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#there is significantly less for until dawn
incognit0slut · 3 hours
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REFLECTED BLISS
When you discover a mirror attached to the wall in your hotel room, Spencer decides to take full advantage of it.
Warnings: (18+ MDNI) afab reader, established relationship but they're being sneaky, fingering, guided masturbation (f), unprotected sex with a mirror involved, creampie, and spencer being spencer a.k.a he uses fun facts as dirty talk ~3.9k words A/n: Told myself to make this 'cute and sexy and less filthy' but… idk man, from a scale to 1 to 10 how filthy is this be honest Requested: Here
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“Oh my god.”
“What? What is it?”
“Spence,” you urged, pulling him into the room. “You need to see this.”
He followed you, stepping further in, and his eyes widened as they landed on the wall opposite the bed—a wall that wasn't just a wall, but a vast, floor-to-ceiling mirror reflecting the entire room. “That’s… interesting.”
“Interesting?” You mocked before peaking your head out the door, making sure no one was in sight before clicking it shut. “It’s terrifying.”
His duffel bag hit the carpet floor. “You’re scared of a mirror?”
“No,” you responded, placing your own bag alongside his. “I’m scared of the idea of it. I mean, look at it—it’s like it sees everything.” 
“It’s glass. It can’t actually see us.”
“Yeah, but still,” you said, crossing your arms defensively. “It’s placed right in front of the bed. Who would want to watch themselves sleeping?”
His eyes shifted back and forth between the mirror and the bed, the reflection capturing every detail of the room, including the bed’s plush pillows and crisp white sheets. “You know, I don’t think it’s used for sleeping.”
“What do you mean?”
His lips quirked up into an amused smile. “Think about it. Why would anyone want a mirror like this in front of their bed? It’s not for sleeping, it’s for... well, other activities.”
You felt your cheeks heat up as realization dawned. “Oh, you mean—that’s even worse!”
He laughed, closing the distance between you, his arms resting comfortably around your waist. “Actually, visual stimulation can significantly enhance sexual experiences. Mirrors can add a whole new level of excitement by engaging our sense of sight.”
Your face flushed even more. “I… did not know that.”
“Yeah, it’s all about the brain processing the stimuli.” He pulled you closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “It can heighten our arousal and make the experience more intense.”
You could feel your heart hammering against your chest, knowing what he was trying to do. Every time he initiated something intimate, it never failed to fluster you. There was a time when Spencer was uncertain and hesitant about these aspects of your relationship. But the more you spent time together, sneaking into each other’s hotel rooms from time to time, the more his confidence grew.
Now, you could feel it in the way he was holding you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. His touch was firm yet gentle, and the way he looked down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and a hint of mischief, was sending you into a frenzy. There was something different in his gaze—a new assurance, a quiet strength that made your pulse quicken.
He smiled down at you, a secretive, knowing smile as if he held a secret of his own, one that he was eager to share with you in these private moments. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. 
“I guess that makes sense.”
His smile widened. “So, while the mirror might seem creepy at first, it actually has its perks.”
“Perks, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
You pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing at him. “Are you trying to convince me to have sex in front of the mirror?”
“Is it working?”
You couldn’t stop the laugh escaping your lips. “A little.”
He laughed along with you, the sound warm and infectious. “Can I convince you more?”
But before you could answer him, his lips were already down your neck, drawing a sigh from you. You tilted your head to grant him better access. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours.
“I thought—” You let out a moan when he sucked a spot just below your ear. “I thought we agreed… no funny business tonight.”
“Was that really your plan when you begged me to stay with you?”
“I didn’t beg,” you defended. “You offered. I told you this town gave me the creeps and you said you’d sneak in my room to keep me company.”
His lips paused momentarily, hovering just over your pulse. 
“You’re right, you didn’t beg,” he conceded with a soft chuckle, his breath tickling your skin. “But you have to admit, the offer was mutually beneficial.”
“Mutually beneficial? Is that what we’re calling it?”
“It’s accurate,” he murmured, drawing back to look at you. “And I seem to remember someone saying how much they appreciated the company... especially at night.”
You could feel the smile forming on your lips, even as you tried to maintain a semblance of indignation. “Well, maybe I did say that. But that doesn’t mean—”
His lips cut you off, soft and persuasive, making it impossible to continue as your protests melted away. The kiss deepened, driven by a mixture of long-held desire and the thrill of his hard body pressed against your soft frame.
“You make a pretty convincing argument,” you murmured against his lips, your earlier resolve softening.
He pulled away from you before taking your hand in his. “Come here.”
He led you gently towards the mirror, the expanse of glass revealing your intertwined figures in the softly lit room.
“Oh my god, we’re actually doing this?”
He positioned you in front of him. "Only if you're comfortable.”
You watched your reflections, the way his hands settled more firmly around your waist, how your bodies fit together so perfectly. Your gaze met him through the mirror.
“Convince me more.”
He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, fingers hovering above the buttons of your shirt. 
“Well," he began. "Did you know that mirrors don't just reflect visuals? They can also amplify emotions.”
You watched him in the reflection, the depth of his clear, brown eyes pulling you deeper into the moment. "It's like being both the spectator and the participant," he continued, his fingers deftly beginning to unbutton your shirt with gentle precision. "It makes everything more real, more intimate.”
You found yourself nodding, drawn in by both his words and the tender yet confident way he handled you. 
"So," he concluded as he folded back the fabric, revealing more of you to the cool air of the room and the warm glow of his gaze, "If we're talking about enhancing our senses, using a mirror could make every touch, every kiss, feel even more intense, don't you think?"
Words failed you; you were too overwhelmed by his presence, by the heat that radiated from his touch, so instead of speaking, you nodded again. He smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that suggested he was aware of the effect he had on you.
"See?" he murmured, slipping your shirt off your shoulders. "Everything feels more alive, doesn't it?"
More than alive, your body was burning. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror, where every movement and touch vividly reflected back at you. You leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body envelop you as his lips found the curve of your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses.
His fingers slid down the strap of your bra, the motion slow and tantalizing as his gaze traced the path. His other hand remained at your waist, holding you steady as if he knew how his actions were making your knees weak. 
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he urged when he caught you staring intently at your reflection.
"I'm thinking," you started. “That this mirror might be magic.”
His eyebrows raised slightly, amusement flickering through his gaze. "Oh?" 
“It’s making my clothes disappear.”
He laughed, the sound rich and warm in the quiet room. “I thought maybe I had something to do with that.”
“Well… you do love a good magic trick.”
“I do love a good magic trick.”
You felt his fingers on your back before he unhooked the clasp of your bra. The fabric loosened, and you felt a flush of warmth that had little to do with the room's temperature. His hands slid from your back to your shoulders, gently pushing the straps down your arms, allowing the fabric to slip away gracefully. 
“You’re so beautiful.”
You swallowed, trying to concentrate as his arms circled your waist before his fingers found the waistband of your pants.
“You��re… you’re pretty too.”
His chuckle was low and affectionate, his breath tickling your ear. "I'll take that as a compliment."
You felt his fingers undo the button of your pants, his movements slow, almost teasing, before he gently slid the zipper down. He gazed into your eyes through the mirror, seeking permission, and you found yourself nodding, your breath catching in your throat.
His hands shifted, not only guiding the fabric down your legs but also making sure your panties followed suit as he kneeled behind you. He let out a strained groan when he caught the evidence of your slick arousal clinging onto the fabric, momentarily pausing to kiss the back of your exposed thigh.
You were so pretty, so warm, so inviting. Spencer let his lips linger onto your skin while he pushed the last piece of clothing gently past your knees, allowing it to fall gracefully to the floor. He stood back up and led you both backward until the back of his knees met the edge of the bed.
With a smooth motion, he sat down, guiding you to sit between his spread legs. He carefully nudged your legs apart with his hand, and you couldn't resist looking away when you saw yourself in this position.
“No,” he said, his hand tracing along the column of your neck, coming to rest gently against your jaw before tilting your face toward the mirror. “I want you to watch.” 
Hesitantly, your eyes met your reflection in the mirror. You could clearly see yourself, how exposed you were, how you seemed to look smaller compared to him with the way you were naked and the way he was still fully clothed.
His hands traced a path from your jaw down your neck, and he watched himself move over the swells of your breasts. He gave them both a firm squeeze, admiring how they looked in his hands, how your skin radiated beneath his own. 
You gasped when his thumbs brushed your nipples. It seemed like it wasn’t much, but the sensation you were getting from it was making you wetter. Your nipples were so sensitive that you let out his name in an airy moan.
“Yes, baby?”
Your back arched instinctively. He knew what he was doing with his sweet, gentle voice and the way he was rolling your nipples in between his index and middle fingers.
You shifted your head to the side. “Can you kiss me?”
Of course he could, he’d probably give you anything you asked for. Spencer leaned forward, his lips met yours that melded with sweetness an intense longing. One of your hands found its way to his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him with a clear desperation, but his hunger was unmatched.
He was kissing you as if he wanted to make sure he memorized every curve of your lip, the way your tongue felt, and how it felt good to get a moan out of you. You were moaning loudly, way too loud, and all he could do was swallow your moans—tongue exploring all over the inside of your mouth or press his lips hard against yours. 
Finally breaking the kiss just enough to speak, he whispered against your lips. “Should I continue?”
You nodded as his other hand, which had been skillfully teasing your nipples traveled down, tracing the lines of your body, over your ribs, pausing at your hips. He gently guided your hips to shift slightly, adjusting the angle, spreading your legs further apart.
“Can you keep your eyes on the mirror for me?”
You fixed your gaze on the reflection and felt a surge of heat rush through you. A glistening sheen of your arousal coated your inner thighs, and it almost embarrassed you, but it seemed like he didn’t mind. His large hands moved down your thighs, his touch alternating between gentle brushes and firm grips, exploring the softness of your flesh.
The moment his fingers made contact with the slick wetness, sliding effortlessly through your folds and parting them, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. The image in the mirror was boldly erotic, and he continued with practiced movements as he pushed you further into a haze of pleasure.
“Look at how responsive you are,” he murmured, his fingers rolling over your clit. "Visual stimulation can greatly enhance the physical sensations. Watching yourself like this, seeing how much you enjoy it, can intensify everything you feel."
Your stomach churned with a violent delight as he began to put more pressure, rubbing your swollen nub in a circular motion. You gasped, focusing on your reflection–your head tilting back, your eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again. It was intensely arousing to see yourself in such a raw, unguarded state.
"Watching can make the pleasure more acute," he continued, guiding your hand down to feel where his fingers were at work. "Try it."
