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luimagines · 3 years

Note

Do time or the other links smoke? Or drink? Or do some kind of drugs? I mean when your out heroing you're going to get alot of traum

Something they all at least somewhat have to try and take the edg off or do they have other ways of coping? I am sorry if this sounds like an ask,i was more along the lines trying to get your speculation on the matter

Masterlist

I see what you're saying and I do think that some of them would have had bad habits in the past but yeah-

They do need some time to take the edge off and refocus themselves in the present, but how do they do that in a healthy and safe way?

Let's talk about that.

I don't think I have all the necessary tags so go forth at your own discretion.

Time

Time would have definitely had a drinking problem that would have started in his Termina days.

He's never really felt the need to drink though- he only found that it would have kept him from going crazy.

But as he got out of there and talked more to Malon (and have his supply cut off- (just because he knew where to get it in Termina doesn't mean he knows where to get it in Hyrule, (nor would they give it to him, even if he did))), I like to think that he would have had to find other ways to calm himself down and think rationally through his thoughts and desires.

It happens by accident.

He was working at Lon Lon Ranch when he needed to go chop some wood and he found the repetitive and strenuous work, soothing.

He felt good. Accomplished even.

And a little disappointed when he was finished.

But he started doing that whenever he could and it became his main way to not only blow off some steam but to also calm himself down.

It helps with his anxiety and his need to help feel useful even when nothing is really happening that would require his assistance.

Twilight

Twilight finds that manual labor actually makes his anxiety worse.

He can't really find it within himself to get lost in it because he's already programmed for that to be a part of his day to day life anyway. So his brain can still go on and on even as he gets his chores done.

Twilight finds that a secluded spot with little distraction works best.

He's never really dabbled in other ways to deal with it nor has it come to his mind.

All he knew one say was that everything was too much and that he needed to be in a different area entirely.

No people, no noise.

He likes to hang out by small creeks or by the lake and fish if he really needs an excuse to do something.

Bonus points if he can rest with one of his favorite goats nearby, but that's few and far in between.

It's less meditation and more taking in the moment and letting time slip by for a change.

No to do lists, no action, no survival, no need to be on the run.

Just breath.

Warrior

Warrior would have smoked during the war but I don’t think he’d actually tolerate it all that well. I feel like he’d be more inclined to drink away his problems but with shortages left and right, and all efforts going into the war, there just wouldn’t be enough to go around.

So he’d smoke and hate it.

But it worked in a pinch.

Afterwards, whether through Mask’s and Wind’s influence or the end of the war, he’d want to find a way to quit.

It wasn’t easy but I feel like Warrior would attempt to quit cold turkey. Just drop the habit completely and what does he do when he feels the need arise again?

It’s actually little said than done, but he paints.

It’s less with ink and paint and more so, just moving his hands and a brush around.

If he happens to have a canvas it’s better but again, not easy to come around.

So what Warrior ends up doing most of the time, is taking a brush and some homemade ink from berries and brushing it over his scars. His favorite spot is the massive burn covering his left arm left behind as a gift from the Dragon Knight.

It feels tingly and electric, static follows the brush and the muscles clench with energy from the contact but while it’s uncomfortable for a while, it’s also not entirely unpleasant and it’s soothing to watch and feel. And it grounds Warrior in the moment until he no longer feels the urge.

When the urge is gone, he still does it when he feel anxious and concerned. Late at night is typical time for him to do this, where no one would see him or his scars and judge him for it.

Sky

Sky in the beginning would have slept more than he did before.

He was already inclined to fall asleep easily before all of his trauma, but afterwards he seemed to lose motivation to continue with the idea that things would go back to normal. There was still a lot of expectation placed on his shoulders and it was frankly not something he wanted to deal with.

So he sleeps.

Now this turns into more of a problem with being able to stay awake and to stay concentrated. It’s hard for him to pay attention to anything beyond him and that won’t do, considering me still has to finish his schooling.

What Sky does more often than not to keep him tethered to the present moment is work with his hands. He’s already had the tools for wood whittling but he was never allowed to use them in class and it ends being a bigger mess sometimes than he’s willing to deal with in general.

Sky also has some small pockets of clay that he fidgets with to keep his hands moving and he can keep it under his desk so that it’s not that distracting in class.

It helps him focus and when he thinks about what he’s been through and what he plans to do next, it keeps him from getting overwhelmed.

Wild

I think Wild would have just gone silent and unmoving when he’s having a bad day.

Kind of similar to how he gets when’s trapped in a memory but for longer and he doesn’t eat or sleep. It could last days at a time. He doesn’t even move unless he’s prompted or dragged to the spot.

The lights are on but no one’s home you know.

There’s not a lot he can do when it happens. Everyone just has to wait for it to pass and hope that it passes quickly.

But Wild gets better with time to know the signs when of one of those days is coming.

It’s not much, but Wild like to hop on the back of his horse and just take off.

Feel the rushing wind on his face and through his hair. He’s a full gallop for a while until the poor horse gets tired. At that point he just goes to the nearest stable and exchanges horses to do the whole thing over again.

Sometimes, when that’s not enough, he’ll go base jumping from as high as he can get even using Revali’s Gale to get higher and free fall. Wild is pretty good at catching himself with his paraglider at the last moment and he likes to see all of Hyrule when as he reaches the ground again.

It reminds him that he’s done a lot of good, that he’s capable of doing more good and that life isn’t over just one ended.

Four

Unsurprisingly, sometimes Four gets too lost in his own for his own good.

He’s got a lot to think about and very little way to get it out.

Four would actually throw himself into his work to try and distract himself from the memories, the anxiety, and the guilt of not being enough time and time again even if he saved the day in the end.

This doesn’t help.

He gets so lost into it, in his attempt to stop thinking all together that he completely goes into autopilot and over works himself. Not in the sense that he pulls a muscle and has to take it easy or end up sore and tired and regrets it. No, no. What I mean is that he’ll keep working for days on end.

No sleep.

No food.

Little water.

No fresh air.

It ends up being a hard habit for him to break. Especially since he finds himself continuously trying to fall into a blank mindset even while he actually works to get commissions done.

So what Four has to do is find something else to do. Four more or less always has to have his hands moving, so it’s hard for him to put something down and not working on it.

He likes jigsaw puzzles, he likes to read, but he also likes to make stuff.

So in the end, when Four feel a little overwhelmed and feels himself slip into a self deprivational state, he’ll stop and goes inside his house to do a smaller project.

So he bakes, he knits, he does his puzzels. It’s enough for him to feel productive still but quick enough for him to stay present and make sure he’s still taking care of himself until the restlessness passes.

Wind

Wind doesn’t really have bad habits. He’s still young and processing his adventures.

I’m sure there’s alcohol on the pirate ship because pirates. But I don’t think he’d like it as much as some people want to write him.

Like, sure, a cup or two ain’t bad but I just can’t see Wind having a drinking problem. At least not now as everything stands.

In a few years it’s might be something he would need to be on the look out for if he’s aware enough but he was quite grasped the full implications of his position and trauma yet.

Because he’s just a kid.

He won’t know how twisted what happened to him was until he gets older and can he the age outside of his own mindset.

Wind has nightmares though and they’re ties when he gets memories that he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment- or ever again.

In the moment he thinks of his home, his grandma and his sister instead.

He thinks of his friends, both old and new.

The chain help with distracting him and he’s not above using them for the distraction when he feels that he needs one.

Wind also stretches a lot.

When he was with Warrior, he got into some of the drills they were teaching the soldiers and for some of the nimble ones, they had to start with stretches and he likes it.

So when it gets particularly bad, he throws himself through the motions and holds the poses for a bit longer than necessary.

So yoga. He does yoga.

And it centers him, it clears his head and he feels better after.

Legend

Legend screams.

Legend cries.

Legend will go on a rampage and destroy a whole forest if he’s having a particularly hard day.

Sometimes he’ll go find something big and scary just to fight it.

Blacksmithing is more a hobby for him at this point because it’s not something he can actually see himself doing in the future. It’s just to pass the time and help the day’s go by a little faster.

Legend likes to draw and when he’s tired after throwing whatever tantrum has taken over him, he’d go to a quiet spot and draw whatever he sees.

Sometimes, when he’s paying more attention to himself and he can feel himself getting frustrated and anxious, he takes a few days off.

He leaves his house and his items and goes up a mountain to think with some food, a notebook and some pencils.

He takes up map making.

Legend doesn’t think he’s any good at it, but with al the places he’s been, he tries to make a map for them by memory incase anyone he knows or will meet decides to visit.

His most carefully crafted map is of Koholint for... reasons.

It’s takes him an age and a half and he’s still not done with it, trying to get as much of it onto the paper as he can remember before he grows old and loses them entirely within his memory.

It’s a calming project he finds. He doesn’t feel sad when he does this for Marin for the people and their memory. It keeps them alive in his heart and sometimes he draws something on the map that doesn’t quite fit into his memory about the island but something tells him to keep it because it was there. Because he was only a visitor to their home.

The locals would know.

He feels good keeping them alive in some way.

It’s what she they would have wanted.

It’s what she they deserve.

She They always wanted to travel and it’s better to have a map to do so.

He takes up map making.

Hyrule

I don’t think Hyrule’s... Hyrule has a lot of these methods to go around. He wouldn’t have been exposed to drugs or alcohol simply because there’s too little people for him to interact with.

And if he was, I don’t think he’s use them as a coping mechanism simply because they would be too difficult obtain and gather to be sufficient.

I think that Hyrule would actually hang out with a Great Fairies by her pool when times got particularly rough.

There’s something about the place that resonates with him and feels calming, safe and relaxing to him.

As a bonus he’s always welcomed so he can pop in and stay for days at a time if he ever needed to.

He does not stay there for days.

But he appreciates the offer.

Hyrule doesn’t stay for more than few hours at a time because he doesn’t want to attract any monsters to his safe spots but even if the fairies don’t use any magic on him, he’s always rejuvenated afterwards and he feel like he can take on anything.

And given the world he comes from- it’s needed.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #I know this wasn't really a request either #and I did say they were clsoed #but this was already going to get long #and it's more headcanons again #so into the queue it goes #bad habits #tw alchoholism #tw anxiety #tw smoking #tw addiction #pinky replies #pinky answers

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olderthannetfic · 3 years

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The Phantom of the Opera fandom is going through it this week. There is a Google doc created and circulated by a white trans man which accuses dozens of artists and fic writers of being terfs, racists, and orientalists. One issue, aside from the inherently unethical nature of blacklists, is that the list includes trans fans, fans of color, many of whom are Asian. So there's this strange dynamic of a list that was supposedly written to protect fans who are from these communities that is actively them instead. And this racist dynamic of a white person calling POC racist, and Asian fans specifically orientalist.

I'd love your take on any angle of this. What are your thoughts on these kinds of block lists? Do they happen in other fandoms? Thoughts on the racial dynamic of this situation? Thanks!

Oof. Yes, I was thinking of saying something about this, but I hadn't gotten around to vetting posts for reblogging yet. When I first saw your post, it passed my sniff test, but I'm not very familiar with PotO fandom (Phandom? Hah! I thought that was a reference to Dan/Phil stans or Danny Phantom or something!), and I like to have a better grasp on what's going on before I reblog. I see more people have weighed in by now though.

My take is that this often happens with blacklists. I can't think of another exact parallel to this one off the top of my head (mostly because there are so many fandom wanks that the details get fuzzy), but every time I hear of a fandom blacklist something of this general type is wrong with it.

The sad reality is that the most vulnerable community members generally won't have time/confidence/assurance of their safety in a way that would make them likely to make a public one and spread it around. People with a lot of experience and perspective who have a good handle on what their group overall thinks is beyond the pale and who could reasonably speak for the whole group don't have time for petty shit like this either and are more aware of the downsides of a public list.

The sorts of people who spend their time on public blacklists are the opposite of the people you'd want to be making them. They're either chasing clout or they've gone off the deep end with "my ship/character is literally me, and when you write them wrong, you are literally committing crimes against me" lunacy.

It makes perfect, if horrible, sense that it would be a white person calling Asian fans orientalist. What we've seen time and time again is that outrage mobs come from a dominant culture. (So in English, in fanworks fandom, that's usually a US cultural context, even if many individual members aren't from the US themselves.) That's who has the numbers and the smug self-assurance of their holy righteousness.

It's very easy for a faker or a manipulator with bad intentions to imitate a Good Minority for this kind of mob. A Good Minority is scenically exotic and primitive and tells quaint stories about granny living in a hut or whatever other bullshit the listeners have internalized. A Good Minority doesn't like Bad Representation™, whether that's characters who were orientalist in their original form or badwrong kink or the wrong dude on top.

Unfortunately, actual members of whatever ethnicity or culture are rarely convenient stereotypes. It's a lot harder to get an outrage mob to care about them--or even to believe them about their identity--because they don't fit into some unconscious white savior or noble savage narrative.

It's like when "fujoshi"-hating fuckfaces whine about how m/m fanfic is bad rep but ignore that lots of cis gay men love stuff ten times more problematic and couldn't care less about AFABs' art and its supposed appropriativeness.

Masturbatory obsession with "authenticity" represses actual authenticity in favor of respectability politics and stereotypes

Among other reasons this is so is that minority members who disagree with the clout-chaser's version of things are a threat to their power. They're always first on the chopping block. We saw it in TOG. It's no surprise it's there in PotO.

Fake anti-racist activism doesn't incidentally harass POC: that's intentionally one of its main applications.

Public blacklists are grudgewank, this time and every time. The creep who made it sucks, but as with the situation in TOG fandom, it seems to me that a lot of the harm is coming from useful idiots.

If more fans would remain skeptical and make up their own damn minds about each person they block, these bullies wouldn't have such power.

Trying to be a better person is great. It's not an excuse for outsourcing your critical thinking. If we would stop reaching for easy answers to be Guaranteed Not Orientalist or whateverthefuck, we wouldn't fall for these transparent power grabs.

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sunandmoongobrrr · 3 years

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Korra and her Brutalization: A Legend of Korra Meta

In honor of International Womens’ Day, I want to talk a little bit about Legend of Korra and the treatment of Korra (and to a small extent other women) throughout the show. Content warning: there's some disturbing scenes that I show here, but if you've watched all of LoK, you should be fine.

Korra starts off confident; she is a young avatar who is eager to learn and feels suffocated from the isolation she is kept in from a very young age. But that doesn’t stop her, and like the headstrong girl she is, she moves to Republic City to make a difference and step into her role as the avatar.

Korra immediately starts to doubt herself; she becomes unsure of her abilities and frustrated with herself, and through that she learns to become emotionally vulnerable with Tenzin. To me, this was really great. It showed that you can be confident and vulnerable, and that the two aren’t necessarily independent of each other.

(I’m going to be honest, the 2nd season I didn’t really remember much of, so I’m just going to skip over that. Because what I really want to talk about is season 3.)

In season three, Korra faces the Red Lotus, an “anarchist” group that essentially wants to kill her. And they get pretty close. First, I want to talk about how Tenzin is beaten by the Red Lotus. This has been brought up in Lily Orchard’s (in?)famous LOK video, and while I disagree with her on many many topics of the show, I really think she has a point here. When Tenzin is being brutalized by the Red Lotus, the camera pans away. It is SO painful to see him like this, and the directors know it. It’s TOO painful to see it, so they don’t show you it, and the episode ends before we can see him be defeated.

Contrast that with Korra. They show you every detail of this. And I mean every detail.

It’s disgusting, and they refuse to treat her with any sort of decency or respect like they do Tenzin. It’s almost like they want us to enjoy her torturing. It’s genuinely gross.

People will often refute this by saying “LoK is just a darker show! Look at what they did to the Earth Queen!” And while yes, it is marketed towards an older audience, there’s still no point in brutalizing Korra this way. The main difference between Korra and the Earth Queen is that… well, Korra’s the protagonist. We’re supposed to be rooting for her, and while the Earth Queen being suffocated was definitely dark, it wasn’t unprecedented. The audience was never supposed to like the Earth Queen—she exploited and kidnapped her own people, so of course we wouldn’t care THAT much if she died. But we’ve been with Korra since the beginning. We’re supposed to want her to be happy, and why on earth would we want her to be tortured brutally in such a disgusting way that gives her absolutely no dignity? If we want her to succeed?

(here Zaheer uses the same technique used on the Earth Queen to suffocate here on Korra. for some reason)

In Season 4, the main focus is on Korra and her healing from the brutal things the Red Lotus did to her. She is clearly still struggling, and it could have been another great way to show how being physically strong and confident doesn’t mean you can’t be vulnerable. But they make a lot of bad choices in this season.

One of my main gripes is that in order to heal, she has to return to her abuser, Zaheer, and HE has to teach her how to feel better.

I don’t want to compare LoK to ATLA, although it’s very important to mention that a show that’s a direct sequel, uses its old characters, and banks off of references, should be able to be compared to its predecessor. But I think it’s important to compare Korra’s arc here to Zuko. This doesn’t come out of nowhere; Korra has a lot of similarities to Zuko. The chopping of her hair is a significant turning point in her arc, and there’s an episode called “Korra Alone” (which is clearly a direct callback; shown below).

The difference between Zuko and Katara is that, a. Zuko never had to accept his abuser, and b. Zuko started off as a villain.

One of Zuko’s major points is when he confronts his father—his abuser. He does not bow to him and give in, saying that maybe he had a few good points or his heart was in the right place, but he directly says that Ozai was wrong for what he did. This isn’t the case with Korra. For some reason, Korra has to learn to trust her abuser. The person who did this to her:

And she has to hear him out.

This leads me to my second point, and what’s basically the complaint I have; despite being a protagonist, the show treats Korra like a villain. It frames her torture scenes as if we’re supposed to be excited that she’s being brutalized, as if we’re supposed to think she deserves it. And it’s not even handled properly as one of the villains we know so well—Zuko, who was able to overcome his abuse and become a protagonist who we root for. Again, Zuko and Korra aren’t directly the same characters, but there are parallels between the two and the show encourages their comparison. When it comes to Korra, however, we’re supposed to believe that she deserves everything that comes to her; the brutal scenes and the lack of dignity, even if she is a protagonist.

