#HE SEWS HIS OWN CLOTHES THERE'S NO OTHER EXPLANATION | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avatarmerida · 1 year

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Sweet Things

Writing pointless huntlow fluff in preparation for For The Future, indulge me.

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“Wow Willow, you really went all out with the florals!” Luz exclaimed as she opened the door for the plant witch and her impressive selection of dahlias in every possible color.

“Thanks!” Willow said brightly, setting them down to go prepare a vase. “They reminded me of your mom’s tablecloth I found in the hall closet so I thought it would be a fun addition to our special dinner for tonight!”

“It’ll be like an explosion of color!” Luz exclaimed, examining the colorful folded fabric Willow had placed on the counter. “We haven’t gotten to use that tablecloth in awhile, it’s got a huge rip on the side from when I tried to use it as a parachute.”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice,” said Willow, making a mental note to ask about that story later on. “Well, I bet Hunter could fix it.” She finished filling the case with water and called out to the next room. “Hey, hon?”

“Yes?” Came Hunter’s voice, quickly followed by him sticking his head in the doorway.

“Do you think you could fix the tear in the table cloth for me? I wanna make the table look fancy and it matches the flowers I made for the center piece perfectly.”

“Of course!” Hunter said brightly, walking over to take the fabric from the counter. He gathered some sewing supplies from the drawer in the kitchen and set up at the kitchen table as he accessed the work that needed to be done.

“Yay! Thanks so much,” said Willow with a smile, placing the flowers in the vase and admiring the presentation. “I’m gonna go finish up some things outside then I’ll be back to help set the table.”

As Hunter and Willow went to carry on with their tasks, Luz said at the counter wondering if she had misheard Willow. As Hunter focused on his repair work, Luz looked at him with confusion as though an explanation was in order. After a minute, he looked up to find her eye on him and offered her his own look of confusion. “What?”

“Willow just called you ‘hon.’” She stated as though he wasn’t aware.

“Yeah?” he said, not seeing her point. “It’s short for Hunter, like Hun-ter.”

“Are you sure it’s not short for ‘honey?”

“I mean, she calls me that sometimes too,” he said nonchalantly. “But, I guess that’s not technically short for Hunter since it’s the same amount of syllables.”

“Hunter, Willow is not calling you honey because it’s short for Hunter.”

“I know, I just said it’s the same amount-.”

“No dude, I think she means honey likes actual honey.”

Well, maybe? I guess it’s probably because my hair is yellow which is the same color as honey.” Hunter reasoned. “I mean, her palisman is a bee so it makes sense she would know a decent amount about that.”

“Hmmm maybe,” said Luz, not convinced. “But I think it’s because she thinks you’re so sweet just like honey.” She reached out to pinch his cheek and used the baby voice she would speak to King with. “Aww, look at you! Willow’s widdle honey baby boy.”

“Stop that!” he said, turning his face away from her. “It’s probably just because she really likes bees-.”

“Or because she really likes yoooou.” said Luz, not convinced or willing to be wrong about this. “Alot of people call someone honey when they’re, ya know, more than friend.”

The tips of Hunter’s ears turned bright red at the suggestion.

“W-w-well that’s just silly!” He said, not sounding like he believed his own words. “I’ve never heard you and Amity call each other that!”

“No, but she calls me her batata which means sweet potato,” said Luz.

“Do... all terms of endearment have to be food related?”

“I mean, I guess not?” said Luz. “But honey is a pretty common one.”

“What are... other common ones?” Said Hunter clearing his throat, trying to seem like he was focused on his sewing and internally hyperventilating about how oblivious he possibly was.

“Whyyyy?” Asked Luz with a smirk that seemed to read his mind.

“No reason, just curious,” he lied, as there very much was a reason.

“I dunno like ‘sweetie’ I guess?” Luz racked her mind for a list of examples.

Hunter squeaked. Luz looked over and saw he had stabbed himself with a needle, as though something about what she said had distracted him.

She gave a little gasp. “Does she call you sweetie?” Luz asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Sometimes?”

“Hunter!”

“She calls me a lot of things!” He said, sucking on the tip of the finger he has stabbed. “I mean, okay, she calls me flower names-.”

“What? Like what?!”

“She calls me daffodil, sometimes...” Hunter said quietly, the redness from his ears spreading to the rest of his face. “And like, sunflower I guess. But it’s not-.”

“Well you can’t deny that Willow loves flowers,” teased Luz with a smirk. ”Awww, are you her little flower?”

“Wellmaybeiamandyourejustjealous.” Hunter mumbled quickly and almost too quietly.

“What was that?” Luz joyfully inquired.

“Maybe I am and you’re just jealous,” repeated Hunter, not looking at her as he tried to focus on threading his needle. “I mean, you can’t expect me to believe that Willow doesn’t give nicknames to anyone else.”

“There’s a difference between a nickname and a term of endearment.”

That much Hunter did know. He knew what titles commanded respect and which ones were meant to ridicule. The only other nicknames he had received had been negative or ironic, two things Willow was definitely not towards him. He knew the nicknames she gave him came from a place of admiration, but he never dared to dream that it was such a... unique admiration.

“So like, someone would use these terms for someone they... liked?” Hunter asked carefully.

“More than just liked.” Luz said. “Like, liked-liked.”

“Sometimes like which times?” Hunter asked urgently. “Like, is it possible it’s just a coincidence and it’s just purely platonic because Willow just has a vast knowledge of plants that resemble my hair color?”

“I mean, some people use them that way, yeah,” said Luz trying to hide the delight she took in Hunter’s panicked expression. “But I’ve never heard Willow call anyone else ‘honey.’ In fact, I think that’s what her dads call each other. Ya know, her dads who are in looove.”

“So that could be... why.” Hunter said slowly, unable to deny that it made sense. Unable to deny that he was kind of glad that it did.

“Do you have any nicknames for her?” Luz asked, putting her hand under her chin as she took delight in watching Hunter process this new possibility.

“I mean, I call her Captain but that’s more her title than a nickname,” said a Hunter, searching his mind. “Should I have one for her?”

“I mean, if you want to, yeah,” said Luz. “It’s not like a requirement or anything but it could be a cute way to let her know that you like her too.”

“I’m not... very good nicknames,” admitted Hunter and Luz noted happily that he did not deny the implication that he liked Willow. “Most of the ones I've given have had more literal connotations and not in a nice way. And I’ve never really had a reason to use a term of endearment, what are some good ones?”

“My dude, you’ve come to the right place,” assured Luz, pulling out her phone where she kept a list in her notes for just such an occasion.

Hunter sat at the table looking down at his hands as he practiced what he wanted to say in his head. When Willow walked through the door he stood up, holding the folded tablecloth close to his chest as she reentered the kitchen, trying to seem relaxed.

“Oh, uh hi!” He said as though he had not been waiting for her to return. He held the result of his labor out to her. “I finished the tablecloth. Good as new.”

“Oh no, it’s even better!” She smiled, taking it from him to admire the skillful repair. She unfolded it and twirled around the kitchen with it like she had just been given a gown for the ball. “Now it’s got that special Hunter touch, thanks so much buttercup!”

“Of course!” He said, taking the use of the word as a sign to test the waters. “Anytime... babe.”

Willow stopped spinning as her ears perked at the word and she quickly turned her head from admiring the craftsmanship to looking at him in slight disbelief. “What did you say?”

Hunter gulped. Maybe she really just hadn’t heard him?

“I said, uh, anytime babe.” He repeated quicker, leaning against the doorframe hoping it sounded more natural this time as he landed the sentiment with finger guns. He tried not to linger on the word so it wouldn’t seem like her was trying so hard but he did want her to notice so she would notice that he noticed that she-

“Oh, yeah,” Willow cleared her throat. “That’s uh, that’s what I thought you said.” Her voice seemed labored, as though she was trying to adjust her breathing. “Well, uh thanks again... uh Hunter.”

Just Hunter? No marigold? No honey? Not even dandelion? Titan, he had ruined everything! Why had he listened to Luz? Willow hadn’t been calling him those things because she liked him more than a friend! She was just being creative!

“Of course, of course,” he said, now seeing it was his turn to steady his breathing. “Maybe we should uh, start setting up the table? Camila will be back with the take out soon.”

“Yeah, I wonder if we’ll need any sugar.” Willow pondered, still learning when sugar was needed and when salt was meant to be put out.

“Any what?” Hunter asked as though she had not finished her thought.

Willow looked at him with a raised eyebrow before she understood what he thought he had heard her say. “Oh no, I meant actual sugar, like for the table.” Willow clarified, a soft crimson dancing across the bridge of her nose as she realized he had a reason to be confused; she had called him that numerous times.

“Right, right yes of course,” said Hunter, embarrassed trying to look busy as he fetched the plates from the higher cabinet. “But um would you... like if we put sugar on the table? Like, would you say that you... like sugar?”

“Well yeah, I like sweet things,” she said as she gathered the forks and knives. She looked across the table at him, meticulously placing the plates an even distance from each other. Clover flew over and sat atop his head, resting peacefully like Hunter was the sweetest smelling flower she had ever come across. Hunter was so used to this action by now that it did not deter his focus and he subconsciously reached up and scratched her head with his finger and the palisman nuzzled against it affectionately. “You of all people should know that.”

#huntlow #winter toh #toh #willow park #hunter toh #the owl house

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arashikohedervary · 2 months

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I cannot express in words how much I love the crew in Our Flag Means Death. I adore how much personality they all have even tough they are stuck in the "background character" group. I would honestly watch it if any of them would have their own spin-off. I mean, I like Ed and Stede just fine, but look at these babies!!!