Your eyes met his in the mirror. “W-What?”
“Here,” he encouraged, taking hold of your hand before placing it at the center of your cunt. The warmth and wetness were startling, even more so because you were witnessing it unfold in the mirror. His fingers guided yours, teaching you the rhythm and pressure that had drawn those sharp gasps from your lips.
"Like this," he murmured, his own hand adjusting yours, showing you how to circle and press. Your breath hitched, seeing the flush spread across your chest and neck, the way his fingers moved above yours.
"It intensifies, doesn't it?"
Your head fell back to his chest. “Y-Yes.”
“Keep going,” he instructed, and you followed, playing with your clit with the right amount of pressure you desired. When his fingers traveled further down, his fingertips grazing your entrance, your jaw slacked open.
You whimpered as he began to sink his digits into your cunt, savoring the way you clenched around him. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head before you instinctively closed your eyes. 
You felt his free hand gripping your jaw.
“Eyes on the mirror, Sweetheart.”
You obeyed, reopening your eyes. You settled to watch how his hand flexed as he began to slowly pump his finger in and out of your dripping cunt before adding another to stretch you out. You whined, your own fingers moving fast against your clit.
“Good,” he murmured, burying his face against the side of your neck, face nearly pressing into yours. His stubbled jaw scraped across your skin, causing you to shudder in pleasure. “Keep watching.”
You could barely think straight, your breaths coming in short gasps now, your focus split between the sensations rippling through your body and the erotic display in the mirror. His fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect angle to press against your most sensitive spot. 
The room was quickly filled with the lewd sound as he kept a steady pace, fingers rutting into your tight hole, your slick inner walls clenching around him with each thrust. Your hips jerked against him again as a tiny moan escaped your lips.
"I love seeing you like this," he confessed. "Are you close?”
You struggled to answer, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. But he felt the way you clenched around him, a clear sign of your approaching orgasm. His other hand traced a path from just below your breasts, gliding down over the smooth plane of your stomach. He paused, his palm resting just above where your own fingers were playing with your clit, and applied pressure there.
A shudder tore through you, the sensation bordering on overwhelming before a sharp, involuntary whimper escaped your lips. Your body shook as your orgasm washed over you in an intense wave.
The mirror captured it all—the way your head tossed back against his shoulder, your eyes squeezed shut, then snapped open to catch glimpses of his fingers thrusting into your throbbing cunt while his other hand pressed gently on your lower stomach.
Your own movements paused as you tried to catch your breath and Spencer held you, making sure you composed yourself even though his erection was digging into the swell of your ass, itching to be inside of you. Fortunately, he had patience—you, on the other hand, not so much.
You gripped onto his thigh, noting the fabric underneath your palm. “You’re wearing too much clothes.”
Spencer chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Am I now?" 
"Definitely too much.”
"Maybe we should fix that," he suggested, shifting slightly to allow some space for you to turn in his arms. Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt the moment you faced him, fingers itching to rid him of the unnecessary barrier.
He watched your every move with a slight smile playing on his lips. letting you push the fabric over his shoulder. “Better?”
"Getting there.”
You worked at the buckle of his belt before you unbuttoned his pants, urging him to lift his hips as you slid them off. "How about now?”
You reached out, your hands gliding up his now bare thighs.
"Almost. Still too much."
Spencer responded immediately, his hands removing the last piece of his clothing in a fluid motion. Then he was finally naked, and the sight of his cock, visibly aroused and gleaming slightly at the tip, drew a sharp intake of breath from you.
"Now we're talking," you breathed out, a satisfied grin spreading across your face.
His hands found their way to your waist, urging you to face the mirror again. “Get on your knees for me.”
“You’re really into this mirror thing, huh?"
“It’s hard not to,” he quipped, his hands gently guiding you into position as he settled behind you. "But rest assured, all the attention is on you."
“Oh, really?” you responded, turning slightly to look up at him. "Or do you just like seeing how good you make me feel?”
“I do make you feel good, don’t I?”
“Cockiness does not suit you.”
“Mhm,” he hummed, gripping your hips with one hand and the other positioning himself right at your entrance. “Arch your back a little.”
You obliged, accentuating the curve of your body. “Like this?”
“Perfect.”
His hand on your hips adjusted you slightly, ensuring the angle was just right. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his cock brush past your folds and you both moaned as he pushed himself further into you. Once he was all the way in, pausing to take a breath, he slowly slid back out to give you an experimental thrust. 
You whined at the sensation before adjusting your knees, spreading them further apart to give him better access. This new position deepened the angle, and when he thrust back into you, the pleasure intensified.
"Is this better?" He asked breathlessly, watching your expressions in the mirror for any sign of discomfort or pleasure.
You nodded. Your face felt hot, your mind was fogging up. The feeling of being filled was too good, but you wanted something more. Your hips, as if you had no control over them, started to grind against his.
Spencer groaned in pleasure, head going blank. His hands rested on your waist, pulling back to slide himself out before going back in slowly, meeting your movement. But he was treating you as if you were fragile, his thrusts were gentle, and despite how vocal you are with your little whimpers, it still wasn’t enough.
“Baby,” you gasped, pushing your hips back into his. “Can you—can you go faster?”
Spencer's response was immediate, his breath catching slightly at your request. His gaze met yours in the mirror, searching for any sign of hesitation, but when he saw none, he began to pick up the pace.
“Faster?” His hand tightened on your waist as he gave you a hard thrust, jolting you forward. “Or rougher?”
Both, you wanted both, but a breathless yes was the only thing that managed to slip out of your mouth. His grin was sharp, almost predatory. His movements became even more deliberate, each thrust gaining force and speed, driving into you with an intensity that matched the urgency in your voice.
“You like that?” he asked, voice rough with desire as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin. 
"Yes, I—fuck," You blabbered. The pleasure was building, coiling tightly within you. “S-So good.”
Spencer’s other hand moved forward, finding your chin in the mirror and gently turning your face towards his. “Look at us.”
The reflection showed every detail—your wide eyes, his focused expression, the way your bodies moved together in a perfect rhythm. It was overwhelming, and even more intense when the hand on your waist slid around you, fingers brushing your clit.
You mewled, your back pressing against his chest. The visual of watching it all happen, of seeing how your bodies worked together, amplified everything. The combination of his thrusts and the relentless circles his fingers traced over your clit drove you closer to the edge. 
"Spencer, I’m—" you started, breathless, the words catching in your throat as the building pressure within you neared its peak.
"I know," he replied. He could feel it too, the way your body clenched around him, and he was just about at his limit. “Me too… I’m so close.”
You felt every muscle in your body tighten, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. “Wanna feel you,” you gasped. “Cum… inside…  me.”
Spencer’s response was a deep, guttural groan, his breaths growing even more labored. “Yeah? You want me to fill you up?”
“Please," you whispered, urgency lacing every syllable. “Want your cum in me.”
That did it. He just couldn’t say no to you.
His fingers moved rapidly on your clit as he drove into you. The combination of his deep, determined thrusts and the relentless stimulation of your clit overwhelmed your senses. The room was filled with the sounds of the rhythmic slap of skin against skin, and you could see in the mirror how each movement affected you.
Then, with a few more powerful thrusts, you felt him tense, a deep groan escaping him as he reached his climax. The hot rush of his release inside you was the final trigger your body needed. Your vision blurred, your mind blanked, and you surrendered to the intense wave of your own orgasm, crashing over you with a force that left you trembling and breathless.
Spencer continued to move gently, riding out the aftershocks of your climaxes together, his movements becoming slower, more soothing. As the waves of pleasure subsided, he wrapped his arms around you more tightly, pulling you back against his chest protectively. His breaths were slow and deep, calming against the back of your neck.
You were panting, tired yet blissful, and your eyes met his gaze in the mirror once again.
“How many couples do you think the mirror has witnessed?”
Spencer chuckled softly, his chest rumbling against your back. "More than we can imagine."
He then pulled out from you and a soft sigh escaped you as his hot release slipped from your cunt. Spencer noticed it too, which was why his hand went back between your thighs, his fingers pushing the white, warm liquid back into you.
“Oh my god,” you gasped. “What–You—” You stared at him with wide eyes. “You are filthy.”
“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this.”
You sighed, because he was right, more so you were enjoying it too much because his fingers continued thrusting into you and you found yourself pushing back against his hand.
“Spence…” You warned him, although it came out too breathless to make it sound like a real threat.
He grinned, clearly enjoying your response. “Do you want me to stop?”
You paused, pretending to think, but there was no real doubt as you quickly shook your head. Because how could you want him to stop when his touch was so intoxicating, when he was focused so intently on your pleasure more than ever before?
Your eyes drifted back toward the expansive mirror in front of you.
Maybe you should get one for your room.
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cptnleviackerman · 3 months
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this weekend has truly been an absolute rotting kind of weekend. spent the entirety of yesterday (aside from making lunch+dinner) watching markiplier's play through of until dawn (which im obsessed with now) >ᴗ<
and today i accidentally slept until 2pm and then spent the rest of the afternoon reading about until dawn bec i have to know every single possible outcome of that game, and i dont have a ps4 to play it
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violetsandfluff · 11 months
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No Control, But Plenty Of Muffins
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a/n: i’m very sorry for neglecting this ask since april. i hope you’re still around to enjoy this!! i love how it turned out (:
a/n 2.0: i forgot to schedule this for last week so happy 1d day and no more hslot day!!
contains: fluuuffffffff
wc: roughly 500
Harry’s brow furrowed with displeasure at the blinding stream of sunlight that poured into the bedroom. He could hardly open his eyes, much less stumble to the window to cinch the curtains shut in agony. He pawed around the bed blindly with the hand that wasn’t clasped desperately over his eyes and Y/N was nowhere to be found.
Throwing off the covers, he stumbled to the open door and emerged into a significantly darker hallway, where he stayed for a moment until his eyes adjusted. While he stood there, against the wall covered in a Polaroid collage of his and Y/N’s relationship, he became aware of vague voices and a rhythmic thumping.
What could Y/N possibly be doing at the crack of dawn on the Saturday morning he returned from tour?
Warily, he padded to the top of the stairs, bunching his robe around his waist as he craned an ear to listen. What he heard couldn’t help but bring a foolish smile to his face.
“Waking up beside you, I’m a loaded gun. I can’t contain this anymore. I’m all yours, I’ve got no control, no control.”
He crept contentedly down the stairs as he was met by the sweet scent wafting out of the kitchen, which Y/N was bustling around like a happy bee. She was so engrossed in her music and baking that she failed to register her half-asleep boyfriend’s footsteps making their way around the island to greet her.
