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hxzxrdous · 1 year

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Hi! I really liked the we have each other again story. I was wondering if you could do an alternate timeline in the story when reader and lesso don’t have their reunion until later when reader is an adult. But readers going through their villain era and returns to try and destroy lessos life bc they’ve been angry for so long. But like after they have a fight they have a happy ending. Sorry if it’s worded weird it’s hard to put it into text😭

Eeeeek, thank you for the request and I hope I did it some justice :333 😩 </333

Lady Lesso x daughter!reader

TW: Angst, hurt/comfort, some fluff

FEELINGS NEVER LIE

First your biological parents didn't want you and then you moved from a foster family to another foster family. You started thinking that you might be a problem and not them.

Until you came to the next couple - The Jones'. They were extremely kind the first few months, after they adopted you however, their masks came undone. They took advantage of your situation just so they could get their monthly payment, just so they could provide for their own six kids while your needs were completely neglected. On top of that you had to help with the kids and the farm work. They even made you discontinue your school by the time you were fourteen years old. You started working in a nearby market place in the square, selling the crops of vegetables and batches of bread from your farm.

And you waited.

And you hoped. You hoped that your parents will come back to you once you turn an adult.

Maybe you were a burden and you wouldn't be a burden now that you'll become an adult?

But you knew in your heart, they'll never come and get you. They never sent a single letter. Perhaps they just didn't care? Perhaps they were dead? You didn't know which possibility was worse. The latter one?

Your 18th birthday was getting closer, day by day. And you were hoping that maybe, just maybe... you real parents were on the way, thinking of you, coming to save you. But they never were.

Then you turned eighteen. And nothing happened. Then you turned nineteen and then twenty and twenty one.

You lost all hope. You stopped caring. Maybe it was meant to be for you to rot in this godforsaken place.

You wanted to escape the farm and Gavaldon. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't. Like a magnet pulling you back. Until that one day.

It was a warm spring day. Easter. Your 'siblings' were running around, playing on the backyard after you hid the easter eggs that they coloured it the day before.

"Don't hit your sister, Adam." You pointed to the blonde kid. "Stop stealing the eggs from your sister, Meredith." You ordered the youngest one. "Come inside, it's getting dark!" You yelled out of the window.

"Alright, Ambrose, I see you found the most eggs," you kneeled infront of the freckled child. "Your seven eggs..." you held out the basket as Ambrose put the eggs inside, "for my seven chocolate eggs," you pointed to the bowl with the chocolate eggs. After the kids exchanged their eggs you walked back outside. You haven't finished the laundry yet and your 'parents' wouldblet you go to sleep only until after you finished all the chores.

You just hung the bed sheet on the string when you fell to the floor from surprise as it started moving in the wind. It took you a couple of seconds to figure it out there wasn't any wind at all and suddendly the air around you got colder.

"Y/N Jones," a voice came from behind the bed sheet, so you lifted it up, only to see a man standing right infront of you.

"Excuse me sir, you shoul- How do you know my name?" You tilted your head.

"I finally found you, my child, I've been searching for you," the man spoke, despite his icy voice, you couldn't help but feel warm inside.

"F- father?" Your eyes widened and you froze as he nodded. You immediately knew he was your dad. Feelings never lie. But he felt so frightening. Maybe because you didn't know how it felt to have a parent. Maybe because the feeling was so different.

"What about my mother?" You asked, your voice shaky. "She left you. Her career as a Dean was more important." The man spoke. "You love me? Can you take me away from this place?" You asked. You waited for this moment for such a long time.

"Actually, I have another plan..."

As he continued speaking, you felt a burning fire in your heart. He told you all about your mother, how she hated you, he told you about some School for Good and Evil. He convinced you to take you there and apply for a job as a Never professor. It was time for revenge. Your mother will have to dance on your tune.

It was your first day at the school. You taught Special Talents. You knew how to deal with group of kids already, so it wasn't hard for you to control the class full of hormonal teenagers. You heard about the Doom Room that the students were sent to. You learned how she hated the students. She hated children. No surprise she left you. She was cruel and vile.

A few days later you were making rounds through the dormitories when you walked by Lady Lesso's office. You peaked through the slightly opened door and you noticed Lady Lesso behind her desk. Professor Bilious Manley showed you the Mimicry spell the other evening and you quickly learned it yourself. So you stepped inside... as none other than Lady Lesso.

"You." You grinned as she noticed you. "Me? You?" Lady Lesso was confused as never. "What is this some sort of joke?" She barked. "I'm you, Leonora. Your conscious." You replied, sitting down on the chair, playing with her stuff on the desk and looking down at the papers she was grading.

"Mmm, so much red. You aren't doing a really great job as a professor, Leonora," you raised an eyebrow. "I-" Lesso let out a deep sigh. "Does the Doom Room even help? You drag the students inside when they are failing. Perhaps you deserve the Doom Room too?" You smirked. She was quiet. The usually load woman was speechless. "You aren't failing as just a professor though. You are failing as a Dean. Not once did Evil defeat the Good." You continued, standing up, walking around her desk. You stood right next to her, leaning down. "You failed as a mother." You whispered in her ear, backing away later.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head. "N- no- T- that was Raf-" when she paused, noticing you didn't have a cane like she did. "Who are you?!" She turned towards you when you revealed yourself. "Ms Jones, explain yourself-" Lady Lesso sneered. "Well, dear mother... Father told me everything." You turned towards the door when she stopped you. "Rafal? No, YOU listen to me now, Y/N." She stood up. "Whatever he told you... was a lie. He's a manipulative asshole, I bet he didn't even tell you his name."

You stopped in your tracks, thinking for a moment. "It doesn't mat-" "But it does. Y/N, he took you away from me when he found out I was trying to hide you from him. He's abusive. He's cold. He's evil. Did you even trust him when you first saw him? Feelings never lie, Y/N." Your mother tapped her cane standing up. You looked at your mother. And when you looked at her... you felt loved and safe. "Feelings never lie?" You repeated and immediately grabbed onto her, hugging her. "My, my, you have grown into such a beautiful young woman, my darling." The redhead whispered as she held you close. "I'm sorry." The older woman's voice shook with sadness and happines. Proper childhood was stolen from you. You were stolen from her. You were both grieving. And now she finally found you. And this time, she'll never let go of you.

#lady lesso #lady lesso x reader #leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #the school for good and evil #sge #sge netflix #sge fanfiction

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mistytpednaem · 5 months

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wow!!! that was a year

as I begin to write this post I'm not even sure if I'm going to post it, lmao. I guess it depends on how much of a bummer it turns into. and if it helps me sort out some thoughts, then it won't have been a complete waste of time.

waste, huh...

on one hand, I don't... reaaaally?? want to talk about what's been going on in my life? but on the other hand, there's a part of me that's like "wow, Naem, that makes it sound like you've been struggling with some serious shit, which is straight up not true, do you just want people to feel sorry for you?" and then on the third mutant hand (I have a lot of those, it turns out) there is a different part of me that does acknowledge the way this other section of my brain jumps straight to accusatory self-flagellation is something many people do not, in fact, struggle with

I've been doing remote therapy this year! it's alright. my therapist has some wild ass takes from time to time, and it is perhaps one of my most substantial monthly expenses (note: yes I still live with my parents so, you know, I don't pay rent), but she IS insightful and a good professional so like. I feel, on the whole, it's working out well for me. a-aside from the part where I still can't seem to love myself consistently but unfortunately I don't think anybody else can fix that for me. I just... have to keep working on it.

speaking of therapy, maybe I should tell her in the next session "hey, cool new year, uhhh I keep finding myself thinking it isn't worth getting excited or feeling hopeful for anything because as time goes on there will only be more and more things to be sad about, because everything is finite and loss is a constant, and it's kind of bumming me out?" maybe I should. honestly, that was the thought this post was going to center around initially, but I've found other things to talk about, thankfully.

ah man. heck. I JUST narrowed down the exact thing motivating this post. "the dread I feel when i see everyone on social media post about their Year In Review." so much of this is about the unrelenting passage of time.

not everything is a huge bummer. experienced some good-ass media this year. Hi-FI Rush was really cool, Midnight Mass was so good it got me to watch it three times in spite of how bad I am with horror, Across the Spiderverse was as good as everyone said - speaking of Spider-Man, I think I've come to terms with adopting Curt Connors as a blorbo, which has nothing to do with Spiderverse but is, perhaps, a baby step in the direction of Accepting The Trash I Like. excited for more Jojolands. Jujutsu Kaisen S2 was really fucking good, so much so that I'm afraid no future arcs will grip me the same way. oh yeah, I got really into Will Wood this year, which is a bit embarrassing because his fanbase seems to be composed primarily of teenagers, but hey. sort of circling back around to me needing to accept what I like, I guess.

I've been taking other baby steps, namely towards Drawing More Often. I... have, right?? I know I haven't posted everything I drew, but it was definitely more than, say, two years ago. which is nice. hope I can keep that up or, even better, Do It Harder.

I don't have a habit of making New Year's Resolutions. I do have a couple of wishes, but I'm frankly not sure if they're anything I can control. Financial stability? Well, there are certainly efforts I can make in that direction, as much as I hate even looking at LinkedIn. To stop finding myself trapped in the middle of interpersonal conflict that I care about too much even when it doesn't directly concern me, resulting in weeks of heightened anxiety at a minimum? I think if it were within my power to stop that, I would have already done it, but uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

ah man. I should have found a nicer note to end this on. ummm.

I deeply appreciate all of my friends, not only for being generally rad people but also for seeing nice things in me when I can't. This goes quadruple for my girlfriend, who manages to do all that while also struggling with brains that are very mean and unfair to her.

I feel like I said this last year, but I hope I can learn to depend on you all a little less going forward. Not in a "get out of my life you LOSERS" kind of way, but in a "thanks for the support, here, I can stand on my own two feet, so don't worry about lending me another one" kind of way.

#oh yeah guess i should use a certain vintage tag on this post:#my brain malfunctions #glad i remembered that before i took it out of the oven

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chattercap · 11 months

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Future Plans for Actala

Sorry for the kind of sporadic updates, I do need to be better about posting here! I post devlogs on my itch page monthly, and I've decided to crosspost the latest one here since it has some important info about Actala's future development! A copy of my latest itch devlog is under the cut!

Hello, happy June!

It's been another month (time really does fly)!

No Actala updates this time, as I ended up increasing the scope a bit on my Otome Jam project so I had to divert my attention to that (please look forward to some EXCELLENT voice acting)! Karamu will release sometime in the next couple of weeks!

But although I don't have any updates for Actala, I do have a bit of an announcement. As you might know if you played through the demo, I originally planned to illustrate the story 100% with CGs and mini-CGs. This was...unrealistic (as basically anyone with half a brain could have told you, I imagine).

This was something that became EXTREMELY apparent as I worked on Karamu. I thought I scoped very realistically (a simple scene with 2 characters and only 10k words), and I hoped to finish the game within a month. However, while I finished the script in a week, I've spent almost 2 months on the illustrations. (If I extrapolate that out for Actala, where the current script is 250,000 words...I won't finish the thing for another 4-5 years...)

Part of that is that I've been experimenting with more complex/highly rendered CGs, and taking more care with the color and compositions (you can see a sample below). For Actala, I adopted a more simple coloring style because of the high volume of illustrations, but I was never really happy with them. Rather than putting out a ton of illustrations that I'm not happy with, I'd prefer to put out a smaller number that I'm more satisfied with.

If I'm being honest, I didn't adopt the "CG only" strategy for any deep reason in particular. It was mainly a snap decision based on insecurities with my own art, as I felt like my art couldn't really stand on par with other VNs (so I decided to create value with quantity over quality). However, ultimately I think it's detrimental to the project. The amount of work required for the art just dwarfs everything else, to the point where I put off the other tasks to make a SMALL dent in the art (for instance, I really want to improve the GUI, which looks a bit clunky and not super elegant...)

So from now on, I will most likely adopt the sprite format for Actala, instead of utilizing exclusively CGs. Those sprites may or may not be animated; I'll try it out and see how I feel about them. You can still expect a lot of CGs from me, but not exclusive! Interestingly, I actually planned to do sprites in the early stages of development, and I finished almost all of them. These are over a year old at this point, so they will be completely redone, though!

I hope that this isn't disappointing to anyone (it probably isn't; I'm just stubborn as an ox when it comes to my impulse decisions...) But from a projection perspective, it's just 100% impossible to get Actala out on any reasonable timeline with the approach that I was taking. This way, I'll be able to get the game out a bit faster (with nicer illustrations, just fewer of them)! And it will give me a little more time to polish other aspects of the game, and perhaps work on a few more side projects ;)

For the rest of this month, I'll be finishing out Karamu. Then at the start of July, I'll take a bit of a game dev break before tackling the sprites! Expect to see some sketches in the next devlog~

If you read this far, thank you! See you next month :)

Chattercap

#actala #actala-news #actala-dev

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thevindicativevordan · 2 years

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Since you mentioned that Williamson would probably launch a Superman ongoing. How do you imagine his run would look like?