Frenchie: Oh, don't get me started on Frenchie, I adore the man. He's the literal impersonation of 'looks like a cinammon roll, could kill you'. My man is a DnD bard who invented pyramid schemes *and* fanfictions. Plus he may be the genius of his age while still believing in witches and crystals.

Wee John: Roomies! Man, how much more I'd like to see of this beautiful Drag Queen. Long live Calypso! And how much I whish to know if he sews his own drag clothes.🤔

Black Pete: It's not healthy how much I'm invested in "Blackbeard's most trusted man". He thinks he needs to create cool stories to get the others to like him, but he's actually very soft and caring. I mean, have you seen the finger he gave to Lucius? He's an angel.

Lucius: If it weren't from Ori from the Hobbit movies, he'd be my favorite scribe of all times. My man is underpaid for all the realitionship drama he has to listen to and his bonus consisted of getting thrown off the ship (which is, like, rude). Also, he can pickpocket Spanish Jackie???? Hi, yes, I'd like to order a backstory, possibly 20 hours long, please.

Buttons: Oh gosh, the Sea Witch. I'm in need of much more explanation and screen time dear writers. And he straight up talks to animals and curses people? Aunty took one look at him and went: "Yapp, that's the Sea Witch". I wonder how Frenchie haven't declared him an evil witch yet.

Roach: My man is a maniac cook whose also the medic just in case. He's half crazy and I couldn't thank him more for it. He also let's Stede request orange cakes from him which is just very sweet overall. Bro also invented peanut butter (like we wouldn't notice it), then fed it to an allergic person, then blamed it on a curse.

the Swede: It's most certainly not fair how well written he is for him to be standing in the background. He has the voice of an angel, please! He might not be the smartest person in the room, but he fucks like a jackhammer, I mean he became hot. That's something.

Jim: Oh, sometimes I cannot comprehend how great Jim is. They're mute, then a mermaid, then neither, 'cause they're just Jim! They're exactly the kinda person to give up revenge for 'not feeling the vibe' anymore. They also would kill anyone who hurts their crewfamily without batting an eye.

Oluwande: Don't even get me started on this beautiful, lovely teddy bear. He's the best hearted, but still serious and trustful of all. He literally gets along with everyone and we need so much people like him. Today's message is to be more like Olu!

Thank you for listening to my Ted-talk, don't worry, the 'why I love Izzy' will be a separate post will be, I couldn't fit him here.

Plus stuff I want to mention that this isn't directed against the writers, I know there were more than one problems with the founding of the second season. Rather, this is a compliment for all the hard work for these *excellent* characters! xx

#our flag means death #ofmd #crew of the revenge #frenchie #wee john feeney #lucius spriggs #the swede #jim jimenez #oluwande boodhari #ofmd roach #ofmd black pete #ranting #I'm so sad they got so little screen time in the second season #they have so much potential

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cinnamon-phrog · 6 months

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Dhmis headcanons let's goooo

^^^ banner is a disclaimer not a DNI! I just wanna be clear I case I get misinterpreted!

Yellow

Yellow has more allergies than anyone else ever and has incredibly irritable skin prone to rashes and acne no matter what skin products he uses or how frequently he washes.

Can wiggle his ears Fozzie Bear style idk I just find that visual cute <3

He has stretchy limbs like his dad but only slightly, he can’t stretch himself nearly as far as Roy can

Yellows’ nose can make a cartoony honk noise, like a clown <3

Doesn’t just love spaghetti but ALL pasta dishes. Literally anything pasta or potato based is his kinda thing.

He’s the one who painted all the paintings in the house, even the one with him and Roy, since if his father can’t be there with or for him then at least he can in a painting.

Can’t paint horses. Cannot. But he knows Red loves them so he attempted to paint one for him. He hates it and cringes at it but Red insists it’s perfect and keeps in up on the kitchen wall.

Gets hot easily due to his batteries working overtime to keep him alive and hates wearing thick fabric clothes like jumpers and hoodies because of his irregular heat.

He can grasp things easier if left to his own devices. If something is explained to him via word of mouth he’s not going to comprehend it and would much rather figure it out himself and experiment. [Again I swear I’m not projecting….]

Has maladaptive daydreaming disorder.

Forgets things easily but remembers give Duck glasses of water at least twice a day to prevent him from going Back in The Hole again.]

Likes Duck because he is green and although he can’t remember much about himself, green is comforting to him.

Falls somewhere on the masochist spectrum [he likes being bitten. Cmonnnnn if the other two are freaks so is he let me have this one]

Suffers fatigue and can’t walk far without needing to sit down at least five times.

Has tried everything to ease this and his chronic thinking induced headaches, including various pills, tablets and herbal teas.

Very light sleeper, he wakes up constantly throughout the night, and will sometimes give up sleeping altogether.

Duck

Surprisingly really talented at sewing.

Loves fashion, and creates all his own outfits.

Also sewed the tablecloth in the kitchen.

Actually a really good cook but can’t be bothered to most of the time.

Has dioramas of war enactments and model planes that he plays around with secretly.

He has slight Aphantasia, meaning he struggles to visualise imagery. I have this headcanon because in Jobs, when he is told he can do a million things, he only thinks of about three. He can’t imagine what a million would look like. Again it’s just a headcanon and not to be taken seriously.

Hates the cold. In the winter he will stay in and turn all the radiators as high as possible to simulate migrating to somewhere hot. The heating bill is through the roof now.

Idolizes the military because he lived near a shelter as a child and admired them when his life wasn’t the best. He doesn’t remember that of course but he still found comfort in it and hasn’t really stopped to question why.

Has a weird relationship with food. The Healthy episode, plus him listing his favourite foods [that are all high in sugar and carbs] are given an explanation by being diagnosed with diabetes in electricity. Plus Dehydration can be dangerous for people with diabetes. High blood sugar can make you more at risk of dehydration, which is why Duck died by forgetting to drink water.

Has a rubber duck to take a bath with because ducks usually bathe together and get lonely easily.

Takes the longest getting ready for any kind of event. Like ridiculous levels of vanity just trying to pick a tie that compliments him.

Very trusting when someone is nice to him, you give him one compliment and he’s your best friend ever forever now.

Needs to wear glasses but refuses because he thinks he looks too geeky.

Used to be like Warren when it comes to friendships but he’s slowly teaching himself to be kinder, even just a little bit.

Frequently scams people for money by pretending to be a single hot milf online. Catfishing king securing that bag fr fr. Mostly it’s just Roy that falls for the scams.

PANSEXUAL. IN MY HEART OF HEARTS.

Moults his feathers quite often due to stress and is prone to over-preening himself.

Drinks 5+ cups of tea per day. Bri’ish check.

Red

His childhood horse girl phase never truly died down, all horse related things in the house belong to him besides the painting in the kitchen, which came about from him begging Yellow to paint a horse for him.

He actually wasn’t lying in the It’s Nice That interview and does actually enjoy extreme sports, or rather… watching them on the telly. So half a lie.

Has executive dysfunction and flat affect.

Struggles to find his own individuality around other people and would much rather mimic their behaviour. That’s why he’s kind to Yellow when they’re alone but mean to him when Red is in a dynamic with Duck.

He pretends not to care about peoples’ opinions but he’s awfully self-conscience about himself and the way he behaves.

Needs about a whole bag worth of coffee in order to feel even a little awake.

Prone to napping throughout the day.

VERY heavy sleeper. Could sleep through just about anything.

Similar to Yellow, Red hates feeling hot and because he’s covered in thick, fleecy hair he simply chooses not to wear clothes. However he finds it weird when other people do it because that’s the only individuality he feels is solely for himself.

His hair is prone to frizzing and needs a gazillion different hair products and brush types to take care of it.

Goes between not taking care of himself and practically rotting himself or pampering and spoiling himself rotten. No in between.

Has posture and back problems.

Can purr like a kibby <333

All of Red’s species is agender and intersex.

Spoils Skrunty the cat like she’s his own little princess because she IS. She’s his little muffin pie. His skrunkly Skrunty woo. His BABY.

Likes spicy food but is all about trying new impossible diets which he’ll regret and forget in about a week.

Really likes spicy foods and although he’s the one who set the no sharing food thing in motion he will beg for a taste of any food Duck makes [which is usually curry dishes]

#dhmis #dont hug me im scared #don't hug me i'm scared #yellow guy #red guy #duck #🎨🌻#👄🍝#🦆📋#🚦🏠

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artsycrapfromsai · 7 months

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oh oh I have a question, is there now like a embroidery club with the party? Like during down time they sit together and do like a sewing bee? If yes what do they like making?

UHHH WELL

I like to think that Astarion and Amaryllis enjoy doing embroidery together after all that, and maybe Karlach likes to watch!! She thinks it looks fun but she burns the threads so she can't join in for a while

Maybe the others notice too, and Gale asks for some stars or magic themed stuff to be added to his coat, or Wyll pops in to ask what they're making ("You know, old tapestries use embroidery to signify the telling of great heroes and battles..."), or Lae'zel looking over and wondering what the point of it is and getting several heated explanations in return

i feel like Shadowheart enjoy watching too, but is a little awkward to participate until Amy makes her an embroidery of her favorite flower

Amy also enjoys making and fixing clothes, so I can imagine her helping the others with mending their clothes after battle, or making them new clothes to their specifications

I know Astarion also mends his own clothes, but that was out of necessity i think? And he's less likely to offer to help the others with their clothes until after some time

I really like the idea of Amy just offering to make Astarion a new set of clothes, tailored to his body and what he would enjoy wearing. He's been wearing the same set for 200 years, he deserves new clothes that are just his own to wear

#ask #bg3 tav #im gonna tag this as that so its easier for me to separate things on my blog fjcjv

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1800titz · 1 year

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Fifty Shades who? (ಥ‿ಥ This is not Fifty Shades. I promise he’s not a psychopath.)