Tin of freshly-baked muffins in hand, she jumped slightly as his arms enveloped her waist, cradling her against his chest as he buried a kiss in her hair.
“What’re you doin’ up so early?” he poked in a low, slightly raspy morning voice. “I didn’t even get a ‘good morning’?”
“Shoo, Harry!” she huffed, setting the muffin tin on the counter with a metallic clang. “Of course this is the one morning you wake up early.”
“Y’ made muffins,” he observed bluntly, yawning as he shuffled his feet closer to the steaming pastries.
“Thanks, captain obvious,” she sighed in amusement as she watched him reach out to grab a muffin and retract his hand when it burned the tips of his fingers.
“Patience, rockstar,” she chided with a twinkle in her eye.
Letting go of his robe, Harry scooped her up in his strong but tired arms and carried her to the couch, sitting down carefully with her in his lap.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” he murmured against your collarbone between delicate kisses to your neck. “You wouldn’t even believe how much.”
“While you were out, annihilating venue after venue, night after night, I was watching from the virtual sidelines, cheering you on all the way.”
“I couldn’t do it without you, y/n. Seriously.”
“Awww, Harry’s being soft,” you cooed endearingly against his chest.
“You give me motivation and inspiration and determination and all of the other -ations in the English language. I love you for that.” Feeling stupidly sappy, he changed the subject. “‘S the coffee done?”
“It’s good enough,” she replied, gesturing broadly to the coffee maker on the counter, feeling color rush to your cheeks. “I already set out your favorite mug out.”
“Thank you s’much, love.” He smiled down at the countertop, genuinely touched, the sun lighting up his side profile and filling his dimple. “I’ve missed our mornings together.”
“So have I,” she admitted more than readily, filling the silence as the next song began playing. “I enjoy the half-asleep Harry who lets me baby him.”
Her boyfriend reached out his arm and pulled her into a warm embrace complete with his signature robe. With his face buried in her hair, he managed, “There’s just something about mornings. They’re almost more intimate.”
“More intimate than nights?”
A smile spread subconsciously over his face before he could prevent it. He placed his hands delicately on his cheeks to hide the blush spreading across them.
“There’s just something more intimate,” he repeated with a chuckle.
“Get out, get out, get out of my head and fall into my arms instead,” y/n’s phone played, and she couldn’t help but sing along. “I don’t, I don’t, don’t know what it is, but I need that one thing.”
Harry joined. “And you’ve got that one thing.”
~~
Taglist: @madybeth21 @fishingirl12 @groovychaosavenue @sortingharryshairclip @mrspeacem1nusone @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @hsdaydreaminghaze @madeintheniamh @daisyharry
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always-amity · 7 days
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I've had an idea knocking around in my head for a while to draw every single dragon from the wider httyd universe, including everything from the books, to the main DreamWorks franchise, The Nine Realms and even Rescue Riders. And as I go through redesign them (to varying degrees) to fit my style, and let out my biology and ecology nerd a bit with some headcanons for them.
I've got no idea how many Dragons I'll get done, but I figured going A-Z is the best way to do it, so without further adieu;
The Armorwing
(DreamWorks Franchise)
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Headcanons below the cut
The Armorwing is the closest living relative to the Boneknapper, though it is also distantly related to the Sword Stealer and some Stoker Class Dragons.
Their neck is long and flexible, allowing them to see - and breathe fire upon - every part of their body.
Their fire is among the hottest of all dragon fire, but is very short range, reaching barely even a full body length. It cannot be shot in single blasts, like most dragon fire, and can only be sustained for a few short seconds.
Naturally the Armorwing will inhabit caves, cliffs, and rocky, exposed terrain, places where they are most likely to find minerals. They dig said minerals from the ground using their talons and the claws on their wings.
However, Armorwings have adapted amazingly well to the explosion in human civilisations, very quickly learning that a Viking village will have much more metal that conveniently isn't buried under mounds of rock. If you find an abandoned village, you'll almost certainly find an Armorwing that's made their home there.
It is not uncommon to find an Armorwing living with a village that is friendly towards Dragons, since the dragon needs metal to keep itself protected and the humans often find themselves with scrap metal that they can't reuse for anything.
Their eyes are incredibly sensitive to light, which is useful for spotting bright glints of exposed metal but makes being active during the day difficult. Because of this, they are mostly crepuscular (most active at dawn and dusk), when the daylight isn't as harsh on their eyes.
Armorwings are solitary. Each dragon has their own territory, and they do not encroach on others. Larger, older Dragons with more elaborate metal coverings often get first choice for new territories. They also don't coexist particularly well with other Dragons, with Smothering Smokebreaths being their biggest issue, but Skrills and many metal-eating Boulder Class Dragons also proving a problem.
Armorwings do not mate for life, they simply choose whichever partner has the armour they most like every season. Armorwings will often add more colourful, eye-catching details to their armour during breeding season specifically to attract partners. Females lay about 3 eggs a year, and care for the hatchlings for a month or two until their fire is hot enough to melt metal and they're about Gronkle sized, after which the Hatchlings are chased out of the mother's territory to fend for themselves.
Their armour tends to be concentrated around their most vulnerable points. Their chest and belly have the thickest armour, but it also encompasses their back and tail. Older individuals have more extensive, elaborate armour. However, fused metal does restrict movement quite significantly, so the armour on their neck, when present at all, tends to be rather thin and segmented to still allow them the range of motion needed to keep applying more.
Armorwings have thick, bulky legs and wide feet to support the weight of all the metal covering them. While they can stand up on just their legs, they primarily walk using their wings to help alleviate the weight. Their wings themselves are much more adapted to walking than they are flying, and while (most) Armorwings can still fly, it takes significant effort, so is mostly kept for only extreme circumstances.
Bonus Armour-Less sketch.
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Astronomers discover newborn galaxies with the James Webb Space Telescope
With the launch of the James Webb Space Telescope, astronomers are now able to peer so far back in time that we are approaching the epoch where we think that the first galaxies were created. Throughout most of the history of the Universe, galaxies seemingly tend to follow a tight relation between how many stars they have formed, and how many heavy elements they have formed. But for the first time we now see signs that this relation between the amount of stars and elements does not hold for the earliest galaxies. The reason is likely that these galaxies simply are in the process of being created, and have not yet had the time to create the heavy elements. The Universe is teeming with galaxies — immense collections of stars and gas — and as we peer deep into the cosmos, we see them near and far. Because the light has spent more time reaching us, the farther away a galaxy is, we are essentially looking back through time, allowing us to construct a visual narrative of their evolution throughout the history of the Universe.
Observations have shown us that galaxies through the last 12 billion years — that is, 5/6 of the age of the Universe — have been living their life in a form of equilibrium: There appears to be a fundamental, tight relation between on one hand how many stars they have formed, and on the other hand how many heavy elements they have formed. In this context, “heavy elements”, means everything heavier than hydrogen and helium.
This relation makes sense, because the Universe consisted originally only of these two lightest elements. All heavier elements, such as carbon, oxygen, and iron, was created later by the stars.
James Webb peers deeper
The very first galaxies should therefore be “unpolluted” by heavy elements. But until recently we haven’t been able to look so far back in time. In addition to being far away, the reason is that the longer light travels through space, the redder it becomes. For the most distant galaxies you have to look all the way into the infrared part of the spectrum, and only with the launch of James Webb did we have a telescope big and sensitive enough to see so far.
And the space telescope did not disappoint: Several has James Webb broken its own record for the most distant galaxy, and now it finally seems that we are reaching the epoch where some of the very first galaxies were created.
In a new study, published today in the scientific journal Nature Astronomy, af team of astronomers from the Danish research center Cosmic Dawn Center at the Niels Bohr Institute and DTU Space in Copenhagen, has discovered what seems indeed to be some of the very first galaxies which are still in the process of being formed.
“Until recently it has been near-impossible to study how the first galaxies are formed in the early Universe, since we simply haven’t had the adequate instrumentation. This has now changed completely with the launch of James Webb,” says Kasper Elm Heintz, leader of the study and assistant professor at the Cosmic Dawn Center.
Fundamental relation breaks down
The relationship between the total stellar mass of the galaxy and the amount of heavy elements is a bit more complex than that. How fast the galaxy produces new stars also has something to say. But if you correct for that, you get a beautiful, linear relationship: The more massive the galaxy, the more heavy elements.
But this relation is now being challenged by the latest observations.
“When we analyzed the light from 16 of these first galaxies, we saw that they had significantly less heavy elements, compared to what you’d expect from their stellar masses and the amount of new stars they produced,” says Kasper Elm Heintz.
In fact the galaxies turned out to have, on average, four times less amounts of heavy elements that in the later Universe. These results are in stark contrast to the current model where galaxies evolve in a form of equilibrium throughout most of the history of the Universe.
Predicted by theories
The result is not entirely surprising though. Theoretical models of galaxy formation, based on detailed computer programs, do predict something similar. But now we’ve seen it!
The explanation, as proposed by the autors in the article, is simply that we are witnessing galaxies in the process of being created. Gravity has gathered the first clumps of gas, which have begun to form stars.
If the galaxies then lived their lives undisturbed, the stars would quickly enrich them with heavy elements. But in between the galaxies at that time were large amounts of fresh, unpolluted gas, streaming down to the galaxies faster than the stars can keep up.
“The result gives us the first insight into the earliest stages of galaxy formation which appear to be more intimately connected with the gas in between the galaxies than we thought.
This is one of the first James Webb observations on this topic, so we’re still waiting to see what the larger, more comprehensive observations that are currently being carried out can tell us.
There is no doubt that we will shortly have a much clearer understanding of how galaxies and the first structures began their formation during the first billion years after the Big Bang,” Kasper Elm Heintz concludes.
The study is published in Nature Astronomy.
TOP IMAGE....The big galaxy in the foreground is named LEDA 2046648, and is seen just over a billion years back in time, while most of the others lie even farther away, and hence are seen even further back in time. CREDIT ESA/Webb, NASA & CSA, A. Martel.
CENTRE IMAGE....This plot shows the observed galaxies in an “element-stellar mass diagram”: The farther to the right a galaxy is, the more massive it is, and the farther up, the more heavy elements it contains. The gray icons represent galaxies in the present-day Universe, while the red show the new observations of early galaxies. These ones clearly have much less heavy elements than later galaxies, but agree roughly with theoretical predictions, indicated by the blue band. Credit: Kasper Elm Heintz, Peter Laursen.