Well I called it, not that it was a hard thing to predict:

Looks pretty much exactly what I expected. All the classic elements get plenty of focus, Lois is back at the Daily Planet, Clark will be going up against a bunch of classic villains - Parasite is the villain of the first arc, seems Livewire, Bizarro, and Silver Banshee won't be far behind - classic supporting cast members like Jimmy Olsen will be getting used, and there may be either some new faces or revamps of old ones. That cop with the pony tail in the upper right might be a new take on Inspector (Commissioner?) Henderson. Williamson is at his best when he's focused on one character and just doing fun superhero adventures instead of trying to write big events or copy Morrison. Robin and Flash delivered that for me and were enjoyable, he should bring a similar level of quality here. If nothing else the use of classic Superman Rogues who haven't gotten attention in a while like Livewire, Silver Banshee, and Bizarro get points with me, I don't expect him to write the definitive Parasite arc, but if he can at least provide entertaining Superman stories featuring classic Superman Rogues I'll be happy.

Kaminski (head editor for the Superbooks) hinted on Twitter that Zod was going to play an important role in the Superbooks next year. Given Williamson already used him once for Batman/Superman - his use there of Zod was good - I wouldn't be surprised if he uses him again here. Perhaps Zod is the figure in shadow if it isn't teasing a new Superman Rogue. I've long wanted Zod to fill the Ra's role in Superman's Rogues Gallery and Williamson did position him as that, if he is writing Zod I hope he continues to develop that characterization for him.

Obviously Campbell's art is gorgeous, but does anyone really think he's going to last long on a monthly ongoing? Naomi and Far Sector really struggled to come out on time, if Campbell can do just one arc I'll be happy. Dragotta is a good artist too, but I don't know if he's fast enough to do a monthly these days. I'll enjoy their time on Superman regardless, can't wait to see them draw the villains!

Now for the rest...

Anonymous asked:

New Superbook lineup?

First DC panel thus far to actually talk about the big plans for 2023. Honestly I'm pleased overall with the news that was shared.

Action is becoming a Superfamily book with PKJ continuing to write the main feature, which will still be standard issue length. Lineup is Clark, Kara, Conner, Kenan, Jon, Natasha, and the two Phaelosians from Warworld that Superman adopted: Osul and Othul. Ever since Detective Comics became a Batfamily book during Rebirth I've been wanting to see someone try and do the same for the Superfamily. Metallo is going to be the main villain for the first arc starting in Action 1051, and seeing Metallo be a threat strong enough to challenge the entire Superfamily has me hyped. Loved how PKJ has written the book up till now, hopefully this switch doesn't cause him to struggle. If he does a good job he'll be delivering sorely needed development to Superman's Rogues and his Family, two areas I've long been begging to see more attention given.

It's a small detail but I love that Kenan still has his white and black yin-yang s-shield underneath his jacket. Everyone looks good to me, although perhaps Nat should just change the color of her armor rather than wear a hoodie. And PKJ finally gets an artist who is both good and fast! Sandoval hasn't had trouble meeting a monthly schedule so Action should finally have an artist who can draw consecutive issues. Just need DC not to poach another artist from PKJ for their events, first Sampere then Federeci, go find another book to swipe artists from!

Two backups are being added, Jurgens writing kid Jon stories set in the past and Leah Williams writing Power Girl. Jurgens Lois and Clark was my favorite thing he's done since the Triangle Era, but this sounds boring. Doombreaker (aka Doomsday with four arms instead of two) is not a villain who is attracting my interest, PKJ already brought back Conduit Jurgens, you've said repeatedly you were going to tell a Conduit story after Action 1000 if you got to stay. Go tell that story instead of something conceptually dull as Doomsday 2.0. No opinion on Williams, her Trial of Magneto was terrible but her Mary Jane series was entertaining, I think PG will be a good fit for her, and there's always Johns' JSA if not.

Superman: Son of Kal-El is ending with issue 18 and DC is launching a new Adventures of Superman: Jon Kent 6-issue miniseries where Jon will fight Ultraman and meet Val-Zod. Taylor was claiming he was writing post-Kal-El Returns SSOKE issues a while back on Twitter, so I assume that DC is taking what he had planned for future issues and just doing it as a mini in hopes of increasing sales. My hunch is that this mini will mark the end of Taylor's time with Jon, and he'll either depart the Superman sphere entirely or go do a Val-Zod mini, since all he really cares about is using Jon's book to spotlight his OCs. I want it to flop so he'll be done for good, he's done jack shit to establish Jon outside of his bisexuality, countless other more pressing developments need to be done for Jon to really stand on his own as a hero, but of course Taylor would rather bring in his successor to Superman and try to push Val one last time over actually developing Jon as a character.

Saw that yet again you have people theorizing this is going to end with a version of kid Jon returning or Jon being deaged and at this point I don't even care if that happens. Taylor completely squandered the opportunity Jon represented, long as Val-Zod fucks off back home to Earth 2 and Taylor doesn't try to keep him on the main Earth then fine, whatever, you lot can have your kid Jon back. Completely wasted the potential he offered, might as well reset him back to default. I don't think that's happening, Othul and Osul are filling the kid role for Clark and Lois, plus there might be that Legacy League book coming yet. If it does I don't even care anymore. There's one ray of hope for me even now: Waid, Yang, Watters and PKJ might be writing him soon.

Coming up after Dark Crisis, we have the Lazarus Planet event. Waid has a good track record with weekly events - 52, the No Surrender trilogy - and the supporting writing lineup looks great: Yang, PKJ, Watters, and more. No Multiverse bullshit and any of those guys writing Jon will be an improvement over Taylor. Given this is where Jon is getting his electric blue powers, which will still be a thing over in Action and AoS, this event is going to be important for his direction as a character. Obviously this is me projecting, but I want to believe that one of the writers here is going to end up taking over control of Jon after Taylor's finishes his mini, ideally Yang or Watters. Hey Yang if you can bring Kenan into this event, do it. Taylor keeps trying to make his Superman stick, might as well assert yourself and use your Superman too where you can.

Good lineup generally. That's not counting other projects we know are coming such as Porter's Superboy mini, Waid's Superman: Testament book with Hitch, or Venditti's Superman '78 Season 2. Taylor hinted on Twitter that there are more announcements coming too after Action 1050, and PKJ hinted that something might be coming with Lana. Praying that a Steel miniseries with Lana in there as secondary protagonist/love interest is coming, written by Greg Pak, is in the works. Steel isn't in Action or advertised as being anywhere else, but he had a badass Action 1050 variant and it would be weird for him to just disappear. Irons is being positioned as a key player for PKJ Action, for him not to be with the Superfamily post 1050 must mean he's getting a book of his own. That's how I'm coping anyway.

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on the NYCC announcements? Personally I'm afraid the Authority will go into the background if Action is becoming the Superfamily book, but I still trust PKJ to introduce interesting concepts.

Yeah I'm resigning myself to the Authority crew getting dropped. PKJ was asking on Twitter if people thought there was any interest in an Authority book not by him, and saying he'd want to get an LGBT+ writer for them. Later said that DC was trying to find a place for those characters, so maybe we'll get a new Superman & the Authority book down the road. I wish they'd induct Apollo into the Superfamily, getting him away from Midnighter who always overshadows him (heh remind you of another duo?) would be good for him. Let him play off of other flying bricks and show how he's similar and how he's different. Let him bond with Jon over being a queer hero and the difficulties that come with that, of trying to establish a place for yourself in the shadow of one of the greatest heroes of all time. I want Apollo so badly to be inducted into the Superfamily but I don't think it's happening. Can always dream though!

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niealle · 5 months

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Connecting with people and not taking things personally can be hard at times. I used to be able to detach myself easily from things that are unhealthy for me, but I’ve been having a hard time doing so lately. It’s probably because I allowed myself to be vulnerable without any boundaries. Hence, I realized how important it is to have boundaries, particularly regarding things that matter to you.

I’ve realized that I struggle to adopt the “let them be” approach in my life. Allowing people to treat me based on how they want to doesn’t sound healthy especially when they are being shitty. I can’t let people treat me as a back burner. I can’t let people treat me as a convenient friend. I can’t let people treat me as someone who is just squeezed into their schedule instead of making time for me. I prioritize myself above anyone else and I would never allow myself to be trampled on by other people.

I used to be hard on myself when I reacted in a certain way to things not going my way, but I learned to accept the fact that that’s just how I am. I hold grudges. I hate it when I’m being taken advantage of. I dislike liars. I cut off people easily. I would never allow a person who hurt me to leave freely without facing consequences. If people start treating me badly, I’ll detach myself from them until my patience runs out and that’s when I’ll cut them off. I get mad when something toxic is happening in my life. All of these are valid ways for me to show self-respect.

Not taking things personally is one of the best approaches that I’ve learned. It allows me to step back and detach myself easily from people or situations that might affect me negatively. An example is when my friend canceled our hangout on the same day. I can get mad at them for canceling, but would it be helpful for me to get mad? No. Then I’ll just think that them canceling has nothing to do with me but more about them. They canceled because they’re feeling down. They canceled because they got lazy. Or perhaps it really has something to do with me HAHAHAHAHAHA—okay, I get it. I might get a little upset about that, but I won’t dwell on the feeling because it doesn’t serve any purpose.

A victim of bullying and a people pleaser in the past learned not to take things personally????? I find it fascinating how much I’ve grown during the past few years, especially during the pandemic. I used to think that I was already satisfied with how I was in the past, but then I realized that the only thing that is constant in life is change and it made me feel at ease because what do you mean I can still become a better person than I am right now????? Pursuing self-development has been one hell of a ride because one moment I’m doing so much better and the next, I’ve reverted back to my old habits. Being self-aware has been one of the best feelings in the world, but maintaining self-awareness was a bit of a challenge for me, especially as a female who gets her period monthly (iykyk). It is the best feeling in the world because you finally know who you are. You might not have things figured out, but it’s still okay because you’re still growing. The world didn’t end when I was 16, 19, and last year.

#personal growth #not taking things personally #self-development #self-love #loving myself #friendships #self respect #self discovery #self improvement

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nickgerlich · 8 months

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Just Charge It

One of the longest-running consumer behavior topics I have had through the years is the discussion centering on EVs. I’ve been tossing this one around for more than a decade, and I bet I’ll be tossing it around for many more years to come.

But to cut to the chase, some are now saying that we have passed critical mass and EVs are about to see a huge surge in adoption. It’s only a matter of time until ICE (Internal Combustion Engine) vehicles die a slow, painful death. [If the link to the WaPo article puts you up against a paywall because you have already reached your monthly limit, simply copy the URL and paste into a different browser. You’re welcome.]

Now if you are scratching your head wondering how this could be true, consider this: Last year EV sales accounted for 5% of all cars sold in 4Q, and earlier this year in 1Q, hit 7%. I’ll let that sink in for a moment.

Critics of EVs will still scoff, post laughing-face emojis in a fit of smartassery, and ask where the crowd is. And never mind the red herrings they love to serve, bringing up distractions such as child labor at lithium mines, how much energy or whatever it takes to make an EV, and the expected life of an EV battery. No one ever said they are perfect, just better. And that meme of someone having to pay $30,000 for a new battery is only partially true, because they were trying to do so for a model that is no longer made and replacements are scarce.

To hear the analysts is to assume there must be a mad rush, though. I just haven’t seen the teeming masses lining up to buy a Tesla, Rivian, Leaf, Bolt, or otherwise. Yet.

Ah, but that’s where I and the others may be wrong, because the analysts think we have just passed the tipping point, that magical moment popularized by author Malcolm Gladwell in 2000. Essentially, there is an inflection point in consumer activity that ushers in a period of rapid growth, and once that sets in, it’s Katy bar the door.

Those same analysts point to EV adoption in Norway. Now before you scream, “But that’s like comparing an apple to a zucchini,” I realize that the two nations are very different, from population to geographical size and population densities.

Alas, a decade ago, EVs accounted for 5% of sales in Norway, and today are at 80%. That’s a pretty steep adoption curve. In fact, it is this “S-“curve that analysts expect to see play out in the US.

To be fair, though, a recent study indicates that 46% of Americans still prefer an ICE vehicle. But here are the fragmented stats that, when seen in their entirety, suggest the shift is on. Nineteen-percent want an EV, while 22% want a traditional hybrid, and 13% prefer a plug-in hybrid. That means 54% want some or all-electric in their cars.