And in the end, that’s what we’re meant to believe; that Korra deserved what happened to her. In the finale, Korra says, “I finally understand why I had to go through all that. I needed to understand what true suffering was, so I could become more compassionate to others.”

This is, to put it short, ridiculous. I hate this so much I can’t even begin to say how much I hate it. No, Korra did not have to go through the torture she went through. She did not have to go through the mercury poisoning. She did not have to go through every hardship she did. This “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is so harmful because Korra’s healing revolved around accepting her abuser and thanking him for the awful things he did to her. Korra wasn’t even that cocky by the end of the first season, so what it’s essentially indirectly teaching girls is that if you’re confident, you’ll pay. It’s disgusting.

Zuko got a banishment to the Earth Kingdom, got to have his ideas and practices challenged, but he never got physically tortured. I truly, truly believe that one of the main reasons why Korra is quite literally villainized by the show is because she was a confident, brown teenage girl. None of the male characters are treated with such disrespect and we never get told that they need to be “humbled” by abuse.

This is not completely resolved to LoK; there are some aspects in ATLA that I think could’ve been fixed had there been more women in the room. I tag her a lot (bc her metas are awesome), but I really recommend you read @araeph 's Katara: Consumed by Destiny series. I also have a meta here about how Katara is treated in ATLA, specifically in “The Fortuneteller.” (I want to emphasize that while I am anti-Kataang, I don’t believe that Katara’s treatment had to do with the ship itself or that kataang is inherently anti-Katara. It’s just a note about how her character is treated in this episode and beyond.)

I’ve heard a lot of people say that they’re ‘glad’ that LoK didn’t feature Suki or Mai or Ty Lee, because they can’t imagine how poorly they’d be represented. And honestly, I can’t blame them.

This isn’t to say that we need to stop watching LOK or even ATLA. I think the internet has this weird problem where we’ve been told that the way to get rid of problematic media is to just stop consuming anything even remotely problematic altogether. But certain aspects of media will always be relatively problematic, since as content creators we sometimes input our biases into the things we create. The solution, then, is not to banish anyone who puts any harmful stereotypes into their content from society, but to actively and healthily criticize it. Bryke are not God, but they’re also not demons put on the earth to suppress woc. They’re white guys that have implicit biases that have worked their way into the content they produce. I think the lesson learned here, is to have women, especially BIWOC, in writing rooms, to prevent atrocious acts from happening to future Korra's.

Happy International Women’s Day, y’all.

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dekalko-mania · 2 years

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Fic Writer Review

I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen this in my mentions until now months after the fact- Thank you to @flutteringdreams-matw for tagging me and apologies for being super late rip

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

Sixteen, surprisingly. Quarantine got me writing more than I have in years lol

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

138,410....V happy about that cause writer’s block had me on such a chokehold

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Hmm, published is one fandom, Danny Phantom. And unpublished is stuff I had written for Percy Jackson. So two proper ones.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

We pulling up the stats again~

1. Family Reunion

2. A Green Thumb

3. Vibe Check

4. Ghost Smarts!

5. #Stitch

5. Which of your fics do you want more attention for?

I don’t think I have a preference currently? Any fic interaction is greatly appreciated, thanks to anyone checking them out 💖

6. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Confession time: I am really shit at responding to comments. Part of it was because I had this weird thought that I would get really annoying bombarding everyone with replies 💀💀 Really dumb considering I love getting responses. I’ll try to get better now, prepare for spam 💃

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably I Love You to Pieces - pretty hastily written fic, a bit messy. But you know, it fits the bill with that rather Slap Chop commercial of an ending.

8. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not yet but definitely have some prompts for some stored up in my notes app! So far got some crossovers planned with Avatar, Spiderman, Young Justice, Ben 10, The Flash, Percy Jackson, Gotham, etc.

The most random shit mixed with DP 🔥

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Constructive criticism only really, wouldn’t consider it hate. Fingers crossed we stay that way lol

10. Do you write smut? if so what kind?

Nope~

Funny cause I’ve mentioned offhandedly that I like to write fics to people who don’t regularly read them and they often assume that’s what I write. It’s when I realized the term fanfiction is often seen as synonymous with smut when that's not entirely the case lol

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not~

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope~

13. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Well, in the phandom I enjoy Grey Ghost, but I don’t primarily read ship fics for DP. Here for the lore bb 👻👻

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

“I never will” is a strong phrase. Maybe just, “won’t for a long time.” With the Brewing of a Storm is in the backburner rn, and although I had some continuations planned for Things That Lurk in the Dark, those will have to wait

15. What are your writing strengths?

Well, I have fun writing dialogue and I’m pretty good at coming up with ideas as I write. Improvisation and the fact that I actually really really enjoy doing it.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Many. so many. Biggest ones are probably actually forcing myself to sit down and write, I’m bad at action sequences, and I can be inconsistent. Recently realized I break POV a lot. It's okay though, room for improvement ~

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Uh, I would need to do a lot of research. Gotta be careful with it. Closest I could attempt somewhat okay is dialogue in Spanish, porque es mi segundo idioma. Pero definitivamente no soy hablante nativa entonces....I'll limit it to this answer lol

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson, and those crappy fics will not see the light of day. To the ghost zone 👉🏼👻

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Tough cause I enjoy them all in their own way. But I got super into Comfortably Numb and then let out a good chuckle at the end of Family Reunion (which I do plan to continue someday lol)

20. What fic are you most proud of?

Comfortably Numb since I’m actually committing to a longfic with this one, which is quite a challenge for me. The response in the comments is also super, super cool. I love everyone’s insight so much. The predictions, the analysis, all really awesome. Thank you for making writing it so much more fun!

Tagging: Hopefully I’m not double tagging here, but @summerssixecho @ave-aria @echoghost1

#kinda dp ??#ask #danny phantom

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anemo-writes · 3 years

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hello travelers! i’m sorry for the late of inactivity recently, i’m working on some of my one-shot requests and obviously that will take a bit longer than writing headcanons; anyways, the genshin impact characters would like to wish you a very merry christmas!! the rest of the characters are below the cut to avoid clogging, so be sure to check them out too<3 happy holidays everyone, stay safe!

much love,

~ anemo-chan <3

The (Playable) Genshin Impact Characters Wishing You a Merry Christmas

Albedo: Merry Christmas. Ah, that reminds me—I hope that you do not mind, but I have sketched a portrait of you and want to give it to you as a gift. When did I do this, you ask? Why, it was during our time together in Dragonspine. It would have been a shame to not create something to remember one of my fondest memories, no?

Amber: Hey! Happy Christmas—Oh, I meant merry Christmas. Anyways, I have a gift for you! I noticed your glider was getting a bit worn out, so I got you a new pair; why don’t we go for a test run together? What? Oh yeah, gliding in the snow probably wouldn’t be the best idea, would it?

Barbara: Hehe, do you like the dress I’m wearing?—I made it myself! Oh, that reminds me, I made you a matching outfit to go along with mine when we go caroling together—huh? You’ve never been caroling before? No worries, Idol Barbara will teach you all you need to know!

Beidou: Yo~ Merry Christmas! How does the ship look? The crew and I spent the last week trying to decorate it accordingly. Say, how about you aboard the ship and join us for a few drinks? There’s nothing like a few mugs of eggnog on Christmas!

Bennett: Merry Christmas! Huh? What am I holding behind my back? Haha, well it was actually supposed to be your present...until I accidentally squashed it when I tripped walking out of the store, that is. Maybe I should’ve asked for extra luck for my presents this year...

Chongyun: Merry Christmas. Please accept this gift of a flower made of never-melting ice—I carved it myself. Yes, I partook in an ice-carving class when I was younger, so I suppose it does look somewhat like a professional’s; I hope to grow better at it, however. Perhaps I’ll gift my next creation to you, if you do not mind.

Diluc: Merry Christmas. I hope you do not mind if I gift you a bottle of a new line of wine we are producing at the winery—if you happen to enjoy it, do not hesitate to let me know; we have plenty of other bottles and I would be happy to give you another bottle or two. Ah, there’s no need for you to gift me anything back; your presence is a gift enough already.

Diona: Would you mind trying this special batch of eggnog that I made? It’s non-alcoholic, so hopefully my father—I mean, you won’t be able to taste the difference. That is, only if you want to—it’s not like I’m asking you to do me a favor or anything! Oh, and merry Christmas...

Fischl: Well, if it isn’t the merriest of the holidays! It won’t do to prepare a present that you would possibly not like, so please allow me to accompany you on a journey to find a gift of your deepest desires! Come, you have my full attention—what is it that you wish for?

Jean: Merry Christmas. It is another joyous occasion to celebrate. Ah, I apologize—I haven’t had time to buy you a gift. Why don’t we go together to find something you’d like? Please do not care about the price, see it as something I must repay you for for not having it wrapped and ready for you to open already.

Kaeya: Merry Christmas. You don’t happen to believe in Santa, do you? Oh, you do? Now now, that is very interesting. Haha, of course there’s no harm in believing in such a legend; that is, unless you’ve been naughty this year? Who knows what Santa does to bad little boys and girls...

Keqing: Merry Christmas! Here is a specially-crafted latern fueled by a part of my Electro-vision; it’ll never run out of charge, so please use it on your journey to light up the darkest of your days. I truly hope you enjoy it, and may the next year be filled with better luck and prosper.

Klee: Merry Christmas, best-friend! Here, look! Mm, it’s a bomb I made especially for you—it’s shaped like an ornament. Isn’t it the best? Don’t let Jean see though!! I’ll have to go solitary confinement for weeks if she catches you with one of my latest creations!

Lisa: Merry Christmas, cutie! As a gift, I’ve crafted you an amulet to match with one I’ve made for myself, so be sure not to loose it! It’ll look bad on my part, and we don’t want that, do we now?

Mona: Ah, the starry night always look brighter on such a merry holiday, don’t you think? Oh, that reminds me—here, take this. It’s an object to help you look for certain gems along your journey; it will glow when near, so be sure to keep an eye out. Once you find it, polish it well, and it will shine as bright as the night sky.

Ningguang: I would like to wish you a very merry Christmas. However, I was not too sure on what to get you as a gift, so please enlighten me on your preference. Go on, I am listening; anything will do, if it is to your liking.

Noelle: Merry Christmas! While it is a very merry day, it is bound with overwhelming errands and things to do—but fear not, your dutiful maid is here to serve you! Purchasing presents, wrapping them, or whatever else you would like me to do, I will do it—I am yours to serve for today, so please do not be shy to ask me to perform a task today.

Qiqi: Merry...Christmas? Yes, I believe that’s right. Baizhu told me that during these times friends often gift each other things, so I have brought you a bag of herbal medicine to use during your adventures because we are friends.

Razor: Ah...it is holiday today? Christmas...it does not sound familiar to Razor. But if you celebrate it, Razor is more than happy to celebrate with you; come, we will go hunting to prepare for our feast tonight.

Sucrose: Merry Christmas! Take a look at this, I’ve finally perfected the formula to this potion of mine! What does it do? Well, I’m glad you asked—if everything works accordingly to the plan, it’ll formulate a box of your most favorite memories of the past year into a physical memento! Doesn’t it sound wonderful?

Tartaglia: Hohoho~! Merry Christmas, comrade! Oh, that reminds me!—Teucer has been asking about you recently, so why don’t you join us for dinner? I’ll even escort you to Snezhnaya myself—perhaps we can even find some enemies to kill along the way. Haha, surely you won’t decline such an invitation?

Venti: Merry Christmas, dear friend! What is it that I’ve prepared for you on this joyous holiday, you may ask? Well, you’re in luck—I’ve written a new song just for you! Hehe, don’t worry about repaying me back, this song is completely free! Generous, I know! If you want to help though, make sure this song is passed down for multiple generations—I spent a long time writing it!

Xiangling: Merry Christmas! Look, look! I’ve prepared the two of us a whole feast for tonight’s dinner—what’s the bandaid on my finger, you ask? Oh, it’s no biggie, I accidentally cut myself while chopping some of the ingredients—oh, forget it! Let’s dig in! Be sure to tell me which one is your favorite; I’ll add to the menu at the restaurant!

Xingqiu: Merry Christmas, my liege! I have brought you one of my most treasured books as a gift for this joyous occasion; there is no need for you to return it! It is for your keeping. May the next year and years to come be filled with prosper and mirth!

Xinyan: Woohoo, it’s Christmas! What a rockin’ excuse to shred some Christmas tunes, amiright? Oh, you’ve got a pretty good voice if I do say so myself! Say, why don’t you join me up on stage today? I’ll play guitar, and you sing! That’s sure to rally up a crowd!

Zhongli: Merry Christmas—although I am not too familiar with the exchange of gifts, I have collected a rare flower for you which is native to Liyue only, and only grows during this time of the year. I hope to be able to exchange gifts with you next year as well.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #anemo-writes #im not even sure what to call this it just seemed fun to write 0-0

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milkbaer · 3 years

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love to hate you | Part 2

„After a year they meet again and they’re not amused.”

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• Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Reader (Princess of Bavaria) • Word count: 3.8k • Warnings: my terrific writing ✨ none, just the usual

• A/N: Thank you all so much, so much for the all the responses and everything! I hadn’t expected so many readers, thank you! 🥺💖💖💖💖 I know I’ve said that part 2 could be uploaded within a week, but I wasn’t so happy with it and still I am not 100% satisfied. And I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t promise uploading dates :’) Thanks again to @netflixton on, you were right rewriting scenes does help, a lot! This part is longer than the first but maybe not as thrilling, yet I hope you enjoy it

• Small dictionary: Bärli – a cute nickname, kinda a cute way to say bear

Lake Starnberg, Bavaria, 1813

With closed eyes and a bright smile on your lips did you enjoy the warmth of the sun on your skin. Today’s weather was unusual sunny and warm, even for a day in the spring. But of course, you didn’t mind the variance. No one did, as long the weather was pleasant.

Splashing your feet in the cold, but refreshing, lake’s water and your arms spread behind you, supporting you, you bathed in the sun. Warm sunlight tickled your skin. The weather couldn’t be better, it almost felt like a farewell gift. As if the sun knew that this was your last day before your departure for grey, rainy England. You’ve heard about its infamous weather and expected weeks of grey- and dullness.

While you weren’t too keen on the English weather, your excitement for the voyage was undeniable, it was … it was … you couldn’t really put it into words. You were excited, yes, even more than that. Maybe you could compare your feelings to someone who made a big discovery, a positive one. But that didn’t catch it right either. It was just … you were so happy about your first real travel. Yes, you’ve travelled to Vienna, Tyrol, Frankfurt and … Prussia. But England was your first travel with a ship. Your first time overseas.

Filled with delight and excitement you flopped down in the soft green grass, surrounded by the first wildflowers of spring. Happily, you sighed and when the picture of your old governess appeared in your mind, you couldn’t even think about stifling your laugh. Oh, she would be furious if she saw you like that. She hated it, with great passion, to see you laying on grass, in the sun or water. It was unproper, grass stains, tans, and so many other reasons that didn’t make sense.

You hummed in delight.

Good that you were no longer in need of a governess.

London, England, 1813

Sitting under a pavilion in the queen’s garden, together with his aunt, Friedrich enjoyed his breakfast to the fullest. It was beyond incredible how good today’s meal tasted and how happy he felt. Almost overjoyed. The queen used to look up from her dish and latest Lady Whistledown, eying him with slight bewilderment, whenever she heard him hum happily with every bite he took. He still did that, humming in delight with every bite, but by now she was used to it.

Friedrich felt that this year would be going well. This year was a good year, maybe even one of his bests. He was doing well, his mother was more than well, his travels had been fantastique, especially this one, and the annual ball to his birthday had been better than ever. Mainly because one person, who he didn’t like to think about, didn’t attend. For the first time in forever Friedrich didn’t had to see the face of we-don’t-talk-about-her. She had been sick or something, he didn’t really care, when he heard the sad news, as his mother called them, he felt like dancing, purely out of joy – or relief, or schadenfreude, or all three of them.

Well, the only thing that mattered: Friedrich hadn’t seen someone, the one who shall not be named, for over a year.

What a true blessing.

And even better, at the Salisbury ball he met her, Daphne Bridgerton. His aunt, Queen Charlotte, had told him so much about her, there were only things to praise. She was so enthused by this girl; he had rarely seen his aunt like that. To her she was flawless but to him she was so much more.

If you’d ask him the queen wasn’t able to give Daphne justice. No one could. Her words couldn’t describe her, not the slightest. Friedrich had met her, she wasn’t only beautiful with her copper hair and rosy skin, her laugh was incredibly charming, infatuating, and endearing. Sadly, he only had had the chance to dance with her once.

Did Friedrich believe in love at first sight? – He didn’t know, exactly. Maybe.

Was is love at first sight? Maybe.

He didn’t know.

. . .

England was exciting, no, thrilling! You had seen different big cities, each unique in its own, but London and its countryside were something else. Never had you seen such huge white cliffs, which looked like someone had chopped them off with a knife. From your ship you could’ve starred at them for hours. The biggest surprise, however, was the English sun shining down on you. The weather wasn’t as cloudy and rainy as you’d imagined. Your father must have lied.

London wasn’t Vienna but it had its own charm, which made it impossible for you to not marvel at, literally, everything.

Your inn was magnificent. It hadn’t looked like much from the outside. Well, to you it looked just like the other brick buildings of Mayfair, but when you entered the house you couldn’t contain your wonder. You were amazed how big it was from the inside. Oh, and your suite was decked in lush green colours, which reminded you of home. It looked very pleasant, homey even and the bed very inviting. Tired as you were you flopped down onto the huge bed, face first.