LOWER IMAGE....Diffuse gas from intergalactic space plummets toward the center, sparking star formation and becoming part of the galaxy’s rotating disk. When stars die, they return their gas to the galaxy (and the intergalactic space), now enriched with heavy elements. Credit: Tumlinson et al. (2017).
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oh-saints · 2 years
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trust
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she was only supposed to be carlos sainz jr's lead engineer.
carlos sainz jr x SFengineer!OC
word count: 2k
tw: nothing
note: a) mentions of unmarried!toto, b) as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read. i swear i'll be answering ur asks around this weekend and put up 'the holiday (pt.2)', sorry for the delay but i can't help but write this down first teheee
“what do you think, alina?”
at the mention of her name, his lead engineer didn’t waste another breath to jump into topics at hand. she presented her case and the justifications behind her decision, statistics and other data tucked under her arsenal in case anyone dared to refute her. all sharp and ever precise, no wishy washy, just like how she presented herself.
carlos remembered he once contemplated raising a concern over the engineer assigned for him. no, not because she is a woman—hannah schmitz of his old company, red bull racing, had proven him wrong so many times about the calibre of the women working in this rigorous field—but because she was aloof beyond belief, borderline unapproachable even. in his early ferrari days, carlos had his moments where he second-guessed himself before engaging her into a conversation, afraid she’d think of his questions stupid, that he had to seek charles’ aid.
charles used to laugh at carlos’ meek revelation but the frenchman also recalled the days where he used to be so intimidated by the woman, thinking she should’ve been assigned to the first driver and not him, who just debuted only a year before joining the italian automobile giant. alas, the no-bullshit-only-facts kind of way she rolled with was what made the entire paddock respected her even more because the least they needed to end the constructor’s championship drought was someone who only wanted hefty pay checks but not glory days.
carlos, for the same reason, had to agree with charles’ sentiment. her calls, more often than not, were more significantly impactful to him gaining podium than even the team principal’s, even when carlos himself doubted his ears when her instructions came to him via the radio. but his respect went off the roof back in silverstone, when he couldn’t see anything straight due to the heavy pour, but alina called the shot to fuck away most of ferrari’s strategies—one that she didn’t think made sense—and told carlos to drive as his instinct went.
at that time, carlos told her she had gone mad. alina didn’t laugh at his response—well, she rarely did to anyone’s—but her response came out stronger than his.
“do you trust me on this, carlos?”
“do you trust me, alina?”
"with my life."
funny how she could do it with less than expressive tone, with less than 10 words exchanged between them. funny it was exactly how carlos could gain his maiden win in formula 1. funny it was also the moment she became an important figure in his life.
the moment carlos stepped out of the car after the long race, he didn’t think twice to sprint to the paddock—because alina hated crowds and preferred to celebrate it in her station—to give her a hug. probably the tightest hug carlos had ever given to someone. but it was worth every penny on his bank account, especially when he noticed a miniscule smile ghosted over her lips.
“i told you to trust me.”
“i did, i do. with my life.”
and the growing smile afterwards made his head spin. he didn’t know there was something else that could intoxicate him when he was high on adrenaline, more than the fact that he could now proudly say he was an f1 race winner. but he didn’t want to trade it for anything else in the world. in fact, he couldn’t wait until the time he could see it again.
“what do you think of alina’s strategy, carlos?”
mattia’s voice interrupted the flashback train he was having but mattia should’ve known better. carlos would always answer this question with, “i’m down to whatever alina plans. she knows best.” call him bullshitting, but it didn’t take away the truth behind his words. he trusted her, with his life, without a second doubt.
but maybe he should’ve trusted alina strictly only for things concerning his racing performance because carlos as heck couldn’t accept the feeling he was having when he overheard the mechanics gossiping alina.
“have you heard? toto asked alina out!”
“fuck! toto fucking wolff?”
“it's a buzz over there. you reckon he's doing it so alina can join them?”
“probably. did she say yes?”
“yeah, man. they're going out tonight.”
“not going to the monza party, then.”
“she never does, anyway. besides, it's the fucking toto wolff!”
never once in carlos’ short life did he mourn for a loss. of what, he didn’t know, but he knew as much as whatever it is was now falling down the drain. he swore he didn’t want to go through it all over again, being bereft of something to the point it suffocated him, made him gaping for an extra air supply.
to say it blew carlos’ mind would be an understatement. he was completely out of it most of the time he wasn’t in the car racing. ironic how he needed something to occupy his mind beyond the grid, yet her stoic voice over the radio was what he soaked himself in. reality be damned.
but as everyone and their mothers say, reality sure had a funny way to slap you in the face. if carlos thought finding out alina was going to a date with the toto wolff, he clearly wasn’t prepared to see how she looked going to a date with toto wolff. the signature red blouse and her series of pencil skirt dashed aside, she was earth-shatteringly—at least to carlos’ definition of earth he was living—stunning in a black cocktail dress, the sparkly ornaments pronounced her eyes even brighter than the chandelier hanging above them as they waited for the elevator car to come and pick them up.
“i thought you’re not going to the monza party.”
“i’m not.”
call him idiot for hoping she’d say the otherwise, even though he—like the rest of the crew—knew like the back of their hand that alina was devoid of places packed with people.
carlos’ heart lurched at the thought she dressed up excellently, had she decided to go to the monza party, black dresscode and all, yet he couldn’t have her come with him. she would surely woo away all the boredom the party would bring, for carlos thought she was the most interesting thing on the planet. but instead, she decided to forego it all; going somewhere else far from the crowd, looking so enthralling he wanted to capture every motion of her breathing, doing something he would absolutely love to ask of her.
“where are you going then? a date?”
“oh, you heard what the mouths in the paddock running with.”
that got to be alina’s longest sentence, sans the strategies and all other jazz in relation to racing. how pathetic that the only time they spoke something not connected with their office relationship was triggered by ferrari’s long standing rival. so pathetic carlos wanted to beat himself for taking everything of alina for granted, now that he realised.
“so, are you?”
the eerie silent bestowed upon them was so cold it prickled carlos’ skin as if frostbite had bitten him down. it was frightening that such silence drove them apart further than the atlantic ocean, yet no words were more powerful than any other answer she could possibly provide him with.
carlos didn’t know what to do with himself. should he be glad she presented him honesty? or should he be devastated they were so compatible that they needn’t any words to understand each other except for this one particular matter?
heck, even if he’d figured out all the answers to those questions, he was sure he still didn’t know what to do with himself. take a look the past years they’d been working together and not a moment did he know what he was doing around her, especially the time when he’d pulled over the helmet over his head after the race was concluded.
the loudest ding! reached to carlos’ ears, as if it was purposely done that way as carlos’ loudest reminder he was running out of time. because let’s be real; when the torger christian wolff of Mercedes-amg petronas f1 team succeed in wooing you, you wouldn’t have the chance to say no to the life laid in front of you like a hollywood’s blockbuster red carpet rolled on your feet.
but at least, carlos had tried before toto did, despite knowing the slim succession rate.
“don’t go.”
the elevator doors hadn’t even shut properly when carlos shot his fire, taking alina aback like a whirlwind no one warned you about. it was the most expressive alina had ever been around the spanish driver, her being perplexed enlarged the eyes he loved the most—for it always shone with burning desire and determination to win around him—and forced herself to inhale a sharp intake of breath. it was an endearing sight, if only carlos wasn’t hanging his sanity on the thinnest line called god’s fate.
alina being analytical alina, she spared some time—god, he wished to never undergo those excruciating seconds again in his life—to scan over carlos’ face through their reflections on the gold plate of the elevator doors, searching hopefully anything to indicate the sainz jr was joking around, like he used to do with lando on the mclaren paddock across the red horse’s.
carlos was glad alina didn’t take her chance to crumble him to his feet by turning herself towards him. his resolution would fall apart in a split second. so he chose to stand straighter, all while locking his black orbs on hers, this time with the same burning desire and determination she always had on a race day.
“why?”
she needs convincing? i'll give her convincing. he was the first to peer down at her, immediately submerging himself into intoxication at the sight of the beauty beside him and soaking in the close proximity he’d been dying to have ever since silverstone. “do you trust me, alina?”
alina, in turn, tried to reach his eyes, this time wavering from the intensity of carlos’ staring. throughout their excellent partnership, alina had never encountered such heavy weight on his eyes and she’d be lying if deep down she wasn’t scared of the combination between those eyes and what lied underneath them. but her fear was overshadowed by her curiosity. “with my life.”
it didn’t take carlos another second—thank god for his f1 driver reflexes—before his unconscious jumpstarted at her response. his hands immediately went up to cup her jawlines, holding her in her place before she could think of anything else, and brought his lips landing on hers. softly, smoothly, precisely inbetween. their eyes shut into perfect dome, noses rubbing gently against one another.
he closed down on her upper lip, as the lower part moved to sync with him, and soon their lips began dancing in perfect sync on the slow, burning floor. nothing was rushed, nor impatient. simply a mutual enjoyment between two people who’d been deprived of something they’d been craving in the dark for far too long.
freedom tasted so good on their clashing tongues as the dance, slowly but surely, picked up some speed and heat altogether. alina seeked for stability by grabbing carlos’ sleek black suit jacket as the towering man pushed the woman gently towards the corner of the small space, their heavy breaths were the only music filling the air.
another loud ding! pulled them apart, as if it was purposely done to bring them back to reality. they both heard another couple taking up some of the remaining space but their eyes never left each other's as they exchanged knowing smiles, the tip of carlos' fingers brushed over her cheeks softly as he rested his forehead on hers.
now they were truly one and the same in every sense of that word. one, same team. not just the driver and its lead engineer, but carlos and alina.
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theleechyskrunkly · 2 months
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Leechy, to make up for your truly mean oices (they are oices now) you owe me fluffy Aurinelle and baby Finn (or regular Finn shenanigans)
NO SQUISHED FINN
I sincerely apologize, my oices get a little quirky at night 😔
And your wish is my command, malady 😍🫰 here you have a quick fic, not proof read, written on the bus ride home:
"You don't truly expect me to take care of... Finn by myself, right professor?" Aurinelle asked as he stared down at the fishbowl in his hands, which contained a tiny creature who was allegedly his classmate, Finn Clearcove. How had Finn ended up in that state? Alchemy incident, according to professor Crewel.
"Well, of course I do, Pup! All professors have gathered and come to the concensus that you are to tend to Clearcove while he is in this state." Stated Crewel matter-of-factly, gesturing to a sleeping baby Finn.