Teaser for the third part of TDIAG

It becomes a routine for the two of them — she’ll show up at her usual time, a little after his own arrival, and he’ll reserve the room.

The fourth time, Eros books the room in advance, so by the time Isla turns up, a staff member is letting her know within only a handful of steps into the lounge that her room is ready. And the funny thing is, despite the circumstance of Eros arriving to the club before her, Isla always finds herself in the room of the night first, kneeling patiently in waiting for his ceremonial, climactic arrival. He doesn’t keep her waiting long. And when he does show, the pair shed their work weeks, the pressures and burdens of the outside world, their clothes. Well. Isla discards her own. Sometimes, with his helping hand, if she asks very nicely. The dominant always meticulously stays dressed, clad with his signature mask and his trademark, pleather gloves, (pleather, she’d learned, not authentic leather, when the topic had come up during a touchy, soft session of aftercare), always along with his commonplace, tailored slacks, a dress shirt, lavish shoes. He’ll unease the first few buttons of the shirt, where glimpses of inky beaks catch her eye and leave her wondering what other illustrations lay beneath, etched into his skin. But that’s as far as he ever goes to disrobe. He does cruel, vicious, filthy things to her, tearing her apart by the seams, and after, he sews her aplomb back together with gentle touches and soft coos. She looks forward to those ravenous Friday nights with her mysterious Eros.

Tonight is still Thursday night. Unfortunately.

Unfortunately, unfortunately, unfortunately.

It’s Thursday night and unfortunately, the self-check out lane is incredibly stalled. The droll sounds of scanners beeping and Katy Perry’s TGIF leaking softly from the overhead speakers infiltrate Isla’s ears as she zones out. It’s like an unpleasant, forced reverie. Under the bright, fluorescent lighting, she can see that the man ahead of her in line showcases a plumber’s crack that peeks from skinny jeans that hang a smidge too low. So the young woman looks about, everywhere but ahead. He’s wearing a belt, too, is the thing. Grocery stores are truly human zoos.

She’s still in work wear — a pencil skirt, heels, and she holds her basket close as she bites into her cheek and waits. A slow step forward.

“That’s a lot of cherries.”

Isla turns. The man behind her is tall, attractive. She blinks. If his sculpted features, lightly moussed, coiled hair, and striking gaze hadn’t already bewitched her into a wordless stare, the way he plucks and eats grapes, straight off the vine, straight from the bag, in the self checkout lane like an absolute maniac, would.

She casts her gaze to her basket. There’s a variety of items on her buy-list, like a lone jar of salsa and …some unsightly, extra absorbent tampons — anyways, why is this stranger ogling the contents of her basket? There are, in fact, three plastic carts of cherries, stacked, which take up the majority of the space.

She clears her throat, “Yeah there was, a, uh. Discount.”

“Was there?”

She’s still staring obnoxiously, and the man seems to catch on. He swallows the grape his strawberry mouth had closed around, lips curling softly as he expels a vague explanation, “I missed my lunch.”

She purses her lips slightly, head tipping forwards in an understanding nod, and attempts to ease her way into politely disengaging back into that aimless stare ahead. She can’t do it. She just can’t force herself to manually avoid scrutinizing Baldo’s crack in the impending foreground. Anyways, the intrusive stranger is certainly easier on the eyes.

“That’s a — uh. A lot of grapes,” Isla tells him after a beat.

“Is it, really? D’you think?” The attractive stranger moves the back in his obnoxiously large palm as if weighing it contemplatively, “I’d say, 32 ounces, maybe. Well.”

The corners of her mouth buckle as he shoots it a sheepish glance and his pillowy mouth quirks in an obvious attempt to bridle a grin, “Less. Now.”

The laugh that Isla releases is genuine.

“Probably, like, 31,” the man nods, exhales, a laugh catching in the back of his throat at the look she gives him.

“I didn’t—“ her incredulous laughter bubbles as she pivots to face ahead, “I didn’t see anything.”

“Yes, well, perhaps you didn’t, and I appreciate that, but that lady over there is giving me a horrible look for actively shoplifting grapes,” The curly-headed brunette jests, and Isla clamps her mouth together to stifle her amusement.

“Honestly, shoplifting them with your stomach is the best thing you could have done, here.”

“You don’t reckon she’ll ask for them back?”

Isla bites into her cheek, hard, to stop herself from expelling spit all over Baldo ahead in the midst of a wrested raspberry. The stranger laughs softly, and behind her, she hears him say, “No, honestly, I should probably stop eating these things. I think they do charge by weight.”

“I think they might, yeah.”

“Well, I’ve saved myself a few good cents.”

“And — and,” Isla motions with the hand that isn’t clasped over the handle of her basket, “Satiated your hunger. Two birds with one stone, honestly.”

The man hums in agreement. She hears plastic crinkle as, she assumes, he closes the bag. A comfortable silence falls over them, then. Another slow step forward.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask,” she pivots back, a crease working between her brows, “You are just …oddly familiar. And I can’t place it, and if I don’t, it’s going to bug me for the rest of the night.”

The good-looking stranger blinks, then his expression morphs into one of deliberation. His cushiony mouth purses, and he tells her, “Well, I don’t do this,” he lifts the bag of partly-shoplifted grapes, “often.”

He breaks into soft laughter and Isla’s face twists.

“If that helps narrow anything down.”

“It’s just,” the young woman motions with her hand jerkily, her tone carrying notes of determination, “Your face. I know your face. I’ve seen it somewhere.”

His features melt into something soft, something telltale, like he knows exactly what she means just off of the vagueness of her reasoning, and the corners of his mouth curl slowly as he supplies, “Probably on a bench.”

“Yes!” Isla snaps, tone wildly expressive and pleased to scratch the itch, “A bench! With your face. For…”

“Selling houses,” the stranger supplies helpfully. Another step forward.

“Selling houses! Yes. That’s it. I pass a bench with your face on it, like, every morning, on the way to work,” Isla waves with her arm, “I see your face all the time,” she clears her throat, her voice dying off. She takes a deep breath then tells him, with genuine gratitude interlacing the syllables, “Thank you. That was literally going to bug me all night long.”

There’s mirth weaved in the alluring man’s cast, and a haughty tinge, if she’s not mistaken, “My pleasure.” Before she’s taken it upon herself to turn back around, satisfied by simply unearthing the answer, he tells her, “I’m obligated to ask, actually, do you happen to be on the market?”

Isla blinks.

“To buy or sell a house?”

Another step. Baldo moves into the self check-out region from the line, a single cantaloupe wedged between his side and his arm, a pack of triple A batteries in the opposite hand.

“It’s,” the basket shifts in her grasp, “Actually, it’s really funny you ask, because I am looking to buy a house.”

“Really?” Isla watches the grin that paints its way over the stranger's mouth — there’s hints of mischief, “Hoo-hoo, sorry, I love doing this — let me just give you my business card.”

So she waits, basket in hand, as he reaches into his pocket and unearths one of those dainty little business card-holders professional-business-people have. He cradles the bag of grapes with his arm as he uses his opposite hand to retract a sleek little card, and he hands it off to her proudly.

Harry Styles, it reads. There’s some contact information, a phone number, an email, a company name, and a rather dashing picture of him, as well.

“Thank you,” she tells him, pupils bouncing from the card to his face.

“My pleasure — I think, that check-out’s open, now, actually,” he prompts, glancing over her shoulder, and Isla twists.

“Oh! Yes, yeah.”

“And I won’t be eating any more of these, so y’don’t have to babysit me, anymore,” he jokes, gesturing with the bag of grapes.

“Yes — Yeah, no — yeah. Okay. Thank you. Yes, I will definitely look into — this,” Isla motions with the business card, slipping into an awkward sort of back-walk towards the check out, “Harry Styles.”

Dimples create little divots in his cheeks as Harry grins, “Yes, please do…”

“Isla Cleery,” the young woman supplies, caught between stalling the rest of the lane with conversation and paying for her ludicrous supply of discounted cherries.

“Isla Cleery,” Harry parrots, a rasp to his pleasant cadence. He clears his throat, stuck in the front of the line with his lone bag of dwindled grapes, “Give me a call.”

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tjodity · 11 months

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Dream SMP Transition Headcanons!

Transfem!Tommyinnit- Tommy wasn't big on having very long hair, but instead wears it neck length and occasionally uses bonnets! She didn't feel like she could handle surgery and never felt the need to anyways. She swabs a small amount of swiftness potion combined with honey on her throat every so often, which raises the pitch of her voice! Tommy also ends up stitching most of her damaged clothes into skirts or bonnets!

Transfem!Niki- She does potion swabs like Tommy, but also got magic top surgery on the Perfect SMP, which, unlike the real world, involves curse of binding tattoos, regeneration potions, and a donor. She started dying her hair due to the surplus of dyes in L'Manberg and it gave her so much gender euphoria she almost started crying so she dyes it a new color every few months! She is unbothered by typically masculine clothing but enjoys parties and events where she doesn't have to worry about work/combat and can dress up :D

Transmasc!Fundy- Due to travelling a lot to more globally connected places opposed to small kingdoms and SMPs like other characters, Fundy got actual top surgery. After he got to the Dream SMP Wilbur made Tommy help him figure out how to make testosterone in a drug lab with medieval herbs. After Fundy is on his own he picks up smoking partially because of Schlatt and partially because of how it makes his voice sound :(. He always wears very baggy clothes and a trenchcoat and keeps his hair short.