One of your family’s maids, who stood ready, with straight posture, near the door, stared at you with wide confused eyes. You hadn’t noticed her at all. Of course, she knew your habits. But seeing you falling into your bed so plump, like a ragdoll … or a corpse, completely ignoring her, was … a surprise.

“What shall I do now?” the young girl asked herself in a whisper, her eyes huge and baffled. She knew that you had just set down foot on English ground, but there was no time for you to rest. They had to get you ready for tonight’s soirée at Lady –

Were you snoring?

“Oh, you must be kidding.” Your snores were almost able to compete with your father’s. Not very ladylike. She pondered if she should wake you, already calculating the time she needed to tend to your hair, robes etc. But after the long travel you needed some time to rest – wait, she also needed that!

For a mere moment you made no sound and she grew scared, did you stop breathing? What should she do? If she reported a dead princess their first, and maybe only, suspect would be her.

Oh. Oh, no, everything was fine you were snoring again.

“Okay,” she sighed, addressing your limp, sleeping body. “But only for some minutes.”

“But Mama, do we really have –“you tried to stifle a yawn, not succeeding. The short nap had felt incredible but now the movement of the coach, light but steady rocking, made you feel tired again. Right now, you felt like falling asleep any moment.

“Y/N, please, your manners,” scolded Marie, your mama. Well, it was hardly scolding, she knew you were tired, hell, she herself was tired from your travels. It was more like a friendly reminder, not to yawn every second at the soirée. “Or Lady Danbury could feel offended, thinking she bores us.”

“But do we need to? It’s our first night in London. – And it’s not like we know this Lady Danbury anyway,” you asked, or more tried to convince your mother of returning to the inn, mumbling the last part.

But like so often Marie had heard every word you said. “Oh, Bärli. I’ve told you; her son and your papa were friends.”

Your mama nodded to your father, who had dozed off, arms crossed and his head falling to his shoulder. At the sight of her snoring husband Marie sighed. “They met at Oxford, or was it Cambridge? God knows where he studied – but he made friends with her son. Well, you know the rest.”

His feet were dancing but his heart wasn’t. Yes, he had asked Miss Cowper for a dance and she was a good dancer, but his heart longed for another girl in his arms. Kind as he was Friedrich tried to focus on Cressida, it was only fair. She too was a marvellous young lady, with incredible coiffure if he may add. But deep inside his heart yearned for another. His blue eyes always seemed to seek out Daphne on their own, but he couldn’t help it.

Friedrich always spared short longing glances at Daphne Bridgerton. Cressida knew and hated it. She wanted the prince to focus on her, and only her. But what should she do? Break off the dance and risking offending prince and queen? No, she wouldn’t do that. She and her mama had worked too hard for this opportunity to go to waste.

Daphne seemed to enjoy this dance and sharing it with the duke. Ugh, deep inside him Friedrich felt a weird mix of longing and jealousy. Yes, he was jealous of the duke, because he was able to dance with her and make her laugh. He wanted to be the one, but he was also a gentleman, and thus respected Daphne’s wishes. But he couldn’t help himself, his eyes were glued on her. She looked very lovely in her pale blue gown.

When the music finished Friedrich’s heart desperately wanted to run off to Daphne. But one she was still enjoying the company of the Duke of Hastings and second, he couldn’t do that to Cressida. So instead, he asked her for another dance.

Cressida smiled, even if the prince hadn’t been completely focused on her, him asking for another dance was a good sign. So, when she saw that Daphne Bridgerton retired from the dancefloor she said, “I would love to, your Highness.”

And so, they danced. For Cressida this felt like a triumph, one Daphne didn’t have.

Your father, risen from his beautiful slumber, as if he had pricked his finger on a thorn, ushered you towards an elder lady. One you didn’t know, but that wasn’t so surprising, so far, you knew no one in Mayfair. But you guessed that this Lady, dressed in rich purple colours and resting her weight on a fancy cane, was the infamous Lady Danbury. And after your short greetings you knew that you were right. The lady across from you was, indeed, Lady Danbury.

The older woman stared at you, studying you with raised brows and eyes like a hawk. “You’ve grown a lot since I saw you.”

You tried not to look puzzled, but her comment left you dumbfounded. You couldn’t remember her, when have you two met? Clearly you failed with your attempt of hiding your confusion, Lady Danbury laughed at the look on your face. “Oh, you won’t remember. Your sister Franziska was four I believe.”

You nodded at her words. Of course, you couldn’t remember her when you met you must have been a year old.

“Oh you were a very plump baby, even chubbier than my son, which I thought was impossible. But the plump baby turned into a lovely lady, I’d say.”

Blinking confused you smiled at her words. What could you retort to that? All children of your parents had been chubby babies, or so you’ve heard since you where the last offspring. Karl, your dear papa, laughed wholehearted at Lady Danbury’s word. Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered how plump and wrinkly you used to be.

When Lady Danbury hit his leg with her cane, more than once, his laughter died abruptly. Karl winced at the power the dowager hold, she was quite strong for an old lady. “I see you finally managed to grow a beard. Whiskers even!” Lady Danbury remarked with a sly and cunning smile.

She eyed his locks critically. “And you still have your curls. You can be lucky, that your wife met you when you were young. I see more skin than hair!”

Karl’s face grew red, his fingers moved to carefully touch and brush his hair. He didn’t like his receding hairline, but he had always thought with his curly hair it wasn’t that obvious. But Lady Agatha Danbury saw and heard everything, he should’ve known.

Like your father you couldn’t help but giggle at Lady Danbury’s words and his embarrassment. You didn’t think of his hair badly, but his face was just too good. He looked so flustered and alarmed; you couldn’t contain your laughter. And then you couldn’t hide a little yawn. Quickly you covered it with your hand, but Lady Danbury shot you a sharp look. “Do I bore you, your Highness?”

You gulped; you didn’t mean to offend her, but the yawn had escaped by itself. After all you haven’t properly rested. Seeing your panicked eyes Lady Danbury loosened her façade and cackled. “Don’t dread, I am merely joking. I know you’ve made a long way and had no time to rest, I might say.”

She stung your father with her gaze and hit him with her cane again. “I invited you so that you could attend a day after your arrival. I know my arithmetic. – I bet your father has departed later than planned, back in Cambridge he often dawdled.”

With a splutter of words Karl tried to excuse your late arrival. Something with the wind and water, the roads and so on. But Lady Danbury had nothing of it, she simply continued. “But I must say I am very lucky to have a prince and a princess attending my soirée. What are the odds?”

A prince and a princess? The way she said it she couldn’t mean your parents. There must be someone else, maybe a prince from the Isles, Sweden, or Austria even? Your excitement and curiosity grew. Was it someone you knew?

“Oh! There he is!” Lady Danbury exclaimed with a satisfied grin. Interested you turned around and your smile faded fast. Your curiosity and all your excitement was gone, all swept away, when you saw him. Standing in front of you, with a blonde lady in his arm, was Friedrich and he looked as pleased as you did.

The Prussian prince stared at your family in shock.

What where they doing here?

What where you doing here?

He was so shocked to see you here in London, in the same house, that Friedrich didn’t notice the stunned look on your face. Like him, you were frozen, unable to even move a tiny muscle of your face. He could sense Cressida’s fingers on his arms, slowly bringing him back to consciousness. Cressida had no idea who she was facing or why her prince was standing stiff like a statue.

“Friedrich, we didn’t know you would be here. What a pleasant surprise!” exclaimed Princess Marie happily, a big friendly, maybe even relieved, smile on her face.

Of course, he wasn’t happy to see you, but he couldn’t say so. Friedrich cleared his throat and put on his best smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Marie laughed and nudged you lightly with her elbow, reminding you to greet him proper. She expected a proper curtsy but knowing you, Friedrich excepted nothing. To his surprise you curtsied, well if you could call bending your knees barely a centimetre a curtsy, and you kept your mouth shut. You merely looked at him grimly, with gloomy eyes and tight lips, remaining silent. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes and ears, for once you didn’t greet him with your typical phrases and rolled his first R. It was unusual but heaven to his ears.

“I see you’ve grown chops,” you remarked, suddenly, not sounding neither pleased nor appalled. It was merely a fact. Friedrich had grown hair, almost as blonde as his fluffy curls, on his cheeks. He was clueless on what you had intended with your statement like … yes, he had sideburns.

But then you mumbled something incomprehensible, Friedrich only saw your lips moving unable to make out a single word. But they lit an impish spark in Lady Danbury’s eyes. Her almost sinister chuckles made Friedrich curious, but also anxious. Like he couldn’t hear you but regarding Lady Danbury’s reaction it hadn’t been something good.

Friedrich was glad, no, relieved when he could withdraw with Cressida from their company. His life was going so well, one year without you felt like a stay in Rügen. No, even better. Strolling aimlessly through the hall with Cressida on his arm, he asked himself how he deserved this. Has he ever sinned so badly to justify you? Friedrich tried to forget his encounter with you. Yet he couldn’t; like so often you inhabited his mind as soon as he saw you, even if it was just a glimpse. Avoiding you always became his sole intention as soon as he knew you were there.

“Your Highness, are you alright?” Cressida asked him, pressing her fingers lightly into his arm. Swiftly Friedrich nodded, putting his casual, friendly smile.

Cressida hadn’t really a chance to talk to Lady Danbury’s guests. She was only able to introduce herself, which frustrated her because she wanted to know more. Cressida wasn’t stupid, she had noticed his reaction. They must know each other, she concluded, she just didn’t know what their relationship was.

“You seemed quite familiar. May I ask – are they your friends?”

He scoffed at the thought of being friends with you, and yet all he said was yes. “But they’re more my mother’s friends than mine.”

“I see.” That was all she needed to know. They were his friends and when they knew his mother, they probably knew him for quite a long time. How wonderful! This surely would become useful for her.

Saying that you, one single person, ruined his evening might be an exaggeration but you did. You were able to ruin his mood and everything solely by existing. Finally, Friedrich could spend his time with Daphne. He should feel happy, well he was happy to finally be with Miss Bridgerton. But he couldn’t stop looking for you.

Deep inside his mind, far, far away in one little corner were you, you practically inhabited that small space of his mind. And knowing of your presence was enough to drive him insane. Since he didn’t harbour the desire to talk or even face you again, he kept looking, only to avoid you. But he really should relish his moment with Daphne.

How could he enjoy his time, when you were dancing, jumping, and laughing around with a gentleman? This man must’ve been insane to even ask you. But Friedrich told himself, that he felt irritated because you stole his chance to dance this exact same dance with Daphne.

“Are you alright, your Highness?” He heard Daphne ask him and felt like he had heard the exact same question once before. Friedrich looked at her, startled and immediately felt like he could drown in her big, worried eyes. “You seem a bit absent. Is something bothering you, don’t you feel well?”

Oh, wasn’t she adorable? Briefly he shook his head, as if he wanted to cleanse his face from his sour mood. “Don’t you worry about me, Miss Bridgerton. I assure you, everything is fine.”

He had thought that his words would reassure her, he didn’t expect for her to look even more troubled. Her light brows hitched up in concern, she clearly didn’t believe him. But her worried face made his heart … it felt a bit like it was dancing, nervously. How could he not like her? His aunt was right about her. The prince only knew Daphne for over a week and yet he was so infatuated by her … how could he not? She was flawless, no, even more than that.

“Have I told you, that you look absolutely lovely today?” Friedrich must sound like a love-struck fool.

“Well, yes you did,” she said, sounding rather confused, maybe even a little more concerned. Clearly his plan of distracting her mind wasn’t working. “You said so earlier this evening, when we met. Do you remember?”

“Yes, you’re right.” He chuckled. “But I can say it more than once, no?”

Indeed, Daphne looked very lovely wearing her pale blue dress, adorned with small stitched flowers. It perfectly emphasised the warm colours of her hair and skin. He could compliment her every second.

He had expected her to blush, she’d look lovely with pink cheeks. But his words couldn’t divert her from her concerns. “I know we’re not friends per se, but if something’s bothering you, your Highness …”

“Glad to know that, Miss Bridgerton. But I assure you –“ You laughed, loud, a sound his ears couldn’t ignore. This devilish sound was like an alarm. But when he quickly turned around and spotted you amongst the dancing folk, he was surprised that you were having … fun. Unlike him you enjoyed your evening. And you didn’t laugh at anyone, you laughed with them, which you never did with him. You were just mocking him.

How was it fair, and even possible, that you enjoyed your time with others but used his to torture him?

To his dismay Daphne caught his gaze, his move had been anything but discreet, and he didn’t know why, but she shouldn’t have. Even worse, she seemed to know you. “Oh, is something the matter with Miss Y/N?”

Knowing you must be heaven’s punishment, Daphne shouldn’t know you, but she did. “You know her?” Friedrich asked puzzled. While he knew that you acted pretty civil and friendly around others, just not him, he couldn’t imagine anything but the worst.

Daphne nodded, not thinking much of his confused face. “Well, yes. I met her and her mama. – We talked a little; she was really lovely.”

Friedrich blinked. He furiously blinked at her. Had he heard right? Did Daphne call you lovely, after spending her precious time with you?

You? Lovely?

Friedrich could describe you with many words but none of them would be lovely. Malicious, annoying, vicious, disturbing, and so on, but not lovely.

You, Y/N of Bravaria, spawn of the devil, lovely?

Not a chance.

. . .

Friedrich jolted awake, his blonde locks tousled, his shirt out of place, tired his drowsy eyes wandered around the room looking for any sign of time. A few shafts of sunlight shone through the gaps of his heavy curtains. It was morning already but why did he not feel properly rested? Sluggish he sat in his bed like a slack potato sack. A loud tune, probably a trumpet or so, blasted still through the walls of the palace.

Friedrich groaned. Dizzy he slowly began to remember. This had to be a nightmare and with the melody blaring he knew that he must still be in his nightmare. Else he wasn’t able to explain all of this. Yeah, he must still be dreaming. This was all a dream, yesterday never happened and you never moved into the palace.

Yearning for some more minutes of sleep Friedrich flopped back on to his pillows. He tried to drone out the music, but it nearly impossible. Not even his thick pillows, pressed against his ears were helping him. Frustrated Friedrich groaned, gave up sleep and starred sullen at this ceiling.

Who was playing the trumpet, or any instrument for that matter, at this unearthly hour?

Who?

taglist: @netflixton @onlymexsarah @awesomebooklover17 @verygardenerbanana @bxnnywatts @freyagallileaevans

#love to hate you #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #prince friedrich imagines #prince friedrich x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #prince friedrich fanfiction #own fanfic

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cupcakes-and-pain · 2 years

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Breaking News: Former captured and enslaved creatures become pirates and scam slaver ships. More at 7.

This is also going to be apart of my green haired girl story (if you aren’t caught up with that whole thing scroll down my blog a bit. All the posts happened in the last 24 hours although there may be some valentines posts blocking your way before you find green hair).

Basically blondie was forced in fighting rings that green-hair’s parents bet on. This incident and the messed up things that happened to her and blondie afterwards were what put Green on her whole path. Blondie becomes an inventor and uses his unlikely friendship formed with Green to get buyers without having to show his face (No would ever believe someone like him could think of such things). Later on he buys a boat and forms a crew to scam slavers into giving him slaves and then freeing them. Then Green and her friend, the one that plays Madame Bluebell, come in and say “oh we’ve got magic and science. We’ll catch those slaves if you give us moneys.” And then they can use the money scammed off of slavers to fund their next projects. A very nice scam they’ve got going on there.

Blue hair, on the other hand, served at parties as entertainment. He hates having long hair and the masks and costumes were always so itchy, but at least he had a much more luxurious life than fighting creatures or servitude creatures, as his Mistress so often loved to remind him. Later on, when avians went out of style, he was sold off and his wings got chopped. His new wings were made by Blondie. He isn’t naturally hardworking like Blondie, but he does what he can around the ship and somehow always has new fun stories to tell. You’d think he’s run out one day but there’s always more.

@kim-poce just because you seem pretty invested in this so far, tell me if you stop wanting to get tagged in these little updates in the writing process. Also @ everyone tell me what you think of these writing updates. I don’t usually go into projects with zero thoughts whatsoever beyond “green haired woman was traumatized as a child but now she’s healing” so it’s been helpful to write out these ideas

#okay I’m tired can someone add captions or remind me in the morning to add captions?#I really really need to get in that habit #picrew #whump #I really need to name these people #if you guys have any names in mind do tell please

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real-fanta-sea · 3 years

Note

Hello!!💚😊 do you still write kiss requests?? For Trevor/Mike ship and can I request something for 'bury the hatchet' mission with 11 or 57 number? I really love to see how Trevor saves Michael so😍😱

Thank you!💗

Hi sweetie! I'm sorry it took me so long, but it's finally here! Find it under "keep reading". If you prefer AO3, click here to read the fic. tw mentions of violence, kissing, kinky old men

"Get the boyfriend!"

"The WHAT?" Michael huffed out, along with a small puff of fog, as he crouched behind a thumb stone that felt too small to shield him. Of all things, why would they think they were dating? Like, that were the signs? Can't two guys share a trailer, a bed, a shower, a coffee mug, cigarettes, whiskey bottles and take-out receipts without arising suspicion? Can't two consenting adults watch each other read a porn magazine while relieving stress? Is it a sign of marital status to carry someone over a threshold while high on... whatever was Trevor high on? Michael cringed inwardly as a bullet grazed the top of the stone and made the falling snowflakes find refuge on the back of his neck. There was no time to mull that over. The crunch of footsteps and angry commands closed in, and he had to act fast.