While the tide is changing, we must still deal with the biggest real and perceived problems of EVs: cost, range, and charging. But these are evolving as well, with Elon Musk initiating some steep discounts of late on Teslas. President Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act, perhaps one of the worst-named initiatives ever, actually has generous investment credits for wind and solar installations. The UAW strike also works to Musk’s favor, because if the demanded 40% wage increase over four years is accepted, Musk will have a huge advantage. Musk’s factories are non-union, and he recruits and retains employees with stock options, not high wages.

If you have noticed a surge in construction of wind and solar farms the last year or so, now you know why. And these help address the matter of infrastructure, another thing that critics like to point out. Otherwise, charging stations are popping up everywhere. Oh, and a general agreement to have one charging standard across EV makes and models sounds a lot like what Apple just signed onto with its latest phone.

As for me, I love the idea of driving an EV. It’s just that right now, I cannot get what I want, and that is to be able to drive 800 miles a day without significant layovers. I want 400-mile range, and charging in 15 minutes or less. My driving style often includes 12-hour days as it is, and I sure don’t want to waste a couple hours or more each day twiddling my thumbs at a charging station.

But once they remedy these issues, I’m good with this.

As for those buying EVs today as well as in recent years, perhaps their blood flows green, or they see them as stylish options. In some cases, they may actually lead to cost savings compared to $4 gas, but the up-front expense of the EV can still be daunting. I see that all changing in the years ahead, though, as production really ramps up, and charging becomes as little a concern as is finding gasoline today.

Remember—or learn for the first time now—that when autos started trickling into the public realm a little more than a century ago, gas stations were also few and far between. Folks had to lash gas-filled “Jerry” cans to their vehicles, effectively making a rolling bomb with all that fuel unprotected. But the market took care of that, and gas stations became commonplace. The same will happen for charging.

I am excited about this, although I do have some hesitations about how fast the steep part of the curve will come. I know it will come, though, but maybe not quite as fast as some would think. Still, it is fun to be living during yet another revolution. There’s never a dull moment anymore. It’s electrifying.

Dr “Waiting But Willing” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #EVs #electric #autos

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certainstrangerrunaway · 10 months

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Weekly challenge 9/3: A Hamster in a Wheel

Runtime: 03rdJul - 09th Jul

I just had one decent writing session, Tuesday. From about 17h to 19h.

Summary: The week I adopted Pomodoro learning strategy.

💫 Week 1: Fixed medication

This was the week in which I wanted to implement meditation in my morning routine. I also wanted to start taking my pills in the fixed hour of the morning, as I always should have. (The major reason I didn’t was my perceived inability to get up early in the morning and my stubborn refusal to opt for an afternoon hour of taking. So I got stuck in that stubborn rat cycle of unproductiveness.) However, ridden with worries over studying for the exam and being preoccupied mainly with that... the idea didn’t take off, really.

Friday was the day I realized I ran out of my monthly antidepressants supply in the midst of the day. I visited apothecary and bought them that evening. I took them, morning pill, in the evening.

On Saturday, then, an interesting occurrence happened...

... when I decided to go out and have a breakfast on the front balcony of my house. It was yet another middle-of-afternoon-breakfast. I brought with me an antidepressant pill, my favorite ingredient in every meal, put it in the pocket of my shorts and then went to the front balcony of my house to eat. I didn’t know what happened with it, as my mind was a chaotic mess throughout: I had difficulties accustoming to the outside environment which I constantly experienced as 'invasive,' my head was hurting and I think I was overall in a dizzy, confused and chaotic state of mind. Perhaps, I accidentally threw it in the grass when I was cleaning the table, or perhaps, it was cast aside/brushed off somewhere by accident Whatever be the case, I was perplex by the situation that I couldn't tell whether I really took medication or not, deciding eventually that it is best to not take it: a day without it would be better than a day on a double dosage.

Sunday notes: I could tell with more confidence today that I didn't take medications the previous day, for the weak way I felt in the morning. I breakfasted between 12h and 13h and that's when I took the antidepressant today. I think it was around 12.20 pm.

💫 Week 2: Indoor exercises and Wim Hof method.

Goals: maintaining regular exercise pattern throughout the week.

Note: this should have been the third week of indoor exercises, but what should have been the second week was skipped.

🍀 I did exercised around 23.00 and some two hours later showered, just before bed.

🍀 Today was the resting day with no shower and it went good. (I think it was one of those rainy days, so it matched with my activities.) I also started doing Wim Hof breathing on these days.

🍀 Indoor exercises: done.

🍀 Another resting days with no showers: done.

🍃 First time this week the exercises were not delivered: the entirety of the day was squandered in doing nothing, mostly because I couldn't medicate myself before the evening and it affected my mood and brain power.

🍃 I was supposed to do the Wim Hof breathing method this day, but that was skipped, for I stayed until late, studying.

🍃 The reprise of the yesterday's story: exercises are skipped, for I started studying quite late in the night (after being comatose for the vast majority of the day) and now don't have time for it. Since Wim Hof's method is shorter, I will do that instead as a preparation for sleep.

💫 Week 3: Diet.

Goals: maintaining regular eating pattern throughout the day.

🍀 I had regular three meals on Monday, though breakfast and lunch were quite late: around 14h and post 18h.

🍀 I had regular three meals on Tuesday. However, I am writing this (and the following three days) on Friday, so my memory is not that strong about the specifics.

🍀 Another day of having regular diurnal meals. Though, as always this week, it happened quite late: breakfast usually being somewhere between twelve and two o'clock.

🍃 This is the first day, if I remember correctly, that my meal pattern was disrupted: two meals instead of three. The first one was so late, that it is proper to call it lunch. (This was also the first time I used my brother's microwave: I avoid using anything his, or going to his house, but with this, I started using his microwave - secretly, when he is not there - to warm up my food. Sister is the only person so far that knows of this and, hopefully, she will not tell him.)

🍃 Another day with disrupted meal patterns, as I ate even later today than yesterday: between 16.00 and 16.30 pm. (Soup and paprika.)

🍃 I don't remember, even though it was yesterday? I think I only had two meals.

🍃 Today, on Sunday, I only had two meals: breakfast between 12h and 13h pm, which was okay-ish, considering the eating times of previous days. And there was lunch in the time of dinner, around 19h.

💫 Week 4: Proper sleep and no porn consumption. (The latter was neglected entirely this week.)

Goals: Establishing regular sleep pattern with waking in the early morning hours and feeling as rested as I can upon waking. No watching porn throughout the day.

🍃🍃 I didn't really have proper sleep on Monday with an alarm trying to wake me from 7 to 10 am and only managing to wake at 12 pm. I did watch porn.

🍃🍃 Tuesday - Saturday: I am writing this late on Sunday. My memory is very weak at this point, so I don't remember majority of the week. (Mem. I should really start working on it.) But I think that each day was, more or less the same: every day I would try to get to sleep earlier than yesterday and each time it would turn out that I am incapable of that, as I would fall usually anytime between 02 am and 04 am. As a result I would get up quite late and that would irk me. And this goes on in cycles. I feel like a hamster in a wheel.

🍃🍃 Sunday: After managing to fall asleep only around freaking five in the morning, about the time the sun started rising, I definitely did not have proper sleeping time. In fact, this was one of the worst sleeping times ever. I tried to wake at around 10h by setting several alarms around that time, but fot some reason I was so comatose that I couldn't bring myself to rise. (This is something that worries me as it is not so normal to not be able to get up, despite tiredness.) Immediately after breakfast I returned to sleep and was sleeping until around 17h.

💫 Week 5: Teeth brushing (night) and Mind Declutter (day).

Goals: Keep brushing my teeth regularly each night and reducing my screen time during day.

🍃 Didn't brush my teeth on Monday, as it was way too late when I went to bed (around 02 am). Didn't practice 'Mind decluttering.'

??? Tuesday and Wednesday.

🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀 Thursday - Saturday.

🍃 Sunday.

Conclusion: Another train wreck of a week. Disorganized. Heavy, blurry head. Life a mes. A hurricane.

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anuharhomes · 2 years

Text

Tips To Buy A Flat In Hyderabad At A Young Age

The unwritten rule that you can only begin making plans for a home purchase once you are “settled” in life—that is, once you are married and have children—is no longer in effect. Many young people today agree that it’s better to start early regarding what may be the most significant investment of their lives. Then some individuals wish to rapidly purchase a tiny home as an act of pure investment. For instance, there are several flat for sale in Hyderabad that is a good investment for young people as they have special offers for them.

We know that purchasing a home is not simple, but thorough planning can help. You may have to make some sacrifices, but everything will be worthwhile.

Furthermore, there are perks to buying a house early. One could choose apartments currently that are on sale if one wants to save money. For instance, there are many flats for sale in Hyderabad. Either way, you don’t have to worry about rent for most of your working life, or the property keeps making money for you as an asset that appreciates.

You might also use it as a terrific source of extra income if you want to rent it out (and lessen your loan EMI burden). But you must meet a few requirements if you want to buy a flat in Hyderabad when you’re young. Here is some advice that will be useful to you before investing or purchasing an apartment in Hyderabad.

Follow Your Budget:

What is the main expenditure of your monthly income? on housing costs, food, entertainment, dining out, and shopping? Analyze this and start. Create a budget by categorizing your expenditures and figuring out how you’re spending your money. You don’t need to carry out any physical tasks in this digital age. There are several applications available to assist you in creating a budget. You can keep track of your spending and compare your income to your expenses to buy an apartment in Hyderabad.

This can assist you in reducing unnecessary spending and saving money for a down payment. You only need to reduce your lifestyle costs, not altogether stop them. If you now dine out 10 times per month, reduce that number to 5 or 6 to save money. This way, instead of purchasing “branded” groceries for home cooking, think about switching to “house brands” or generic varieties that may be less expensive.

The same is true for foregoing pricey gym memberships in favor of working out at home, utilizing public transportation (or even a bicycle, if practical), etc, to go to work.

Registry/Sale Deed in the constructor’s name:

The paperwork will demonstrate that the builder is the property’s legitimate owner. The legal document is a reliable indication that the ownership of the land cannot be disputed.

By classifying your expenses, you can create a monthly spending plan. Keep a record of your expenditures and monitor your spending. For instance, apartments in Hyderabad have been trustworthy and lawful and have adopted several improved selling techniques.

Maintain Financial Discipline to Develop Down Payments:

Financial responsibility is essential to realizing this objective. The down payment for a home must come from your resources. This can range from 10% to 25% of the property’s market value for a flat in Hyderabad. The down payment will be between Rs 6 lakh and Rs 15 lakh if a 2BHK apartment costs about Rs 60 lakh.

Start saving, avoid wasting, pay off your obligations, and perhaps increase your income stream to accumulate a down payment fund.

Explore Your Dream House:

Everyone wants to be a homeowner, but are all the necessary arrangements made? Are you searching to purchase an apartment in Hyderabad? What number of bedrooms do you need? What part of the city—the center or the outskirts—will it be located in? What extras, such as parking, a pool, or a clubhouse, are you willing to pay for?

All of the factors above, as well as additional ones, affect the cost of home ownership. For instance, a flat in Hyderabad with duplicate square footage on the outskirts is significantly less expensive than one in the city. Knowing these facts will enable you to calculate your savings rate accurately. Setting a budget, however, must consider your ability to make payments at this time. Many people occasionally choose homes that they can’t actually afford and struggle with the EMIs later.

Save, but also invest:

It might not be enough to save your extra money in a savings account. Think about investing in it. For better comprehension, let’s contrast a few possibilities.

The maximum interest you can receive on a savings account is 4% annually. You can earn interest on a fixed deposit (FD) account starting at 6% per year before taxes. You can earn interest in recurrent deposit (RD) accounts starting at 7%-8% per annum before taxes. In contrast, depending on the fund, specific mutual fund investments might yield between 10% and 15% (or even more).

FDs and RDs are risk-free investments since they are untouched by changes in the market. In the long run, mutual funds can outperform inflation despite their risk and sensitivity to market conditions.

As you are saving money today for a flat in Hyderabad, this might be a huge advantage. Because of inflation, the same apartment in Hyderabad will cost more in the future. Additionally, you can take more risks because you have fewer financial responsibilities while you are younger. High risk, therefore, equals high reward.

#apartment in Hyderabad #flat for sale in Hyderabad

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

Note

question. your uncle is the headmaster right does that mean his sibling is your mother or father? also, would you like to marry jade? shows pearl ring to the raven

[I make a reference to this super old piece! in my response. Please consider giving it a read before reading this post~]

“Ah, there appears to be a misunderstanding. Headmaster Crowley is my ‘uncle’ only in title. We are not related by blood. I’ve just been taken under his wing... well, that is to say, adopted.

