The Justice card indicates that the fairest decision will be made. Justice is the sword that cuts through a situation, and will not be swayed by outer beauty when deciding what is fair and just.
tags, as seen on ao3: alternate universe - canon divergence, post season 3, angst and hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, angst with a happy ending, sleepovers, enemies, mental health issues, slow burn, slow build, aged up characters, friendship/love, this is a sleepover fic with like. a lot of extra steps, did i mention the angst?
summary:
“I was thinking about that time you hated me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
or
three years after hawkmoth’s defeat, marinette is still trying to figure out her version of normal. there’s also sleepovers.
Did anybody asked for fankids?? Yes? No? Don’t matter, y'all getting them anyway.
Ya boy’s name is Moss Juice,
(his name is a reference to his dad’s movie counterpart having moss around him, also thought it was cute)
Any kid of beetlejuice is going to be feral to some extent. I’m sorry but beetlejuice has feral genes, it’s straight up facts.
I also wanted to play around with a kid design where the boy looks more like his momma (also rebelling against the fact where the offspring looks like a carbon copy of the parent of the same gender in most cartoons. why can’t it be the opposite? or a good mix of both?)
A. The theme for the week is B. The biggest obstacle this week will be C. I can find joy this week by D. I’m totally crushing it when it comes to E. Emotionally this week I’m feeling F. Advice for this week is to
(I’m using the Seventh Sphere deck by Labyrinthos)
my ttrpg character, Lotte - a peasant teenager turned hedge witch. she is forming a nascent space rune in her eye, and has been using it to transport/summon her wolf to her side.
I know there are many people out there who favor the Caranthir-can-sew headcanon (myself among them), but I don’t think we fully appreciate the possibilities.
Please imagine Fëanor finding out that Caranthir likes sewing and is really good at it, and he takes Míriel’s sewing box out of a chest in the attic, blows the dust away and gives it to his son, and little Caranthir’s eyes light up in excitement and awe.
Imagine Nerdanel having some friends in the house, and there are those beautiful tapestries and hand-made tablecloths on the small coffee tables (I don’t know the exact English word for it) all around the house, and Nerdanel’s friends tell her that they’re very beautiful and Nerdanel smiles and says: “Oh, Carnistir made them.” And she is so proud of her baby boy as the women look impressed.
Imagine Celegorm ripping his clothes so often when he is out hunting, and he always takes them to Caranthir to fix them because he is the only one who can. (Nerdanel is an artist and a mother but she does NOT sew, there are limits to her talents and she’ll stick with what she knows, thank you very much) And Caranthir gets so annoyed with him because “I fixed the hole in the knee only YESTERDAY Tyelko and today it has at least three more, including that SAME ONE!”, and he finally reaches his breaking point one day when Celegorm comes back with his sleeves missing, and he sits his older brother down and shows him how to sew the holes in his clothes. “That’s it, sit down, I’m going to show you how to fix this yourself because I’m so DONE!”
Imagine little Amrod and Amras coming to him and asking him to fix their toys where their stitches were ripped and they look so genuinely guilty and sad about their teddy bears that Caranthir always smiles and reassures them that they will be okay, he will fix them, and maybe he spends the entire night awake to finish them but it’s worth it because the next morning when he gives them to the twins both have those HUGE grins on their faces, and they squeeze him in a hug before running off to play.
Imagine Caranthir and Curufin hearing some elves talk about how Curufin was just like Fëanor and inherited his skills in the forges and how Celegorm looked more like Míriel than Fëanor himself did and how Maglor is a great singer and harpist and Maedhros is so skilled in politics, and they probably say that Caranthir must be adopted because he doesn’t have any special skills like his brothers. And then Curufin gets angry at how their words upset Caranthir, and he stands up and gives this really long and detailed lecture about genetics and Caranthir’s fascinating talent with sewing that he OBVIOUSLY inherited from our grandmother, until they apologize and leave just to get rid of him but Caranthir is beaming the entire time.
Imagine little Caranthir sewing outside next to the lake and some kids come and make fun of him for it and say how sewing is for girls and then things escalate, and Caranthir runs back home crying and he goes to his bedroom and knocks all the sewing equipement from the table, and then Maedhros is there (of course he’s there, Caranthir doesn’t even wonder if he heard the crashing noise or not, Maedhros is ALWAYS there) and sits in front of him and asks him what happened. And Caranthir tells him everything, about what the boys said and how insecure he feels, and “Is sewing really only for girls Nelyo?” And Maedhros decides than he needs help to get this through, so he takes Caranthir to Fëanor, who tells that of course sewing isn’t only for girls and that those boys were only jealous because he has grandmother Míriel’s skills and she was the best weaver of the Noldor. And he reassures Caranthir, and then Maedhros takes him outside to play, and the boys and their comments don’t matter anymore because if his father thinks Caranthir can sew then of course he can. His father is always right, and Maedhros said so as well, so Caranthir can sew.
Imagine Maglor sitting with Caranthir in the living room when Caranthir is angry, and Maglor plays his harp and sings as his little brother sews, and they sit like this until all of Caranthir’s frustrations and all his anger melt away. Maglor might not have a way with words, but he has a way with music.
Just imagine all the endless possibilities of Caranthir being the only one in the family with Míriel’s weaving skills.
Happy Sprout-Day @innocentcinnamonbun!!! I made some SteinMarie for you, bc your art is one of the reasons I started to ship them to begin with wwwwww
IM AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
It is not the singing that comes from the he vocal cords of the numerous species that inhabit the galaxy. It is not from the mouths of humans or any other sentient creature.
Keimel wakes to the singing of stars. To the Force bursting with life around him in a way he hasn’t felt in years. He wakes and the Force sings in joy, in happiness yet all Keimel can do is gasp at the feeling of being home.
The grief that raises in his chest is not unexpected. He knows that if the Force feels like this -feels bright and bursting and full of stars and nebulae- it means that the Jedi Order is alive. It means that he has lost a second home.
It means that everyone he loved is alive.
It means that everyone he loved will die.
Keimel feels something in him rise at the thought of losing everyone again and perhaps if he were a child it would have hit harder than it does. Perhaps if he were a child he would let those feelings twist and turn him into something ugly.
But he is not a child, and before his world had come crashing down for the first time he had almost been a padawan of the Jedi Order.
Keimel closes his eyes, takes faith and hope in what he had learned before the fall and meditates.
-
It is not Mace’s intention to go back in time as he falls yet somehow it happens.
Mace falls, the world and the Force scream in grief, and when it rights itself he is standing in front of a child.
The child is not a padawan nor a youngling that Mace knows of. Yet the Force sings around the child as they meditate and work through the dark inside them.
The Force tells Mace to stay. To wait. To think.
Mace takes a spot in front of the child and meditates.
The word “seduced” can have such an interesting negative connotation because it implies that it’s being done intentionally against someones will for self serving purposes. That’s how Izzy sees what Stede’s done to Ed, that’s how Badminton sees it, and that’s how Stede himself sees it when he realizes what he’s done.
That guilt that you’ve nefariously lured someone into loving or desiring you is so steeped in the history of homophobia as well because queer people have been painted as predators who seduce others into the “lifestyle”- how many kids come out to their parents who blame the crowd they hang around. how many gay men are assumed to be child predators. how many butch lesbians are blamed for “stealing” men’s girlfriends or wives. Even though Stede KNOWS that Ed is already queer, he cannot shake the thought that he’s tempted his best friend into something sinful, rather than believing Ed has the autonomy to simply love him back.