Transmasc!Tubbo- Tubbo was fairly content for his early time on the SMP, as Tommy was the only one who knew him before he transitioned and was very supportive. After the Schlatt administration Tubbo's dysphoria increased. He also got magical top surgery, though this required finding a totem of undying, hand tattooing the curse of vanishing around his chest, stock piling on healing potions, and having a friend he trusted not to kill him (literally only Tommy at that point lol). Tommy also sewed shoulder pads and packers into his presidential suit :')

Transmasc!Badboyhalo- Gender is a fairly unimportant concept in the Nether, mostly due to it being an idea brought in by Overworld traders. Due to Bad's raising and rank he was never particularly affected by it, and quite literally had Skeppy pick his gender for him. He never felt the need for any kind of bodily change and can alter his voice at will via demonic magic! He also does not pick clothing based around gender presentation, just whatever he thinks looks best!

Nonbinary!Ranboo- Any concept the ancient people may have had when they fled to the end was gone by the time Ranboo came into existence. With no concrete memories of his past and living in a primarily Overworlder society, Ranboo defaults to using he/him as it's what they're referred to as most often. In their Enderwalk state they are not referred to often enough to consider it. It's only after Ghostboo forms with all of their memories that it is brought up in conversation, and they are referred to as such on their tombstone.

P.S.-whoops didnt mean to make that sad! might make a part two at some point or a proper explanation of Minecraft Transition Surgery (TM)

#dream smp #dsmp #tommyinnit #c!tommyinnit #c!tommy #tubbo #c!tubbo #trans tommyinnit #ranboo #c!ranboo #transinnit #fundy #c!fundy

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starswallowingsea · 3 months

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I have been thinking about what types of notions and things the craft dorm (what I've been calling the Shu/Izumi/Kuro/Mao dorm) would have in their respective kits and ended up making some collages with my thoughts. In order it's Shu, Izumi, Kuro, and Mao. Longer explanation below the cut.

Shu:

Since he canonically makes lace I put all sorts of different lace making tools on his. In the english server it got translated as crochet and crochet lace can be absolutely gorgeous and it's pretty portable so it makes sense, hence the steel hooks. The other lace making tools are bobbins and a bobbin pillow and a tatting shuttle. While tatting is the "lesser" form of lace making compared to crochet and bobbins, it's by far the most portable as the thread is wound around the shuttle and to me Shu would probably do tatting on the plane to/from Japan and France. Also included for him are pretty generic sewing notions, your pins and pincushion, scissors, a needle and thread, t-pins, and beeswax. T-pins can be used to block the lace as well, and the beeswax is for hand sewing. Fun fact but if you run your thread over beeswax a few times before starting to sew it'll help strengthen your thread and prevent it from splitting! Shu also heavily prefers working with natural fibers over synthetic.

Izumi:

Guy absolutely uses DPNs (double pointed needles) for his knitting, at least when it comes to socks and hats. I believe in some of the examples of his knitting we've seen he has done cabling so a cable stitch holder is there as well, though I can imagine he does it without it too if it gets lost. He also has a ball winder and I wish I had thought to put a swift on here too but like Shu, he prefers to get natural fibers over synthetic and hand dyed wool is great but it comes in hanks which areeeeeee hard to work with so a swift and ball winder would be necessary for him. Also included are more t-pins, a blocking board, stitch markers, and yarn needles.

Kuro:

To me, Kuro is the type of guy to make scrap quilts with left over fabric from the outfits he makes for his friends (and also out of like old shirts his sister has grown out of), so he has a huge scrap fabric pile he's constantly thinking about what type of blocks to make them into. I feel like he'd also make his own appliques for these quilts and would use basting spray to hold those down, obviously. Also the type of guy who just carries spare buttons on him in case of an emergency. Also has a seam ripper, scissors (thread, fabric), a tailor's measuring tape, and a cutting board.

Mao:

I know he doesn't really craft but to me? He's a crocheter. He tried knitting once and failed very badly but crochet (in my opinion at least) is a lot easier to grasp for beginners and I think he made the dorm a few dish cloths at first but mostly makes amigurumis now of his favorite manga characters, as well as little toys for his friends, hence the safety eyes. Probably works more with synthetic fibers due to ease of accessibility and variety of colors, though he tries not to buy too much of the same color unless he knows what it'll be used for. Also has stuffing, yarn needles, stitch markers, and a little crochet hook carrying case.

General Notes:

There were some things I didn't think to add until after I had already finished all of these collages, and some things that were things I thought everyone would have. To start, Shu would obviously also have a blocking board for his lace blocking, and as mentioned earlier Izumi would have a swift. Shu probably also has a swift and ball winder or just borrows Izumi's when he buys anything heavier than thread for crochet (which isn't often so I'm leaning more towards borrowing). Kuro would also have a bar of beeswax for the same reason as Shu, as well as maybe a thimble? Though I suppose it depends on how much he cares about his fingers being callused from the needle. Shu has a thimble. I also think all four of them would have some sort of project bag, whether it's just an old backpack or something a bit more expensive, they all have something that allows them to take their crafts on the go.

Anyway that's all I had but please tell me your thoughts if you want :3

#shay speaks #enstars #ensemble stars #shu itsuki #izumi sena #kuro kiryu #mao isara #ensemble stars headcanons #enstars headcanons #i want to get a tatting shuttle :( i know how to make nets though with a shuttle and spacer #tatting lace can look really beautiful if you know what you're doing please look up some examples of it #ragh. anyway. i'm gonna stop myself from going off on too much of a tangent rn #i <3 crafting

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ilargizuri · 3 months

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The Long Night

What I really hated about the Show is that the so-called "Long Night" and the so-called "Long Winter" lasted a few weeks in the Show, when every person who knows something about winter told us in the Books, that it would be a long Winter. Like VERY, VERY Long.

I just saw a Video on YouTube that theorized about the period of the Long Night and they said that it is possible that GRRM actually plans a really long Night where his Characters will grow into adults and do some really important things. Rikkon could be a Man at the End of the Story, Bran be a real King at the Age of his Father, etc.

Now what annoyed me, again, about this Video, is that the Creator also thought that Daenerys and Jon would become real Lovers during that Winter. This is a possibility if Daenerys wants to sit out Winter with her Dragons in the North, sewing Clothes, Blankets and such Stuff near the Hearth with Sansa. And actually govern a community through this Winter, but Govern, is not what Daenerys wants or enjoys or even envisions when she thinks about her Future, because most of the time her "Plans" only include going to Westeros and winning the Iron throne with Fire and Blood!

So Daenerys won't sit at the Fire and wait until Springs comes and the Deep, Deep Snow will melt, actually, That deep, deep Snow will be the Reason the North won't be able to aid her in her War for the Iron Throne if that part is not already over. Because it would take months to get through this Snow, not to mention that the North is low on Supplies, so most likely the soldiers would starve to death, if they tried to march South. So if Daenerys comes North helping them to fight the Others, then it is very likely that the Armies of Daenerys, will starve and freeze to death.

Recently I discovered the explanation about Jon being the Mummers Dragon, which makes some Sense. And Quaithe warns Daenerys to not trust that Person. but so far those People she shouldn't trust were never actively against Daenerys. Tyrion (The Lion) comes to Daenerys's Aid, The Kraken wants to be Daenerys's new Husband, and the perfumed Seneshall is probably Varys, but he isn't planning actively against Daenerys, just not for her. So in general, it is possible that if Jon is the Mummers Dragon, he isn't even actively against Daenerys, so the stabby scene most likely won't happen. BUT Jon mentioned in his Godd Bye Scene with Arya, in the Books, when she gets Needle (I think it was there, but it could be earlier not sure) That they will find Arya in the Snow frozen to Death with Needle in her Hand. So the Picture he paints here, is that they find a Girl/Woman in the Snow, with her Weapon of Choice frozen to Death.

Let's just pretend the War for the Iron Throne is before the War for the Dawn, I mean the book series is not called "Game of Thrones" it is called: "A Song of Ice and Fire." So the War for the Dawn is probably more important than the Squibble-squabble over an uncomfortable Iron Chair. So the Big Final Fight in the Books is most likely against the Others. So IF Daenerys comes North because of Jon and he is the Mummer Dragon, then his Wish for her and aid the North in his War against the Others is what will be Daenerys's Fall. He doesn't even have to do much, all he has to do is win the War and stay in the North when Daenerys goes back too early because it is even colder than when they arrived, she may threaten Sansa and the Starks when they try to stop her for her own Good. But Daenerys doesn't listen, and freezes to Death on her way back to her Throne, And when Spring comes they find a Woman frozen to Death with the Weapon of her Choice, a Dragon. She dies without Issue and a Big Counsel is called to choose a new King, which then either results in the separation of the Seven Kingdoms and Bran becomes King in the North, and so on.

Jon can still become a Stark, still being together with Sansa, maybe even Married to her. They become Lord and Lady of a Castle and Rikkon can still become whatever he wants to be. It is a possibility. Also, Bran could be older than he was in the Show when Winter is over because the Winter in the books will last longer than one Night.

#my thoughts #asoiaf #jonsa kind of #stark children

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shannyh25 · 1 year

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When Matthew came to think the matter over he decided that a woman was required to cope with the situation. Marilla was out of the question. Matthew felt sure she would throw cold water on his project at once. Remained only Mrs. Lynde; for of no other woman in Avonlea would Matthew have dared to ask advice. To Mrs. Lynde he went accordingly, and that good lady promptly took the matter out of the harassed man's hands.

Pick out a dress for you to give Anne? To be sure I will. I'm going to Carmody to-morrow and I'll attend to it. Have you something particular in mind? No? Well, I'll just go by my own judgment then. I believe a nice rich brown would just suit Anne, and William Blair has some new gloria in that's real pretty. Perhaps you'd like me to make it up for her, too, seeing that if Marilla was to make it Anne would probably get wind of it before the time and spoil the surprise? Well, I'll do it. No, it isn't a mite of trouble. I like sewing. I'll make it to fit my niece, Jenny Gillis, for she and Anne are as like as two peas as far as figure goes."