He did the math frantically. His pistol still had 16 bullets ready to be planted into the brains of whoever he aimed at. There was another full magazine in his jacket pocket. Good. Michael peered above the top of the stone, now chipped into a monstrous row of teeth. The silence has been ruptured by the sound of breaks. Judging by the urgent stomping, there were far more than 33 men to bury that night. Michael ducked and ran towards a statue of an angel reclining over another piece of stone, big enough to hide him under its sorrowful wings. Finally able to stretch out, he took a deep breath and cracked his neck. He remembered the last time he had to fight off so many people and cursed when he shot a look back towards Brad's grave. At that time, there was no blanket and a cup of hot coffee waiting for him. At that time, dance macabre was all too real for comfort. But it was not a time to die; he convinced himself. Not in the freezy shithole called North Yankton. Not without a fight.

Just when he peered over the side of the sculpture, the world around him slowed down into a strange state of blue trance. He shot four men in a matter of seconds, retreated to his cover, and resurfaced again behind a different piece of stone. All he could feel was a stinging sensation on his face as he collapsed with snowflakes, a soft crunch of virgin snow below his feet mixed with the recoil of the gun in his hand, going off in time with the rhythm of his heart. He wouldn't have minded if the state of focus and tranquillity remained his primary state of being. To be faster than others, not feeling the bullets licking skin and flesh off of his body, killing without remorse - he missed such balance in his retired life.

Not many voices filled the graveyard when Michael finally threw his pistol away and snatched a gun from a random unlucky henchman whose blood was rapidly cooling on the ground. The relative silence unnerved him. The math didn't add up, and even when he cracked his neck again to relieve some of the pressure, the popping sound didn't fill the space enough to be comfortable again. Only when he ascended from the aisle, ducking, eyes darting all over the dark place, he noticed how fast he was breathing and that his hands were shaking.

Fuck it, he thought to himself, that one extra burger, coke and pizza every now and then, when he couldn't sleep, did hurt after all. Maybe Mandy was right to nag at him for smoking too. Before he could make an oath to himself to start exercising once he got away from the situation. Before he could even turn around in awe, the bushes behind his back rustled and gave birth to a furious Chinese man. The newborn didn't spare a second to hit the back of Michael's head with something Mike later identified as the butt of his gun and knocked the dumbfounded Michael unconscious.

It didn't take long for Michael to wake up, but the world was swirling around him into a smudged black-eye blue mush, and it reeked of puke. There was a horrible echo of voices nagging in his throbbing head, and it took a lot of him to recognize two twitching shadows dragging him through the muddy snow. For a split second, he felt weightless as the shadows threw him inside a gaping black space and the thunder of the van door being shut made him shriek in pain.

For what felt like an eternity, his existence was reduced to watching a streak of orange light running towards his chest and vanishing before it reached his head. Michael scrutinized the small cut out in the wall that divided his dark cell and the cockpit of the van and marvelled at the sounds emerging with every blink of the orange light. The slight rocking of the vehicle only served to make him more nauseated in between his scattered thoughts. Why haven't they killed him was among the first coherent questions his brain was capable of producing. Why would they want him alive? The light blinked away rapidly and brought about the noise of radio static and two voices fighting over what frequency to tune in. Get the boyfriend. Why was the question coming back then?

Michael groaned as the deafening sound of Channel X pinned him to the ground again. Boyfriend. He recognized the music. He remembered. They thought Trevor would pay whatever price they demanded in exchange for his safety. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he didn't try to stop it for a change. How they could still think that after witnessing their bickering at Brad's grave, Michael wasn't entirely sure. What he knew with paralyzing certainty was that no one was coming to save him, and it was Trevor's fault. In between the blinks of light and throbbing pain, his memories ran back to the moment Brad unknowingly shielded Trevor as it often did in the past ten years and wished once again Dave either pulled the trigger a second later or aimed for Michael's head.

He didn't know whether to be annoyed or thankful when screeching breaks interrupted his daydreaming session. Judging by the high-pitched angry Chinese, they either had some very unfortunate flat tyre, or they ran into trouble. Or, which was something Michael didn't want to think about, they arrived at their lair and discussed the best way to make a chop suey from his guts. He shifted slightly, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts his mind offered him. It did him no good to think about alternate universes where all his problems were gone, and he was roasting under Los Santos sun by his pool.

The sliding door opened, and Michael was immediately hit into the face with a sluggish white light and smell of iron. Just one glance at the tiles plastered all over the walls, hooks idly clinging in the draft, and he knew exactly where they were. A shiny tray with a handsaw grinned right back at him from the centre of silhouettes of men. Oh god, he was so screwed. So fucked over. He made a mental note to kick Trevor in the balls when... IF... he sees him again. A pair of hands grabbed his ankles and pulled him out of the car, his head bouncing off the ground when it hit ice-cold concrete. Michael shivered. Was it really all there was for him? Would the famous Michael Townley, the phantom of the north, end up minced into Flormart burgers? A curse escaped his lips when he imagined the limp, tasteless slice of pickle and an unnaturally orange slice of cheese tiredly melting on his flesh in someone's microwave. He could withstand any torture but that.

"Hey you, you are awake, aren't you?"

Michael winced inwardly and squinted his eyes against the bright light. "Oh, am I? I didn't know! Are you a doctor or something?"

There was a prompt leathern shoe planted into his face. Michael hissed upon contact, the smell of cheap shoe glue imprinting into his memory. So much for a well-meant, friendly sarcasm.

"Ok, I got it. I'll shut up."

"You better should, pig!" There were several snorts around him, obscured by the bright light. Michael's cheek throbbed. If he was a pig about to be made into bacon strips, he swore to take them with him. The guy who kicked him circled around like a shark.

"Now, tell me. Where does your boyfriend keep the drugs?"

Michael just snickered and shrugged as best as his tied arms allowed. The shadows stepped closer, towering above him. He felt another kick; this time, the shoe bit into his ribs, making him hiss.

"ANSWER!"

A pair of hands yanked him onto his knees. The floor crushed into them, a painful reminder he should have picked up yoga when his wife told him so.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

The sole of the shoe pushed into the middle of his back, stretching his muscles to their capacity. Michael's forehead was pearled with sweat. He could barely breathe. Any further, and he was sure he would throw up.

"Do you think we are stupid?"

The pressure worsened. Michael gasped for air.

"We've seen him carry you over the threshold, and we know from a reliable source you share the bed with him,"

A picture of Ron shaking in the middle of a hostile office, surrounded by the same shadows, flashed through Michael's mind before he blinked it away. Another mental note was taken. Kick Ron's balls right after kicking Trevor's.

"AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO CLAIM YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE KEEPS HIS ASSETS WHEN WE KNOW YOU SQUAT ON HIS DICK EVERY NIGHT???"

"Believe it or not," Michael gasped and tried to turn just enough to look the bastard who stepped on him in the eye, "I don't know anything. Oh, and it's not me who squats; I am more of the top kind of guy."

It occurred to Michael the Chinese guy who led the interrogation had a strange sense of symmetry because before he knew it, he had another pulsating bruise spread over the other side of his ribs. He wanted to think the remark was worth it, even though his body told him otherwise.

"Hang that fag on a hook - let's see if he remembers with more blood in his brain."

For a second, Michael panicked. There were too many hands grabbing and groping him, turning him, and he remembered how he, as a little boy watched spiders do just that with flies in their webs, both horrified and fascinated. He has always considered himself a spider in such situations. Oh, how the turntables! He now was the fly, and the spider was walking away.

"HEY, WAIT!"

The hands kept him floating in the air, and the man stopped in his path, turning around.

"Hm? What is it?"

Michael's eyes rounded, even though he desperately tried to fight the trepidation. "You are terribly wrong about this. I am not his boyfriend, just an acquaintance. I have no idea how you guys are affiliated, but whatever this is about, it all runs down to money, right?"

The man folded his arms on his chest slowly, visibly taking pride in Michael's panic, but his thin lips kept shut.

"I'll pay you if you release me. Generous money, actually. That's what you guys want, right? That's what everybody wants."

The man took a few steps closer, right under one of the beaming tube lights. Michael gulped when he saw the grin on his handsome face. It took him a surprisingly low effort to come close to Michael and grab his jaw in a vice grip.

"Have your whining ever worked on anyone?"

Michael shook his head ever so slightly. He got a shark-like grin in response.

"What we want is to know where your lover, Trevor Phillips, keeps his merchandise and take what is contractually, thus rightfully ours. Tell us, and maybe we will let you go."

His eyes were as black as Trevor's when Michael last saw them, yet there was no shadow of affection in these. The man who looked at him was by all means already dead inside. The hand slipped away from his jaw, but Michael could still feel where his new friend left purple imprints.

"I thought so. Never mind, after the night spent upside down, I hope your point of view will change. HANG HIM!"

All of a sudden, there was a roar of an engine from somewhere above. Michael tried to locate the sound, but it glided away, much to his captors' disdain. There was a cacophony of stomping and foreign words bouncing off the walls, mixing in with the cry of sliding door and hum of the engine coming back.

"HEY!"

His voice was too weak against the noise. No one noticed him twitching; no one cared he was still there.

"HEY, MOTHERFUCKERS, WHAT'S GOING ON!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" was the answer from one of the men, along with a sting of a gunstock on his eye. Michael didn't need answers anymore, though, as the barking of shots and cries of mowed down men crept through the open door. Not so silently, he cursed Trevor for dragging him right into the middle of mafia wars, something he had no desire to see up close. Leaving him in the graveyard alone with a mob? One kick in the balls. Letting them kidnap him and hang him like a piece of ham? Two kicks in the balls. Letting the mafia kill him in a shoot out? Thousands of years of haunting Trevor and another kick in the balls as soon as they both reincarnate. Gunshots from outside closed in on him.

Michael tried to break free from the ropes but only managed to swing back and forth.

"Oh FUCK, I'm going to KILL HIM! YOU'RE SO DEAD, TREVOR!"

"MICHAEL!"

At first, Michael thought he was hearing things. In his state of panic, his brain couldn't get a grip of how the hell Trevor knew where to find him, let alone come and rescue him after he almost shot him. Then he thought that some kind of vessel must have busted in his head, for the familiar voice was accompanied by an even more familiar tall outline topped by a crown of ruffled dark brown hair. He couldn't help but blink rapidly a couple of times, dumbfounded in the middle of the slaughterhouse.

"JESUS, MIKEY!!!"

There were rushed steps, a sound of a gun falling to the ground, followed by two trembling hands cupping his face. Michael closed his eyes and relied on other senses to confirm his suspicion. First, there was a smell of late-night coffees, morning cigarettes, diesel fuel and cheap soap he bought for Trevor not so long ago. Second, there were two big hands, fingers brushing around the edges of his bruises in a way they did years ago when they both were different people, but somehow they did remember how to soothe him. Third, there was a deep-set voice trembling with worry whispering his name. And finally, when Michael opened his eyes again, there were the amber eyes, glazed, terrified and hurt. There was no doubt anymore. Trevor came back for him.

"Oh god, I was so fucking afraid!"

Michael couldn't keep angry when faced with the first shy tears welling in Trevor's eyes, but his ability to speak left him as they fell down and disappeared into the blackness of Trevor's shirt. So instead, he let Trevor's hands caress him, oddly at peace with the gentle touch on his face.

"To think I almost lost you again!" Trevor bit his lip. Something about the droplet of blood blooming under his teeth left Michael breathless. "I was so angry, infuriated much, yes, but then I imagined you laying there with Brad and..."

Trevor gazed into Michael's eyes with such urgency it immediately reminded him of their first kill. The fear mixed in with the red gleam in his eyes, the sense of irreparable, coming back from the past to haunt them. Lost in thought, Michael didn't register the swift movement right in front of him and was caught by surprise by a feeling of having his lips pressed against Trevor's.

They were hot, trembling, and tasted of cigarettes and blood, a mixture Michael desperately tried to forget about. Where they first gently touched his, as if they couldn't believe he was still alive and well, they pressed harder in mere seconds, making Michael's eyes flutter shut. It was difficult for him to admit, but Trevor's lips were the only drug Michael craved for long and lonely ten years. For once, he let his nagging reason get hushed by the shy movement of Trevor's lips, and all the hatred slipped his mind momentarily.

At length, Trevor broke the kiss, and still holding onto Michael's cheeks, he gently propped his forehead against Michael's. Michael let him take a break, listening to his shallow breathing, and their thoughts were buzzing almost audibly where their skin touched.

"Oh god, to think I almost lost you..."

"It's ok, T; I'm still hanging on."

"Yeah, but what if I didn't turn around and follow that convoy? What if they killed you?"

"You could say I would hang around for a bit, and then they would kick me out."

Trevor raised his head and furrowed a bit. "What's that with you and emphasize on hanging?"

Michael raised eyebrows at him and waited till the realization would dawn on Trevor. It took three seconds for Trevor's eyes to round and his mouth to form a perfect 'o'.

"Oh, yeah, uh, I see. Wait a moment, sugar."

Michael's feelings on Trevor holding a knife were usually on the border between panic and deep fucking rooted urge to run for the hills. When Trevor approached him and swung it around his face, Michael was momentarily inclined to the second option, twitching nervously under the cold gleam of the knife. Trevor eyed him with palpable exhaustion.

"Stop wiggling goddammit, do you want to get cut?"

Michael pouted at him.

"Hey, don't give me THAT face, pork chop! It wasn't MY idea to tie you up and hook you here!"

Trevor's knife slowly cut through ropes, murmuring as it bit through thick threads. The very tip brushed against Michael's leg, leaving goosebumps in the wake of its cold touch.

"But I have to say this is kinda hot, eh?" Trevor's grin was back, the brightest light in the room. "How about we try it again when we get back home?"

"What the FUCK are you talking about, Trevor?"

Trevor leant in, still grinning, his knife gliding against Michael's waist.

"I mean, I will send Patricia shopping,"

The knife dipped lower, slipping under Michael's shirt. He gasped, inwardly cursing for giving Trevor the tiniest bit of gratification.

"then I'll take some nice silk rope,"

The dull side of the blade ran through chest hair lush between trembling peaks of his nipples.

"tie you up and make some sweet, sweet love to you, cupcake!"

Trevor's lips were so close, his breath on Michael's lips again, who was petrified with anticipation. His heart hammered against the patch of goosebumps on his chest, and if the last bit of rope didn't snap and let him slide off the hook, Michael would have leaned in himself and stole that kiss. But, instead of the sweet release, he was sent to the cold ground head first, folding like a rag doll upon impact.

Not only Michael sustained another hit on his head, swearing and kicking around, not unlike the turtle Amanda bought for the kids and that he and Jimmy used to torture by putting it on its back, laughing about the way it tried to turn over, but it was Trevor who was laughing his lungs out, folded in half. Michael tried to stab him with a menacing glare, but it didn't help in the slightest. Gathering the last shred of strength, Michael scraped to his feet and balling fists full of Trevor's jacket, he threw them both against deadly green tiles.

Trevor's laugh died out soon after the impact, but the grin remained despite Michael pinning him down. At first, Michael's intention was to beat him up, partially to let the frustration out, partially to get revenge for the stolen kiss, but he was taken aback when Trevor's hands closed over his fists and squeezed gently.

"Whatcha gonna do, Mikey?" Trevor uttered in an irresistibly husky voice that sent shivers of excitement to all the wrong places, "Beat me for saving your life?" Michael growled.

"You fucking..." but the words he wanted to say got sucked back into the vortex of emotion running free in his ribcage. No, beating wasn't what Michael's mind supplied him with when it came to what to do with Trevor. He could barely resist the vivid pictures of Trevor, hair running down his slender back, undressing in front of him, leaving marks on his neck and long scratches speaking volumes about how Michael liked to celebrate their victories. And then, on that day, Trevor was there. Older, but just as tempting, daring, enclosing Michael in the smell of both freedom and slavery with each exhale. Michael took a deep breath. He couldn't help but give in to the craving.

Trevor yelped when Michael crashed his lips with his so hard their teeth clinked together. That was the thrill he wanted to relive, and as soon as Trevor's hands rested against his lower back, pulling him closer, Michael surged deeper and dared to brush his tongue against Trevor's. The choked moan he managed to draw out fueled his fingers in their haste, letting go of fabric and instead bury themselves into Trevor's hair, pulling him closer. Trevor's skin could have combusted any second with the heat it emitted, and Michael couldn't resist yanking him closer, eager to get burned once again.

"Mikey... Jesus Christ!"

Trevor could barely breathe, so much Michael could tell by the heaving of chest caught between the wall and his own body. He was proud of the trembling in Trevor's touch, of shallow breaths and flushed cheeks right in front of him. He still got it.

"What?" Michael grinned impishly and let one of his hands slide down Trevor's back and squeeze him. Trevor yelped in surprise but didn't try to wriggle out of the embrace and even giggled when Michael let his hand rest there. Trevor leaned in closer, his breath sending shivers down Michael's spine as it touched his ear.

"Let's go home, cupcake."

#trikey #gta 5 #trevor philips #michael de santa #real_fanta_sea.fic #kiss prompts

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years

Note

Hey I saw your Dabi fics and I really love it 💕💕 For the event, can I please have Dabi with fake dating au and “Look at you... Goodness, you’re so cute.”?? Thank you so much 💗

thank you for this, i hope you don’t mind i went for a touya dabi for the sake of the plot here. hope you enjoy 💖

↳ dabi/touya todoroki x reader → “not real”

event: au prompt event summary: touya wants to bring you to dinner to pretend to be his girlfriend to upset his father. it doesn’t go quite as planned. word count: 1,942 tags/warnings: -light angst a/n: so on top of fake dating this is an au where the todoroki family is more functional that in the show but still messed up if that makes sense. writing dabi as touya was really fun tbh. also i lowkey ship fuyumi x hawks if i haven’t mentioned that before 👉👈🥺 (it’s only mentioned in this story)

Touya Todoroki was your friend, you had known him a long time. You were very close, you not only did a lot together but you shared a lot with each other. You knew about his family life and why avoided home so often so you were shocked when he told you he would be going to dinner at his family’s house.

“Will you pretend to be my girlfriend?” His words caught you off guard, you almost spit out your drink.