“Perhaps it would be more accurate to say our relationship is more like that of a godfather and a godchild. It seems that he was acquainted with my original guardian and mentor. Uncle accepted responsibility for me after they passed. When I first arrived at Night Raven College, he embraced me and instructed me to refer to him as my ‘uncle’—and here we are now.

“I do hope that clears things up.”

Raven’s smile fadeed and her posture stiffened when you extended the ring.

It was a simple bauble, a plain silver band with a small pearl set in it. True, the band was plastic and the jewel a bead painted in pearlescent acrylic paint (it was all you could afford on your meager monthly allowance), but she reacted as though she had seen something haunting.

“Wha... Where did you get that? Th-That looks like... l-like...”

Her mind was flooded with treacherous memories, curling sweetly like tendrils of opium smoke at the precipice of fact and fiction. The brightness in Raven’s amber eyes clouded over.

“It is a promise ring,” he had once told her—after so shamelessly manipulating Raven into sticking out her hand and branding her with the jewelry. And with an irritatingly smug smile, to boot. “It is a symbol of my promise of everlasting love.

“Of course, we are not yet at the right time in our lives for it. However, I will see to it that we are properly wed one day. A union between the sea and the sky... Doesn’t that sound lovely? Fufufu...”

It did.

But she hadn’t had the courage to confess it back then.

The promise ring now sat in a drawer at her writing desk, stowed behind rows of her experimental enchanted inks. Out of sight, and, hopefully, out of mind. It was too precious to throw out, too pretty to outright deny, but precious and pretty enough to hoard.

Sometimes, on the worst of days, Raven found her hand gravitating to open the drawer and digging around to retrieve that ring, letting it twirl around between her fingers, admiring how the light slid off of it. Wondering if he would stay true to the words that fell from his lying lips.

She frantically batted away the thought before she delved too far into daydreaming. Then Raven slapped her warm cheeks, trying to knock the blush out of them, to snap herself awake.

“N-Now see here!! Whatever you may think of my relationship with... other students at NRC, you shouldn’t ask such intrusive questions! A-And while I certainly appreciate the gift, I’d much rather that you spend your money on yourself. Please, don’t let me occupy your thoughts...!!”

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #Dire Crowley #Jade Leech #Jade Leech thirst #notes from the writing raven #question

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

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for the qin su!wwx verse: i would love to the either the conversation where wangxian decide to have a biological kid, or the conversation where they find out they’re Having xiao-yu, whoops 😄😄😄

After Lan Xichen gives them the news, Wei Wuxian sits mutely on the sofa and tries to wrap his head around the three words that just left his would-be dabaizi’s lips. Next to him, Lan Zhan looks like a stunned fish, gaping at Zewu-jun like a trout out of water, and even Nie Mingjue blinks in astonishment before glancing back at his husband.

“Xichen, you’re absolutely sure he’s--?”

“We have five children,” Lan Xichen says in a strangled voice, sounding as if he would dearly like to scream. “Trust me, I can recognize the symptoms better than most. Wei-gongzi, do you remember when you last had your monthly courses?”

Wei Wuxian jerks back to life and shakes his head. “I’ve never had them,” he says faintly. “Qin Su never needed to keep track of her cycles, so she took thistle tea to stop them from happening, and I kept on drinking it after she summoned me. I thought--Zewu-jun, don’t women need their monthly courses to conceive? How could I have possibly...”

“It only stops the bleeding,” Lan Xichen corrects him. “That particular medicine is usually prescribed to young girls, not married women, lest a pregnancy go unnoticed for longer than normal. It’s not a contraceptive.”

Wei Wuxian fights the urge to claw at his robes and shriek. Of course he always knew that Qin Su had no need for contraceptive teas, since Jin Guangyao never came to her bed, but surely it was reasonable to think that preventing the monthly blood would also prevent a--

A baby, he thinks dumbly. Lan Zhan and I aren’t even married, since the year of mourning for Qin-guniang isn’t up yet, and I’m expecting a child in her body.

“You must go to the healers as soon as you can,” Lan Xichen urges, while Wei Wuxian has a miniature breakdown on the sofa before putting himself back together again. “There are certain foods that must be consumed while with child, and some things that you must not touch at all, like alcohol and raw meat. Young Master Wei, are you listening to me?”

“Hah,” he croaks. “Lan Zhan, I need--some fresh air, I--”

Hardly a split second later, Lan Zhan picks him up and whisks him out of the hanshi, carrying him down the hill towards the jingshi so he can catastrophize in peace and quiet. Or at least quiet, since Wei Wuxian supposes he won’t be getting any peace for the next twenty-odd years, now.

“Why do you think so?” Lan Zhan frowns, bringing a basin of cold water for his feet. “Wei Ying, talk to me. Are you well?”

Wei Wuxian tries to wrestle his tongue into something resembling coherent speech, and fails. Beside him, Lan Zhan’s cheeks go a chalky white, and he suddenly looks as if someone had slapped him across the face--and then Wei Wuxian hears him take a great gulp, as if to strengthen his will for the conversation ahead.

“If you do not want this child,” he whispers, “I know you are not--this is a difficult thing for women, let alone men in bodies unsuited for their souls. It cannot be too far along yet, since we--I mean, it can only be three months at the very latest, so perhaps--”

The very idea of it is enough to stop Wei Wuxian’s breath. “Are you mad, Lan Zhan?” he demands, in a near-shout. “How could you say such a thing? I would never--Lan Zhan, that’s your child! Our child! Say you’re sorry, right now!”

Lan Zhan frowns. “You want the baby?”

“Yes! Yes, of course I do!” Wei Wuxian cries, valiantly trying to blink back a tear as Lan Zhan takes his hand. “Haven’t you heard me talking about adopting more brothers and sisters for Sizhui? I’ve certainly been thinking about it ever since you told me he was still alive! How could you think I’d ever want to get rid of--do you not want our little one, Lan Zhan?”

“I loved this child the moment Xiongzhang told us of its existence,” Lan Zhan says, his voice breaking like a piece of sugar candy snapping in half. “But I had to tell you, Wei Ying, even if it killed me to do so. I can bear anything but the thought of you suffering, now.”

“Well, I’m not suffering,” Wei Ying chuckles wetly. “We’re going to have this little cabbage, and A-Yuan will have a didi or a meimei, and Lan-xiansheng will have another niece or nephew to try to shave his beard off. All right?”

(As it turns out, it is very much all right, and the look Lan Zhan gives him is full of such radiant happiness that Wei Wuxian falls head over heels in love, all over again.

Half of that love is for the new tiny person sleeping under his heart, and Wei Wuxian suddenly wants more than anything to hold his child in his arms.)

___

Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan to the Jinlintai, Lanling Jin

Peacock,

I know for a fact that Shijie didn’t choose Ling for A-Ling’s birth name, so you must be pretty good at picking names for babies. What would you name a child that was half of Yunmeng Jiang and half of Gusu Lan, and due around the middle of this fall?

Your best brother-in-law,

Wei Wuxian.

___

Jinlintai, Lanling Jin to Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan

Wei Wuxian, you utter menace--

Please tell me this isn’t for your child. If it is, Jiang Wanyin will hunt me down and beat me to death with Zidian for failing in my duties as a chaperone, and then I’ll have been killed by both of A-Li’s brothers.

Yours in great distress,

Jin Zixuan.

___

Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan to the Jinlintai, Lanling Jin

Sect Leader Jin:

My husband spent the whole morning crying after receiving your letter. Count yourself lucky that he did not let me read it, or I would have been making you a visit later today.

Regards,

Lan Wangji.

___

The Hanshi, Cloud Recesses, to the Jingshi, Cloud Recesses

(delivered by Young Master Nie Yunhai, minus the rice-paper envelope--which was probably eaten on the way, according to Lan Jueying. No one knows what happened to the enclosed sweet buns, and Lan Jingyi and company cannot be reached for further comment.)

A-Xian,

Will you come up and have tea with me? The little ones miss their Xian-shushu, and all of us are worried for you.

All my love,

Xichen-ge.

___

“Lan Zhan?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to tell your brother that you haven’t let me out of bed for the past three days? He probably thinks I’m still crying over that letter from Jin Zixuan.”

“Mm, if he asks. But Wei Ying needs to rest and eat nourishing foods, and remain still until the dizziness passes, so Xiongzhang will understand. Go back to sleep, my love.”

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #qin su!wwx #my fic #warning for mentions of periods I guess?#nothing is described in any detail though #jzx upon receiving that letter: blocked. BLOCKED. none of you are free from sin

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the-pontiac-bandit · 3 years

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If you're still answering tortall prompts, how about Raoul + family?

wow why NOT write 2000 words of blatant, shameless fluff about families you make for yourself??? inspired by this quote from tammy: “[Raoul and Buri] have glorious sex under trees, in tents, in lakes…. In carriages. I think at some point they’ll probably adopt. By the time they’re attached Buri’s getting a little old to have any of her own. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of orphans around.”

As Raoul stretched out, trying to make himself comfortable in his too-hard, too-small desk chair, he savored the warm feeling filling his chest and threatening to spill out and take physical form in front of him. In the midst of the most head-spinning, headache-inducing, sleep-sapping, joy-filled week he’d ever experienced, he’d had precious little time to slow down and simply exist within his new reality. He thought to close his eyes, the better to feel everything, but they only stayed shut for a moment before they forced themselves back open. He couldn’t stop looking at the scene in front of him for long.

Buri lounged cross-legged on their bed, far more relaxed than he had been at any point this week. Kel sat next to her, her back straight and her long legs carefully hanging off one side so as not to get dust from the practice courts on their bedding. Both had just returned from a full morning of training, sweaty despite a change of clothes and coated in dust despite a thorough washing, courtesy of a long, hot summer that had refused to give them rain.

Between them was the baby.

His son, he reminded himself. He thought the words a few extra times, even mouthing them once, as he had a thousand times in the last five days, as if forming them on his lips might make them feel more real.

None of this felt real to him yet. He supposed most people had nine months to get used to the idea before seven pounds of screaming chaos turned their lives upside down. He’d had exactly fifty-three days—he’d counted on Tuesday—so he supposed he still had some catching up to do. His mind was still reeling from the conversation that had led them here, and he wasn’t sure yet that he’d ever catch up.

He’d been sitting in this chair and pretending to read reports while mostly thinking about his right knee, which had been bothering him despite Duke Baird’s best efforts. He wasn’t sure why he remembered so specifically, since his days were nearly as certain to contain aches and bruises as they were to contain a sunrise. Buri had returned from a meeting with Thayet and Onua, although really, the word meeting conferred far too much dignity on what was more likely a combination of trick riding and palace gossip. They’d settled into the evening routine they’d shared for nearly a decade, working in comfortable silence with candles lit between them.

“Do you want children?” she’d asked, breaking the quiet spell of paperwork that gripped their nights.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he’d replied with a snort.

She’d thrown a pillow at him. He had caught it and thrown it back without even looking up from the thick stack of papers in his lap, with a rude hand gesture following behind.

“You know what I meant. Did you want children? Before?”

Something in her voice had shifted. He’d finally looked up to find her eyes already trained on him. Her face had been so unexpectedly earnest that he’d actually taken a pause, had slowed the speed of their consistently paced banter, to think.

“I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought. There were friends, and then there was drinking, and then there was the Own, and then there was you,” he’d told her with a shrug. “I do like children, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

She’d chewed on her lip for a moment. He remembered being surprised by that. After nearly thirty years of friendship, she rarely took the time to think before she spoke with him anymore.

“Spit it out.”

“Do you want children?”

“And we’re back to the start,” he’d said with a grin.

“I spat it out. Now you answer it.”

“Hypothetically, sure, I’d enjoy a child. Now can I ask why you’re asking at all?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she’d started. She’d paused for a moment, holding her breath as though she was trying to decide whether she should speak at all. And then she’d let it all spill out at once. “I’ve been thinking it might be nice to have one. A child, I mean.”

She’d held up a hand and made a face before Raoul could even begin to formulate a joke about her monthlies or her aching hips or what they might do to make that happen. “Not like that. Thayet was telling us today about homes they’re opening in Corus, for children without parents. We were thinking about the children we traveled with back in Sarain, when Alanna found us all those years ago. Gods, it was terrifying, having Thayet and an infant to protect, especially when Thayet was ready to throw her life away for the infant. And I started thinking—we have money, and safety, and love, and there are all these children who have none of those things, and—”

She’d been speaking faster and faster, but she’d cut herself off abruptly at the look on Raoul’s face. “Never mind, you can forget—”

Raoul had smiled back at her, straightening up in his chair and marking his spot in the report on his lap before putting it aside. “So you want a child.”