Aurinelle only shook his head. Why him of all people? Why couldn't the staff care for the baby? The were the adults after all. But before he could ask the question, Crewel cut him off. "We have chosen you to care for him because Azul and the twins are away for another one of Vargas' ridiculous camps, as well as because you are one of the most responsible students and also a merperson, so you should be able to care for him better than we humans can."
"What about Professor Da Costa?" Aurinelle pushed, not because he didn't like the idea of taking care of Finn, but because he was terrified at the idea that a single wrong move could end the little thing's life. "He's also a mer, as well as an adult. Wouldn't he be a better option?"
"Need I remind you Da Costa is on break? Run along now, you're free to go out to sea if that makes caring for the Pup easier." Crewel said as his final statement, waving his hand in dismissal and turning on his heel to head for the door, leaving Aurinelle pondering on how to deal with the situation at hand.
"Hah... might as well comply..." he sighed and looked down at Finn's tiny figure, clenching his eyes and taking a deep breath before to prevent himself from giving in to his desire to affectionally crush the merbaby. "I'll do my best to care for you, little Finn." He whispered softly into the bowl, eliciting a small twitch of Finn's developing fins. Aurinelle gave the baby a small smile before heading to the magic mirror room.
"State thy name and where thou wish to be transported." Demanded the Dark Mirror upon Aurinelle's arrival.
"My name is Aurinelle Sireiwen. I wish to be transported to the border of the Coral Sea." Responded Aurinelle, his voice significantly less confident than usual, likely due to the worry bubbling inside him.
What if the teleportation hurts him? I best cast a protective spell. He thought, quickly casting a strong Abyssal protective spell on Finn's still sleeping figure before stepping through the Dark Mirror, which quickly spawned him at the borders of the Coral Sea, away from where he could be found.
Aurinelle was at least 1.5 times bigger in his merform, which made Finn that much smaller in his palm. The change in environment caused Finn to stir from his sleep, letting out a yawn so small that it's cuteness hit Aurinelle like a sack of potatoes. He brought his tail to his face and bit down on it hard to snap him out of whatever aggressive thoughts flooded his mind.
Finn's clicking was what called back Aurinelle's attention as Finn began to shift around on his hand, seemingly uncomfortable. Oh no. He's about to cry.
At least that's what Aurinelle thought, until Finn latched his tiny teeth onto one of Aurinelle's giant fingers, chewing on it intently. Aurinelle giggled quietly, so as not to disturb Finn. Then it dawned on him; he often chewed on things when he was hungry as a child, so perhaps Finn was hungry?
He decided to test out the theory and magicked a baby bottle filled with a combination of shrimp, seaweed and salmon. He gently (agonizingly slowly) removed his finger from Finn's mouth, who gripped onto it possessively, squeaking in protest.
"Easy now, I've got something actually edible for you." Aurinelle whispered softly, holding the teenie tiny bottle between the nails of his thumb and index finger and inching it towards Finn's mouth.
Finn took the bottle and chugged it desperately, as if he'd been starving. Aurinelle gently rubbed a finger to Finn's tiny back to prevent him from choking.
After he was done with his bottle, Finn clicked curiously, expecting a response from his father, but being met with silence instead. After a few more anxious clicks, Finn began to cry, repeatedly asking for his "Da" and continuing his clicks.
"Shh, shh it's ok! Your dad is, uh, occupied." Aurinelled tried to calm Finn down, eventually resorting to singing in order to make him relax. Soft hums resonated through the ocean, laced with the softest of magic to passify little Finn.
Eventually, Finn's cries softened to a stop as he wriggled around in search of a chew toy, which he eventually identified as another one of Aurinelle's fingers. Aurinelle chuckled as he watched Finn drift asleep on his chest. He continued to hum until he himself fell asleep on the sandy ocean floor.
Several hours later, Finn awoke to his tail wrapped around a tail he didn't recognize, and for some reason he was underwater? It took a few seconds for him to realize he was laying on someone and for his eyes to focus in on the merperson he was laying on. Someone oddly familiar.
"... Aurinelle?"
Okay maybe that wasn't as short as I thought it'd be 💀 I got a little too invested 👉👈
Tagging cuz this is technically a fic: @thehollowwriter @xen-blank @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @cyanide-latte
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ganymedesclock · 2 years
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what do you think about the white lady? got any cool headcanons about her? she's always come off to me as someone distant and uncaring, but not necessarily cruel
My silliest headcanon is I don't actually think White Lady has arms under the bindings.
The less silly headcanon is that I think the humanoid part of her is just her fruiting body / the part people imagine when they think of "what is a mushroom". This would explain why she basically practices birth control by swaddling 90% of it. It doesn't really slow her down, hence the comment that she's only restrained of her own volition, and I think if she wanted to be anywhere else she could just. submerge and then rupture out of the ground wherever she wanted. That's right. Most stationary seeming character in Hollow Knight has Flowey mobility.
To build from here to like... deeper stuff, my take on WL and her presence in the pantheon is the idea that WL is a sort of literalized "Columbia", or the role Amaterasu takes in the mythology of the founding of Japan. The idea of "The Land" or "The Kingdom" as a living mythic figure that a king is potentially wedded to.
WL seems overwhelmingly passive. She does not exhibit much concern about the kingdom or its downfall. If anything, she seems sort of perturbed or surprised that she misses PK as much as she did. Her response to an uncomfortable feeling is just sitting around and waiting for it to die. Even compared to her husband, she seems like a deeply ancient being. Which makes sense, because it's implicitly her roots that are sticking out at Kingdom's Edge, which would suggest we actually spend the entire game walking over her body. She is the soil of Hallownest. She defines its borders. There are few pockets older than her, mostly Unn, suggesting Greenpath may be- partially- a place that her roots don't reach.
WL basically does nothing with politics until it's mentioning the Grimmchild where she tells it outright to not get any ideas because the land would never accept it as a king, something that "someone who isn't a queen anymore" seemingly wouldn't have any say in. But I think WL sees herself as 'the land', even if she is more of an extremely expansive organism that lives within it and quite possibly maintains symbiosis with it. As far as we can tell, gods project their own sort of habitable spheres in an overwhelmingly barren world; WL may be the sort of underground sun warming the ground, plants growing from the 'exhale' of her root structure.
You're right that I don't think she's necessarily cruel, though she is absolutely callous in some ways. I think a lot of it comes down to her perspective. WL is kind of terminally big picture. Her response to Ghost- a long-lost child she did grieve to some extent- is to politely ask them if they wouldn't mind going to die in place of their sibling, on account of it'd be obviously not preferable if the apocalypse ensued. When Ghost in the 'true' endings (and similarly derived Godmaster endings) attains the void heart, WL equally neutrally accepts that she basically has no control over them anymore. The prospect that they could kill her probably dawns on her, but we know what she thinks about the Radiance. It's just not preferable really.
I feel like WL is significantly more "alien" or "eldritch" than PK. This doesn't necessarily make one of them better than the other, but a lot of PK's dilemmas are actually pretty relatable. The irony of him seeming like such an aloof mysterious god is that once we actually break past all his defenses, he is surprisingly ordinary. Yes, he was some kind of giant sandworm dragon. But his foibles and failings are unglamorous. We practically find him the way you find a failed survivor in a zombie apocalypse, a body huddled in a closet bunker where it held out and failed, still carrying the echo of trying to convince himself it was worth it.
WL's problems are less relatable in that sense. I think most of us don't have the ironclad certainty that unless something goes extremely wrong we'll outlive all of our problems, but that's just it. She's not going to fight her enemies or take a meaningful stance about anything. She can be almost darkly-comically negligent, such as asking "Ogrim" to go check on Dryya when she's able to track the progression of Hollow's infection through her roots from half the kingdom away, and it hasn't occurred to her that Dryya should be eating and sleeping and moving around more. Like a dotty old grandma who forgot to feed the parrot one too many times and wonders why the old thing doesn't sing for her anymore, only a bit more unsettling directly because while many of us might be upset at the fatal neglect of a parrot, many more are justifiably obstinate about the idea someone might see you as just a pet novelty, because your lifespan really isn't that long.
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lumenflowered · 5 months
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...The Kimono Girls did not inform me beforehand that the "protector" they wished to summon was Ho-oh. The Pokémon with power tantamount to that of a Great One from my world, who resurrected three Pokémon who perished in the fire that gave the Burned Tower its new name.
Needless to say, I do not like this at all.
However... it does seem that the gods of this world, by and large, are less likely to...
To...
...I cannot even say it. Perhaps that is because some long-buried part of me knows that the corpse of Kos should have been left well alone, regardless of whether any semblance of divine power remained within. That entire hamlet should have been left to its own devices, strange and unfathomable as they seemed to us at the time.
A part of me knows that I deserved what was done to me, after what I did. What I never should have considered doing... if I had known that there was even a choice to made...
With regard to the here and now, the past does not matter. The Kimono Girls are not certain that I will be able to successfully call upon Ho-oh, but they believe I have the greatest chance to do so of any individual currently in Johto, for... numerous reasons.
There are others, but they are less likely to succeed. One is a child, and therefore not someone I am at all willing to expose to a god's influence. The other is... the Gym Leader. The one who reminds me of Byrgenwerth.
He respects Ho-oh, quite significantly at that. I fear that would blind him to a demise foreseen until it was far too late, and so I cannot allow him to do this either.
Which leaves... none other than yours truly. Maria, once a lady but no longer, once a Hunter but no longer, now...
I suppose I am simply whatever is left behind when everything I was has been carved away, little by little, piece by piece.
...I have time, at the very least, to think. I almost wish that I did not, but the optimal time is dawn, and the sun is already quite close to setting. I do not wish to wait longer, but I suppose I don't have much of a choice in the matter.
If nothing else, I suppose a Legendary Pokémon with a handful of sightings over the last century would serve as a very useful distraction. That assumes, of course, that Ho-oh would not simply smite me on sight.
I'm... not certain that I would try to stop them.
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coraniaid · 1 year
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Top 5 parents? (in Buffy and/or Angel)
(Top 5 anything.)
Hmm.  I'm not sure there are as many as five unambiguously good parents in Buffy.  But, uh, let's see.
5) Joyce Summers [from Season 1's Welcome To The Hellmouth until ... well, you know.]
Cons: Famously doesn't react well to finding out that her only daughter is metaphorically bisexual.
Pros: Reacts a lot better to finding out her other daughter is metaphorically adopted.  Did lie to the police for Buffy at least once, and used an ax to protect her from a vampire.  Brought Buffy a nice dress to fight the Master in, and later bonded over a mutual dislike of Principal Snyder.