“What?” You asked. It would have been shocking regardless but you happened to have a crush on your best friend as well.

“I’m stuck going to this thing I might as well have some fun with it.” He said putting his hands behind his head as he stretched out on the couch. “My dad will be pissed that your quirkless it’ll be hilarious.”

“Are you sure it’s worth it stirring up trouble?” You asked. Being quirkless was a bit of a sensitive subject, not that you talked about it a lot.

“Yeah. And it would be nice having my best friend there to keep me sane.” He said with a smirk.

“Okay, if you want me to.” You told him. You knew it might be a bad idea but you wanted to help Touya out.

That’s how you ended up standing in front of the Todoroki estate wearing the nicest dress you had in your closet even though Touya tried to convince you to wear sweatpants. You convinced him to wear something normal, telling him that he was trying to make his dad mad not upset his mother. That shut him up pretty quickly.

You were nervous, to say the least, his family was intimidating, not only their high-class standing but knowing their personal history added another layer.

Touya’s hand enveloped yours as you waited for someone to answer the door and your heart nearly stopped. You had to remind yourself in your head that this wasn’t real. You weren’t Touya’s girlfriend. You were just here to upset his Dad. How did you get yourself into this?

The door opened and Enji Todoroki stood in the doorway nearly taking up all the space there. You gulped silently. You had seen the man on TV but in person, he was far more intimidating. This was a bad idea.

Enji looked at you for a moment before looking at his son.

“Who’s that?” He asked not even directing the question to you.

“My girlfriend. Move.” He said, pushing past his father and pulling you behind him. Touya’s words sent your heart fluttering and you had to repeat your mantra. This isn’t real.

Touya lead you into the kitchen where his mom was working on dinner. You had met her once before, she was sweet. You had been at Touya’s house and she stopped by to bring him some groceries.

“Touya.” She said with a big smile on her face as she set down the knife she was using to chop vegetables. “You brought your friend, it’s so good to see you again.” She said before giving you both hugs.

“My girlfriend.” He corrected. This wasn’t real.

“Oh, how lovely. I thought you two would end up together.” She says with a smile. This isn’t real. You notice an odd expression on his face. He probably feels bad lying to her.

His sister, Fuyumi joins the conversation.

“Wow, Touya brought his first girl home. She must be a brave soul to face this family.” She jokes. This isn’t real.

Rei gives her a look that’s familiar to anyone who’s ever said anything that has annoyed their mother.

“Can’t say the same for your bird-brain boyfriend.” Touya shoots back at his sister.

“Keigo is a very busy man, he doesn’t have a lot of free time.” She says folding her arms.

“Good excuse.” He returns.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Rei says, giving you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, mom.” They said in unison.

“Do you need any help with dinner?” You asked Rei.

“Oh, thank you for the offering. But everything is almost done.” She said with a smile. “You guys can go wait in the living room with Shoto and Natsuo.”

With that, you followed Touya and Fuyumi to the living room.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m sorry about that. Not the best introduction but I can never miss an opportunity to get on Touya’s nerves.” Fuyumi said giving you a smile.

“Understandable.” You joked.

The living room was large and fancy, you had a feeling the furniture in this room alone was worth more than everything in your apartment. Including the apartment. Shoto and Natsuo sat there watching TV. You had met Natsuo and Shoto before so they weren’t unfamiliar. You knew Touya and Natsuo were very close, in fact, Natsuo knew of Touya’s plans tonight. Not that he approved of them but he wouldn’t spoil it.

Natsuo gave Touya a disapproving look before smiling at you. Shoto nodded in your direction. All of you made idle conversation until Rei told everyone dinner was ready.

Stepping into the dining room was terrifying. Enji sat at the head of the table and Rei sat down beside him. You followed Touya sitting as far away from Enji as you could. You shouldn’t have agreed to this. You prayed the focus would stay off of you but you knew it wouldn’t. There was a reason Touya brought you, he knew his family well. Enji was predictable.

The conversation went well for a while. Rei asked polite questions every once and a while in between everything. Just when you thought you’d get through the dinner without anything happening Enji looked to you.

“What quirk do you have?” The man cut to the chase. You gulped before answering.

“I don’t have a quirk, sir.” You answered.

Growing up wasn’t easy being quirkless. You had other children bullying you, teasing you, saying horrible things all because you didn’t have a quirk. But most of the time you were your own worst enemy. It hurt watching everyone around you getting exciting quirks while you waited and waited only to find that you didn’t have one.

Not to mention you always dreamed of being a hero but that dream was quickly ended. It was bad enough what you thought about yourself, you didn’t need others saying the same things confirming the truth.

“Touya, you dare to bring this worthless girl into our house.” Enji started. “Do you think I’d ever allow you to waste your time with someone who would only make this family worse?”

It was pitiful, you weren’t proud but tears started streaming down your face. You stood up and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind you before sliding to the ground. You covered your face with your hands, trying to stop the tears. You could hear the stunned silence outside the door before chaos broke out.

“What is wrong with you? How could you say that to a guest at dinner?” Rei scolded, sounding far angrier than you thought possible. “You made her cry!”

“What the hell!” Touya yelled and you could hear his chair fall over as you assumed he stood up.

“What the hell?” Natsuo chimed in. “You’re the one who thought it’d be fun to have her pretend to be your girlfriend. You really didn’t think this would happen? What kind of friend are you? Did you even think about her feelings?”

“What kind of joke were you trying to pull?” Fuyumi jumped in sounding upset.

It was hard to make out what was being said as everyone was talking at the same time. After a few moments it died down and you heard footsteps approach. You looked around the bathroom praying there would be a window you could squeeze out of. Sadly the only window was far too small to get through.

There was a knock on the door.

“I know you’re in there.” Touya’s voice was soft. “Please. Let me in.”

You considered letting him stay out there for a bit but decided against it. You opened the door from your position on the floor, just enough for him to get in. Touya looked at you with a sad expression before sitting down next to you, the side of his thigh against yours.

“I’m sorry isn’t enough.” He said.

“I agreed to this.” You said quietly.

“He’s my father. I knew how awful he was and I never once thought about how you could get hurt. I was being selfish.” He said with a sigh. “I was too busy being an idiot.”

“That’s nothing new.” You teased, giving a sad laugh.

“I didn’t know that it was a sensitive topic. I should have, you’re my best friend. I lo-” Touya cut himself off. “I should have been better to you.”

“I know you didn’t mean it.” You say. Touya could be an idiot but he had never been cruel intentionally to you. “I should have said no, I didn’t tell you.”

“Why didn’t you say no?” He asks.

“I just wanted to help you.” You say. Because I love you, is what you meant.

“I didn’t just ask you piss my dad off.” He says and you look over at him. He lets out a breath before continuing. “I guess I just wanted one night where I could pretend you were my girlfriend.”

That wasn’t what you expected him to say. Your eyes widen.

“W-What?”

“I’ve liked you, for a long time.” He explains with an intense look in his piercing blue eyes. “You’re my best friend, you’re always there for me. You help me when I need it, you make me laugh and I love being around you. Most people I get sick of being around in a few hours but with you, I could spend every minute of my life with you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

This feels like a dream, suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe and like your hearts going to beat out of your chest.

“Touya, I-” You start but he cuts you off.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just hope we can still be friends.” He says.

“But I-”

“You really mean so much to me, I would hate to lose you because I-”

This time you cut him off, leaning in to kiss him, silencing his words. Touya catches on quickly and wraps his arms around your waist nearly pulling you onto his lap. You pull back when you need a breath.

“So I take it you feel the same way?” He questions, an eyebrow raised.

“If you stopped cutting me off I was trying to say that, idiot.” You scold.

“Sorry, you know me.” He said before leaning in for another kiss.

You sit there, arms around his neck staring at him with a goofy grin unable to contain the happiness you feel.

“Look at you… Goodness, you’re so cute.” Touya says returning your grin. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I could ask the same.” You smile.

The realization hits that you’re sitting in his family’s bathroom after running out of a family dinner crying. Touya notices your drop-in demeanor.

“Want me to sneak you out and we can get junk food and watch Avatar: The Last Airbender and cuddle till we pass out on your couch?” He asks.

“I sweat you’re the perfect man, even if you are an idiot sometimes.”

taglist: @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @softkatsuki @x0doodlebug0x @katsuhoee

#dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #toya x reader #toya todoroki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #au prompts #my writing #poplarandfir

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katy-l-wood · 3 years

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Hey I can't come up with something more coherent right now but: I think you're really cool! Thank you for sharing so much art and writing, I'm consistently impressed and often inspired by what you make.

Also! Do you have a post anywhere talking in detail about your day job? I don't know if I have the chops to get a spot making museum-quality replicas, but I'd really like to build on my sculpting skills and make more accurate replicas (starting with non-fossilized remains I have, since I can't very well mold/cast something I don't have access to of course). Do you have advice on materials or tools or techniques for making skeletal replicas? And/or any resources you know for learning such things? I don't mean to burden you with large requests, mostly I don't know where to start.

Hm. If that makes sense? I also ask because I'd love to hear about sort of what your trajectory looked like to get to your current job, or any recommendations you may have for people looking to get into similar fields (quite vague, sorry :/ ) and of course, how you like it! Hope you're enjoying life right now!

Sorry for such a long ask! And of course don't feel like you have to address everything (or anything hah), mostly wanted to send in some positivity! Thank you!

Second ask: Oh and of course the weird real estate posts are always funny, so thanks for those as well

Awww, thank you so much! I'm so glad you like my work.

So, everything about my day job is under the tag "Makin' Bones." I've done a few minor things about what it entails, but I'm happy to go into more detail! How I got into it, though, was that I saw a facebook post that they were hiring about a year and a half ago and thought "that sure sounds neat even if this is a kinda sketchy facebook post, I shall apply!" And I did. And I got the job. And now I make replica bones. Do I have a background in Paleontology? No! Do I have a background in molding and casting? No! I literally just followed a weird facebook post into the woods and HERE WE ARE.

Anyways.

Firstly, my business trains from scratch! I can't speak to other fossil replication places, but we're the top fossil replicators in the US so if we can train from scratch I don't see why anyone else couldn't. With that said, there's really not that many places in the US that JUST do fossil replicas. A lot of museums have a department for it, or a few people that happen to know how to do it on top of their main job, but very very few JUST do replicas like we do.

When it comes to physical sculpting we really don't do much except when we get the RARE life model commission (usually of fish, for whatever reason). What we DO do a lot of, however, is digital sculpting. Digital reconstruction is a rapidly growing part of our business. For example, here is a diagram of a mosasaur skull we recently did a digital reconstruction of to remove it from the surrounding stone and reconstruct it into its original shape since it got squished over time:

The original skull was scanned using photogrametry and then the skull was extracted from the matrix and restored using Zbrush. So, if you want to get into the nitty gritty side of reconstructing fossils my advice is: learn Zbrush, learn photogrametry, and learn 3D printing.

Now, onto molding and casting. This is the biggest part of what we do. This process involves taking the original fossil (or a high quality 3D print of it made using the aforementioned techniques) and using high resolution silicone to create a cast of it. This cast is then filled using a two part liquid plastic (some large bones are rotated during this process, creating a plastic shell that is then filled with foam to cut down on weight). One the plastic sets the silicone mold is removed and a dremmel is used to trim off any excess plastic around the seams of the mold. From there the replica is assembled into its final pose on a custom welded metal support structure. Once this structure is complete the fossil is broken back down and painted. Once painting is complete the job is done and it is packed off and shipped to its new home!

So! If you want to get into this part of things I recommend looking into how silicone molding works. It takes a very good eye for forms and how liquids move to be able to make a good mold that fills properly, comes apart easily, and can be easily reuseable. Silicone molding isn't really the best "at home" project, though, as it is SUPER messy, hard to clean up, and you have to wear a respirator to be safe with it. I recommend looking for a local maker space in your area, or a local art group of some sort, just something that has an official space set up for that sort of thing. Barring that, you can also just use play-dough while you're first starting out. Find a bone, get some playdough and some quick set plaster, and just start pressing the playdough into bones, then pouring plaster into the cavity to see how your copies come out.

Other stuff that would be useful to learn: how to use a dremmel, general anatomy/how to recognize different bones, basic paleontology, and basic painting techniques like dry brushing and washes.

Hope this helps! Feel free to send me more asks if you have more questions.

#Makin' Bones #About Me #Long Post

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a-libra-writes · 3 years

Text

Salt & Snow - Chapter 6

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (?)

Summary: Ned finally returns to his childhood home, to the happiness of his siblings and Y/N ... though she’s also beside herself with nerves. As it turns out, the two of them are awkward teenagers.

Use this chrome extension to replace “Y/N” with a different name :)

“That’s the last of it, milord.” The servant tightened the leather straps on the wooden trunk, ensuring they were secure. Once satisfied, he nodded to the guide that would be taking the young Lord Stark down the mountain. The man was withered, but he expertly steered his mules, or so they said. Ned hadn’t realized how many possessions he’d collected in his years in the Eyrie, and felt bad for making the beasts carry so much.

The old mountain guide said it was fine, and it wouldn’t unbalance them. “You worry about stayin’ on that mule, milord. When’s the last time you descended?”

He thought about it. “Four years, mayhaps more.”

“Aye, it’s much the same. It’s still spring, it will warm quickly as we go down.” The old man guided him to one of the mules, a shaggy, dark brown one with long ears. Ned thought it was cute in an ugly way, and climbed up. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring how the Eyrie hung above them. He remembered the first time he climbed up here, terrified he’d fall the entire way, and then afraid the Eyrie would somehow fall from the sky and plummet to the ground.

I’ll be the one doing the plummeting, if this beast missteps. Ned was mostly, probably confident that wouldn’t happen. He wondered what sort of mule they gave Robert, the beast of a man. He couldn’t imagine his friend sitting quietly for the better part of the day. That thought made him smile a little, and sigh. Robert left a month ago, and now it was his turn. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Robert and then to Lord Arryn. The first month I couldn’t stop thinking about Winterfell, how I wanted to go back. It hurts to leave now.

It hurt, but it was time to go. He wanted to see his family again, to see Winterfell, and the godswood, and Wintertown and the forest surrounding them. He’d smell pines and fresh earth again — gods know the Eyrie sorely lacked in both — and the animals that ran through those woods. He wondered what had changed, what was the same.

Suddenly, Ned recalled a letter where Y/N described the repairs on one of the towers, the old one that was slowly crumbling. That made him remember the last one he sent, and he covered his face with a groan.

“Doing well, milord?” The guide asked, looking back. “Don’t look down.”

Ned merely nodded, glad the guide and the other servants were too busy navigating to notice his stupid face. Why had he written that? Why did he send it? She must be think he was an utter fool. She hadn’t even sent anything back yet.

No, letters are slow to the Eyrie, and I’m leaving, besides — perhaps it was lost.

The thought of Lord Arryn receiving it and sending it back was mortifying, even if the man would never read it. For days Ned’s mind had been racing about Robert’s departure, his own journey, and the stupid words he wrote down. He’d repeated them so many times in his head, hoping he was misremembering.

He groaned and laid his head on the neck of the mule. It smelled awful, but he stayed there. Y/N must have thought him a complete fool, how would he face her once he came home? It would be a long, long journey.

What in the seven hells did he mean by that?

Y/N stared at the words, her eyes running over them, which was a pointless act. She’d memorized these lines in particular, able to recall them in spite of her attempts to keep busy. She hadn’t responded, because how could she? Anytime she sat down and began to dab her quill, the butterflies battered against her stomach. She’d set her quill on the page, watching the ink soak into the paper, but Y/N only managed a few sentences before fumbling, misspelling a word, dripping ink everywhere and just giving up. She’d thrown several pages into the fire already.

I’m being ridiculous, I’m overthinking. Aren’t I? Hasn’t he always said kind things to me? Why is this different?

A week ago, Y/N dug through her box of letters saved over the years, hoping to assure herself. That was a mistake. She read through things she’d forgotten, phrases she remembered, looked over the little drawings he attempted, and her butterflies became relentless. She had to put the letters away and spent the entire day flustered and distracted.

She rubbed at her face and sighed heavily. She put the letter out of sight, knowing it wouldn’t be out of mind for a while. She ought to stop procrastinating, to send something back already; it’d been almost three weeks. Or was it four? She’d been procrastinating with everything imaginable — long boring books, needlework, studying maps, playing music, even riding.

I have to answer eventually. I really am thinking too much. Just write something safe! Something boring!

Instead of doing that, Y/N left her room and looked for something to do. Perhaps if she could talk about her feelings it would help, but she couldn’t. Not even to Lyanna. Her friend had stopped reading the letters, preferring to send her own, and Y/N was sure they weren’t as frequent… That, and she couldn’t imagine letting anyone read what she wrote or drew now.

Is it strange, how often we write? Has anyone noticed? A little voice nagged at Y/N. She and Ned were well past the age of innocent friendly correspondence. She didn’t speak much about it, secretly worried she’d be told to stop. The idea of getting “caught” wasn’t pleasant, but the idea of stopping was worse. The correspondence had become a comfort, a way to raise her spirits, warmth and confidence in her heart. She understood how some would find that emotion improper.

A servant hurried past Y/N, nearly hitting her and knocking her right out of her thoughts. The boy called an apology and kept running. In the great hall, she saw half a dozen men moving boxes, and one of the elder servants giving them orders. Savory smells came from the kitchen, and peaking inside, Y/N saw the cooks and their girls busy chopping and stewing.

She tried to recall the last time Winterfell was this abuzz. The death of Lady Stark cast a dreary curtain over the castle, and while it was gradually lifting, a feast still felt out of place. Brandon was away again, but there was never a big to-do for his return.

“Found you!” Lyanna called to her, and Y/N jumped. It was absurd how much she’d been lost in her head as of late. She was glad Lyanna didn’t tease her; instead, the girl asked, “Why is everyone so restless today?”