The weeks that followed had been ones filled with paperwork and inquiries at the palace records about the process of appointing a common-born heir to a noble house and at the magistrate’s about drawing up paperwork for adoption. There had been careful planning and hushed discussions with only their closest friends about the best way to proceed. Buri had insisted on an older child, maybe eight or nine, saying that the few diapers she’d changed on the road to Rachia were enough for a lifetime.

Instead, five days ago, Buri had entered their rooms carrying a squalling mess of blankets with an air of forced nonchalance that had told him immediately what she’d done. Instead of clarifying, or teasing her, or asking if it was the smallest eight-year-old he’d ever seen, he’d simply held his arms out. While Buri had supplied endless explanations about Thayet ambushing her with a baby, he’d stared at the squirming mess of baby in his lap, blankets already coming undone, absolutely entranced.

“He’s tiny,” he’d commented. His voice sounded like it was coming from someone else’s body. The baby was only just too large for him to hold in one hand, although he’d never try to prove it. The fragility of the life sitting in his lap was overwhelming.

“His mother died yesterday. Childbed fever, caught too late to help. The priestesses at the Goddess’ Temple were worried he might need more than the homes could give.”

Raoul had nodded, only half listening. The baby’s eyes were screwed shut while he wailed. His fine hair was dark, his skin tanned like that of the Bazhir babies Raoul had seen in his year in the Great Southern Desert. One of the baby’s hands had broken free of its blanket. It had waved in the air, keeping pace with his cries, which were far louder than he’d have believed such a tiny body could produce. He’d intercepted the hand with one finger and then watched in wonder as the baby had grasped it.

“Does he have a name?”

“Pathom,” she’d answered definitively, before belatedly remembering that names were the sort of thing parents might choose together. “That is, if—”

“Pathom of Goldenlake,” he’d cut her off with a smile.

The days that followed had been a blur. Thayet had found a wet-nurse and supplied an endless stream of goods that they’d have never known a baby required. Alanna had ridden in from Pirate’s Swoop at full speed to pronounce in a gruff voice that the infant was in perfect health. Gary had gifted them a bassinet and more blankets than any human child could possibly need. Dom had found a way to convert a standard-issue burnoose into an excellent baby sling, while Evin had given them a congratulatory note from George, who complained that Alanna had left before he could finish writing, and a cheerful promise that he’d never touch a soiled diaper. Onua had given them a set of unimaginably soft stuffed ponies, perfect replicas of the horses that roamed the highlands of Sarain where she and Buri had learned to ride.

Kel, away on business with Second Company at the Gallan border, had to wait almost a full week to learn she had a new godsson. He’d met the company when they’d arrived back at the palace long past dark the night before. They’d groomed Hoshi and Sparrow together while he thanked the gods for perhaps the hundredth time that her “testy pony” had finally found his way out of the Own stables and into a pleasant retirement.

Finally, when the last of the men had trudged towards the barracks and a well-earned nights’ sleep, she’d turned to him.

“Well?”

“There’s someone important I want you to meet,” he’d said, shoving his hands in his pockets with a smile that was equal parts nervous and eager.

“Sir, I’ve already met your wife.”

Raoul had let out a hearty chuckle. “But you haven’t met my son.”

Kel had frozen. Her face fell back into perfect stillness, the way it did when her mind was working its fastest.

After a second that felt like an eternity, she replied, “Sir, I saw Buri five weeks ago. If you’re telling me you’ve managed to grow a baby since then—”

“We didn’t, but someone else did. We adopted him from the Temple after his mother died in childbirth.”

Understanding flashed in Kel’s eyes while her face broke into a rare broad grin. She’d wrapped her arms around him in a fast, tight hug accompanied by enthusiastic congratulations that had gone suddenly silent in surprise when he’d added, a wicked glint in his eyes, “You really should come by tomorrow to meet your godsson.”

Buri had intercepted Kel on the practice courts the following morning with the dual goals of keeping her own skills sharp and ensuring that Kel would not be too polite to visit. And so now, he watched as Kel bounced his son with the brisk certainty of someone who had held a baby a thousand times. He could hear her cooing quietly at Pathom, softening her consonants while she told him all about forest campaigns in hill country. He knew he should ask her to speak up—if she was going to give her report verbally, she could at least give it at a volume he could hear—but he found he wasn’t particularly interested in the intricacies of the Second’s bowstring supplies. Buri made eye contact with him behind Kel’s back, laughter in her eyes. Buri could laugh if she wanted, but he was taking notes on Kel’s tactics. He would have sworn this was the quietest he’d heard his son in the entirety of his hundred-and-twenty-odd hours in the palace.

As his son stared wide-eyed at his former squire, Raoul was reminded of a comment he’d heard as they’d left Turomot’s offices the other day with paperwork making Pathom officially their own. “Well, that feckless Goldenlake dolt’s managed to start a family, even if it was too late to do the thing properly,” the Lord of Genlith had muttered at their backs as they’d left. Buri had elbowed him and whispered a quick “Feckless? I’ll show him feckless,” but her heart wasn’t in it. Before she’d even finished the thought, her eyes were back on Pathom, squirming against her chest in the burnoose that bound him to her.

And now, Raoul watched his son, passed between his wife and the woman who had been like his daughter long before any papers said he was a father. Stuffed Saren ponies lined the shelf above an intricately carved bassinet filled with beautifully embroidered blankets. A protection charm had been pulled from Alanna’s packs to hang at the head, while twin leather circles bearing the insignias of the Riders and the Own, no doubt carefully cut by mischievous commanders from the saddle packs of some unprepared trainees, was secured carefully at the foot. Raoul had to smile for a moment at Genlith’s ignorance—he’d begun his family right on time.

#carrie answers #my writing #anonymous #raoul of goldenlake and malorie's peak #raoul of goldenlake #buriram tourakom #tortall #tamora pierce #protector of the small #keladry of mindelan #okay we've got all the found family shit in here #the friends? check #the surrogate daughter? check #adoption? check #also who said a baby can't have three godsmothers definitely not buri and raoul #also on ao3

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

Moon

Remus Lupin x Lupin!reader (platonic)

Requested by anon “im absolutely in love with your writing. I myself wanted to do a similar idea for this request but i sadly don’t have time! I was thinking maybe the reader could be the daughter of remus? Or perhaps adopted? You can choose a love interest if needed, but I just need some remus + reader being father + daughter excellence.”

A/N- hope you all like it :) also no love interest hope that’s okay, just decided to focus on their daughter and father relationship :)

Warning- fluff and just pure fluff, some angst

———-

“Well I think it’s going to go great,” you reassure your father as you walk out of the shop, smiling as you felt the warm rising sun kissing your sun. “Even if you are going to be my professor. Maybe that’s not as great.”

Your father laughs softly as he instinctively hands you a piece of chocolate. “I think that's the best part, we get to spend more time together.”

You shrug, “until they start teasing me.”

His hand wraps around your shoulders so he could pull you closer to him as you both begin to make your way to the train station.

To wait to head back to school, and for him to wait for his first day as a new professor. Something he's been excited for, but also dreading as a monthly lunar problem is the single obstacle in the way. And as much as you try to assure him, his worry doesn’t fade away. Even if he tries to hide it or simply say, “I’m your father, it’s not your job to worry about me.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you softly, “I won’t let that happen.”

——

“Intriguing isn’t it?” Your father—or “Professor Lupin”, says from the back of the class, “if anyone would like to venture a guess as to what is inside?”

“That’s a boggart that is.”

“Very good Mr. Thomas.” Your father compliments the boy. “Now can anyone tell me what a boggart looks like?” His eyes fall on you, signaling you quietly to answer a question about what hid inside the shaking wardrobe, but you discreetly shake your head and suddenly hear the voice of Hermione answer instead.

“No one knows.” She answered, causing Ron’s shoulders to jump slightly at her sudden presence beside him and remark at spontaneous appearance.

“When she get here?”

“Boggarts are shapeshifters. They take the shape of whatever particularly the person fears the most. That’s what makes them so—”

“...so terrifying yes. Yes” Your father finishes for Hermione.

The wardrobe does another violent shake while your father continues his path towards it, continuing to explain the lesson all in the meanwhile. “Luckily a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Let’s practice it now. Ah, without wands please. After me. Riddikulus.”

The class and you then repeat after him simultaneously. Having to repeat the charm again as your father instructs to say it louder. After that moment another sly comment from Draco catch’s your immediate attention. “This class is ridiculous.”

You silently turn your head to shoot him a glare he didn’t catch but you meant with every fiber in your body. Thinking to yourself even if you wanted to speak it outloud, “the only thing ridiculous here is him with that fake broken arm. How would he like if it was actually broken.”

“Very good, so much for the easy part.” Your father continues, clueless to Draco’s remark, “you see the incantation is not enough. What really finishes a boggart is laughter, you need to force it to assume the shape you find truly amusing,” his eyes search the crowd and they land on you and then shift to someone beside you. “Neville, darl—y/n, please join me, please.”

You cross your arms over your chest and very discreetly shake your head, noticing Neville look around scared and shocked he was even called. The reaction of you both causing your father to add to his previous comment. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

With a deep sigh you begin to drag your feet after Neville, hearing Ron snicker after you left his and Harry’s side.

“Hello,” your father mumbles as Neville and you make it to the front; “now Neville first. What frightens you most of all?”

Neville hesitates before choosing to answer nervously, “p-professor Snape.”

The class laughs at the answer, while you like your father simply can’t help but agree.

“Professor Snape,” your father repeated, “yeah, he frightens us all. And I believe you live with your grandmother?”

“Yes,” Neville stammers, “but I don’t want the boggart to turn into her either.”

Your father shakes his head, “no, it won’t. I want you to picture her clothes—only her clothes, very clearly in your mind.”

Neville begins to describe what he thought but he was quickly told otherwise, getting quietly explained what to do after the wardrobe opened. Making you step slightly to the side as your father opened the wardrobe to release the boggart that soon turned into Professor Snape. The figure going towards Neville who with help shouted out the incantation and caused the fake Professor to suddenly change in women’s clothing. Causing the other students and you to laugh.

“Wonderful Neville, wonderful, incredible!” Your father chuckled before he let the boy go, “okay to the back Neville. Y/n, if would please.”

With no other choice you step towards the middle of the room and face the wardrobe, feeling the annoyance from moments ago completely disappear and turn to dread as you feared what would be revealed. And not exactly fear for everyone’s reaction, or your own, but your fathers. You knew what you feared, and you knew it would affect him too.

But before you could escape and avoid being revealed, the boggart suddenly changed and it just showed you all alone, a single full moon hidden behind dark clouds and nothing else.

Because that was your fear, being alone without your father.

“Okay, darling,” he mumbled by your ear, parting away to continue the rest, “say it. Without help this time.”

You lift your wand and point at the boggart, drawing in a deep breath before stepping closer and breathing out the pent up breath of air to say the incantation out loud. “Riddikulus!”

The fake figure of yourself disappears and the moon begins to fly out towards the class and explodes in the air as if it fireworks. Lighting up the whole class in multiple colors and taking up different shapes that made the whole class laugh and made you smile brightly.

“Good job, y/n, incredible! To the back now! Everyone form a line.”

Without hesitation you do as he says, giving Ron a high five as he extended his hand for you before you reached the end to wait for the rest of the class to do theirs. However half of the class wasn’t able to do theirs as your father—or Professor Lupin ended the lesson after Harry shared his. Leaving you linger behind after you were forced to.

“Did you enjoy today’s lesson?” Your father asked as you walked back inside class.

You nod, not looking back at him and itching to leave and leave the topic you knew he wanted to discuss as it was. Nothing. “Very much. It was very fun. But I do have things to do. Like get ready to go out to town for the first time.”

“Ah, yes, but you’re not leaving right away,” he argued, “so I did want to discuss something….your boggart.”

You groan and keep your back turned to him, just trying to dismiss his worry. “It’s nothing papa, really, you don’t have to worry.”

“And I still want to talk about it, so if you would turn around to face me, please.”

Turning around slowly, you keep your gaze on the ground until he calls again.

“Darling please.” He spoke softly, “only for a moment...just tell me what the boggart was about.”

“Well,” you mutter as you walk to where he is by the shelf, “it was….I’m scared of…” you hesitate and tighten your hold on the shelf you’re leaned on, hearing no pressure come from him, hearing a uncomfortable only surround you, choke you until it was all too much pressure and your words just popped off. “I’m scared of being alone and not having you around.”

“You won’t.” He reassured you, placing his hand on your shoulder to bring you comfort, “now I can’t promise we’ll always be together, because you are going to get older and well you are going to eventually leave me.”

You scoff softly, “you know what I mean. What if something happens when you turn? Or during what’s to come.”