I've said before -- and will continue to say -- that I think Joyce is treated very unfairly by the fandom (particularly compared to how the fandom talks about Giles, who you'll note is not on this list for any number of reasons).  That said, while I think the show is actually very consistent about the fact that Buffy loves her mother and wants her mother's approval (it's not an inconsistency just because you personally don't like Joyce!), it's pretty inarguable that Joyce does and says a number of terrible things.  Which if she were a real person would matter a lot more than it actually does.
Ultimately, I think Joyce Summers tried to march in the Slayer Pride parade but did a pretty lousy job of it. Even when she wasn't being possessed or magically mind-controlled by a demon or a warlock or an evil robot (which … happens a lot, doesn’t it?).  The fact she's on this list at all is more of an indictment of the other options than it is an endorsement of her as a parent.
(Obviously I'm ignoring the big Normal Again retcon here, which I just don't think makes sense with what we see of Buffy and Joyce in the first five seasons of the show.  But yeah, if I accepted that as canon obviously Joyce wouldn't be anywhere near the list, even by Sunnydale's abysmally low standards.)
4) Amy Madison's dad [from Season 1's Witch]
Cons: Left his pre-teen daughter to be raised by a abusive mother who would go on to learn witchcraft and steal her daughter's body using evil magic. Never actually appeared on screen in the show.  Or given a name.
Pros: Don't think he knew about the witch part.  Definitely guilty about the whole thing afterwards anyway.  Amy seems pretty happy that he's back in her life at the end of the episode. Not involved in the whole witch-burning thing in Gingerbread, for some reason (well, okay, it’s because nobody bothered to cast an actor to play him or even remembered that Amy had a father, I guess).
A deleted scene from Season 6 suggests Amy's dad goes back to being a terrible parent later on, and even ignoring that he is kind of conspicuous by his absence after this one episode.  Letting your teenage daughter eat brownies whenever she wants: good parenting!  Letting your teenage daughter visit magical crack dens whenever she wants: significantly less good parenting!
3) Oz's Aunt Maureen [from Season 2's Phases]
Cons: Literally only exists on the show for a single five second phone call where we don't hear her or see her on screen.
Pros: Seems pretty relaxed about the fact that her son is a werewolf (that's not a pro for Oz, sure, but hey, we're not ranking how good an aunt she is).  Trumps Amy's dad by virtue of having a name.
I hope things worked out okay for little Jordy and the many, many werewolves he unwittingly sired by biting people when he was a kid.
2) Buffy Summers [from Season 5's Forever onwards] 
Look, she's Dawn legal guardian, so she counts.
Cons: Not as good with Dawn's social worker as a literal sex robot was. Tried to kill Dawn one time when she was possessed (... hey, I guess at least Joyce would be proud?).  Managed to miss the fact Dawn was skipping school … and dating a vampire … and stealing from the magic shop.  (She had a difficult year, okay?)
Pros: Made up for the social worker stuff by ... uh, turning invisible and ruining said social worker's life.  Literally died to protect Dawn from being murdered by a god in Season 5. Then worked incredibly hard for two years to protect Dawn from an even more terrible fate (having to go back to LA to live with Hank Summers).  
For somebody who was terrified by the thought of becoming her mother (whether played for laughs as in Season 2's Bad Eggs, or for real in Season 5), I think Buffy does a pretty good job with Dawn.
1) Nikki Wood [first seen in Season 5's Fool For Love flashbacks]
Cons: None.
Pros: She's perfect.
Lies My Parents Told Me can fuck right off.
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play-now-my-lord · 1 year
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i keep seeing posts about giants lately, so it's worth emphasizing that tall people require a lot more sustenance and care than short people on average - we get more and worse fractures, we eat more, we're overall less efficient in terms of consumption vs. production in the context of most societies.
i can't say to a certainty that all myths about ancient giants are about stone age skeletons discovered later in history, but i can tell you for 100% sure that average height both declines significantly and clusters more strongly around the mean during transitions from nomadic to settled modes of social organization - that is to say, people grow shorter on average and outliers are rarer - and in general the more socially complex a society is, the shorter its people tend to be until very recently in history. there is no mystical magical reason for this; more complex societies are generically worse at caring for large people and worse at feeding young children than less complex ones.
our perspective is skewed by modernity because the dawn of modernity inaugurated unthinkably huge increases in agricultural productivity, and later modernity involves the adoption of more and more effective medical science. excepting the very world-historically weird development of fallow-free farming in the 18th-19th centuries, societies come to be more complex by packing more, smaller, weaker, sicker people into bigger cities and supporting them with larger-caloric-yield, less nutritionally complete farming.
a citizen of the early roman empire unearthing a stone age burial ground would encounter people on average several inches taller than them, at the extremes more than a foot taller than them. in their shoes you'd think the world used to be peopled by giants too!
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toointojoelmiller · 8 months
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look for the light: a last of us fic
chapter 2
BTHB prompt inspired - "electrical outage" Jackson loses power, Joel can't find Ellie, and panic ensues (for @bearrycool). cross posted to ao3 here ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4
Apart from the occasional periods of time where she didn’t seem to sleep at all - Joel wouldn’t get much then either, judging by the way his lights stayed on through the night - Ellie liked to sleep in when she had the chance. The group leaving for the supply run was heading out at dawn, with the sun still hidden and only just starting to lighten the sky. It was the earliest Tommy had seen her up.
Her short and slight ponytailed shape was easily recognizable, standing next to Joel and a buckskin horse. Joel was crouched slightly, adjusting the cinch of the saddle. Ellie looked a sullen, running a flat hand up and down the horse’s muzzle and raking her fingers through it’s forelock.
The trip to the pharmaceutical warehouse in Idaho had been planned for months, with the list of supplies that were running perilously short at the clinic growing every week, but there had been serious discussions about whether or not to postpone. A group of raiders tried to take the dam just as winter was thawing out and the world had started to bloom green again. The men on guard at the time had held the line through the onslaught, but the attack was more organized and better equipped than any they’d seen before, leaving everyone in Jackson rattled.
There were casualties - one of their own was killed, a decent young man in his late twenties who took a bullet to the neck, and two of their better patrolmen were injured enough to be off duty for a long while.
The treatment of the men who’d been injured in the fight had been difficult due to the dwindling stock of medication and supplies, making the need for the trip undeniable - and urgent.
Fearing the group would return, they'd bumped up the number of people stationed at the dam, but it meant less people available for the supply run. When it became clear that either Tommy or Joel would probably need to go for the run to stand any chance of being successful, Joel had volunteered - “You’re not goin’ - you got a goddamn baby to worry about,” he’d said firmly.
Joel had established himself as the most experienced and capable on the roster not long after joining the patrols - sending him made an otherwise small group feel significantly less risky. It made sense, even if none of them liked it.
As the group’s planned departure date approached Ellie seemed to get more irritated, snapping at Joel and storming off after a heated exchange of words on more than one occasion. Tommy assumed that she was worried for Joel, and not wanting to spend a week away from him. Maybe that was a piece of it - but Joel had pinched his nose and exhaled heavily as he filled Tommy in on the real reason for her frustration. “She won’t quit tryin’ to convince me to let her come - swear to god, her turnin’ sixteen is gonna be the death of me.”
Tommy wondered if she’d given up yet, or if she was going to try to badger Joel into letting her go with him until he was out the gate.
“You got a good one,” Tommy called out while he walked over, nodding at Maria as she left his side to check in on the others who were preparing to leave. “Flint’s a nice ride - you taken him out before?”
Joel shook his head. “Nah - this’ll be the first. Ellie picked him out for me, said the same.” He glanced at Ellie as he said it, and when she didn’t react he shot a look at Tommy.
“Well, she’d know,” Tommy said, smiling in Ellie’s direction and receiving the same lack of response. He shifted Charlie in his arms, moving her to his other side as she half-snoozed against his chest. “You and Dina’ve been a big help at the stables.”
She flicked her eyes briefly to Tommy, nodding once, and then turned back to face the horse. Joel sighed and shook his head slightly, meeting Tommy’s gaze again with worried eyes, the stress plain on his face.
“Charlie’s lookin’ forward to havin’ you around for the week,” Tommy tried again, hoping for the sake of Joel’s nerves that she would give them something.
It was a dumb joke they all had fun with - newly turned one, his girl wasn’t really talking yet, although she did pretty good at getting her point across with her squawking and babbling and pointing. It worked - Ellie looked over, her eyes landing on Charlie’s sleepy face with a flicker of a smile.
“Oh yeah? She tell you that?”
Tommy grinned, and some of the tension seemed to leave Joel’s face. “Won’t shut up about it, actually.”
“I can’t blame her,” Ellie said. “Spending all day with you - she must be dying to have someone cool to hang out with for a change.”
Tommy laughed, saying, “I reckon you oughta be a bit nicer to me, seein’ as I’m in charge of you until the old man gets back.”
Ellie snorted. “In charge of me? I agreed to sleep in your spare room, man - that’s it.”
“Hang onto him for me,” Joel said, handing the horse’s reins to Ellie as he stepped away. “Gotta talk to Maria for a second.” He tilted his head, gesturing for Tommy to come with him.
Joel lowered his voice as they walked towards Maria. “Don't feel right, leavin’ her like this.”
“Ellie’ll be fine, Joel. Ain’t like she’s gonna be by herself.”
Joel nodded as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a square of paper and passing it over carefully, like he wanted it to stay hidden from Ellie’s view. Tommy glanced back at her and confirmed that she wasn’t looking as he flipped it open. She was still loving on the horse, feeding it a palmful of oatmeal she must have dug out from the saddlebags.
Joel had lectured Tommy and Maria both on and off over the past week about things he wanted them to know while he was gone. Apparently he had no faith that they would remember any of it, because as Tommy ran his eyes over the two pages of paper, covered (both sides) in Joel’s handwriting, he realized he had been handed an Ellie instruction manual. What to feed her so she’ll eat enough - things to try if she stops eating. The addresses of her friends - Dina, Jesse, Cat - their parents names, and a star hastily scribbled beside a note about keeping a close eye if Ellie and Jesse were hanging out on their own. Nearly a whole page about how to help if she has a nightmare and what to do when she can’t sleep. A long list of what she likes talking about and an entirely unnecessary companion list of things not to bring up.
It was sweet, and it was insane.
“You know I’ve met her before, right?” Tommy couldn’t help but taunt. 
“Go ahead,” Joel said, waving a hand. “I just - don’t want somethin’ to come up that you - she’s a great kid, I know you know that - but - there’s a lot -”
Tommy folded the paper and shoved it into his back pocket before putting a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Joel. I know. Ellie will be fine. We’ve got her. Nowhere safer for her to be than Jackson, and you know that’s the truth. Start fuckin’ worryin’ about yourself and gettin’ back here in one piece, alright?”