"Well now, I'm much obliged," said Matthew, "and — and — I dunno — but I'd like — I think they make the sleeves different nowadays to what they used to be. If it wouldn't be asking too much I — I'd like them made in the new way."

"Puffs? Of course. You needn't worry a speck more about it, Matthew. I'll make it up in the very latest fashion," said Mrs. Lynde. To herself she added when Matthew had gone:

"It'll be a real satisfaction to see that poor child wearing something decent for once. The way Marilla dresses her is positively ridiculous, that's what, and I've ached to tell her so plainly a dozen times. I've held my tongue though, for I can see Marilla doesn't want advice and she thinks she knows more about bringing children up than I do for all she's an old maid. But that's always the way. Folks that has brought up children know that there's no hard and fast method in the world that'll suit every child. But them as never have think it's all as plain and easy as Rule of Three — just set your three terms down so fashion, and the sum'll work out correct. But flesh and blood don't come under the head of arithmetic and that's where Marilla Cuthbert makes her mistake. I suppose she's trying to cultivate a spirit of humility in Anne by dressing her as she does; but it's more likely to cultivate envy and discontent. I'm sure the child must feel the difference between her clothes and the other girls'. But to think of Matthew taking notice of it! That man is waking up after being asleep for over sixty years."

Marilla knew all the following fortnight that Matthew had something on his mind, but what it was she could not guess, until Christmas Eve, when Mrs. Lynde brought up the new dress. Marilla behaved pretty well on the whole, although it is very likely she distrusted Mrs. Lynde's diplomatic explanation that she had made the dress because Matthew was afraid Anne would find out about it too soon if Marilla made it.

"So this is what Matthew has been looking so mysterious over and grinning about to himself for two weeks, is it?" she said a little stiffly but tolerantly. "I knew he was up to some foolishness. Well, I must say I don't think Anne needed any more dresses. I made her three good, warm, serviceable ones this fall, and anything more is sheer extravagance. There's enough material in those sleeves alone to make a waist, I declare there is. You'll just pamper Anne's vanity, Matthew, and she's as vain as a peacock now. Well, I hope she'll be satisfied at last, for I know she's been hankering after those silly sleeves ever since they came in, although she never said a word after the first. The puffs have been getting bigger and more ridiculous right along; they're as big as balloons now. Next year anybody who wears them will have to go through a door sideways." Lucy Maud Montgomery quotes- Anne Of Green Gables.

Follow me for more inspiration! 💜💕

#anne of green gables #anne shirley cuthbert #matthew cuthbert #follow for updates #follow for follow

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zabiume · 1 year

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Day 7: Sunsets | Read on AO3

Title. 400 lux

Pairing. Ichigo/Orihime

Summary. Five sunsets Ichigo and Orihime experience together

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

one.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she says to him.

There’s dust everywhere, even on her clothes, but her face is clean, flushed pink. Beyond her crouched figure are the others — safe, from the looks of it, and a lot less bloody than he is.

They did it. They did the impossible and now Rukia gets to choose — what her freedom means for her, what it could mean down the line. He gave her that, and he hopes it will be enough to repay her for what she's given him.

And yet.

They did it. The impossible, in eight days. He almost wants to break out into a laugh. The relief is indescribable. Uryuu and Ganju are snarking at him, Chad is silent as usual, and Orihime…

She’s crying, his brain slowly registers, and he feels a concerned frown creep onto his face. Why is she crying?

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” she whispers. Sweet, golden-pink rays of sun shimmer in her tears. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Suddenly, there are things he wants to say, like how it’s not really her job, or how this is his mountain to carry on his own two shoulders, but all that melts into a strange tenderness rising within him, touched by the sentiment. Her concern is kind. It lulls him into a calm despite himself.

“Thanks Inoue,” he replies softly.

two.

Urahara doesn’t wipe their memories, for which Ichigo is grateful. He owes his friends as much, even though he’s sure they will be baffled by the explanation he eventually has to give them.

Coming up the road, he spots Tatsuki first, then Keigo and Mizuiro right behind her, the dipping sun slowly sinking into the horizon. Orihime, Uryuu and Chad start speaking at once, but it’s hard to really concentrate on what they’re saying as anxiety thrums in his ears.

The last time he saw Tatsuki, she shoved him through a window with a force enough to scar — the taste of that memory is sour, because he knows he’s been keeping her in the dark. He knows she’s mad at him. He knows she deserves better than that. He braces himself for whatever is coming, chest heavy with anticipation. However, when Tatsuki reaches the group, it’s not Ichigo she flings herself at.

“Oh goodness, Orihime, you’re okay!” she cries, and the two girls clutch each other tightly, sobbing. Ichigo can’t help but smile at that, even if it’s just a small one, because compared to her pale-faced anxiety and sorrow, happy tears are a much better look on Orihime (and he’s the last person who wants to piss off Tatsuki).

The last few rays of the setting sun bathe the girls in a warm glow, and there’s an undeniable surge of pride that goes through Ichigo, seeing them like this. When they pull back, the light touches Orihime’s face gently, retreating like waves behind the horizon as nightfall arrives. This is the only way Orihime deserves to be touched, Ichigo decides, and he’s confident he would have died again twice over to make sure of that.

When Tatsuki and Ichigo fall behind in the group later that evening, she says, “Thanks for protecting her,” like a peace offering.

“Always,” he replies, and if Tatsuki’s eyes stretch wide in surprise, he’s too busy looking at Orihime’s laughing face to catch it.

three.

He doesn’t do anything more than casually glance down the horizon, walking back from school with his hands in his pockets, when he spots Orihime at the riverbank. She’s standing with her face to the sun, eyes closed and pleased.

“Oi! Inoue!” he calls out, just because.

She glances over her shoulder and smiles so wide her eyes almost close. “Hi, Kurosaki-kun!” she shrieks, beckoning him over.

He hadn’t exactly planned on joining her but he sighs, figuring he might as well, now that he’s here.

“Whatcha doing?” He eyes her school bag and her sewing kit strewn to the side on the grass.

“I can’t remember why I came here,” she admits sheepishly, “but I thought I’d stick around for the sunset.”

Ichigo snorts. Typical.

He casts his gaze to the sunset, but is acutely aware of Orihime — her subtle sighs, her small smiles, the occasional humming. She doesn’t expect him to say anything, doesn’t try to make conversation or probe, and it’s nice. The simplicity of the moment hurts. It hurts more days than it doesn’t, though he doesn’t tell her about it because if there’s anyone that knows pain, it’s her. Everything is the same after he lost his powers, and yet, because he lost his powers, the fact that everything is the same is a heartache.

There was once when he had risen glorious like the sun and cast a beacon over everyone in this town. It’s not like that anymore, even though he wishes it was.

“Gonna get dark soon,” he says, almost bitterly.

She catches something in his tone, but it doesn’t dampen her free spirit, doesn’t wash away her infectious joy. For a moment, it's so quiet he wonders if he should regret ruining the moment.

Eventually, Orihime says, “I guess that’s the good thing about the sun, huh. It always comes back up.” She pauses, giving him a small smile. “That’s what makes the sunsets so much better! Imagine if it was truly dark, like for real. All the thugs would come out and try to rob little old ladies, and I’d flunk math because I’d be too busy trying to stop them.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “Like you would flunk math.”

Orihime’s brows knit together cutely in protest. “I almost did when we were gone!”

“That doesn’t count,” Ichigo dismisses, suppressing a smile when she huffs in protest. It’s a selfish thought, but he wants her to be like this forever — tender, and kind, and ever-hopeful.

“You’re right, though,” he says, meeting her eyes, “about the sun, I mean.”

Her eyes glow with the flaming gold hues, watery as the sun dips beneath the river. She smiles.

“I am, aren’t I?”

four.

Yhwach is gone—for now, he doesn’t think, because he can’t afford that kind of adrenaline, not after a battle like that. They’re sitting at the base of the destroyed palace, waiting for Chad to catch up with them. Rukia and Renji left not too long ago, anxious to touch base with Byakuya, and Uryuu. Well. They’ll get to that eventually. Ichigo trusts that smarmy bastard to keep himself alive, anyway.

“When are you going to heal yourself?” he asks Orihime for the second time; she’s not as injured as he is, but she is injured — he gestures as much with a pointed look when she rolls her eyes at him through her shield.

“When I’m done healing you,” she murmurs simply, though the corner of her mouth curls into a smile. He watches it droop, though, her eyes averted when she says, “How was I, Kurosaki-kun?”

His chest seizes at the uncertainty in her tone; really, he can’t have asked for better, and it isn’t just about this. It’s about everything, how kind she’s been, how loyal and supportive and just…just Orihime. She would deny it, he knows, but he wonders what words he would say if he had the courage to say them anyway.

“You were great, Inoue,” he says softly, and she smiles a little smile at him, dazzling and pleased. He thinks being able to do that—being able to give and receive these little joys to each other—is a privilege he’s still learning how to fully appreciate. Until then, he hopes gratitude will suffice.

Behind them, the sun spreads grand and silent over the crumble of ruins, touching everything with its grace one last time before it bids them goodbye.

They watch it together wordlessly.

five.

He’s chasing her down the riverbank, conscious of the way the wind whips at their hair and their clothes because Orihime decided that the last person to touch grass is the one who should clean up after their picnic is over.

Before Orihime, the kind of people he chased around were delinquents and rogue ghosts, so this is a nice change, even if he’ll make sure to complain about it later. Even if he still chases after delinquents and rogue ghosts (sometimes with her).

Ichigo almost catches up, but she suddenly stops, making him stop with her.