“Well,” he begins to fiddle with his fingers as he always did, taking a moment to give his full answer, “It's hard with what I deal with, but I do try to take care of myself so that something bad won’t happen. But as to what’s to come, you don’t have to worry. Enjoy being at school and have fun with your friends.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him and guide you out of the class. “And well you have nothing to fear darling. I’ll be with you for as long as I can.”

A/N- the ending of this made me so sad :( because of well what happens to him….ughh I’m so tempted to do a couple more parts to this just like til it gets to that part but I also don’t want to cry 🙁

#Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #Remus Lupin #Remus lupin x reader (platonic)#Remus lupin x lupin!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #Harry Potter #ron weasley #Draco Malfoy

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 3 years

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

full masterlist - fic masterlist

The day after the dinner party in the late afternoon, Celaena was whiling her time away by flipping through the pages of the latest monthly issue of the fashion magazine La Belle Assemblée when she recieved a note of invitation from Lady Towper, one of her recent acquaintances, to a walk in Hyde Park later that afternoon with her and Mrs Burnwell, another society lady Celaena had befriended. The wording made it quite clear it was more a summons than an invitation and having spent the morning by herself, Celaena was eager enough for company that she happily put down her magazine and called for her pelisse and outerwear with alacrity. Twenty minutes later she was roaming around the park when Lady Towper spotted her, gliding across the path—there really was no other way to describe her graceful movement—with an elegant swish of her skirts and a look of exaggerated distress on her countenance, followed by Mrs Burnwell who looked rather piqued. "Dear Miss Sardothein," cried the former, looping an arm around hers. "How glad I was to hear you accepted my invitation. I wanted to take a walk around the park, refresh myself and Mrs Burnwell recalled you were rather fond of exercise and suggested we take you along with us."

Celaena rather thought that on a fine weather such as this, the ladies' primary motive for a walk was perhaps to see and be seen by the upper ten-thousands of the ton, most of which had returned from their summer estates for the social season which was to start soon but said instead, "I am grateful for the invitation. Your Ladyship has quite rescued me from certain death at the hands of boredom."

The ladies tittered politely, protesting that it was no great sacrifice on their part and the trio walked along the paths making light conversation until Mrs Burnwell jerked to a halt with a pinched expression. "Mrs Whitethorn."

Though Celaena had only met the lady once, she had been left unimpressed and could not fault Mrs Burnwell for looking piqued.

Mrs Whitethorn did not improve on a second meeting - not that Celaena had had any expectations that she would - and participated as much in the conversation with as much fervor as a lifeless statue, making occasional noises of agreement and dissent. Celaena who prided herself on being able to draw someone out of their reserve met with failure at every turn and it was not long before the ladies ran out of polite remarks to exchange and their party took their leave. Celaena spotted a group of children from her neighborhood racing each other in a less scenic path around the park and soon abandoned all sorts of decorum to join in on the shouting.

"FASTER, TOM! FASTER, YES, A LITTLE FASTER!" cheered Celaena, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and her petticoats muddier than usual. She let out a high-pitched noise when little Thomas reached the finishing line and beamed. "I did it, I did it, I said I would, did I not? Oh, Cece, did you see me? I won!"

"You did very well, dear," said she, kissing his cheek. The smug look he sent his siblings' way had her struggling not to laugh.

"Yes, you won this time—" said his eldest brother in an arrogant tone, "—but I shall be the winner next time. Shall we play something else now?"

"Hide and seek!"

"Hopscotch."

"No! We must play cops and robbers today. You promised!"

"I want to play tag."

"We don't," said the twins simultaneously.

"Then blind man's buff?"

"I suppose we could—"

"Oh, no, I will not play that ever again."

Celaena smiled, watching the children argue over what they wished to do and looked at two children - presumably brothers - finely dressed and staring at the brood of children she was so fond of wistfully. "Here, you two, why don't you play?" asked she.

The younger boy beamed at the prospect but the elder looked uncertain.

He glanced over his shoulder anxiously biting his lip. "Oh, no, mama will be furious if we get our clothes dirty." But he looked at the noisy little children with such longing and he looked so serious in general with those deep blue eyes filled with sorrow and the brows that remained creased as if by default—more serious than a nine-year-old should be; he held himself with a ridiculous amount of poise, posture stiff and yet looked unsure of every little movement or sound he made, Celaena had a whimsical desire to have him enjoy himself.

"I shall tell you a secret," she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "It is healthy to disobey your parents once in a while."

The poor boy looked scandalized at the thought of disobeying anyone. When had he last had some fun? she wondered.

He looked at the boys again, then at his boots, properly polished and finely made, then straightened as if he had come to a decision. "I-I thank you, miss, but my brother and I shall take your leave now." The formal tone so became him, she was struck by the intelligence in his expression and the confidence of his words despite the apprehension evident in his posture. He continued in a softer tone, "Mama says it is not proper to talk to anyone without being introduced."

"Then perhaps we might perform the service ourselves since no one else can? I am Miss Celaena Sardothein of Raven Hall in Derbyshire." She curtsied formally, suppressing a smile.

"Oh." He looked down at his feet.

Celaena took pity on him and smiled. "It's alright, I shan't force you into anything. You are a good boy, dear, to obey your parents so." He looked so surprised, and blushed all kinds of red, though his chest did puff out a little. When had someone last praised him? Knowing there was no more she could do, Celaena was about to bid the child a farewell when a familiar figure rounded the corner.

"Papa!" cried the little boy, latching onto his father's leg.

Mr Whitethorn patted his head and gently freed himself to step forward. "Stephen, what have I told you about talking to—Miss Sardothein!" He jerked to a stop, then recalling himself, bowed to her. "I cannot say how surprised I am to see you."

"Are you really, sir?" asked she. "You know me to be unconventional. This is exactly the kind of place you should expect to find me in." She nodded towards the elder boy who looked vastly relieved to have someone else do the talking on his behalf and the younger who clung to his father for attention, bouncing on his toes. "These fine young gentlemen are your sons?"

He confirmed that they were.

"Perhaps you and your sons could join us for a while?" Both boys looked excited for such a prospect though one was more successful at hiding it than the other.

"Please papa?" asked the five-year-old.

Mr Whitethorn rolled his eyes fondly. "After recieving that look, I should not dare refuse."

The child hugged his father tightly, then ran towards the group of boys. They accepted him immediately, having settled on the blind man's bluff finally and noisily took up positions, directing and misdirecting the child with the blindfold.

His elder brother looked lost standing by the side. He looked down at his hands. "...And he has run off already."

"Why don't you join him?" she nudged gently. I know they will be happy to include you."

Stephen swallowed, looking at his father who had a neutral face on and turned to her. "I thank you, but no—" then at her stern look, he admitted, "I, I won't know what to say to them."

"Just say you want to play."

"But surely, I don't, oh, I am fine here."

Celaena signalled for him to offer her an arm and escort her there. When he refused, she said, "You know it is not gentlemanly to refuse to escort a lady somewhere, do you not?"

Stephen huffed but gave in.

Shs clapped to get everyone's attention. "This is Master Stephen Whitethorn and that—" she nodded towards the younger, "—is his younger brother, Master..."

"Charles," the boy happily supplied.

"Right. Master Charles Whitethorn." The boy grinned toothily. "Be nice to them."

Stephen blushed at the attention, standing stiffly as one by one the boys spoke their names. He half expected them to call him names like wuss or a dreadful bore like his cousins and friends always did but no one did. In fact, as long as he played well, no one cared how loud he shrieked or how often he stumbled on the tree roots or how dirty he had gotten. As every minute passed, he relaxed some more until he was laughing and jumping along with the others with no care for his clothes or boots which were already ruined. Mama would have his head if she found out, yes, and she would scold him until his ears bled but was not all this fun worth it? How often did he have such a chance? He looked back at the spot where his father stood beside the woman—Miss Sardothein—and noticed she was watching him. He rolled his eyes when she mouthed 'you are welcome' but could not help the smile that followed after.

"Poor boy," Celaena sighed to herself. "He is too shy, and he feels inferior to his brother."

Mr Whitethorn said, "He is wise beyond his years. I do not know what to do with him sometimes." He looked down at his feet, a gesture she recognised as evident in his eldest son. "You sound like one talking with experience but I cannot imagine you being shy at all." The concern expressed on his face touched her deeply and she had the strangest urge to smooth the wrinkles away from his forehead.

"I should imagine not." She chuckled. "Eleanor, my adoptive sister is very shy—not like your son, mind—but I have seen firsthand her longing to join in on the fun and her hesitance to act on it."

They watched the children play and he chuckled. "Their mother will have a fit if she finds them so muddied."

"Their mother," said Celaena, barely restraining herself from snorting. "I do not think your wife likes me, sir."

"I think that is a point in your favor, Miss Sardothein," he replied dryly, though his lips twitched. Had she paid more attention to her dance partners the evening of the Thorpe's ball or less occupied with Lord Fenrys' veiled hints, trying to figure out the meaning behind his pointed commentary and the suspicious dinner invitation she had accepted out of curiosity, she would not have been surprised by how handsome he looked. But indeed, occupied as she had been on the previous occassions, it was not until he smiled a little that she was taken completely by how well the expression of fondness became him, how his features so perfectly formed, looked more beautiful and pleasing than ever. She gasped at how beautifully his green eyes sparkled when he stood just so, with the sunlight shining in them and how gracefully he carried himself with a hint of pride that was not unbecoming on his noble mein. If at that moment he had told her he was a prince from the fairytales, she would have easily believed him.

"Are you well, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena flushed bright red with mortification. "Oh, yes," she breathed out. She spent the better part of their afternoon walk attempting to squash the flutter in stomach by conjuring a confused, miserable Mrs Whitethorn waiting for her husband to return home. The trick did not work as well as she had hoped and when the sun started its descent, she was grateful to be able to part with some measure of equinanimity.

"You met who at a dinner party?" asked Lord Rhoe incredulously for the fifth time.

"Aelin." Seated across from his father in his private study and being the current object of the Earl's ire, James felt like the nine-year-old recieving a lecture from his father over one mischief or another when Rhoe could be bothered enough to care about something more than his next meal or the port supply. He had retreated into his own world soon after they lost his little sister and neither brother was inclined to give him more courtesy or respect than what was his due as a father. James felt he would have been perfectly justified in not informing his father of this discovery but he felt an uncharacteristic anxiety about her visit and was not inclined to risk her running into his ignorant father who would easily recognise her from afar. "Aelin was at the Thorpe's ball, the one my cousin and I attended recently, though we were not introduced. Fenrys ran into her at a nearby bookstore the other day and recognised her. Though I was initially sceptical and asked my solicitor to launch several inquiries into the girl in question and her family, Fenrys convinced me to meet her once and I—" there were hardly enough words to explain himself on this and James fell silent.

Lord Rhoe looked his disbelief.

"I know you do not wish for false hopes, sir, but I would not have come if I was not sure."

"I grieve her still," said Rhoe at last in a tone of gruff affection, "—and I know how it feels to latch onto hope but it is insanity to claim this-this madness—"

"It is not madness."

"You are letting your sentiments rule over reason. Aelin is dead, boy," said he, "and you had better drop this."

James was in no mood to drop it but Rhoe was overcome by a fit of coughs and slumped into his armchair. James rushed to his father, not sure what he would do but there was something so wrong about seeing his ever stoic, ever impassive father reduced to a fit of helplessness - no matter how small - like a common fragile old man that disturbed him greatly. James rubbed his father's back and called for a maid.

Rhoe tried to speak but a hoarse whisper was all that came out.

A maid stood at the doorway while the other rushed inside, fetching a glass of water from the pitcher. Rhoe drank it slowly, allowing the coughs to slowly fade.

"Aelin died," he choked out.

"You don't know that," reminded James gently. He was hesitant to press more but James wanted to clear this first hurdle before she arrived.

"I saw—I saw her body." Rhoe closed his eyes shut as if he was trying to block out a vision. "There was a body. Her body."

"Aelin disappeared," corrected James. "You found a body and identified it as hers but what if-what if it wasn't?"

"The magistrate found her anklet near the body. It was her. I saw the anklet."

James snapped his mouth shut. He had been nine when his sister disappeared and what little he knew about it was pieced together from eavesdropped bits of conversations and accidental slips from his uncle and aunt between the years. The Earl of Narrowcreek all but banned talk about Aelin in his home and neither son mentioned her for fear of his temper until memories of childhood acquired a dreamlike quality in his mind.

"The other anklet?"

"They never found it," said Rhoe.