Whatever lingering moodiness Ellie might have been feeling towards Joel for not letting her go with him, it didn’t stop her from crumpling a bit as the group eventually started to leave, tucking herself into his chest as he squeezed his arms around her for one completely vulnerable second. He started saying something to her quietly, and Tommy turned around to give them space to say goodbye. He scanned around for Maria for a few seconds, finding her already making her way back to them. 
By the time he turned back around, Joel had mounted Flint and Ellie was wiping her face roughly with her sleeve.
“Don’t terrorize Tommy too much,” Joel said.
“Don’t fucking die,” she muttered back, crossing her arms.
He gave her a pained look, and then nodded. “Do what I told you, alright?”
In a rare show of outright obedience, Ellie nodded solemnly.
Maria looked at him, an eyebrow partially raised. Tommy decided he didn't really want to know what exactly Joel and Ellie were purposefully not discussing in front of them. He had an idea, anyway - neither of them knew that he knew about the handgun Joel had snuck in that seemed to hang out in different spots of Ellie's room. He wondered if Joel’d told her to keep it on her while he was gone. It wasn’t something he wanted Maria finding out, anyway - nothing good would come of that.
When Joel was out of sight through the gates, Maria suggested they have an early breakfast together, since they were all up and dressed already. Ellie shrugged and tagged along with them, offering to hold Charlie on her lap while they ate.
Ellie was quiet at the table, picking at her food and spending more time feeding Charlie sliced strawberries than actually eating herself. It made sense for her to be feeling down with Joel officially gone, so it didn’t set off any alarm bells at first. But when she cleared her throat and put her fork down, cautiously saying, “So, I’ve been thinking…” Tommy and Maria exchanged glances immediately.
“About?” Maria prompted in her all business tone.
Ellie sighed, sitting back in her chair as she met Maria’s gaze. Tommy suddenly felt a bit nervous.
“I know Joel wants me to stay with you guys while he’s gone,” Ellie started.
Maria nodded curtly. “Which you’re doing - the spare room is ready for you.”
Tommy expected Ellie to deflate, but she raised her chin and set her shoulders instead. He thought briefly that he might be about to find out the answer to that ‘unstoppable force', ‘immoveable object’ nonsense.
“I’ll sleep better in my own bed,” Ellie said confidently.
Maria shrugged. “Maybe, but that’s not what we all agreed to.”
Tommy felt like he was watching a ping pong game, looking back and forth from one stubbornly set expression to another.
“I sleep in my place on my own every night. What difference does it make?”
“Joel thinks you’re staying with us, Ellie, so you’re going to be,” Maria said simply. “I know you don’t want to have to tell him that you lied to him when he gets back.”
Ellie’s eyes narrowed for a second as she scoffed. “I didn’t lie -”
Maria nodded curtly as she cut in. “That’s right. You didn’t, because you said you’d be sleeping at our house, and that’s what you’re going to do.”
“You don’t want me there,” Ellie said, trying out a different tactic. “Charlie’s asleep so early - I’ll just wake her up. I’m playing around on my guitar a lot lately -”
“Ellie, come on -”
“And Dina was going to sleepover later this week so we can watch all of the Alien movies back to back -”
“Jackson has all of the Alien movies?” Tommy asked - he really was curious, but also hoping to derail what we looking more and more like a bubbling argument.
Both of them ignored him.
“I’m sixteen, not six,” Ellie said.
“You’re fifteen,” Maria countered, earning another exasperated eye roll.
“For what, like, a month and a half!” Ellie’s voice raised a bit in the middle of her sentence before she dialled herself back down. “You don’t - I’ve spent basically my whole life looking after myself. Just because Joel is...” she trailed off, looking down.
Maria watched her for a minute before she responded. She leaned in as she did, resting her arms on the table, and giving that piercing stare that always made Tommy feel like she was looking right through him. “You know what? You’re right. You are almost sixteen. And when you are, you’ll be able to start training for patrol, which means people are going to need to be able to count on you. Part of being reliable is keeping your word. It doesn’t mean a thing if you break it. So - it’s up to you. If you’ll follow through on what you promised Joel or not.”
She wasn’t happy about doing it, but Ellie caved. 
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yakumtsaki · 2 years
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As you guys know, Claire being so into Sugar has been vexing me from the start for obvious, nose-based reasons. I assumed she was either secretly batshit or that Sugar has inherited some hidden sexual talents from Cyn, or both. But finally, I think I’ve cracked the case:
So Claire, like Sugar, has the amazing combo of popularity aspiration + 3 nice points and her LTW is to become a Celebrity Chef. So when I moved her in I thought it’d be cute to give her this ice cream dress like she wants to be a pastry chef and I never thought about it again. But as I was editing pics before, it finally dawned on me: she’s a PASTRY chef and he’s SUGAR. IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW❤️
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Moving on to something significantly less cute, it’s time for Sophito to begin another day of hoeing. Roxie wouldn’t accept our invite to come over so I pulled a pro gamer move and invited her whole household and she accepted, so we’re about to knock out 3 dates at once! I was feeling so proud of my efficiency-
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-that I literally FORGOT ROXIE AND JONAH ARE DATING. LMAO. Literally wtf is my problem, I’ve even done a photoshoot with them. 
-ROXIE WHAT THE FUCK HOW COULD YOU  -I’M SO SORRY JONAH I JUST WANTED TO SEE WHAT IT’S LIKE TO KISS SOMEONE WHOSE MOUTH SITS AT A NORMAL HEIGHT -Dude, can you just be cool? I was gonna date both you and her brother afterwards, you’re ruining my morning.
Another massive dating success under our belt!
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We immediately move on to Edwin without even bothering to say goodbye to his sister whose relationship we just ruined, classic us. I’m like am I cray cray or would Edwin and Sophito actually be a super cute pairing-
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-but it looks like we’ll never find out as EDWIN REJECTS THE FUCK OUT OF SOPH. CRY.ING
-Do I look like my slutty sister who’s just gonna make out with any rando fuckboi with a popped collar?? Fuck off!!
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STAN EDWIN. ABSOLUTE CHAD WTF. I’m definitely marrying him in later!!
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It’s finals day and everyone is frantically last minute studying but Wilfred and Sophito find time to have a nice lunch together!
-Did you poison this burger, Wilfred? -Whaaaat?! Of course not! Do I look like someone who would poison their own cousin over some petty sexual rivalry?
You absolutely do, I didn’t even know ‘cousin-poisoner’ was a social category until now but man you have the entire look down. 
-Alright then, why don’t you just tell me what ingredients you used.
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-The usual! Buns, ground meat, lettuce, tomatoes, ketchup.. drain cleaner.. -Did you just whisper ‘drain cleaner’? -Of course not, that would be stupid and also a criminal confession! Oh man, 8 hours till finals?? Time to get going!!!
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I don’t know how to even react to this information BUT SUGAR WAS THE ONLY ONE THAT GOT AN A+. WHAT IS HAPPENING
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-Maybe if June spent a little less time worrying about Erik’s lack of funds and more time studying she’d have kept the top spot, am I right, darling? HAHA
BRUH
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-Friendship over with Sugar, now Sophito is my favorite nephew!  -Hi June, what about me? :( -Oh I don’t know, Reginald, how much did you spend on rugs today?? -Never mind :(
Oh is that that Almeric Face 1 Twin Guy? Let’s go ask him out! 
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-Hey Almeric Face 1 Twin Guy ;) -My name is Aldric.  -That sucks, Almeric is a way cooler name. -I know >:( -Don’t worry, it doesn’t really matter-
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-because I just decided during our date that I want to fall in love with Kea!❤️
WHAT. YOU’VE NEVER ROLLED THIS BEFORE WTF
-Ya, I’ve figured out that Cheerleader Kea is the one for me after all! 
But you only had one date three semesters ago, you don’t even have a crush on her??
-I’ll get one! 
What about Eliza???
-Eliza has a lot of thoughts and opinions and demands and Wilfreds. Cheerleader Kea only has cheers!
Alright then, I guess? We’ll ask her out?
-Great, and then I’ll ask her to marry me! 
YOU’RE GONNA WHAT
-I’m on a date with Almeric here, you’re being rude. -Aldric. -Whatever.
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lavenoon · 1 year
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Okay okay, so blorbo thought involving Eclipse because of course it does—
But my brain went “what if his battery was good and he was interested in the Field Agent job? And what if Sun and Moon were in the lab instead?” :o dunno if that would work but that’s quite the switcheroo if so!!
So this is interesting to think about because I want to give you the simp answer you deserve but Eclipse in the field is just. (:
Okay so, we imagine Eclipse has a good battery - his lack of awareness for social cues and general bluntness keep him from undercover work (unless the agency is desperate) but he can now finally follow in his brothers footsteps and learn parkour <3
So sneaky secret agent Eclipse stealing information! He'd have a blast and very much mirror the way Robin feels about their job - absolute glee at being a secret agent. The type of goober sneaking around an empty building humming the mission impossible or pink panther theme. Probably more pink panther actually.
A little bummed out maybe, because he's doing most missions alone still, other field agents not quite agreeing with his work ethic and being bitter how he still is a damn good agent somehow. Time for a new agent to maybe join the agency >:3c
Researchers Dusk/ Dawn would still be good at their jobs, but significantly more bored with it compared to the field. It was the condition to join the agency though, at least until they can guarantee three celestial animatronics in the field will not cause issues, even with the distance between locations.
They get visited by field agent Robin (break in vs undercover agent depending on timeline - for the sake of everyone's dashboard I'll try to be concise) coming by the lab for some upgrades or repairs. Robin is much less harsh with lab workers (because they aren't competition), so Dusk/ Dawn get a much easier time talking to them and a much more socially awkward Robin because not competition > means they can be nice > how tf do they interact then?
Boys quicker to flirt, at first just to get this field agent to stay longer and to get a taste of the field agent life, but soon realize how delightful it is to actually have them around and have them warm up to the respective him, much easier to fluster and convince to stick around for shenanigans. Basically Saros but with Dusk or Dawn! And the shenanigans of their civilian life with the totally unrelated to their coworker neighbor (: No great difference between main and reverse this time, as Dawn has really no reason to be a dick here, and a reveal would also go a little smoother in general, because without all three of them in the field, none of them would freak out quite as much lmao
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ofglories · 3 months
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Title: N/A Characters: Emrys, Uther, hints of Merlin- warnings: major character death, uther.
