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#but just know if you have trauma that's considered 'not traditional' or 'not enough'
dolleriumfluffle · 16 days
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I just desperately want more recognition of traumagenic experiences that lie outside of the usual "childhood abuse" assumption that everyone forces on that label. what about trauma from bullying? what about trauma from undiagnosed illnesses? what about trauma from queer experiences like transphobia? what about trauma from medical experiences like surgeries, hospitalizations, psych wards, and other areas where the medical field failed you? what about trauma from eating disorders? what about trauma from racism?
there are so many experiences that can fall under traumagenic, but are yet swept under a rug in favor of a strict, stereotypical narrative that's easier to comprehend. I think we as a community need to make an active effort to expand our understanding of traumagenic, especially where it may overlap with experiences traditionally considered endogenic, and understand that trauma can come in so many different forms. so often people are shunned for trying to create roles and labels that describe their specific traumagenic experiences, and I don't understand why. there can be no progress towards acceptance for all systems if we don't accept that traumagenic is an umbrella label too.
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breelandwalker · 3 months
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Marks of growth as a person and practitioner in witchcraft spaces:
-not feeling the need to constantly correct others
-knowing when and how to offer a dissenting viewpoint
-being content to disagree without engaging in debate
-fact-checking information before passing it along or incorporating it into your practice
-questioning your assumptions and decolonizing your thinking
-understanding that no two practices are the same and that the experiences and opinions of others do not need to govern your path
-understanding that practices not your own or contrary to your own can still be valid
-being able to describe your current beliefs without putting down others or defaulting to discussions about religious trauma
-focusing on comprehension, learning, and exploration rather than consumption
-understanding that "witch" is a gender neutral term and that anyone can be a witch if they choose to
-understanding that safety is more important than visibility
-understanding that magical practice does not have to be constant
-Developing personal beliefs and practices that may align with existing traditions but may not match them precisely
-Developing a reliable bullshit detector and employing it regularly
-Diminished desire for constant validation from outside sources as to whether you're "doing it right"
-diminished desire to overshare or aestheticize your practices, instead focusing on what works for you rather than what looks pretty enough for social media
-diminished desire to Do All The Things At Once and instead focusing on the areas where you are comfortable / interested and taking things at a reasonable pace
-being aware of the problems in the community and doing your best to not contribute to them
-being aware of the New Age pipeline and staying out of it as much as possible
-embracing science and history and common sense alongside magical learning and spiritual beliefs (if you have them)
There are lots of others, but these are some of the ones I've noted in my own journey. Just some things to consider.
Happy Witching and Keep Growing!
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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months
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OKAY hear me out
Soft!Jason with a very touchy S/O, like we all know Jay alr has SO much trauma and he needs to constantly be touching them, making sure they're still with him, and the S/O, they're more than happy about this (LOVE LANG IS PHYSICAL CONTACT), constantly holding hands, little shoulder bumps, snuggling, forehead touches (!!!), bascially giving a Nick/Charlie vibe here but STILL
lol sorry about the long rant this thots just stuck in my head
(also can i be 🐺anon?)
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Yes you may be 🐺 anon. :)
Jason wouldn’t consider himself to be a touchy person or someone who’s primary way of showing appreciation and love through physical touch like you. And yet after everything he’s been through and done, Jason finds himself extending out a hand and wordlessly intertwining your fingers together, letting out a deep sigh of relief as everything became okay again. All just because he was holding onto you.
You made everything okay for Jason.
So you knew when it was really bad whenever Jason was practically clinging onto you with no intentions of letting go. His grip was like a vice that would tighten at any signs of movement as he thought you were trying to pull away, when in actuality you were just trying to adjust yourself to a more comfortable position, and his breathing was uneven and ragged like he had just ran a marathon without any breaks. He’d go even further by burying his face deep into your chest just so he could feel that you were alive and still with him.
It hurt you to see him like this, it truly did, and so you’d respond to his need for touch in kind by running your hand up and down his back and resting your forehead against his head, pressing kisses into it every now and then whenever you heard the sound of pitiful, soft whimpering coming from the back of his throat as you cooed softly at him gentle reminders that you weren’t going anywhere without him.