“I was just thinking that. Did you see the kitchens? I can’t imagine why we’d need so much sausage and stew.”

“They’re making dessert, too! I’d ask my father, but I can’t find him anywere.” As they talked, Lyanna and Y/N walked outside to one of the many yards inside Winterfell’s walls. Just like inside, there was a flurry of activity, things being moved and cleaned. Lyanna said half the horses had been taken, perhaps on a hunt for fresh stag. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned on her heels to face Y/N, nearly knocking the girl over in the process. “Y/N, what if… what if my father finally decided—?”

“He didn’t,” Y/N replied instantly. “He would tell you, Lyanna. It won’t be a surprise. Maybe something happened and he’s gathering some bannermen on short notice; maybe it’s about Brandon’s wedding. He has been gone for the better part of a month.”

“That’s all true,” Lyanna said, although she didn’t sound comforted. “Perhaps Father is entertaining some ladies for him. Oh, gods, we’ll have to make smalltalk with them…”

They sat on one of the many carts strewn about the yard, following the activity. Predictably, Y/N’s mind wandered to Ned, and she kept her sigh from escaping. She glanced at Lyanna, half-listening to her friend chatter about a hedge knight that visited months ago. He showed off some jousting in the yard for their amusement, and Lyanna was still enamored. Y/N’s thoughts were wholly preoccupied with the terrifying idea of telling her about the letters, the ones that had gradually become far less proper and more personal.

Suddenly Lyanna asked, “Did you have any plans today?”

“I have a feeling if I did, you’d pull me away.” Y/N said. “Why?”

“Do you still have your old brown cloak?”

Those grey eyes were gleaming with some sort of mischief. Perhaps it was the restlessness of the people around them, or her own anxious thoughts… but rather than steer away from trouble, Y/N turned toward it.

There were small collections of cottages directly outside the walls of Winterfell, mostly farmers and butchers who directly served the castle, and offered board to travelers during the large feasts. But if someone really wanted to find something interesting, they’d go to Wintertown. These were the more prosperous smallfolk, the merchants, innkeeps, blacksmiths, and so on. There was even a small sept, although most Northern townspeople had little use for it. Y/N had come here only a dozen times; to go, she and Lyanna would need an escort, and Brandon wasn’t eager to follow two silly girls around.

As far as they were concerned, the matter of an escort was silly now that they were women. Lyanna had no fear as she put on an old cotton dress and her grey cloak, while Y/N wore her brown and black dress she saved for riding and a deep blue cloak. Y/N tucked her pearl and jewelry away, and Lyanna pulled her own dark brown hair out of its braid until it was all around her shoulders, wild and free. The girls snuck quietly out into the yard, avoiding servants and guards, then drew their hoods up once they reached the gates. They waited, then Y/N pointed. Three sworn guards were distracted with a complaining merchant, and they slipped past the gate.

Once outside, they kept their hoods up, but giggled to one another. After walking a mile, they came across a farmer on the way to Wintertown, and asked if they could ride in his cart. The old man squinted at them, trying to focus his gaze.

“Are ye girls the swineherder’s daughters? Jeyne and … Milly, was it?”

“That’s our names. Can you take us to town?” Lyanna asked, putting on a false voice. When the old man agreed, she grinned so broadly, Y/N had to nudge her and give her a warning look. They hopped into the back of the cart and chatted while it swayed and hobbled along. The last time, it was an hour of walking before a cart passed by.

It’s good to see her like this, happy again. Y/N thought, glancing to her friend as Lyanna chatted. It’s been a dreary six moons. Or has it been longer?

Lyanna hadn’t been herself the whole time. Since her mother died, everything was bleaker. For the first moon, she just wanted to stay inside. After that she’d go out riding for hours at a time, and for once, Lord Stark didn’t scold her for it. Sometimes she’d rage, pick fights with Brandon or a guardman’s boy. Sometimes she’d just stay in bed. Those days were always the bad ones, Y/N knew, and she’d stay with her, writing or drawing or doing needlework while Lyanna laid there.

They’d get far worse than a scolding if they were caught at this game, but she just wanted Lyanna to be happy again. Wintertown was in sight, and they thanked the old man and hopped off his cart, too excited to wait for his mules to take them any farther. Y/N took Lyanna’s arm so they’d at least stay together, and they were off.

Just like the last time they visited, the town was buzzing. Thoughts of Ned’s words and Lyanna’s sadness quickly faded in the back of Y/N’s mind as they followed whatever interested them. A girl half their height was herding a group of sheep through the middle of a wide street, a woman was selling bolts of impossibly colorful fabric and thread, a blacksmith was loudly working on a sword. The girls watched all of it.

“Wait!” Y/N patted Lyanna’s arm excitedly, distracting her from the molten-hot red sword and the hammer that was beating down on it. “Do you see that?” She pointed.

Lyanna squinted. “That stall over there?”

“Yes, let’s hurry! Maybe he still has some!”

“What are you talking about?” Lyanna laughed, but followed along. She quickly realized why Y/N was so excited: There was a variety of colorful, fresh vegetables, but more importantly… fruit.

“You buying?” The man asked warily, mistaking them for the lowborn girls they were dressed as. Back in their bedchamber, Y/N had to remind Lyanna to tuck away her direwolf pin. “I’m selling, not giving. You girls got coin?”

Y/N ignored his tone and asked, “Are these from White Harbor? My father worked the docks.”

“That so? He on one of the merman’s ships, or the ray’s?”

“The manta ray, at the Whitetide docks.”

The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. He nodded his head like he was familiar with this mystery sailor. “Aye, with Lord Caspian’s fleet? His ships are good ones. These fruit come all the way from Dorne and the Arbor, but they’re still fresh.”

Y/N could see that. Her heart was racing at the sight of peaches, oranges, limes, figs… of course, Lyanna’s eyes went straight to the lemons. She giggled and shook her head. “They’re better when they’re baked in cakes. Have you had an orange before?”

“Never. Let’s get some. Four, if we could?” Lyanna asked the man, and he handed them over. Four was all he had, and Y/N paid, feeling a little sorry for taking so many. She wondered if the common folk could afford fruits. This cold preserved them well.

They walked around the market idly, more interested in the treats they just acquired. Y/N taught Lyanna how to peel the orange and the wolf-girl was delighted with how sweet and juicy they were. “This is wonderful! Why aren’t we baking these into cakes?”

“I suppose someone tried, and it didn’t work out well,” Y/N mused. “My mother liked to squeeze them into her water, or she’d just drink the juice itself. When you preserve the peels and dry them, you can scatter them amongst your things to make them smell good.” She thought about her mother’s hugs, and her favorite parlor, and the strong smell of citrus and exotic flowers that permeated both. She was a Northern woman, but took to the wonders of Dorne and Essos and the Reach, little treasures brought in on her husband’s ships. It was how her father courted her: With baskets of fruit, tropical flowers, strings of pearls and giant conch shells. Y/N smiled, remembering how her mother lit up when she told her about it.

“I can promise you, my little pearl, one day you will have such kindnesses paid by someone who truly adores you.”

“You know so many things. All I know is passable dancing, and horses.” Lyanna said, breaking Y/N’s reverie, of which she was grateful for. The Stark girl rubbed at her chin where some juices at dribbled, and Y/N handed her a handkerchief.

“You know swords and lances well.”

“Aye, but I’m not allowed to use them.” Lyanna frowned, but it didn’t look like her mood was lowering. She eagerly bit into a second orange instead. Y/N sighed and put the handkerchief back into her reticule.

“Can I have the peels?” She asked.

“Are you going to put them into my riding boots?”

“Gods, I’d need a bushel to mask that scent.”

Lyanna didn’t want to throw her precious orange, so she settled for lunging and chasing Y/N instead. Y/N shrieked and ran, glad for the headstart: Lyanna had to chew and swallow her orange pieces properly before tearing after her. Lyanna’s old dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull up the skirts, but Y/N had the lighter cloak. She shrieked again as Lyanna grasped for it, but missed. “I’ll get you for that!” The girl hollered. “Come back, Y/N!”

They laughed and chased each other around the town like children, and no one cared. Some older women noticed and scowled, and a few children laughed and followed for a while, but no one stopped them. No one grabbed their ears and admonished them for the messy hair, dirty clothes and sticky orange-flavored fingers. They were little girls again, not proper ladies of five and ten, daughters of Stark and Caspian.

Y/N stopped suddenly, then yelped as Lyanna tackled her to the ground. She squirmed and coughed. “Lyanna! You’ll kill me!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t finish!” Lyanna responded. She realized Y/N was still winded and moved off her. “Oh, are you hurt?”

“No,” Y/N sat up and blinked the dust out of her eyes. Satisfied, Lyanna flicked an orange peel at her. Y/N picked it off her lap and ate it. Lyanna made a face, like Y/N just ate the peel of a lemon — then she remembered she saw her friend do that, too.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N asked. It was the entire reason she stopped. Both girls kept still and listened. They were on the edge of Wintertown, their game taking them to the very end of it. Out here was a few modest homes and small gardens, a crumbling wall, and the road leading to Winterfell.

“Horses,” Lyanna said. She listened. “Several of them, moving at once. It’s probably a retinue.”

“Is it Brandon? I can’t recall when he was supposed to come home.”

“It would be bad for Brandon to find us like this and tell father,” Lyanna said, but she laughed. She was like her old self today. Suddenly, she said, “Oh. We should have saved an orange for Ben.”

“But not Brandon?”

“His Lordliness can get fruit whenever he wants. He can ride to the Reach and pick it himself.” Lyanna scoffed. She stood up, pulled Y/N to her feet and they both dusted their dresses and cloaks off. The horses were closer now, easy to hear without them staying quiet. It had to be Brandon, or a nearby lord. It was too much commotion for farmers bringing food.

The girls walked to the crumbling wall and crouched down, eager to peek at the banners. They weren’t foolish enough to openly stare, even if this was Wintertown, they weren’t entirely safe. Y/N had a vague thought that Lyanna might have a dagger in her boot, but that wasn’t real protection. She kicked herself for not bringing something of her own, even if she had no idea how to use it.

“They’re taking their time,” Lyanna muttered. “Has to be a lord. A lordling wouldn’t bring so many wagons, and a merchant wouldn’t be so slow. If it is Brandon, let’s throw rocks.”

“Let’s not.”

“Fine, a single rock. I won’t hit his horse, she deserves better. It could always be Ser Roderick, or the Pooles. Maybe even Cerwyn —”

Y/N pulled her back, lower against the stone wall. “Shh.”

Two horses passed, carrying modestly protected Northern guards. Then four more guards followed, dressed in different leather and armor. Y/N squinted, not recognizing the arms on their surcoats. It wasn’t anyone sworn to House Stark. Then, what they wanted: The banners.

One man held a direwolf, and another one held a blue falcon. Lyanna shot up, and Y/N stumbled, as she was still holding onto her.

Then she looked up, and jumped to her feet just as Lyanna had. They both stared.

It was Brandon, as they guessed, and someone else. They rode ahead, followed by a few more men, one of them a fully-armored knight who wore the crest of a sky-blue and white falcon.

“Ned!!”

Lyanna was gone. She tore across a small field to the road, and the guards stopped all at once, their hands flying to their hips. That action snapped Y/N to attention, but she could only stand and stare. She watched the boy — no, young man — beside Brandon turn in his saddle, and his grey eyes lit up with surprise and happiness.

Y/N thought someone was sitting on her chest, then something was trying to get out of it. She was choked up, the world was spinning, and she could barely hear the words Lyanna, Ned and Brandon were all saying. Lyanna nearly jumped up on the horse, but Ned swiftly dismounted. He only had a moment before he was being strangled in a hug.

Brandon got down from his horse and said something to the guards. The horses shook their heads at the commotion but Lyanna shouted again, and two of the knights laughed, and Y/N was still.

Then Ned looked up over his sister’s head, and met eyes with her. Y/N took a step forward, then another. She forgot she was wearing an old dress, a cloak that was now dirty from running about, that her hair was out of a normally tamed and styled braid. Ned held out his hand, as though she was close and not ten or fifteen feet away.

Y/N shyly walked down the field to the road, trying not to look at the guards, or Brandon. Lyanna pulled away from Ned and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last two feet. “What are you doing, Y/N? Come over here!”

She was pushed in front of him. He was different in some ways, but not many. Brandon towered above him and Lyanna was just a little shorter. Y/N smiled at that, but quickly looked to her hands, which smelled of oranges and still had a little stickiness on them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Y/N could only say. She thought of all the clever and interesting words she sent before, and how they were failing her horribly now. Her mind scrambled for something to say, something she had written before, something good, but it was all jumbled.

She didn’t look at Ned as he replied, “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

It was quiet, like they were the only ones, but that was quickly interrupted. Brandon was beside them, loudly teasing, “It’s Lady Y/N, brother. I thought the South was supposed to teach you all those stuffy manners.”

“She’s always been Y/N to us,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “More importantly, were you and father keeping this a secret?”

Her brother replied with a small smile. “Yes, it… it was supposed to be a surprise. I never imagined we’d meet you here.”

“And why are you two here?” Brandon crossed his arms. His good humor quickly left, as if he just took in their location and their clothes. He looked at Lyanna, then Y/N, and kept his attention on the latter. “Did you sneak out without a guard? Do you know how dangerous that can be? And why are you dressed like that?”

Y/N self-consciously pulled at her cloak as he questioned them, remembering the state she was in. Brandon’s words didn’t bother her, it was the realization that Ned hadn’t seen her in years, and this is what he saw as soon as he came back. Didn’t I have silly daydreams of him seeing me in the gown I made, or a new one? Why am I even thinking about that?

She was glad Lyanna and Brandon got into a little spat, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped behind Lyanna, half to shield herself, half to put some distance between her and Ned. She was steadily being overcome with an urge to hug him — wouldn’t that be natural? He was home now, but … it wasn’t that simple. So, she kept at Lyanna’s side, redirecting her attention on calming her friend.

“When I tell father about this, he’ll have words to say, especially since tonight he wants to hold a feast —”

“— If you tell him, I’ll tell about all that extra time you spend at the Rills!”

“It’s my job as heir to visit our bannermen and listen to their grievances!”

“Oh, yes, the pretty Ryswell daughters have much to say, I’m sure —”

Brandon went red and was ready to retort hotly, when Ned cleared his throat. He inclined his head to the men around them, all visibly impatient. Ned himself had some of that energy as he said, “Let’s go home.”

The way he said it, how could anyone continue to argue? Brandon stopped at once, knowing it had been years since his little brother had seen Winterfell properly. He patted him affectionately on the back, and Lyanna beamed. Y/N met eyes with Ned again, and they both turned away.

Brandon took his horse’s bridle. “Whose riding with whomst?”

“I’ll ride with Ned!” Lyanna blurted excitedly, and disappointment shot through Y/N so quickly, she felt a little sick. Don’t be stupid. That’s her brother, and she’ll just quarrel with Brandon, besides.

Brandon offered her a hand and easily swept her up on his horse. He asked if she was comfortable before swinging up himself, settling in like it was as easy as sitting in a chair. The problem is he put her in front, so his arms were loosely around her as he gathered his reins. Nervous as she was around these beasts, Y/N almost preferred riding behind him, although that was not always considered proper for a lady. Y/N had to hold onto him, especially with how far up she was. Brandon had a fine old destrier, once a great warhorse, still mighty and tall in her old age. She was perfect for taking him around the North, but Y/N thought she was entirely too big.

Lyanna happily settled in behind Ned instead of in front of him. Again, Y/N met his eyes. He had expressions that said so much, especially since he himself said little. She couldn’t read this one, though. Brandon called out, “Move on!” and the small escort went on the road. Y/N was thankful for the easy pace, and the steady gait of the destrier.

Her nervousness slowly settled as the four of them made conversation, with the Vale knight occasionally speaking up. Before long, the walls of Winterfell appeared before them, the proud white banners flying above. Ned looked up at the direwolf, and Y/N could swear some fatigue just melted right off him. The gates opened, and the guards keeping their station happily called to the boys, not noticing the state Lord Stark’s daughter and his ward were in. By the time their escort entered the yard, several servants, men-at-arms and children had come to see Ned come home.

Benjen pushed through all of them, eagerly running at his older brother. There was no shortage of hugs as Lyanna, Benjen and Ned reunited, while Brandon helped Y/N off the horse. Unlike his oldest brother, Benjen hadn’t developed an avoidance to his sister and her companion. He was only two years younger than them, and looked hurt as he said, “You all met him without me!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ned said again. “I crossed Brandon on the road by chance, and then these two—”

“Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence?” Lyanna grinned. She was still standing close to Ned, all but hanging off him. Y/N allowed Benjen to squeeze past her to get to Ned.

While the three chattered, Y/N asked Brandon, “You truly didn’t know? Where were you coming from?”

“Returning from the Karstarks. Father didn’t tell me a thing.”

Lyanna and Benjen began dragging Ned to the great hall, and now servants and guards started gathering, having realized who he was and all were eager to see him. Y/N smiled, pleased he was so missed… and only slightly glad he was moving further from her. She was anxious of what would happen if they were in a small group again, or worse, alone. She almost wanted to stay behind, but Brandon called to her, lingering back so she could catch up.

Being alone happened far sooner than Y/N anticipated.

The next morning, she stepped carefully through the snow, watching for roots just slightly sticking out. The sun was beginning to peak over the stone walls, helping her navigate the quiet yard. This route wasn’t yet familiar to her. She’d only made it recently, and often without Lyanna. Her friend wanted to mourn in quiet.

Y/N descended into the crypts. She shuddered instantly, feeling a far stronger cold take hold of her. Her footsteps echoed off the stone and she walked steadily toward her destination, passing statues of long dead Lord Starks and their sons.

Lady Lyarra did not have a sculpted sepulcher, but she had a beautiful tomb and marker for her bones. Y/N held her reticule close, bringing it to her nose so she could smell the crisp, dried oranges and give herself peace of mind. She hadn’t even visited her own family’s crypt.