He knew he was dreaming, if only because it was the same as it had been every night for the past week.
Falling through clouds and bottomless, dark water filled with the glittering light of distant stars. And then finding himself on his feet, standing in calf-deep pools of crystalline water as a star-filled sky stretched endlessly above. Around him the pools of water wound between a boundless field of blue flowers, their petals glowing with a soft light.
And the only landmark to be seen was a massive tree, branches laden with pure white wisteria blossoms that shared the same ghostly glow as the petals fell like snow.
Every night at this point he would start walking towards the tree. And each night he made it closer. Tonight, it seems, he was finally allowed to reach it. The bark on the trunk was warm, the ground beneath a bed of clovers, the mysterious blue flowers, and fallen petals. It looked, frankly, like an ideal place to take a nap. But just as the thought crossed his mind, the same sound that occured each time filled the peaceful field.
The baying of hounds, louder than ever before.
It grew closer and closer, louder and louder, and then...
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Emrys jerked awake with a soft gasp, sitting up in bed.
Just before dawn, like every night the past week.
The king grimaced, running a hand through his hair as he slowly stood. There would be no more sleep this night. He knew that from experience. Distantly he could still hear the baying of the hounds across the skies just beyond his window. Tonight... Emrys sighed softly, leaning his back against the pane of glass to let the cool, late winter air chill him.
Tonight he'd seen the hounds in his dream.
Blindingly white fur except for their red ears and tails. The hounds of the Lord of the Otherworld, according to the tales his mother had told him in his childhood. Hounds that could only be seen by those either about to die, or those who had died but not yet realized it.
It was an unsettling realization, to understand that meant his death was coming soon.
But the question of how remained.
There was no battle. The assassination attempts had finally started slowing down now that it seemed his immunity to poisons was becoming known. Ah, well. No point in worrying about it until the sun rose. Emrys shook his head, standing again to go handle his morning routine. Once he was dressed a walk on the parapets would be nice. With the early morning light and the breeze it would help his mind focus.
He'd need it for the day, after all.
A meeting with Uther at the same time as inspecting an old ruin Merlin had discovered before the winter snows were too heavy for exploration. A packed schedule, though better than it tended to be with significantly less listening to various lords and their complaints or reports.
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The ruin was, in a word, magestic.
The remnants of what had likely once been an ancient hall of some sort. Many of the walls were still mostly in tact, with damage that could easily be repaired by some skilled masons. What sort of thing could they repurpose this into, though? Emrys would have loved to discuss it with Merlin but Uther had tugged the mage away to inspect what he swore were some murals of questionable origin. And apparently the murals had been interesting enough that the mage was completely absorbed in them, enough for Uther to return from that half-collapsed sideroom with a shrug and eye roll.
Which, unfortunately, meant the king had no buffer between himself and his younger brother.
Who was, of course, carelessly swinging his sword around the ruin to "clear cobwebs".
Or something ridiculous like that.
"For the last time, Uther," Emrys sighed, rubbing his temples. This argument had been going in circles for the past ten minutes. Why was Merlin taking so long...? "You'll be given the role of steward not because I don't trust you. It's because you'd likely hate being king and, let's not mince words, no woman is going to willingly marry you to provide a legitimate heir."
Overly blunt, perhaps, but his head was hurting.
"And what makes you think either of those things would be true, huh, Ambrosius?" Uther snarled, making his headache feel worse than ever with the use of that name. Sometimes Emrys wondered if the man wanted only to provoke him by using the name he had left behind years ago now. "I'm actually related to you plus I have a child on the way with someone! That girl has no connections to the throne and has magic like that damned mage of yours."
Ah, yes.
The child.
Emrys grimaced, waving a hand as he turned away. He couldn't keep arguing the same points over and over.
"Morgan is the daughter of the Lord of Cornwall and Lady Igraine. She has a stronger claim to the rule of the land than either of us and I believe she would make a proper heir and queen to the people of Camelot. Her magic is only a bonus." Never did he understand Uther's utter disdain of magic. It was just like physical strength, something that was neither evil nor good.
But then again that was why Emrys had kept his lessons in magic from Merlin a secret.
There was no need to let his brother develop another reason to hate the mage for no apparent reason.
"How can magic be a bonus for anything?!" Gods above, he was whining now. Like a child even if he was shouting. He cast a glare over his shoulder at the younger man, scowling in turn at the sight of him standing on a collapsed pile of stone that had likely once been a pillar.
No point.
Absolutely no point in continuing.
"My word is final, Uther." With that Emrys drew himself to his full height, turning his back on his brother to look for Merlin. "You've sworn to obey your King, and so now I speak as King. Morgan shall be my heir and you shall be her steward until she is ready to rule alone."
Silence met his declaration and he could easily picture the sullen and infuriated look on his brother's face.
Now where was...
Aha!
Emrys smiled at the sight of white through the shadowed gloom of the ruins, taking a step towards the hall where Merlin was standing.
And suddenly...
Pain.
Sharp and blinding and enough to make him gasp, struggling to catch his breath as he stumbled. It came from his back but... Emrys blinked, raising a hand to his chest where a blade protruded. Blood was filling his mouth, making it impossible to breathe. And he choked out a strangled "what?" before he sunk to his knees.
It hurt.
It hurt.
What had just happened?
He felt strange. The pain was there, drowning him as surely as the blood spilling from his mouth. But at the same time it felt strangely distant. Like the sound of screaming filling his ears. Who was screaming? Was it him? No. He couldn't even draw enough breath to speak anymore. There were hands on his shoulders, Uther? Emrys forced his eyes open, struggling against the fog that was already filling them. A sound, the baying of hounds, began somewhere.
Oh, this was mortal.
This was a mortal wound.
So that was what the dreams had been about.
White filled his vision but he couldn't focus his eyes. Everything was blurred, swimming as if he had opened his eyes underwater. But still he forced his hand to move, to raise up to touch that bright color one last time.
A smile was forced to his face.
Then...
His eyes closed, and opened again.
The field from his dreams surrounded him. And he could see the tree.
"Ah... So this is..." Well. There was nothing else to do then. A bitter smile crossed his face as Emrys made his way to the tree. "Maybe one day... I can apologize. Hm. I hope Merlin will guide Uther's child, perhaps protect them from his worst behaviors."
What a shame.
He'd been looking forward to abdication and living a normal, peaceful life...
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transskywardsword · 8 months
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what would your links/zelda be for halloween :3
i was so excited to answer this until i realized that's 26 characters (12 links, 14 zeldas) so. lets get started omg
halloween in hyrule started as a skyloftian holiday to honor the spirits of the dead, observed by throwing sweets off of skyloft to the spirits below, dancing all night as a sign of celebrating what little life you may have left, and dressing in traditional costumes inspired by one's family tree. at midnight, the holiday goes from a time of celebration to a time of mourning, until the sunrises when there is a huge feast. over time this turned into people dressing in outlandish costumes and giving treats to strangers, especially children, and the few hours of mourning are only celebrated by more traditional circles, and then finally into a more 'halloween'esc holiday.
as the closest in the timeline to what the original holiday looked like, sky and aurora dresses up in traditional skyloftian festival wear, which is all hand sewed and hand embroidered with feathers from sky and aurora's loft wings, and as they are family, their costumes as a matching set.
minish and zellie dressed up as minish every year as little kids until the events of minish cap, when mini began dressing up as ezlo. zellie thinks it is hilarious. her and mini's costumes are hand made by her, and she always looks forward to the free honeycakes that the bakery hands out to children.
quartet goes all out on the scary costumes. he rarely splits during halloween, as he wants to enjoy the holiday all for himself, something that the colors grumble about before and after the holiday. he is a staunch observer of the hours of mourning, and dedicates them to shadow, something that makes quartz deeply uncomfortable. she doesn't like halloween, the focus on darkness making her feel too close to the dark creatures that imprisoned her. she never dresses up, but is forced to go to the celebratory feast, as per her duty as princess.
ocarina and sheik both approach the holiday from a sheikah perspective. the sheikah celebrate halloween more like Día de Muertos than halloween, but significantly more somber than Día de Muertos. Sheik has dedicated the hours of mourning to the entire holiday, and there is often fasting. while it isn't so extreme in ocarina's timeline, it still is a more serious holiday until the dawn feast. neither dress up
mask LOVES halloween, much to other's surprise, as he avoids childish activities like the plague. he goes all out, putting even quartet to shame, and loves to play pranks to get into the holiday spirit. he goes as a skull kid each year, and nearly identical to one and impossible to tell apart.
twilight celebrates halloween with the children of ordon by dressing up (usually in cowboy get up), candy, the whole nine yards, but in his era, the holiday is much more somber amongst grown ups, dedicated to remembering the twilight that once over took them. dawn fasts the whole holiday, and observes it as a day of mourning, though she has been bullied to dress up in twilight's ranch get ups to play with the children of ordon once or twice.
era grew up too poor to celebrate, and in the army it was most simplied to pranks, as the celebration itself was against the rules. he spends most halloweens beside aella at royal functions, bored out of his mind. she orders matching costumes for them based on their connection to the Hero and the Goddess. They both look stunning, and they both hate it.
Wilds and sunny split the holiday in two, with the day being dedicated to partying and the night to honoring the dead of the Calamity and Upheaval. Wilds handmakes his costumes, with his most popular one being a korok, and sunny could care less about the actual costume, as long as she gets a sweet by midnight.
Halloween was forgetten when hyrule was flooded, so Waker, Tetra, Spirit, and Phantom had never celebrated until meeting with the other links and zeldas. they still dont quite 'get it'.
Asteria doesnt make much of a fuss about halloween outside of a party in castle town open to all, and tends to dress in high regalia, something very different from her normal wear. Legend claims she's too old for halloween but comes every year, no costume in sight, to devour all the sweets and scare children with stories of her adventures.
hue goes ALL OUT, inviting friends from hytopia and producing costumes for all his friends, the children of his village, and shoving ravio into something attractive to wear at home for the two of them. iris is rather young but considers herself mature enough for her age to not need halloween. hue is determined to prove her differently, and he and styla have been trying to force her into frilly costumes for years.
halloween is a verrrrry spooky affair in bramble's hyrule, tied more to evil spirits than honoring the dead, and scary costumes are a big part of that, especially masks. bramble hand carves a mask each year of a diffrent monster. this year it was a mask mocking the eyes of ganon. akari might dawn a pretty and delicate lace half face mask, nothing scary or gorey, but brair looooove scary masks, and makes them as strange and repulsive as possible, much to her older-younger family member's disgust.
aaaand i think that's all of them!!!
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