“Halt, stranger!” She turns around and prods his chest with a single finger. Her cheeks are flushed a breezy pink, hair a mess, but Orihime is nothing if not committed to the bit. He raises his brows, deciding to play along.

“I am the troll in charge of guarding this bridge,” she says to him pompously. “May I ask what business you have here?”

“Well, I was going to chase my girlfriend down here to have a picnic with her, you see,” he explains, like it’s all awfully irritating and not worth the time. “But she got ahead of me as usual, so now I’m talking to you instead.”

“A committed man,” Orihime wonders out loud, eyeing him up and down. “I suppose this will make things rather challenging for you, handsome stranger.”

“How so?”

“Well,” she drags, with a callous shrug. “I can only let you pass…for a price!”

“Which is…?” Ichigo echoes.

Orihime pats her lips with a finger smugly, looking for all the world like she’d pulled off her greatest trick. “Bet you didn’t see that one—”

Ichigo kisses her quickly, stealing the words right from her mouth. Once Orihime recovers from her initial surprise, it melts into something slow and nice, her lips soft and warmed by the sun. He’s vaguely aware of the golden hour slipping by, but Orihime’s mouth draws him right back in, her smile smearing another one onto his own face.

“You ask all the guys who cross this bridge for a price like that?” he asks, setting his hands on her waist.

“Just my favorite ones,” she replies playfully, tapping him on his nose. When she pulls back, she rests her head on his chest and he wraps his arms around her waist, easy as anything.

“We missed the sunset,” she remarks after a few moments, rubbing her head against his chin.

“Eh, it’s alright,” he replies. “There’ll be another one tomorrow anyway.”

#ichihime #ihweek2022 #myfic

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blacksunsquad · 4 months

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And the last one for today will be the little guy I finally do a reference.

This is Radiant. Indirectly, a fusion of Ink-Error, but he was created from the magic of Frink and Mirror.

Below is a post with information about this character and his story.

(IMPORTANT: This is Acute Incident Multiverse, which is based on the DS Multiverse. Just keep in mind the basic differences between DS and the original and everything (or almost everything, since Mirror and Frink are the key figures here, and they are my brainchildren) will be clear to you.

(And so I'm looking forward to any questions, always happy to answer).

Radiant. (Luminous, source of heat, light)

History:

Appeared in one of Mirror and Frink's battles in which both fought desperately for their ideals, mercilessly pummeling each other's faces and piercing attacks. As they fought they didn't notice anything but each other anymore. (Ah, romance~). And at one point, Alternate was engulfed in fire - Frink had overdone the magic. But that's not the most interesting part. In the place of the burned and already destroyed AU, the enemies, in an attempt to catch their breath, noticed a small figure that literally came out of the fire. The completely naked skeleton looked very frightened, and when he saw the fighters, he started to push his slipper, only to fall down halfway, tangled in his own feet. Mirror and Frink were even distracted from the fight - they were in gloomy bewilderment, and Mirror was on the verge of crying out in horror, "This is the most wrong thing I've ever seen." And Frink agreed, but out of sheer stubbornness he did not let them destroy the strange creature, whose bones, mostly ribs, were decorated with small scars that glowed very brightly, and when touched, even if you just put your hand, you could feel the heat. Radiant was named Radiant, and, strangely but understandably, he was first taken under his wing by Frink, out of the same stubbornness and unwillingness to lose. He tried to bring up, but immediately gave up the case, and the kid himself learned, looking at Frink and watching others. Then Frink freaked out and threw Radiant off to Mirror, who was much more concerned about the child's upbringing, and probably sometimes showed excessive strictness, but even though he tried to show him as much as possible, he did not impose his ideology, and was happy to explain the reasons and motives for his actions.

Radiant lives in the Anti-Void, but spends more time in Outertale and Oceandale. These are the two Alternatives where running into him is a very real possibility.

Appearance:

Not tall, shorter than his basics.

The skeleton is white in color, with dark bones in the pelvis and below, excluding the ankles

There is an unusual innate pattern on his skull - it got that way from Frink's burning off Mirror's threads.

There are freckles on his face, but they are very hard to see.

"An unusual soul from having unusual parents" ©.

He only has four phalanges on his hands and feet... And the phalanges on his hands are patterned, colored.

One eye socket is smaller than the other. Any explanation necessary?

Wears a long-sleeved jacket tied around his waist. It has patterns of fire on it.

T-shirt has a pattern of dripping ink.

Wears a poncho because a scarf doesn't suit him and it looks more like a plaid wrapped around his body than anything else.

Wears wide pleated pants.

Walks barefoot

Wears glasses because he can't see well.

Wears black gloves with open fingers.

He gets very hot when he feels a strong emotion.

Personality:

Slightly shy, though by the look on his face you'd think he's a very shy guy.

He loves Frink's abilities, but spends more time with Mirror, hence the stars on his clothes.

Always calls monsters and people by name, at least out loud.

He likes stars and shiny things that resemble them. Sometimes acts like a magpie.

Learned to play the flute from Frink.

Learned to sew dolls from Mirror.

Stole a t-shirt, sweater, and pants from his closet)

The character of the child is about 12 years old.

He neither "destroys" nor "creates" - he is not trivially interested in that.

He often adds stars to his clothes by himself.

His emotions represent a very meager range, coming from the basic available and their derivatives. He also hasn't been taught to distinguish between emotions, so he sometimes doesn't know what he's feeling at all.

He sleeps a lot because he stays awake a lot and doesn't understand the meaning of the time of day. What? They don't bother him in any way.

Partial memory problems are inherited from both bases.

He tries to avoid conflicts, but if it comes to them, he will try to solve everything by diplomacy or simply bind/hypnotize/paralyze his opponent and escape into the fog. If he is attacked, he will defend himself and then sullenly prove to everyone that "he started it first" even in situations where no one accuses him.

Melancholy and adolescent regression.

"I have, friends!!! For example... *demonstrates a doll he sewed himself* Her name is Rose! And she loves my music..... Hee-hee!"

"He's not lonely because loneliness is his best friend." ©, and the inquisitiveness and uncontrolled traveling through the whole Multiverse keeps things interesting. (The world through the eyes of children is a couple tones brighter, huh?)

Relationships:

Mirror.

Respects, perceived as a parental figure.

Mirror is the one who laid down the basic rules of communication to Radiant, no matter how strange it may be.

Radiant has often witnessed his madness, which makes him a strange but interesting monster.

Frink.

Respects him, but fears him because of his temper.

Does not see him as a guardian, but as an older brother.

He is not very attached to him, though he is very happy when he has time for him.

Rose.

The first doll he made, whom he considers his best friend.

Has a nice calm "personality", and a wide smile.

Looks like Frisk, dressed in a burgundy red dress, and has a sort of wreath on her head.

Fletch.

The second doll given by Mirror. Looks like a dark anthropomorphic monster with white horns and the same eyes. Has no mouth or anything other than an outline, but Radinath finds him frightening every time because of his "Grin" and will accuse him of throwing "too much wool" around again. Possesses a fickle unpredictable "temper". Constantly calls Radiant "Fir".

Dream.

Feathered knows this child exists, but refuses to accept the fact of its existence and keeps as far away from it as possible.

They've seen each other a few times, never spoken, but one day Dream caught him reading a book in his library and was amazed that he could barely feel his emotions. He hadn't even noticed at the time that some of his books had been stolen.

Radiant treats him neutrally, not seeing him as a threat, but he is indifferent to his ideology and finds it wrong and flawed, preferring balance to everything and for everything.

Nightmare.

Gave Radiant most of the books he has read.

Sometimes Radiant helps him with infiltrating JR's castle, but not often.

Radiant and Night have a mutual understanding and even friendship despite their age difference.

Radiant is very interested in Knightmere and sometimes Knight gets stressed about it.

The one case where the kid can rant relentlessly, while others know him as a "quiet, silent guy".

Cross.

Treats Cross with wariness, even though Cross doesn't mind care at Radiant or even talking to him about anything. In this case, it's mostly Cross who's talking, and Radiant is silently listening to him, occasionally inserting a comment.

To Radiant, it's Mirror and Nightmere's Familiar, but it's also Nanny.

Cross would sometimes sit with Radiant, but still had trouble figuring out how to act, and so Radiant remembered him as "Insecure Monster." (Kids. Kids like that.)

Swap

Helped the child acquire critical thinking (acquire≠develop it, please allow for age), introduced him to the "business and life of mortal beings", and otherwise tried to interfere as little as possible and only occasionally observe.

Radiant sees him as an uncle, and calls him accordingly, bringing a sad chuckle to Swap's face.

Abilities:

His strings are liquid-like.

The sounds of his flute are a weapon. "Notes" of his flute are capable of twisting an opponent with paralysis/hypnosis or inking an object that Radiant is targeting when using magic. You could say that the flute is a conduit that is mistaken for a magical artifact and the source of all his power.

Out of Frink's abilities came the incendiary ink.

He could summon blasters, but doesn't like their bright flashes and loud noises. They remind him of the ever-fighting bases.

#undertale au #undertale #acute incident #acute incident multiverse #frink sans #mirror sans #Radiant

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 2 months

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Damage Control - 1x16 Shadow

They drive in silence for a while, aimlessly, if Dean’s honest, just away. Away from fighting the Daēva, from Meg, from a blood-stained crime scene. Away from Dad.

Dean’s sure that their father is already well out of town, foot steady on the gas pedal of his truck in spite of his injuries. He took off in the opposite direction, and Dean can feel the increasing distance between them in his guts. Or maybe it’s just his own wounds? The Daēva got him good, and he can feel blood trickling down his side where its claws raked him. There’s a trail of fiery stinging from his ribs to his stomach; the same goes for his forehead.