She gasped as the shadows shuddered, nearly dropping the dried peels. The torches were scattered about, some not lit, making the shadows grow and recede with every second. She heard something just a few feet away.

Y/N bit down a curse as Ned came into view, the shadows circling around him. He blinked at her, his grey eyes almost looking black in the limited light.

“Y/N?”

“Y-You scared me,” She shuddered. “I didn’t — I didn’t think there would be anyone here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” Y/N paused. She couldn’t seem to steady her heart, not with Ned looking directly at her. He was so much taller than before. She turned away. “I wanted to pay my respects. To give a gift.”

He didn’t respond right away. Y/N thought of the letters, of the reassurances, the kindnesses she sent him when he finally heard the news of his mother’s passing.

Why was it failing her now? She squeezed the fabric bag between her fingers.

“You brought something for her?” Ned asked quietly. “Could I see?”

Y/N nodded. She stepped closer, but not enough to feel any warmth from him. The cold of the crypt was cooling her nerves. “Orange peels. I dried them. They… they smell nice.”

She felt foolish, but he smiled. It was slight, but it was there.

“This way.” He said. He took a torch off the wall and led her deeper in. Y/N forgot how far it truly was. The Starks had been dying for centuries, and soon they would have to dig deeper into the cave to make space for the future generations. Lyarra was buried next to her parents, neither of who had a statue either.

There were fresh blue roses on the grave, and older, smaller blossoms that had begun to dry and decay. Y/N recalled Benjen brought those. She arranged the orange peels neatly, happy with the fragrance they gave off in addition to the roses. Ned must have brought those.

She quietly prayed, and Ned kept quiet beside her, perhaps joining her, perhaps not. When she finished, her hands fell to her side. Her cold, bare fingers brushed with Ned’s, and she felt the soft wool of his gloves. His finger hooked around one of her’s, and she curled it.

“Ned, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but I can only imagine how much you must hurt. If I could only help — if you were only right here, instead of far away —”

“When I home come, I want to see you, and do all the things we said we would do. I want to watch you paint, and dance, and maybe ride a horse — because I know Lyanna will make us — but most of all, I want to hear your voice.”

Y/N felt her throat was dry, but she stayed put, wondering if her heartbeat could be heard bouncing off the walls. She knew if she looked at him, even with a glance, she’d lose all composure and just run away.

She almost did that, when a loud noise made them both jump nearly two feet apart. Ned instantly took her hand back to push her behind him, then touched his sword. He grasped the hilt and lifted it just an inch out of the scabbard.

“Gods!” Y/N let out a hard breath. The skinny orange cat that knocked the unlit brazier over. It didn’t have coal in it, but it still made a terrible racket. The cat hissed and ran back into the shadows.

“I see he’s still here,” Ned mumbled. He set his sword back, and his shoulders were still tight. “Damned creature.”

“He gets lost down here so often. If he were kinder, I’d carry him out.”

“If it’s the same orange cat from when I was a boy, he’d rather freeze to death than be touched for even a moment.”

Silly smiles graced their faces, in spite of where they were, in spite of why they came in the first place. Ned nervously touched the hilt of his sword. “Shall we return?”

As they stepped out of the crypt, Y/N had to lift her skirts to climb the stairs easier. Ned offered his hand, and she took it for the last few steps. He didn’t immediately let go, and she didn’t comment on it. Instead she asked, “Did they make you learn those manners in the South?”

“There’s all sorts of manners and noble bearing they expect. It’s exhausting,” Ned admitted with a shy expression, and Y/N couldn’t help but imagine him trying some sort of silly, formal dance she’d heard about.

“Give me an example.”

He stared at their connected hands, his ears and cheeks slowly growing redder. Y/N didn’t pull away, even if her own body was threatening to explode with nerves and heat.

She expected him to kiss her hand, like she’d hear the other girls gossip about. She felt his warm lips against her fingers, through her thin gloves, and it made her jolt. Some of his brown hair brushed against her arm. I might well and truly die now.

Ned coughed and hastily turned away from her, utterly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Th-that’s what Lord Arryn… what Lord Arryn said to do when … when meeting a lady…”

“Are you kissing other ladies?” She couldn’t help it. She giggled, the warmth in her chest bubbling up to her lips. Her hand felt like it was on fire. “Should I be jealous, Ned?”

Ned covered his face with his hands, and she laughed. She covered her own face to settle her silly, foolish giddiness. “Of course not,” He grumbled. “You’re the only one I ever spoke to, besides.”

“Oh, you must have talked to some in the Eyrie.”

“Some.” Ned’s grey eyes glanced to her. She met his gaze, and they held it as he continued, “Though I kept wishing you were there.”

Y/N had to look away again. She couldn’t giggle, her throat was stuck, her chest hurt and she hated how tongue-tied she was. She never imagined it would be this hard — whatever this was —

“What in the seven hells are you both doing?”

Looking through her fingers, Y/N watched Brandon saunter up to them. The older Stark tilted his head to his brother.

Ned could only manage to suspiciously avoid looking at him. Brandon glanced between them, and Y/N felt like she had done something wrong. She quickly said, “We were visiting the crypt to pay our respects.”

Brandon’s face fell, and he said little else. Y/N understood it would be time for breakfast soon, and the morning sun had long broken over the tall stone walls. The three of them walked back to the keep together, Brandon pointedly putting himself between Y/N and Ned.

#ned stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #salt & snow #libra fics

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highfaelucien · 3 years

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I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex. Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta. And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic. The whole mor/az situation really fucked me up. As someone who is also a lesbian and an abuse survivor, it broke my heart to watch the situation unfold in acowar. It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character. And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him. Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

I'm going to quote parts of this/chop it up and reply to them a chunk at a time. because there's a lot going on here and I want to try and reply to as much as I can because I resonate with.....all of it. Please forgive me for the length of this.

I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex.

He feels like a different character? There was always an anger simmering under the calm surface, we knew that. But it was an anger born of love, deep down, and the desire to protect his family, and his court, at the expense of himself. Az was always the first to volunteer himself for dangerous missions, to spare the others.

Now that anger is directed at his family, and at the world, for not giving him what he feels he 'deserves'. That has NEVER been Azriel. Azriel's deepest issues and insecurities have always stemmed from the feeling of being unworthy, and undeserving of anything.

She's just made him into......Every other dude in this series tbh. Snarling, and possessive, and wanting to fuck anything in a skirt that moves.

Azriel was actually somewhat of an original, complex character initially. It's unusual that we see trauma affect men in the way it did Az. Usually it makes them angry, and vengeful, and eager to prove they are the alpha etc. Seeing them withdraw, and think less of themselves/that they're unworthy is something not explored often enough. But bye bye nuance hello #Drama.

Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta.

I feel this. I found a lot of comfort in Az's character. Particularly the way he reacted with Mor. I was a big fan of their relationship, and I wrote a few 'missing scenes' style fics in the gap between ACOMAF and ACOWAR. One of them was where Az went to her when she had pushed everyone else away, including Cassian, and comforted and calmed her.

I hate that Maas took that away from Mor. I hate that Az no longer does that for her. I hate that Az was the one to betray her along with Rhys and bring her abuser into her safe space behind her back. I hate that he is no longer a symbol of calm, stable, dependable comfort and support for Mor, but is instead a threat. I HATE it.

Every now and then Az has lovely, gentle moments - his friendship with Nesta is a good example, and something I hoped we'd see. But also quieter times with Rhys, and their similarities being explored. And I adored the flying lessons with Feyre in ACOWAR, and the training he did with Cassian and the others in ACOFS.

But then she goes and twists him and does something else that just makes me want to fucking scream. Like the High Lord scene where he 'frightened' Mor. And his entire POV chapter which is frankly fucking gross.

And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic.

I agree.

I don't know how she can write a series that explores the effects of emotional abuse so well with Feyre and Tamlin...And then write what she did with Az?

The possession to a traumatised, still impressionable and desperate young woman, who likely finds the same comfort and safety in him that Mor did. Before that got shot to fucking pieces.

He sounds like a whiny toddler 'Cassian has a mate, and Rhys has a mate, where is mine!?!?!?!?' I DESERVE Elain, because I'm your brother and you guys have her sisters and what the FUCK. Who let that shit get published holy mother of god.

It's just...It's so unhealthy? Like, not even talking ship wars here (which I'm aware are rampant, and which I'm trying my best to stay away from). But that just.

How can that ever be a healthy foundation for a relationship? A man who thinks that he deserves, not only to be in a relationship with her, but to be bonded to her. Not because of HER, not because of who she is, or how she makes him feel. No. Purely because her sisters are mated to his brothers?

The whole thing made me feel so uncomfortable. It's predatory and toxic, just as you said. It's not right, it's not fair. Forget alliances and Lucien, even if none of that was a factor, that sort of thinking is still not right. And it's completely unfair to Elain.

But it also just. It didn't read like Azriel. The first part, where he struggles to sleep, and pushes himself until he passes out, and the insight that his shadows are basically hovering beside him screaming SELF CARE YOU DUMB BITCH at all times was very pleasing.

And the part where he goes to Clotho and leaves an anonymous gift for Gwyn. No fanfair. No audience. No pressure on either of them to react/perform. That felt like Az, too.

But everything in the middle. Everything with Elain, was just...Gross and out of character. And this is not because I dislike E/riel as a ship. I could get on board with it, tbh, if it wasn't written the way it was.

But it's not about ships, for me. It's just. Everything felt out of character. The predatory way he was with her. The fact he lies awake and gets himself off to fantasies of her. How apparently quickly he was aroused by putting a necklace on her. Idk, maybe it's my ace ignorance, but that doesn't sound normal/healthy to me.

Nor does him having to leave a room because he can scent her mating bond with Lucien. Or not being able to control himself to sit and eat dinner with her?

This is the same dude who has, apparently, been in love with Mor for 500 solid years, and who never did a damned thing about it. Who always kept himself in check. Even while she's had other lovers. But he can't control himself through one dinner with Elain?

It just. It doesn't feel like him. It feels like...Honestly not even Cassian. It feels like Tamlin on horny, predatory steroids. And that's not something I ever wanted to see from Azriel's POVs.

She could have explored a darker side to him without making it sexual? And misogynistic. And having him treating Elain as little more than a fucking object that he feels entitled to because 'everyone else got one, where's mine?'. What the FUCK???

The more I write it the more angry I get.

Because SJM has consistently put Az in the position of saving women when they were in danger? He was the one who found Mor near death at Autumn. He was the one who rescued Gwyn from her attackers during the war. He was the one to retrieve Elain when she was taken.

She always puts him in this position and, for better or worse, presents him as a safety figure for these women. The first person who they saw come for them, and fight for them, and protect them.

And on the inside she makes him this vile, predatory monster who just thinks constantly about fucking them? Who isn't actually safe at all?? It's sad. And it's infuriating. Because this isn't about ships anymore. This is about female survivors who have an apparent safe person who's presented as almost as dangerous as the people who attacked them in the first place. And that makes me feel so sick and sad that we've gotten here.

It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character.

This is yet another vile thing SJM has done to queer readers with this whole fiasco. Because it puts me in a position where I want to call out her shitty writing, and what she's done to Mor - sidelining her as soon as she became queer. Undermining her power and her strength. Undermining her role as the survivor to look up to. Saying her power is truth but then making her seem like a liar. Which is all shitty, shitty, shitting writing.

But I'm also a queer person. And I will always always ALWAYS want to defend a queer person's right to remain closeted. Regardless of their reasons for doing so. But in this case it's a concern for their safety/a fear of how those around them will react. And I will NEVER condemn that. I will never say Az is suffering more than Mor for her being closeted. I will never call Mor a liar/a manipulator/two-faced when all she's doing is trying to survive.

I WILL condemn SJM for making this a scenario. For putting homophobia in her world purely to cause pain for queer characters, and drama for her straight ones. And for sidelining Mor as soon as she can't write graphic scenes with her fucking men because now she's a lesbian so we best get her off the page so the guys can get their cocks out some more.

And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him.

This is going to sound sarcastic but I actually mean it fully and completely genuinely: 95% of the drama inducing problems in this series could be fixed with some fucking therapy.

But I agree with you. I think it's high time Azriel worked on his own issues. Even if they've apparently made a complete 180 from what they were in ACOMAF.

I...Like the concept of Gwyn/Azriel, but I'm not sold on the ship. Not with the way Maas has been writing Azriel lately. That kind of man shouldn't be with any woman right now. But especially not a rape survivor who sees him as one of the first men she's been able to trust in a long time.

Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

"he used to be a character that made me feel safe" - This shit hit me like a tonne of bricks because this is EXACTLY how I feel about Az, too. You just managed to say it in a few words instead of 12 pages of rambling, like I do.

And I think this was intention. Azriel was presented as a very dependable character. He rescued Mor, and was respectful enough to keep his distance, despite his feelings, for 500 fucking years. Because he didn't think she was ready/interested.

He had a very calm, and calming air about him. Always in control of himself. Without the expected bursts of aggression and temper we'd seen from...Every other male character in this series. He was stable, and solid, and that was comforting. An anchor. And someone who would quietly, and without fuss, seek out Mor/others when they needed someone to talk to or comfort him.

That was a very soothing, reassuring presence in the book, I felt. And now she's made him seem...volatile, and unstable. With this dangerous anger that he can't control, that he uses not to protect, but to intimidate, and to fuel his entitlement and desires.

it's just sad. It's sad that she's taken this away from Mor, but also from other survivors who found comfort and safety in Az. Because I'm sure we weren't alone in that regard.

I miss him. And I mourn the character he was, and feel anger for the character he should have been. but instead he's become yet another possessive, entitled, snarling cardboard cutout dude like...everyone else.

And I ache for the Az/Mor dynamic that we had in ACOMAF. Even without it becoming romantic, there was no reason for that to be destroyed/ruined.

She could have written it that Az is the only one who knows about her sexuality, and that he pretends he's still in love with her as a shield/buffer, so no one looks too closely/to protect her and make her feel comfortable.

Instead she turned it into a soap opera style drama. And wrote it almost as though her sexuality was her cheating on him? Denying him what he deserved. And now she's just...just pussyfooting around it. And apparently he's just. Just moved on. Without them having any kind of conversation or closure at all. He just wanks off to the thought of Elain instead of Mor, now, problem solved /s

I miss what they were. I miss what he was to Mor. I miss when she had that support system, and that safety net. I miss when he protected her. And looked out for her. And understood her in a way that no one else, not even Rhys, did.

Mor deserved that. Azriel deserved that. WE deserved that. And she nuked it for some fucking twisted drama that punishes a lesbian because a man is thirsting after her. it's a fucking disgrace. I'm so fucking done with SJM, y'all. So fucking done.

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whitecatindisguise · 3 years

Text

Taking It Too Far

So I've watched Fan Friction episode and immediately I was struck by how wrong they approached the subject. Hiro was right to be upset, but the producers didn't give him the right reason. This story is an attempt to right the wrongs. That, and there are also other changes to the basic episode plot because 1) I didn't remember everything and didn't really have time nor mood to rewatch it, 2) I thought some things would be better if changed a bit.

Anyway, I hope you like it and enjoy yourselves.

AO3 link here

... and there, inside the lab, was Captain Cutie’s beautiful girlfriend, Karmi. The two locked eyes and-

“Hey, Fred. What are you doing?” Hiro popped out from behind the man and looked at the other’s screen. He squinted his eyes, skimming through the words. “Is that-?”

“A fanfiction about us? Sure is!” Fred cut in enthusiastically, grinning wildly. “And I gotta tell you, man, it’s amazing! The plot, the characters, the action, the characters!”

Hiro rose one eyebrow, clearly not siding with the other’s enthusiasm. His gaze wandered back to the screen and he stopped dead.

“Why am I called Captain Cutie? And why Karmi is my girlfriend? Who wrote this?!” He asked angrily. Him and Karmi? Never in a lifetime!

“I don’t know, but they post as KHeartsQT.” Fred waved his hand dismissively, his focus solely on the story.

Hiro hummed and moved the cursor to the author’s name and clicked on it, recoiling the moment a pop-up window showed a profile picture.

There, on Fred’s computer screen, his greatest nemesis was staring back at him.

***

“I can’t believe it!” Hiro burst into the main lab, stomping past Honey Lemon and almost bumping into confused Wasabi, who barely managed to jump away. Without a word of apologise, the young teen approached his working space and shoved his backpack onto the desk, sitting down heavily on the chair.

“What’s up with him?” Go Go popped a balloon as she stated at the clearly upset boy.

“Nothing. He just doesn’t like Karmi’s fan fiction.” Fred shrugged as he strolled inside and flopped onto his armchair. “Can’t really relate. It’s amazing! And did you see how she named me? Flame Jumper! Not as cool as Fredzilla, obviously, but points for awesomeness.”

“Oh, I read it.” Honey Lemon chimmed in. “It’s really well-written. Although, I don’t know why my name is Tall Girl. I’m not that tall, aren’t I?”

A series of weeeeell’s and ummmm’s echoed in the lab and the ginger-haired woman dropped her head down in response.

“She called me Chop Chop.” Wasabi added. “I can see where it’s coming from, but it makes me sound like some character from the kid’s show, and not a proper superhero.”

“Speed Queen.” Go Go spoke from her side of the lab, tinkering with some kind of miniature scooter. “Sounds cool.”

“All of you have normal nicknames. But she called me Captain Cutie. And made herself my- ugh- girlfriend.” Hiro cringed as he spoke. “Who even gave her a right to write about us? I don’t remember giving my permission, do you?”

“Calm down, Hiro. It’s just a story.” Honey Lemon put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off.

“Well, maybe I don’t appreciate being put in a story that’s clearly fake and totally unrealistic?!” He snatched his backpack and stomped towards the door. “I’m going to work in my lab. Away from that nonsense.”