James tried to consider his words carefully but . "I am aware my story sound like wishful thinking but I have—sir, I would not have believed my cousin if I had not seen her. She looks like my sister but more than that, she is-she is what I always thought Aelin would grow up to be: witty, charming and-and so wickedly clever." His words were more passionate than rationally thought out now but his father looked unaffected. James blew out a breath. "I invited her here for dinner, father. I wish to make Miss Sardothein aware of my-my suspicions. Despite what you say, something tells me I am right. I know I am. If you change your mind by dinner, you are welcome to join us tonight."

He thought his words might cause his father to at least promise to come; instead Rhoe latched onto another part of his sentence. "Miss Celaena Sardothein?!"

"The very one."

"You cannot mean to invite a tradesman's daughter into my house!"

"She is your daughter, sir!" said James sharply, feeling himself losing his control. "I mean to tell her of her identity today and you will not dissuade me from it." So saying, he quit the study door and left, suddenly quite anxious for the upcoming visit.

Celaena felt strangely off-kilter looking at a house that was as familiar as it was strange as she was handed down the carriage by a footman. Her nerves hightened for some unfathomable reason and in an attempt to distract herself by looking around the foyer of the Galathynius Townhouse, which was very grand. In the pride of the place stood an elegant water fountain, around which she could imagine a noisy brood of children splashing in and out. The elegant structure captured her interest until she stepped inside, feeling a vague sense of deja vu though she could swear she had never seen such a fine house before in her life—surely she would remember it if she had? It was not a forgettable sight—she pushed her unease aside, squared her shoulders and allowed the butler to divest her of her cloak and gloves while a maid waited to escort her to drawing room. The old servant started at the sight of her before he hid his surprise with an impassive expression like a well-trained servant, efficiently performing his duties, though she did not miss the way his eyes flicked back to her face repeatedly. Having never been invited to a private dinner before, Celaena had no expectations from the evening but was nevertheless surprised to be ushered into a private study instead of the drawing room.

A man sat in his armchair in a posture more befitting a young gentleman than an old, wealthy peer, though the grey hair at the edges of his temples belied his age.

"Miss Sardothein," said he.

Lord Rhoe noticed her surprise at being addressed by her name and smiled strangely. "Your reputation precedes you, dear. You have the whole town in a tizzy and you have in twenty four hours coerced my son into issuing a dinner invitation that is quite improper; an unmarried lady dining with two bachelors? Huge scandals have been created on far less."

"Then I wonder at your son's reasoning, for he issued the invitation. I only accepted it."

The Earl shook his head. "I know his reasons but I wonder at yours."

"I was curious."

He raised an eyebrow but she did not offer more explanation than that. "By accepting his invitation, you are putting your reputation in jeopardy, and with it, my son's."

She dimpled. "I might argue he did that himself when he issued it."

"I told you—"

"No, I told you," said she, rising from her seat, "—I am here on invitation. If you wish me gone from your home, ask and I will. But I will not accept an interrogation."

"I demand respect, Miss Sardothein."

"I shall never give it for that reason alone. I could not respect you if I wanted, sir," said she defiantly, rising from her seat, "for you were decided against me before I even entered your house—you who valued the gossip's opinions, or was your prejudice because of the grave sin I committed in being raised by a tradesman?" Her eyes flashed with ire and her breaths came faster. The Earl noticed none of it, struck as he was by the image of another adolescent ages ago shouting at his own father in the very same place. Miss Sardothein was a little older, perhaps and her features were not as delicate and soft but there was no mistaking her. He had crossed swords with his wife's younger sister to recognise her ashryver eyes and the colouring—

"Evalin," he whispered.

Bloody Hell.

Celaena's eyebrows creased when the older man looked at her in shock, then collapsed into the armchair he had been occupying.

"Uncle Rhoe? I heard raised voices—good gods, Aelin! Whatever happened here?"

If either of them noticed what name Lord Fenrys had unintentionally called her and to which she had answered, neither gave any indication. "He was telling me I should not have come and I was-I was defending myself but then he was, he was shocked at something and he said a name—Evelyn or something similar. Then he just collapsed into the chair." Lord Fenrys quickly and efficiently took charge of the situation, pouring her some wine for some semblance of calm, sending for his cousin and a footman to escort His Lordship back to his chambers. Lord Fenrys and his cousin had apparently been waiting for her in the drawing room downstairs and were not aware of her arrival. He had come to fetch a book from the adjoining library to pass his time when he heard raised voices. This assured her to some degree that she was not unwanted in the house, however as it belonged to the master whom she had quite shocked into fainting with her poor manners, she was not sure how much longer she would be welcome and expressed her desire to leave.

Lord Fenrys said immediately, "Leave? Goodness—no, my cousin will be quite cross with me if I let you leave before he comes. Do feel free to look around."

She did look around, taking in the elegant but never ostentatious furniture and the wall patterns which, though pretty, looked rather outdated. The study was well-lit with wax candles but looked cozier than she would expect an Earl's private sanctuary to look like. Her attention was caught soon by a bookcase by the farthest wall—presumably his favourites—and was surprised she shared similar tastes in reading with a man who had in a few minutes embodied all the worst qualities of the aristocracy. She moved past that wall only to come face-to-face with an unexpected portrait. It's objects—a husband, wife and their three children—sat in a formal pose but the picture radiated contentment, happiness and affection. It was perhaps something in the way the refined, elegant woman stared adoringly up at her husband or the look of affection he in turn bestowed on his two sons and a daughter who looked by turns bemused, bored and awfully wicked.

Her stomach twisted uneasily looking at the eldest son. "That. Who is that?"

"Edward," answered he. "Viscount Layton is not much fond of society. By the way his expression darkened, she surmised there must be some rift in the family—

Edward.

Edward Galathynius.

Celaena felt her own disquiet increase. Where had she heard the name before?

She glanced quickly at her host's cousin who was rifling through the drawers and examined the painting more closely. The children and the woman looked a great deal similar in colouring and in their eyes which were turquoise—

Turquoise eyes ringed with gold.

"Miss Sardothein?" Fenrys asked.

"Yes, yes, forgive me, Lord Fenrys. I feel a little, a little warm. He, your cousin—cousins, that is," she corrected herself, "they have—their eyes are a very unusual colour," she lamely finished.

"The ashryver eyes, yes." His tone was flippant, as though he had not seen her eyes. "As rare as they are beautiful, won't you say?"

Her stomach plummeted. She wanted to go somewhere—anywhere else.

Celaena tried to leave the room, her skin feeling too hot. Her knees buckled.

"Aelin!" Mr Galathynius stood in the doorway with his eyes wide.

Aelin.

She tried to ignore the implications of all that being called that name entailed.

Mr Galathynius gently led her to a seat away from the fireplace. Her head spun and her palms felt sweaty. "Home," she croaked out, unable to make out her own words. "I want home." Her skin flushed even more, her palms grew sweaty and her clothes felt coarse against her body.

Ashryver eyes.

The fairest eyes, from legends old

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold

She shut her eyes closed, willing her hands to stop shaking. It didn't work. How did she know that? She couldn't have known that. She had never met these people before, had never seen this place.

She had not.

She could not have.

Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her.

Aelin.

But how could it be?

Aelin died in a fire thirteen years ago, Fenrys had told her. When she was but five.

Arobynn brought her home and introduced her as an orphan the same year, the year she had turned six. Arobynn had found her as an orphan roaming the streets of London when she was five.

The dates matched.

The fire. A warehouse. Two men. A pistol. She tried to remember but came up short.

"Aelin," a voice gently called out.

"You are wrong," she insisted vehemently, "I am not, I am not your sister!" Her voice turned screeching. "I was—my family gave me up, they didn't want me. Arobynn saved me. He told me they didn't want me, he told me so himself."

Arobynn lies to everyone.

But he had never lied to her. To her, he had been honest as he should.

He would not.

"Shh, It's alright, Aelin." James scooted closer and talked in a gentle tone, wishing his elder brother was present to comfort her. Edward would have known how to calm her.

Edward always had.

"Don't call me that." She shook her head tearfully. "I am not Aelin. I am not."

James placed an arm on her shoulder cautiously. The gentle touch, the compassionate voice and the genuine concern almost undid her. "Aelin," said her brother—her brother, she thought with amazement that the words did not sound as strange as they should have—"I am sorry you found out this way. Indeed, there are a great many things we are not sure of but—but my father's reaction and your own confirms what I suspected."

"You told me she died." The words came out almost as an accusation.

"It is all speculation on my part, mind, but we were informed my sister died in a fire in a nearby warehouse. The owner was a rather genial fellow and my sister—you—were friends with the man's clerk. You were playing with Edward that day—that is our elder brother—and you broke your ankle. He went to fetch help from the manor house but by the time father was able to come, you were not there. The search parties could find no signs of you until the magistrate informed her of two bodies found in a nearby warehouse. The first a child, had near her an anklet we knew you wore that day and father thought—we all thought it was you. I do not know where you did go and how the anklet appeared there but—"

She frowned. "You think Arobynn abducted me for some nefarious purposes."

"Indeed not—"

"You do," she accused, looking away from the hurt in his ashryver eyes. "You think—you think he did that. But he did not. He would not do that to me."

"Aelin, I never—"

"He wouldn't!" Celaena sobbed hysterically. "And even if you do not, everyone else will. No one will believe this—this story of ours—your father, oh god, he doubted it! He thought me a fortune hunter and—and everyone will—"

"Father did not wish to hope only to be met with disappointment, dearest."

"I all but told my father to go to the devil," she said between sobs.

"And it is a darned good thing you did," said Lord Fenrys in a flippant tone. "Someone needed to take that old man down a few notches. Besides, I suspect when he wakes up, he will have his fair share of apologising to do."

Mr Galathynius hesitantly placed an arm around his sister's shoulder as though he expected her to pull away and run. But she was too exhausted to protest and too grateful to have something solid to hold onto while the earth shifted beneath her feet. Aelin buried her face in his chest, clutching at the lapels of his coat and James felt a tender affection towards this creature who was clever and witty in ballrooms, whose ire faded as easily as it was stoked and who went from one emotion to another to another in a few moments. If in that moment someone had told him he needed to fell a dragon in order to protect her, he would have happily taken the beast on with his sword. James had been too young to do anything but squabble with his little sister but he felt all the protective instincts of an elder brother now and the first stirrings of hope that his family might not be doomed to unhappiness forever after all.

Aelin pulled back and sniffed. "I am sorry, Mr Galathynius, I suppose—"

"It would please me greatly if you would call me by my first name, dearest." James wished again he had his brother with him. "I do not think father will be angry and even if he is, I hope you will not mind him too much. I sent an express to Edward the moment we returned from the dinner party. He will be here soon and he will be ecstatic. I know I am."

"I don't remember anything."

He shrugged helplessly. "It is to be expected, Aelin. You were only five."

"But Arobynn told me I was given away by my family to, to an orphanage. He found me on the streets."

Mr Galathy—James looked at her seriously, clutching her hands in his. "I don't know if he lied or not, Aelin, but know this: your family did not give you away—indeed, we have been miserable since you left us." He bit his lip, swallowed and asked, "Do you remember even a little bit of that day? You and Edward were playing outside, you broke your ankle and he came back to the house to fetch help. He was—"

"He told me to stay there," she whispered, tears rolling down her face. "I didn't."

"You were but five," said Fenrys in an attempt to soothe. "You could hardly be expected to listen to anyone." The siblings started in surprise, having forgotten his presence.

"Do you remember what happened after our brother left?" James prodded gently.

Celaena shook her head, eyes shut. She tried to remember the day on the field near the estate. A mud puddle. A fallen ribbon. Her anklet's weak clasp. Why are you alone here? A voice.

It was a man's voice.

He had promised to take her back. I will carry you home, come with me. Into the carriage, there. She had climbed into the carriage. Perhaps she knew the man? Surely she would not have climbed into a stranger's carriage?

You were but five.

She tried hard to concentrate but could not remember anything beyond that and she told her brother so.

"You need not force yourself to, but if you do remember anything more—"

"I will tell you," she agreed. "I always wanted an elder brother, you know?"

James Galathynius was an affectionate man and he itched to embrace his sister tightly, but restrained in fear of overdoing things. The last shreds of his reserve melted with her words and he pulled her close. His little sister. He wondered if there were sweeter words in the world. "I missed you so," he answered tearfully, "So did we all. Edward refused to look at pianofortes for months, they reminded him of you, he hardly ever comes to town and father so retreated into his study and there I was—Oh, Aelin, please don't leave again."

"I shan't," she promised.

"A gentleman's word?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I am a lady."

"It's the only kind of promise you didn't break when we were children. A gentleman's word?" She heard her own voice ask the question long ago. A vague memory.

Celaena smiled. "A gentleman's word."

Fenrys broke the moment, his eyes glimmering suspiciously. He sniffed. "Stop monopolizing her, cousin."