Looking over at Sam, he sees that his brother isn’t faring any better. The shadow demon tore his left cheek open with its claws, the deep, ragged grooves still bleeding freely. And Dean’s pretty sure the semi-darkness in the car and Sam’s three layers of clothing are hiding additional wounds.

“Sam?” When he has his brother’s attention, he makes a circular motion at his own cheek, then points at Sam.

“Hospital time.”

There’s a sucking-in of air as Sam gets ready to launch into automatic protest. “What? No! It’s not that b-”

“Yes, it is,” Dean cuts him off. “Look at your face, man! I can’t sew this up. Unless you want me to Frankenstein you. Probably need a Tetanus shot, too. And antibiotics. We both do. It got me good as well.” He winces and presses one hand to his side.

That gets Sam’s attention. He sits up straight. “Got you? How bad?”

“Bad enough to hurt like a sonofabitch.”

“Can you drive?”

Dean waves him off. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be far.”

It’s not. Fifteen minutes later, they’re standing at an ER reception desk, lying to the nurse about their names, insurance and an obscure animal attack, and after noticing that Dean’s dripping blood onto the floor they’re ushered into an exam cubicle. Efficient hands peel them out of their bloody shirts and take their vitals. A first assessment determines that they’ll live but will need an impressive amount of stitching. Four deep slashes run from the side of Dean’s rib cage down to his belly button, Sam’s got a matching set across one of his pecs, and there are the facial injuries on both of them.

“What happened to you two?” A female doctor in surgical scrubs enters their cubicle. Her name tag identifies her as B. Kumaga, M.D.

“Wildlife.” Dean gives her his best daredevil smirk. “Wouldn’t advise camping out anywhere near the truck stop on the interstate if I were you.”

They’d agreed on some vague story about an animal attack that went so fast they couldn’t even see what exactly had wanted to maul them. Experience has taught them that hospitals were ready to accept the craziest explanations as long as there were no other people or weapons involved. It kept the police out of it and paperwork minimal, and animal control - if summoned at all - rarely ever showed up before they were patched up and gone.

“What kind of animal?” The doctor, a classy, black woman in her forties, approaches Sam first and carefully examines his cheek.

“We’re not sure,” Sam says, wincing slightly. “It was dark, and we’d been asleep. It was so quick, and we just blindly fought it off.”

The doctor frowns and adjusts the light so she can see better. “These look like claw marks. Some sort of wildcat?”

“Could’ve been,” Dean chimes in from the other gurney. “To be honest, we were too distracted to give it a good look. You know, what with the thing trying to rip our faces off and everything.” He grins crookedly, although he feels like crap. Charm and bravado usually work best on ER doctors, tired of dealing with whiny and scared patients all the time. It keeps questions at bay and speeds up treatment.

“Understandable.” The doctor smirks. She turns away from Sam and snaps on new gloves to check Dean’s wounds now. “And you got lucky.”

“Because the thing didn’t rip our throats out?” Dean sucks in air as the doctor palpates the slashes on his stomach.

“Because I’m a plastic surgeon and can fix this mess,” Doctor Kumaga replies evenly, with a trace of that cocky arrogance Dean has seen in surgeons before. “Your luck I’m on ER duty tonight.”

“Wow.” Dean looks over at Sam. “We’re getting the royal treatment, brother.”

Sam’s responsive smile is a bit lopsided. “Looks like it.”

“Well,” the surgeon says, her fingertips on Dean’s forehead now. “It would be a shame to leave you two boys looking like roadkill. But I have to warn you - this’ll take an hour or two, and you’ll either have to hold still for that long or let me put you under and keep you here overnight. Which one’s it going to be?”

Dean exchanges a glance with his brother. The choice is clear.

“Door number one, please,” Dean replies. “We can handle it.”

“Thought so.” The surgeon gives Dean a look that might be an acknowledgement of their bravery. Then she starts opening drawers and pulling out instrument trays, vials and surgical towels. “I’m gonna numb you up, and then we can start. Who wants to go first?”

Sam and Dean look at each other, both of their right hands already forming fists for a round of Rock-Paper-Scissors. And - sonofabitch! - Dean loses. Again.

xxx

Almost three hours later, Dean unlocks the door to a stale-smelling motel room and limps inside, each step pulling on his fresh stitches. Sam slips past him and drops their bags onto the floor, then sinks onto one of the beds with an audible sigh. Dean does the same on the other bed, tossing aside the baseball hat he’d worn to conceal his wounds.

The plastics surgeon had known what she was doing. She’d sewn both of them up with neat, small sutures that would leave only minimal scarring. Thin, flesh-colored bandage strips are covering the stitches on their faces, making them look almost inconspicuous except for some swelling around the wounds. The motel clerk hadn’t even noticed when Dean had checked them in, head angled away from the light, baseball hat pulled low into his forehead.

To prevent chafing, Sam’s chest and Dean’s side and belly are more heavily bandaged, and Dean is glad for the additional padding when he lies down. The local anesthetic is fading fast, and he can feel the familiar prickle-and-sting of his stitches gearing up for a night of fun.

“Where d’you think Dad is now?” Sam asks from his right. He sounds dejected.

Dean closes his eyes. The memory of his father’s bloodied face rushes in. “Still on the road? Or patching himself up somewhere, laying low? I don't know. But I’m pretty sure he put some miles between us before he stopped.”

“Should we call him? Make sure he’s alright?”

Sam sounds conflicted, his voice unsure. For years he’d nurtured nothing but rage, reproach and bitterness when it came to their father. That one hug they’d exchanged before the Daēva attacked them seems to have mellowed him, and, somehow, that makes it all even harder. They’d found him. Jesus fucking Christ, they’d finally found Dad, and in one piece. They’d reconciled. Dean’s heart had leaped at their reunion. They’d be together again, all three of them. Hunt together. Be a family.

But his hopes had been smashed. The shadow demon had demonstrated why it wasn’t meant to be, why their father had disappeared for months and not even answered his phone - not even when Dean was dying from heart failure. They were a liability. A weakness. John Winchester’s Achilles heel. They didn’t make him stronger. They made him vulnerable.

“He’ll be alright,” Dean answers, heaviness in his chest. “He always is. And I don’t think he’d even pick up the phone.”

Sam stares at the ceiling, and when he speaks again, there’s pain in his voice - and a touch of that old anger rekindling. “That’s what I don’t get - that he can’t even talk to us. I mean, where’s the harm in that? Is that demon tracing phone calls now?! Dad can use a burner if that’s what he’s afraid of. He could at least check in every once in a while and let us know that he’s still alive. Check if we are alive!”

Dean sighs. That didn’t last long. There he is again - the pouty, defiant, self-centered little brother who stormed off to Stanford four years ago. Sammy, so caught up in his own righteousness that he can’t see past the tip of his nose.

“He can’t risk it, Sammy,” he says tiredly. “We don’t know what that demon is capable of. You just saw what happened! We get together, we get hurt. That thing will use us to get to Dad. If that demon finds out we’re in touch–”

“He’s our father, Dean!” Sam sits up, plants his big feet on the carpet, posture aggressive. “I get that he wants us out of harm’s way. And I want that demon to pay for what it did just as much as him, but he’s our goddamn father!”

All Dean wants to do is sleep. His body feels like a slap of lead. Everything hurts. But Sam’s not going to let this go, so Dean struggles upright and, holding his side, he locks eyes with his brother, countering his dark stare with what he hopes is amenability.

“He’s trying to protect us, Sammy.”

Sam scoffs. “He’s protecting himself! He’s obsessed! Finding that demon is more important to him than anything else in this world! More important than his own sons!”

“That’s not true.” Dean’s answer comes fast, with conviction. That flutter of doubt he feels? It skitters away, outranked by his sense of loyalty toward his father. John Winchester may not be perfect, but Dean knows he loves them, he has to, doesn’t he? What Sam says is wrong, clouded by that immature grudge he’s still holding. “He’d die for us if he had to. You know that! He watched Mom die, and that’s why he’s doing this! For all we know, that thing could be coming after us, too, and he’s trying everything to keep us safe by getting to it first!”

Sam stares at him in disbelief, the asymmetry of his injured and bandaged face making him look foreign. “This is the story you keep telling yourself? That he’s doing this for us? Why are you always defending him? This isn’t about us! It’s about revenge!”

Anger flares in Dean. But he’s exhausted, and they’ve been around this block too many times. He knows how it could end. He’s already lost Dad, for the second time. He can’t risk losing Sammy again, too.

“Can we not do this?” he asks, sounding more desperate than he means to. “Can we just… not fight?”

It’s clearly not the reaction Sam had expected. Apparently he’d been ready for Dean to yell at him, to fall into that same old pattern of escalation the Winchester men had cultivated over the years. When it’s not coming, Sam’s face goes blank with surprise before rearranging into confusion. “I don’t–” he says, then he breaks off and starts again, studying Dean. “Are you… are you okay?”

No, Dean wants to reply. No, I’m not okay. I’m hurting inside and out, and I know you are too.

“I’m fine,” comes out of his mouth instead. “I really just need to sleep. Can we talk about this another time?” He hates how his voice wavers.

“Yeah.” Sam’s frown deepens. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay.”

Dean settles back onto the bed and rolls onto his good side, face turned away from Sam. Behind his back, he hears his brother shuffling, getting up again, hesitant.

“You… you want the bathroom first? Or can I..?”

“Go ahead. I think I’m just gonna go to sleep.”

It’s wishful thinking. His side is stinging in earnest now, and no matter how he turns his head, his injured face hurts against the cheap motel pillow. While Sam retreats to the bathroom, he stares into the semi-darkness of the room.

Dad, he thinks. Where are you now? And then, inevitably, Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll watch out for Sammy. I’ll keep him safe.