With these words, he stormed out, his angry footsteps and muttering audible until he turned the corridor.

“Wow. Talk about negative energy.” Wasabi commented, as they stared at the door.

***

In the coming days, Hiro’s mood only got worse. Everyone on the campus seemed to enjoy Karmi’s story, some even starting to ship Karmiutie, as they began to call the imagined pairing between Karmi and Captain Cutie. Hiro couldn’t even take a step without someone saying something about the story or the ship, or, which happened more often than he would like it, mentioning both.

Karmi seemed to love the attention. Other students called to her on the corridor, expressing their enjoyment of her story and some even daring to ask whether she and Captain Cutie really were a couple. Hiro didn’t stay to hear the girl’s response, stomping away angrily, to the confusion of the students.

With everything going on, he was unfocused and started failing classes he usually had no trouble with. Professor Granville seemed to be both upset and concerned about this change. He couldn’t tell her what bothered him, however, so he made an excuse about not feeling well lately. He wasn’t sure she believed him.

To make things worse, his upset state started to affect his superhero work as well. He kept making mistakes leading to the whole team getting into trouble and only barely managing to catch criminals they encountered. This only led to his mood worsening.

The young teen was walking down the hallway, trying to tune out the conversations revolving around the newest chapter of the fan fiction, when he suddenly collided with someone and they both landed in the floor, stunned by the hit.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” He heard an annoyingly familiar voice and he looked up to see Karmi picking herself up from the floor, snatching her phone from where it slid off during the crash.

“I was. Which you would notice if you wasn’t gaping at your phone, producing those abominations of yours all the time.” Hiro seethed, picking himself up from the floor.

“Excuse you!” Karmi huffed in response. “What’s your problem?!”

“Oh, I don’t know?” Hiro replied, anger seeping into his voice. “Maybe that you write about real people and forcing them into fake relationships to release your crazy fantasies? Or maybe that you give stupid names which don’t fit the characters at all?”

“For your information, everybody loves my story. I even have some faithful fans that comment on every chapter, like Fredelicious24.” Karmi replied defensively. “And since nobody knows what their real names are, I’m allowed to use whatever I want.”

“I’m sure Captain Cutie is thrilled to be called that.” Hiro rebounded, rolling his eyes at the nickname.

“Maybe he is!” the girl shouted back. “What do you know, anyway?”

“Ugh, forget it!” The dark-haired teen shoved his arms apart and stomped away, trying to ignore the whispering from the students who watched the encounter.

It was around lunch time, when his friends found him, sitting alone in the cafeteria, poking his food with an upset expression.

“Hiro, what’s wrong? We heard about your argument with Karmi.” Honey Lemon started, as they all took their seats.

“Yeah, so? Are you also going to tell me what a jerk I am? I heard it at least twenty times by now.” He huffed, impaling one of the fries onto the fork and biting on it angrily.

“We just want to help.” Wasabi replied, eyeing as the teen gathered several more fries and stuffed them all into his mouth, munching aggressively.

“But we can’t, until you tell us what’s going on.” Go Go added.

Just then, several students passed by, the pieces of their conversation about Karmi’s story and the Karmiutie ship reaching their eyes. Hiro grunted and picked up his tray, pushing the chair away.

“I’m going to eat in my lab.” He said and walked away.

“That is highly insanitary!” Wasabi called after him.

Honey Lemon looked thoughtful, as she stared at the retreating back of the young teen, and gazed at the group of students, who had now taken over one of the tables nearby.

“Of course! Why didn’t I notice that before?” He exclaimed triumphantly. The others looked at her questioningly. “Come on, we have to talk to him!” she gathered her stuff and rushed off, others staring in the direction she went.

“So... Do we follow or...?” Wasabi asked. Right then, Fred’s phone buzzed and he gasped.

“The creepy knife-lady escaped from prison!” He exclaimed. They shared a look.

“Guess we’ll talk to Hiro after that.” Go Go commented, as they left the cafeteria.

***

To say the action went well would be a major understatement. Not only did Momakase escape, but she also cut through Go Go’s disks, left Honey Lemon and Fred stuck in the goo, Baymax lost one of his leg thrusters and rocket fist, and Wasabi’s blades needed a serious repair.

Hiro was trying to help, but the conversation with Karmi was still fresh in his mind and he couldn’t properly focus on the fight. It was pathetic, even he had to agree.

He angrily took of his helmet and shoved it towards the wall. It hit the divider with a metallic clang and fell to the floor, leaving a small dent in where it met with the structure.

“Your body language indicated extreme anger.” Baymax spoke from behind. Hiro huffed.

“Oh yeah? How did you figure that one out?” He asked, sitting on his chair with arms crossed.

“You are making a face expression known as frown.” Baymax said. “Your body is tense and you are-“

“I was being sarcastic, Baymax.” Hiro interrupted. Baymax blinked.

“I am not programmed to recognise sarcasm.” The robot replied and Hiro groaned.

“Hiro? You there?” Honey Lemon called out and the whole gang entered his garage, suits off.

“Just peachy.” The young teen answered, starting to take off Baymax’s armour.

“Don’t worry, dude. We’ll get the crazy knife-lady next time.” Fred patted his friend’s shoulder comfortingly. Hiro glared at him and the man slowly backed away.

“We’re worried about you, Hiro.” Honey Lemon spoke again, her eyes matching her words. “Is it about Karmi’s story?”

“What? Noooo.” Hiro waved his hand nonchalantly. Everyone stared at him, unimpressed.

“It’s totally about the story.” Go Go said.

“Definitely.” Wasabi agreed.

Hiro sighed and turned away, hugging his arm.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He mumbled.

“Your body language indicates discomfort.” Baymax spoke.

“Hiro... You are clearly upset about it.” Honey Lemon said. “And I think I know why.”

“Y-you do?” Hiro asked, but backed down really quick. “I-I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, Honey Lemon, why would he be upset with it! The story is epic!” Fred joined in, unaware of Hiro’s frown deepening as the male kept on talking. “The plot is amazing, there are so many cliffhangers and, of course, the cherry on top being Karmiutie, of which, by the way, I am the president of the fanclub and-“

He was interrupted by the slam of the door and he blinked, only now noticing they were left alone in the garage, Hiro nowhere to be seen.

“Way to go, dumbass.” Go Go commented as she popped a balloon.

“What did I do?” Fred blinked. There was a collective slap as everyone else facepalmed.

Honey Lemon put on a determined face and followed the way the teen went. The others followed, saying their greetings to Aunt Cass on their way past, making a beeline towards the back and up to the living area. Hiro was, unsurprisingly, sitting by his desk, tapping furiously at his laptop.

“Hiro?” The ginger-haired woman softly spoke up. The said teen huffed in response.

“I though I made it clear I don’t want to talk about it.” He said angrily.

“She’s not letting this one go, so you might as well stop being stubborn.” Go Go crossed her arms and leaned over the doorframe, clearly making sure his only escape route is blocked.

“Hiro, please.” Honey Lemon kneeled down to find herself at his eye level. “We just want to help.”

“There is nothing any of us can do to help.” The teenager mumbled, looking away. “Besides, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. And you have every right to be upset.” The woman replied softly.

Hiro pointedly looked back at his laptop, attempting to ignore them. The redhead didn’t back out, however.

“We were all so caught up in how good Karmi’s story is that we failed to notice how upsetting it is for you. After all, it’s your hero persona she chose to pair herself with.” Honey Lemon spoke up. The tapping of the keyboard stopped, but the teen didn’t turn around yet. “And, knowing the characters are real, people started to assume the relationship is real, too. And that’s wrong. What Karmi is doing is wrong. You can’t just- what’s the word they use for saying two characters are in a romantic relationship...?”

“Ship.” Helpfully suggested Fred.

“Yes, thanks, Freddie.” Honey Lemon smiled thankfully and turned back to Hiro. “You can’t just ship two real people. It’s wrong. It shouldn’t be acceptable.”

“And yet I seem to be the only one who has problem with that.” The teen mumbled, his back still to his friends.

“I think it’s because the story is about our superhero personas.” Fred interjected and everyone, even Hiro, looked at him in confusion. “I mean, superheroes themselves feel like fictional characters. And, even though everyone knows we are real, it’s still hard to distinguish that if we’re also the characters in a work of fiction, which, by definition, means it’s not real. It creates somewhat a paradox and people just don’t completely realise the fiction part actually refers only to the story itself and not the characters.”

Everyone stared dumbfoundedly at the millionaire, who blinked and starred back.

“What?” He asked.

“We just didn’t expect you to say something so... thoughtful.” Wasabi finally said, the others nodding in agreement.

“Hey, I can act smart too, you know?” Fred argued and then promptly took out an unwrapped candy from his pocket, have it a testing lick, shrugged and put it in his mouth. Everyone shuddered.

“Aaaand the usual Fred is back.” Go Go commented while Wasabi tried to not puke.

“Even if what he said is true, it’s not like I can just go and tell her to stop.” Hiro picked up the conversation to take their minds of Fred and the candy. “What should I even say? Hey, Karmi, you know this story you write? You should stop because I don’t like you shipping yourself with this guy, whose name is definitely not Captain Cutie. Cool? Cool.”

Fred snorted but Go Go quickly elbowed him in the ribs to stop. Hiro groaned and hid his head between his arms. Honey Lemon approached the teen and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe not as Hiro you, but if you explained it as your superhero you?” She suggested, smiling encouragingly.

“I am not going to change into my armour just so I can talk to Karmi.” He replied sternly and sighed. “I just- gonna have to live with it... somehow...”

“If you have a problem with something or someone, you should speak up, genius.” Go Go said.

“Talking is the key to the healthy communication.” Baymax agreed.

“Ugh, fine.” Hiro said. “I’ll talk to her. If I see her on a patrol or something.”

“Hiro-“ Honey Lemon started to say but the robot cut her in.

“I’ve found a disturbing information in the local news. Playing it now.”

The screen on his chest turned on and a reporter appeared, speaking about some message being sent to their station this afternoon. The view changed, and they saw Momakase, grinning at the camera.

“Welcome, Big Hero 6.” She said, looking far too happy about something. “I advise you to come to the Akuma Island. And make haste, unless you want something bad happen to someone’s girlfriend.”

She smirked and stepped aside to show a chair. And on this chair, tied up and sputtering curses, was-

“Karmi!” Everyone, sans Hiro gasped.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Hiro shouted.

***

“Okay, we go in, take Momakase down, free Karmi and get out of here.” Hiro said as Baymax flew them towards the remote island. “Baymax, as soon as you are in range, scan the place for both Karmi and Momakase.”

The robot didn’t reply, but the teenager knew he acknowledged the order and will get to it whenever it’s possible.

“Oh, this gives the perfect opportunity for you to talk to Karmi about you-know-what.” Fred piped up from where he was held by the scruff of his costume in Baymax’s right hand.

“I’d rather focus on the current problem first.” Hiro mumbled back.

“I’m just saying.” The millionaire shrugged, but, luckily, dropped the subject.

Several minutes later, they were creeping the abandoned hallways of old Krei Enterprises facility, Baymax leading them in the direction he sensed Karmi from. Momakase, surprisingly, didn’t turn up on the scan.

“Karmi is inside.” Baymax said, stopping in front of the metal door.

Hiro nodded and looked to Wasabi and Honey Lemon, pointing his head towards the door. The woman tapped the keys on her purse and produced a green-coloured ball. She plastered it to the frame and pulled on one side, the goo expanding to create something like a line. Each one of them, except for Wasabi, caught the goo-line and held strong, while the said man cut through metal around where the goo was stuck. When the cut was finished, they pulled the piece out, managing to not hit it on anything, hence making their entrance silent.

Baymax put the cut-out metal aside and they climbed through the opening one by one. In the middle of the room, under a single spotlight, stood a chair. And on this chair, quite unsurprisingly, Hiro had to say, was Karmi, tied and gagged.

As soon as the teen noticed the heroes, she started to squirm and let out muffled noises, trying desperately to communicate with them. Hiro secretly turned on his voice-modulating device, motioning for the rest of the team to do the same, before approaching the captured girl. It was in situations like this, he was glad he once decided to equip their armours with both face-covering visors and voice modulators. It lowered the chance of being recognised if they had to be around people who knew them personally.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out in no time.” He reassured Karmi and reached for her gag. As soon as it was off, Karmi gasped and screamed.

“It’s a trap!”

At this precise moment, purple-coloured bars rose from the floor and circled around the heroes and Karmi. They all whirled around, shocked by their sudden appearance.

“Like stealing a candy from a kid.” A familiar voice said from the shadows, and Momakase strolled into viee, a smirk on her lips.

“You think you can keep us in here?” Hiro asked and nodded at Wasabi.

Before going in, they decided they were not going to use their names around Karmi, since figuring out new nicknames would take too long, and Hiro was not going to use their fanfiction names, for obvious reasons. So they agreed on silent communication instead, which, so far, worked perfectly well.

Wasabi approached the bars and slashed at them with a cocky grin, but just as fast he jumped back with a pained yelp, when the bars zapped him.

“What in the world?!” He squeaked, rubbing at his arm.

“Did you really think I would use regular cage, knowing of your abilities?” Momakase laughed, strolling slowly along the bars. “You’re not getting out of this one.”

“Oh really?” Honey Lemon challenged and quickly produced a pink-coloured chem-ball from her purse. She let it drop to the floor and quickly side-stepped, as it bounced off the bars and hit the chair, acid eating through the wood.

“I told you it’s not a regular cage.” Momakase smirked and looked extremely pleased with herself. “This one was created by our mutual acquaintance specifically to hold you lot in place.”

“Mutual- what are you talking about?!” Hiro asked angrily.

“I believe he goes by the name Obake.” The woman replied and watched the heroes faces morph into horror as they recognised the name. “Well, anyway, it was nice to chat and all that, but I have to go. As for you...” She produced a small device from her pocket and pushed the button, the lights in the room suddenly turning red and the alarm ringing. “Have fun getting out of here before this whole place blows up.” She waved her hand at them and ran away, leaving them to their doom.

“Ohmigosh-! This place is going to blow up! We’re stuck in a impenetrable cage in a building that’s going to blow up any second now and-“ Wasabi spoke in a high voice, his eyes wide and breath hitching.

“Calm down.” Hiro said. “We’re getting out of here in no time.”

“How?!” Wasabi squeaked. “You saw what happened. My blades don’t work, and neither does the acid!”

“We just need more strength, that’s all.” The teen replied calmly and turned to Baymax. “Initiate Overdrive Mode.” He ordered.

At those words the robot started to change. Pieces of armour hid, others extended. A moment later, a completely unrecognisable Baymax, sans his colours, stood in front of the group.

“That’s... I wrote about it!” Karmi breathed out, astonished. “You read my story?!”

“Can we talk about it after we escape?” Hiro suggested, and Go Go noticed how he shuddered slightly at Karmi’s exclamation. “The sword, please.”

Baymax reached his had to his back and produced a heavy-looking blade. He took a swing and sliced right though the bars, Hiro grinning at the performance.

“Good job. Turn it off before it drains all of your power.” He said and Baymax swiftly came back to his original look. “Now everyone hop on and hold on tight. We don’t know how much time we have and I’d rather not risk running back the way we came from.”

One rocket fist later, they shot out of the roof. And not a moment too soon, as the facility blew up just as they managed to get to the safe distance. Baymax flew them back to the city and they all jumped off to the ground.

“Um... Thank you... For saving me.” Karmi mumbled, blushing as she took a glance at Hiro. The teen was painfully reminded she had a crush on his superhero persona.

“That’s what we do.” He replied, looking away. Honey Lemon came closer and gently nudged his shoulder, an encouraging smile on her lips. He sighed and turned towards Karmi. “Actually, there is something I want to tell you. It’s... it’s about your story.”

“My- YOU READ IT?!” The girl squealed, her eyes almost turning star-shaped.

“Of course, it’s amazing and-“ Fred was painfully elbowed in the stomach by Go Go before he could say anything more.

“I... How do I..?” Hiro scratched the back of his neck as he searched for words. “I read some of it, and you’re really talented but- I don’t really feel comfortable with it, you know?”

“I don’t understand...” Karmi cocked her head to the side in confusion. “Why?”

“It’s because of how you portray us. Portray me.” The teen elaborated. “I’m not- we’re not a pair, Karmi. I know it is a work of fiction and it’s not real, but writing that you are my girlfriend, having all those people read it... It’s not right.”

“Oh...” The girl looked down, suddenly not able to meet his eye. “I didn’t mean to-“

“I know.” He reassured. “I know you really want this to be true, but this is not the way. How would you feel if someone wrote a story about you and put you in a romantic relationship in said story? No matter if you like this person or not, it’s wrong to ship real life people.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Karmi said, still looking away. “I guess I was so caught up with my own fantasy, I didn’t stop to think how would you feel about it.”

“It’s alright.” Honey Lemon spoke up, smiling kindly. “You didn’t know.”

“But I should have thought about it. And I didn’t.” Karmi admitted. “I.. I will delete it once I get home. I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Thank you.” Hiro smiled thankfully at the girl. “And I meant it, you’re an amazing writer. Maybe you could still write about us, just no shipping this time.” He winked and Karmi blushed.

“You... still want me to write about you? Even after...?” She asked, puzzled by the suggestion.

“Between the two of us...” Hiro leaned closer and whispered to the girl’s ear. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with our story.”

Karmi blushed fiercely, mumbled something that sounded like “thankyouihavetogonowbye” and ran away, her cheeks red. The heroes looked at her retreating figure.

“You didn’t mention the name.” Go Go pointed out as they started on their way back to Fred’s manor to leave their armours there.

“I can live with Captain Cutie.” Hiro shrugged with a smile.

---

That's it. I hope you liked it. Reblog if you did. I live for reblogs.

#big hero 6 the series #hiro hamada #baymax #honey lemon #go go tomago #wasabi no ginger #karmi #momakase #episode rewrite #kitty mom writes

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