Celaena hesitantly rose from her seat, pressing a kiss against her cousin's cheek. "I know it's all a muddle still but thank you for finding me, Lord Fenrys." She smiled sweetly at him. "You told me Aelin was—that I was—your favourite cousin, did you not, Lord Fenrys?"

"You were—you are." He grinned. "Do stop with the lord business though—I am already determined we shall be the dearest of friends. We have always been alike in our dispositions."

"What he means," James grinned back, "is the both of you have always been utter rascals, making all our lives difficult."

"I don't know what you are talking about," huffed she with feigned indignation in her voice. "I am positively an angel."

"Oh, hardly!" Fenrys shook his head. "I never saw a more mischevious child. Aunt Meave swore you were the devil's spawn."

"Oh no," she said.

"Oh, yes." James grinned at a fond memory. "And I cannot blame her. You once sneaked a frog to her dinner table. It ended up in her plate somehow; it was horrific."

"Indeed, you scarred the poor woman," Fenrys quipped. "She specifically invites only adults ever since. James told us later how you twitched and groaned, shifting in your seat, trying to hide it in the folds of your dress."

Celaena narrowed her eyes. "If you knew, why did you not help?"

"I did not want to incur her wrath," he said. "Our father or brother would have protected you from her. I was on my own."

The remark brought her back to reality. "Father—Lord Rhoe—my goodness, I implied he was proud and arrogant and—and he fainted!" James hurried to assure her that he fainted occassionally and a physician had been sent for in any case and she should not worry overmuch about that but she could not help herself. However, not wanting to worry him more—the poor man was acting so casually as if expecting another fit of hysterics—she changed the subject to one she was curious about. "And Edward—you said he has been informed."

"If I know him at all, he will come running." Then, with due caution, "I know you don't remember a thing but Edward and you were particularly close—you filled buckets worth of tears when he left for Eton, you know? And when he came to visit for the summer or holidays and you were obliged to return to the nursery in the evenings, you threw such a royal fit until father allowed you to spend the nights in his room." By the tone with which he said it, Celaena rather thought it cost him something to admit this to her and she thought she heard a touch of envy in those words.

"It was perhaps not proper," agreed Fenrys, "but you would not eat or drink and he was forced to acquiese."

Celaena laughed. "That does sound like me." Then, sobering, "I should not—it's too late, I think I should return home."

"Home?"

Celaena amended with a smile, "Well, not my home, then. But I could not move here today, not with Lord Rhoe so—"

"Father will not object," said he, with conviction. "This is your home as much as it is mine or his. I am sure Edward will be furious with me if I let you leave." Then, noticing her reluctance, he gently smiled. "I understand you will need to get used to reality and I really would like it if you stayed but if you cannot—"

"Oh, no," said she, interrupting him. "I will—I will stay if you send a note to the Rhunns informing them where I am and if my maid and a few of my clothes can be brought—Elide, my maid, she will know what to bring—then I shall stay."

This was agreed to with alacrity and orders sent to prepare one of the finest guest rooms for temporary occupation. James noticed her pale countenance and offered to send a dinner tray to her rooms in a half hour if she would like to retire early. After they were informed that Lord Rhoe had been given laudanum to calm himself and would see them in the morning, there was nothing left for her to do and she accepted her brother's offer happily. Celaena thought she would not be able to sleep for hours, ruminating on the eventful day but the overwhelming emotions of the overdeal caught up with her and she was asleep before dinner arrived.

tags:

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#throne of glass #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #sarah j maas #aelin ashryver #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #valiant #aelin-queen-of-terrasen

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theodora3022 · 4 years

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Since you wrote about Yandere Villians with Y/N having a cute fairy quirk, how about a Yandere Hero having a Y/N with a monstrous quirk? SO...you pick the hero! Pick any male hero who you believe can handle Y/N. You do such amazing writing.

Y/N have to wear a face mask to hide the muzzle she wears going outside. Y/N have a quirk where she goes on a frenzy. Her eyes turn red, her veins pop out of her skin, she starts growling and trying to bite anyone near by. A monster who craves to rip flesh and bones. Y/N can turn on her quirk if she feels so much anger or fear. Y/N doesn't want to hurt anyone. She wants to live a quiet and alone life.

Wolf

Pairing: Best Jeanist x f!reader

Warnings: light yandere content, power abuse, threats

Thank you so much for the compliment, dear anon! I went soft with the monster idea that I just made the reader into a werewolf...hope it is still good! I was torn between Kiri and Best Jeanist! I really like Best Jeanist, I wish he got some more screen time ... Maybe I’ll do another one for the shark boy later.

Some groundwork:

When your quirk manifested at four years old, you were not surprised: you come from a family of Mutant quirks, after all.

Your quirk, wolf, means you can transform into a wolf anytime. The longevity is unknown to you since you barely use it. Even in your normal human form, you still have wolf ears and tail. You also have a sensitive nose, just like canines. You (hair color) fluffy fur is the same color as your hair. In acient times, before quirks become a thing, you would be seen as a werewolf.

While transformed, it is hard to supress the wolf’s wild instincts, the desire to hunt, to kill and consume raw meat (extremely difficult if you are hungry). You hate it, being like a beast instead of human. You had outbursts in the past that nearly killed one of your friends. There fore you stay in human at all times.

So most of the time, you just kept a muzzle near you, just in case you would lose yourself to the beast again.

You always feel this...strange sense of difference between you and normal people, so all of your friends have mutant quirks. You kept your social circle small, only letting those who are deemed trustworthy close to you (you told them to run if they see any signs of you getting wild)

You always had a soft spot for animals, therefore you decided to work in a pet shop. Dogs especially loves you, maybe because your canine quirk. Cats not so much, as they had left quite a few marks on you when you just started.

Now you are the assistant manager, the salary is decent, so you do not look for anything more. You never thought of having a romantic relationship because you do not trust yourself: you do not want to hurt the person you love. So even if you had crushes you just kept those feelings hidden until they went away.

Best Jeanist/Tsunagu Hakamada

Did you know his favorite animal is wolf? Therefore he is a furry

Being the No.4 pro hero means taking on lots of stress, so Tsunagu decides to have an animal friend at home who he can talk to freely, without worrying leaking information (I mean how can animals pass on information).

He went into the nearest pet shop, hoping to find a furry companion, preferably dogs.

What he did not expect is to find you there, with those literal puppy eyes and fluffy ears sticking out of your hair, tending to the puppies.

Tsunagu met people with similar quirks before, and he finds them aesthetically pleasing. But seeing you with a litter of adorable puppies, laughing and petting them? He felt like his heart just melted.

“Hello sir. How may I help you today?” You put on your usual smile. Tsunagu is wearing his civilian clothes, so he is just another customer to you. A fashionable one, though. You took notice at his stylish blonde hair.

Tsunagu would ask you about all the options for adopting a puppy. However he is only half-listening: he is drawn to how your ears twitch towards any abnormal sounds...

“Oh, my ears? Sorry if they are distracting. It’s part of my quirk.”

Would get you to talk to him as much as possible, with lots of polite questions.

When you bid him good day as he walks out the door, holding a poodle puppy with its supplies, Tsunagu is determined to see you more.

You are warm, like a ray of sunlight in this stormy world. Having worked as a pro hero for so long, dealing with many negative things so often, make him attracted to positive people. Those furry wolf ears and tail only added to his admiration.

Whenever Best Jeanist is not needed at his agency, Tsunagu Hakamada would find excuses to drop by your shop. Whether it be buying new accessories for his puppy or simply need some advice on her, he would find a way to talk to you, to hear your voice.

Until he become acquainted with you enough, Tsunagu finally asked for you name.

“I’m (y/n), and you, sir?” “Tsunagu. Tusnagu Hakamada.”

Never have once you associated your friendly customer with the No.4 Pro hero of Japan. Tsunagu is charismatic and talkative (at least to you), never putting on airs like Endeavor. Since he wears a mask, the public does not have a good idea what he looks like.

Then you noticed those small gestures, how Tsunagu’s hands would “unintentionally” brush against yours when you hand over his paid items, how his body would lean in slightly towards you whenever you are talking. Or how his lips would curl upwards whenever your tails wags with excitement. You also seen him way more frequently compare to average customers.

“He got a crush on you.” One of you co workers, teases after Tsunagu left the store.

“No he doesn’t.” You blush, although considering her hypothesis.

You seen some of his clothes in fashion magazines, one of them costs more then your monthly salary. Tsunagu is clearly a rich man, a fashion designer perhaps.

“Ms.(y/n), sorry if this sounds intrusive, but do you have a lover?”

That was...unexpected. “No, I do not. Why did you ask, Mr. Hakamata?”

That saves him trouble. Best Jeanist has got this flawless reputation for years, he prefers not to taint it. But if he must, Tsunagu would not hesitate. You belong with him, and him only. “Well, it’s possible such a beautiful lady like you already has a significant other.”

“Mr. Hakamata...I-” You were not sure to blush or to smile. Now it is clear to you: This blonde is interested in you. However you do not know what to respond.

“Call me Tsunagu, please.”

The next day you would find a lily bouquet wrapped in denim on the store counter?! Who use that as a bouquet wrapper? Flatter as you are, you still find this unsettling. He did not show up for the rest of the day, which gives you time to think.

Tsunagu is handsome and kind. He seems like a perfect choice, but you wonder what he would say if he saw you as a bloodthirsty wolf, feral and hungry for killing.

You decide to turn him down, not wanting to give him false hope.

Some minor villain is causing trouble in the streets when you were walking home. You were just going to sprint away at first, but in the corner of your eye you saw a mother with her toddler daughter being corner by the villain. The way the mother tries to protect her child triggered something in you. You have to do something!

“Grr!!!” Suddenly a piece of flesh is ripped off the villain’s leg. The villain screams in pain, but you dodged every last one of his attacks while leaving deep bite marks on him. Soon the sidewalk is stained crimson with blood. You know the two had already gotten away, you should stop now. But the wolf instincts got the better of you. You crave blood, lots of it. The growing pool under you is not enough.

You heard police sirens, someone yelling for you to stop, but the wolf is not willing to. It seems it would not be satiated unless this villain dies a brutal death.

Streams of fibers wrapped around you, restraining you until you cannot move anymore.

When you regained consciousness, you were in a clean jail cell, still in your wolf form. You assumed that you are being confined in a hero agency since you just lost control.

The door cracked. It is Tsunagu! What is he doing here? And why is he wearing a jean mask?

Then you saw the rest of his outfit. Demin jeans suit from head to toe, the...the No.4?

He is Best Jeanist? What is happening now?

Tsunagu wanted to take things slow, he wanted to date you normally, letting you know everything about him, but this seems like too good of an oppertunity to pass up.

“(y/n), can you understand me?” He crouches down with a concerned look on his face.

You nod. You are not able to speak human languages while in wolf form, another draw back.

“Do your clothes come back when you transform? Or do you need some clothes?”

You left your clothes behind a dumpster before, so you just shook your head. If you were to transform now, it could be quite embarrassing.

Handing you a denim dress, Best Jeanist leaves to give you some privacy to change.

After you are dressed and back in human form, he took you to his office.

“I know you must have lots of question right now, but please allow me to explain somethings first.”

“The villain is in bad shape. You did quite a bit damage on him. His blood loss is immense; he is still in the ICU as we speak.”

Why don’t you just let him die, he’s a threat to society anyway. You ask yourself, silently.

“However, while he is a villain, you still hurt him too much. And it’s not even self-defence. You are not a hero, it’s illegal.”

You tense up. Would you face charges for this? For trying to protect other people.

“Would I go to Tartarus? For how long?”

“Oh, come now. As long as I have any say , I won’t allow that to happen.” Your eyes lit up, wanting to thank him.

“You can be my wife instead. Stay with me, and no charges would be pressed.”

What?

You know he likes you, but just asking to become his wife like that? Without dating first.

“Tsunagu, I... you...this...” He finds your stutters cute, as he traces his fingers along the edge of your wolf ears. Best Jeanist had been wanting to do that for so long, he worked so hard to restrain himself.

“Your choice. Either face court charges, or you can be with me, all is well.”

Tsunagu Hakamada is confident about his chances. An innocent, adorable civilian like you will not last long even in the most outer cells of Tartarus.

Tears slides down your chin as you give a reclutant reply. “I’ll...be with you.”

Who could have thought Tsunagu would do such a thing? He is always so nice and friendly. But now here he is, threatening you with this crime?

“Perfect.” Snapping a denim collar around your neck, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him. “I can’t wait to get you home; you would be such a lovely little wolf. My little wolf.”

“Should you ever try to leave me, I’m sure Tartarus is always avaliable.”

#yandere bnha #bnha #bhna best jeanist #yandere best jeanist #bnha reader insert #best jeanist

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