The Damage Control Series Masterlist

Read the entire series on AO3 here:

#spn #supernatural #fanfic #fan fiction #1x16 #shadow #coda #the damage control series #hurt/comfort #angst #blood cw #injury cw #dean winchester #sam winchester #hurt dean Winchester #hurt sam winchester #brothers #dysfunctional family drama

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alwayzraven · 1 year

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Kardeşlerim Ep 77

Berk said hi to Asiye and Aybike but only Asiye said hi back to him.

Berk:”We're not going to speak today too? ”

Aybike:”I said we will when I am not angry with you anymore. You know, I am still angry at you my dear Berk and I don’t know if I will ever cool off. If you don’t like waiting, don’t”

Berk didn’t say anything and just left.

There was a parents meeting at school. The school needs some supplies and they asked the parents to donate some money to the school. Ayla and Sengul fought. Ayla told Sengul what Berk and Aybike did with her clothes. She told her that Aybike asked for expensive clothes and Berk (bc he was naive) collected all of her clothes and gave it to her and sold them together online. Gunul said that Aybike is a theif like her mother who "stole" her husband and then the fight broke out.

After the meeting, Sengul asked Aybike if what Ayla said was true. Aybike told her that it was a misunderstanding and she didn't know the clothes belonged to Ayla. Sengul didn't want to hear her explanation and told her not to speak or meet with Berk again.

Berk came and saw Aybike being yelled at by her mom.

Aybike saw Berk and told Sengul that currently, they are not speaking to each other anyway.

Aybike: “Don't ever do me any favors, okay? Don't do anything, don't look at me, don't talk to me, don’t do anything! stay away from me”

Berk stood there and said nothing.

Sengul screamed at her:"What are you doing? didn't I tell you not to speak with him again" and Aybike left.

Berk did not understand anything and Sengul told him to leave Aybike alone and he was like "me???" and then he left confused.

I think the writers forgot to write some lines for him here 😂 honestly I am sick and tired of him not talking back to Sengul. Every time he meets her, he just shuts up and can’t say a word back to her unlike Aybike who talks back to Ayla.

After the meeting at school, Ayla went to Gunul's restaurant and they gossiped about how awful Sengul was. Ayten (Zehra's sister in law) started working there. Ayten also hates Sengul (idk why) so Ayla told them that she has a plan to mess with Sengul.

The next day, Ayten was waiting for Sengul to come out of the house and then acted like she bumped into her on accident. She told her that a hotel ordered some curtains (I said it was tablecloths but I was wrong) from her friend who owns a workshop but her workshop was suddenly flooded and so she can't fulfill the order. Sengul said that she can do it and Ayten sent her the phone number of the "hotel". Sengul called the number and Ayla answered. She told her that she will send her the location of the hotel and they will talk more about everything there. Then Ayla went to a hotel, apparently she knows the manager there and she told her to act like she's the one who talked with Sengul on the phone. The manager talked with Sengul and showed her around the hotel.

Sengul went and bought a sewing machine and some fabrics which were very expensive. She didn't pay the full amount for them and agreed with the seller that she will pay for everything after the hotel pays her for the curtains. Sengul posted on instagram that she started working on the curtains so Ayla called her and told that there are some problems and they need to meet. She sent her a location but Sengul found Ayla and Gunul waiting for her there. Ayla explained to Sengul what she did and told her that she did it because her daughter didn't leave her son alone and Gunul told her because she "stole" her husband.

Ngl, this is bad. Aybike will be livid when she finds out about what Ayla did to her mom and might blame Berk for this. Same goes for Berk, he will be SO pissed but I don't know if he's going to leave the house because of this. If he does end up leaving the house, I hope he takes his car with him because I am sure Resul got it for him and he has inheritance from his dad as well.

Akif talked with Zehra’s brother and convinced him to send her to school instead of forcefully marrying her to that old man and Akif will give her a scholarship. He explained the situation to Nebehat and she agreed to pay for her scholarship. However, her brother decided to use the money for himself and he will not send Zehra to school. I guess this is why they will help her run away in the next ep.

No teaser was released for ep 78. A spoiler page said that Ayla and Gunul are just starting and will mess with Sengul more in the coming episodes. Ayla doesn’t know it yet but this will end up driving Berk away from her and probably the eloping plot will happen soon. Ayber will hopefully make up in the next episode since Berk was involved in helping Zehra run away but I can’t wait to see Berk’s reaction when he finds out what his mom did.

#kardeslerim #kardeşlerim #ayber #recap

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amemoire · 5 months

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My too long ramble about Scara in a long winded attempt to touch on my thoughts of Ei in relation to him. Mostly because while some of fandom likes to draw up modern AUs and the like in which she's a good mom to him, this just isn't my belief for a few reasons. That isn't to say that I will shove my opinions onto others, and I would welcome anyone that does write her and want to plot out nicer terms for them, but I also don't want anyone to fight me on what's been my view for a long time now. This is just something that I hold to my own portrayal.

First of all, one of the primary things in Scara's character is the fact that he views Ei as more than his creator. He views her as his MOTHER, even to this day. Something made clear in his story when his voice literally breaks on the word as he holds back tears. But to Ei he was a CREATION. A proof of concept. A failed prototype. He was always intended to be taken apart. The only reason he wasn't is because she took pity on his tears. He somehow bore a conscience— he was a little too HUMAN. And because of this, it did occur to her that it may be wrong to end his life like that. So she sealed away his power and placed him on another island instead.

She sent him away without anything more than the clothes on his back and that golden feather. Locked in Shakkei Pavillion where if he woke, she thought he may leave and lead his own life. Except he didn't. He stayed here for days on end until being found because he wasn't told he could even leave.

He had no explanation for why he was being " tossed away " and quite literally no knowledge of the world. He was a prototype— why would he need to know anything more than necessary for initial testing ? He was clueless to its laws and how it functioned. And while the point of this was to give him his best chance apart from Ei and the Gnosis, how was he supposed to know any of this when he wasn't told ? He didn't even have a name. There's a line in Polumnia Omnia that I'll never stop thinking about and that is the singular Japanese line.

" ごやのすゑなぞながられ ". " Why did you throw me away on the fifth night? "

This is referring to an old Japanese custom to name a child on the SEVENTH NIGHT of their birth. So now we know how close he was to the exact time where he would've been given a name— a sense of purpose and being and an identity of his own. He wouldn't have been aware of this tradition at the time as he was quite literally a newborn, but came to learn of it in the near future and thus resented his abandonment all the more. But again, I don't believe he would've gotten a name even if Ei had kept him. He was ALWAYS intended to be dismantled before then.

Instead, it was the villagers of Tatarasuna that gave him something close enough to a name and taught him everything he needed to know. The laws of the land, how to cook, clean, farm, sew, dance, etc. etc. He caught on tremendously and in time became even better than his teachers in some rights. But most importantly, they taught him what it was to be human. The only thing they hadn't taught him about was human mortality itself. Which is why I believe he viewed the kid's passing as a betrayal despite it being something that couldn't be helped. Because he was still a stranger to the concept of death. Yes, people had died during the events of Tatarasuna, but those were by other means. UNNATURAL means and by other peoples' hands. He likely never even saw the bodies himself. But his friend had died of some natural sickness. And this body he did see.

We know from Ei telling us herself that she was aware of everything going on in Inazuma during the AQ and specifically the involvement of the Fatui and simply chose to let things happen. I don't bring this up to say that she knew what he was going through in his early years, but rather that she knew of his involvement during the AQ. By extension, we could probably say she's also aware of his role regarding the fall of the Raiden Gokaden. And again, she did nothing. Even after everything is resolved, she doesn't mention him and she doesn't seek him out. Granted, we do know why. She states in now unavailable voice lines that she doesn't wish to control him. So this is why he's allowed to do virtually whatever he pleases.

Yae similarly confirms just how hands-off Ei wishes to be. To the point that she won't even fight him despite all the trouble he caused for the nation. The fact that Yae would kill her " son " in secret and without remorse is a separate matter I won't get into. ( Though it makes me wonder if Ei would even be sad if this were to have happened with how casually Yae says this ). But it does speak for how even she doesn't view him as Ei's kid but still just a creation. Still just a puppet. Heck, she doesn't even call him by " he " like she does at the end of the AQ but by " IT ".

All that said, going back to the matter of AUs and Ei's ability to be a mother, it leads me to believe that at best she would have other people raise him. ( Nannies, house staff, maybe homeschool teachers ). And at worst she would be a neglectful parent. She's just too busy to do it herself and probably doesn't even know where she'd start. Without a doubt, he would have to take mandatory lessons and classes that keep to their culture and tradition, but otherwise she isn't too privy to what he does or likes. She wouldn't bother getting involved in anything unless it happened that he had failing grades or was getting in trouble. Additionally, because of her allowing him to do whatever he wants in canon, she may even become one of those parents that covers up the trouble their kids cause. Their relationship is quite strained as a result and while he would still regard her as his mother, he wouldn't regard her as someone who loves or cares about him, much less understands him.

But he does crave to be loved. Best shown by the feather being present in his Wanderer design.

The fact that he still carries it with him shows that it STILL means something to him. Even more importantly, it shows that he's held onto it all these centuries and will continue to do so despite never receiving any insight to Ei's true intentions and despite all memory of himself being literally written out of history. Because that feather was the one kindness he KNOWS she afforded him. It was a symbol that offered him protection by showing his relation to the Shogun, and it was a token that allowed him to request an audience with her. Though it failed him in the end, he still kept it. The only gift he ever received from his mother. One he will continue to hold close.

#➤ hcs: dewdrops of time / scara #➤ ooc: i've forgotten who i am #believe it or not i had more to say #but i took a break and lost it #so i just tried to wrap it up at the end lmao

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