, letting his hand drop between them. Loki smirked into your neck as he cupped your sex, feeling how wet you were, desperate for him as heat radiated from your center.
He didn’t bother to turn you over, perfectly happy to fuck you while you were on top of him, lying on his chest as he sat upon his throne. He glided his cock along your wet lips, only a moment until you were squirming with desperation.
He wanted to hear you beg, but even he couldn’t wait any longer, slowly sinking into you, every inch stretching you impossibly further. The sweet sting made you cry out, your head dropping back on his shoulder when he nestled himself fully inside you.
“You’re perfect for me,” Loki praised through gritted teeth, fighting not to slam into you like an animal. He could feel your walls throbbing around him, muscles burning as they were forced to take the stretch to fit him inside — and you loved it.
You doubted anything would ever feel so good, until his hips started to roll forward, the god fucking you deep and slow, holding your body against his chest. He buried his face in your shoulder, soaking up your squeals of pleasure as he lost himself in you.
Before he even thought to play with you, your cunt began to clench around him with an impending orgasm. Your startled whimper shot straight to Loki’s dick, and he fucked you harder, unable to help himself.
“Come around me, darling, let me know how good you feel,” Loki urged, nearly spilling into you as you trembled in his arms, coming with a scream that echoed off the walls.
“There you go,” he murmured, twitching before he filled you with his seed, painting your insides with him.
Your breaths were ragged and uneven, mind completely foggy in the aftermath. He breathed in your scent as he stayed inside you, preserving the moment for as long as possible.
“I’m yours, forever,” you whispered, as if reading his mind.
2K notes · View notes
murdrdocs · 4 months
Text
MDNI ; explicit NSFW content
sometimes, when the night air has a bite to it and the stars seem to shine a little brighter, luke castellan will sit by your side and confess his desire for a normal teenage life.
he won't say much, only telling you that he wishes he lived a life similar to yours, and maybe you can pull a specific desire or two out of him. but either way, you're always quick to fill the silence with possibilities, telling him of all of the things you he do to achieve a similar feeling.
he tries to implement some of them into life at camp half-blood. asking for cherry and blue raspberry slushies in his goblet at dinner. partaking in your stash of substances you shouldn’t have had at camp when he's free. sneaking around with you to play with each others bodies with enthusiastic curiosity at any hour of any day.
from what you can tell, that is his favorite part about being a teenager.
at first, he was quick to turn your casual conversations during the night into desperately grinding your clothed crotches against each other without any cares of how it looked, only caring about how it felt. letting out any moan or praise or thought in a quiet enough whisper to not alert anyone (or more likely, anything) that could be out there with you.
and even though you had nothing but constellations as your witness, you dare not bare your bodies. instead keeping them trapped in your clothing, attempting to ignore the way heat was multiplying as you both chased a feeling that seemed impossible to catch like this.
it was much easier to capture the feeling that started low in your groins before erupting all over the rest of your bodies when you were in the showers. where he became more desperate and bold.
always being the last two to clean your bodies at night would guarantee solitude, a state neither of you ever took for granted. times like those, you share a stall, stripped down completely with nothing at all to hide your bodies, save for the soap which is not used until after.
after he’s kissed you stupid.
after his fingers have traced every curve and bend and protrusion of your body.
after you’ve admired him with your eyes and your lips and practically begged him to do something, anything.
after he’s brought both of you pleasure from whatever method he’d settled on that night, or from whatever seed of an idea you sweetly planted in his brain.
no matter when or where or how, luke is always eager to have you.
it’s nearly impossible for him to get his fill, a stark reminder to you that while he is a normal boy in most circumstances, the blood running through his veins gives him an edge human boys will never have. the power coursing through him—a characteristic you share but not to the same extremity—allows him to take you over and over again without faltering, even when you’re left begging for mercy.
(sometimes, he’ll pity you. most times, he kisses you to keep you distracted, and then swiftly pulls another orgasm out you before you can cry and whine about it)
1K notes · View notes
Text
Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Height Difference Headcanons
AKA What it's like to love a Short King
I was already inspired after my last headcanon post, and have some more fun little ideas for Lucifer X Reader, namely in regards to our dear Fallen Angel being the short one in the relationship. Got a bit sillier and spicier with this one, and I hope you're all ready for some very spicy ones in the near future!
Tumblr media
- He's accustomed to being shorter than most, and while he's not one to accept mockery of any kind, he's more than comfortable enough with himself to accept nicknames and loving platitudes about his height from a romantic partner. Hearing you sweetly refer to him as a "Short King" will always get him smirking, and an affectionate "Little Lucy" makes him melt every time. Cooing over how cute he is is also sure to put him in a happy, purring mood, to the point he'll end up laying his head on your lap if you'll let him. Hearing about how darling you find him whilst having your fingers run through his hair might just be his favorite pastime.
- Between the wings and his angelic powers, he doesn't actually struggle to reach anything high up, but he will still appreciate it if you preemptively grab the item in question. That's not to say he won't ask, but he'll always make a point to be as silly about it as possible when he does. Requesting a lift is his preferred way of doing so, and he'll take his sweet time lounging in your arms after grabbing what he needs, even stretching out bridal style for a bit of carrying. Angelic magic can make him light as a feather for extra long bouts of carrying if you're willing to indulge him.
- He'll be the first to tell you all about the advantages of his stature, and at the top of his list is how often he finds himself at bust height, which is quite the gift for a breast man like himself. Yours are the only ones he's interested in, obviously, but he loves how easy it is for him to come in for a hug and tuck his head in between. You'll find him doing this wether he's had a great day or a terrible one, with the former being to celebrate and the latter being to get some much needed comfort somewhere warm and soft. He can't help it if your boobs are just the perfect place to put his face.
- He's going to borrow your hoodies. Granted, "borrow" is an interesting term for something you'll never get back, but he always ensures you're compensated in some way or another. No top of yours that fits him is safe, and the looser it fits over his smaller frame, the better. These oversized clothes are never worn outside the privacy of his quarters, and he wears them most frequently when circumstances keep the two of you apart, particularly at night. Having something of yours all around him is like having your embrace from a distance, and he can't help being sentimental enough to find comfort in that, even after so many eons.
- He's small, but you'll never forget that he's an absolute powerhouse, if only because it's beyond obvious when you're in his presence. Angelic power practically hums through the air if you listen closely, and that's just what you can sense at a distance. Things are even more intense when you come into contact with his lean physical form. For all of his grace and agility, he doesn't lack for physical strength in the slightest, and you learn that the first time you feel him support your body with his. He'll never once give even a hint of effort, let alone struggle, no matter how considerably you tower over him. Carrying you bridal style takes no more effort than one would to lift a couple of grapes. As such, he'll happily take you into his arms or lap, and showing off his unfathomable strength in romantic gestures always gets him puffing his chest with pride.
912 notes · View notes