‘I’m here. I’m right here Jason, you can feel me breathing can’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ He murmurs and you press a kiss against head.
‘Then that should be more than enough proof to know that I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever and I’ll prove it everyday if I have to.’ You tell him and you truly meant what you said as the following days you would do a plethora of things to set Jason’s mind at ease and quite any and every inner demon he had that tried to make him think otherwise.
In the mornings you would snuggle yourself further into Jason. Making sure that your forehead was pressed against his, rubbing your noses together and kissing his eyelids until they flutter open to reveal his beautiful eyes, making sure that you were the first thing Jason saw and welcoming him into the morning with a soft smile and a series of kisses scattered to his cheeks, jaw and lips.
‘Good morning handsome.’ You greeted him.
‘It’s always a good morning when you’re the first thing I see angel.’ He greeted you back in kind, voice low and raspy as his hands on your lower back kept you within close proximity.
‘It looks like someone’s been reading too much Jane Austen as of late to be this romantic first thing in the morning.’ You teased, smiling more at his words as he shrugs. ‘Guilty as charged but I don’t need Jane Austen to be romantic when it comes naturally whenever I’m with you.’ You smother him in more kisses after that because you were unable to come up with anything that could compare that to.
In the evening when you and Jason were starting to settle down after an eventful day, you could often be found sat next to him on the couch as he read his book while holding onto your thigh with his free hand, his thumb would trace patterns into your skin; Whereas you would go through your phone and occasionally pressing you knee against his. It was a relaxing moment the two of you often found yourselves in that it might as well have become somewhat of a tradition; sitting in comfortable silence with one another doing your own things in tandem.
However Jason -whenever he felt you weren’t close enough to his liking- would press his shoulder against yours and lean in to press a kiss to your temple before going back to reading his book. ‘I feel like I’m rubbing off on you with how much more touchy you’ve been lately.’ You told him after a while and Jason bookmarks his place in the story and puts the book down on the table infront of you before looking over at you.
‘Does it bother you when I do that?’ He asks, feeling a little vulnerable.
‘No.’ You said without hesitation and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers together and kissing each and every one of his knuckles before resting your conjoined hands on your lap. ‘I love that you feel comfortable enough to reach out to me for physical comfort. It means a lot and I’d never want to undermine that.’ You continued and you could see Jason visibly relax as a smile graced his lips.
‘You almost scared me half to death there sweetheart.’ He says in relief. ‘And the reason why I reach out for you for comfort is because you bring me comfort and bring my mind some semblance of peace.’ He admits and you couldn’t help but squeeze his hand as a silent way to echo his sentiment that he too brought you comfort. Jason smiled and brought your hand to his lips, mimicking you by pressing kisses to each and every one of your knuckles while maintaining eye contact with you; It was a simple enough action to make anyone flustered at the intensity of his seemingly never ending devotion.
‘I love you Jaybirdie and thank you for choosing me to be your safe place.’ You said softly.
‘I love you too sweetheart and thank you for being my safe place.’ Jason replied, pulling you in by your joined hands, caging you against his warm chest, as he shifted his position to lay down on the couch where you both took a well deserved nap.
No nightmares or night terrors greeted Jason that night as he help you in his arms, dreaming of nothing but you and only you and your smile. His safe place.
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Part 2 - let the world know
“I wish I could let the world know that it’s okay to let the pain show and even though times seem bad, it always rains before the rainbow.” -A Little More by Machine Gun Kelly
Dp x DC: Regent!Jazz AU Vigilante!Jazz AU
Prompt Masterlist
In traditional Fenton luck, shit goes sideways when Jazz wasn’t looking.
The Joker breaks out of Arkham.
Now, Jazz is fully aware of the Clown’s evil-ness and Danny’s trauma with all things Circus thanks to Freakshow has her hackles raised when the spirits of Gotham start screeching in her ear mid-patrol that “Joker is free!”
Like hell the guy would stay that way.
Lady Gotham is anxiously watching the Regent stomp towards Arkham, where the Mad Clown had yet to fully leave the premises into Gotham proper.
Would Jazz kill the Clown?
Many of the Unquiet Dead of Gotham are the staunchest supporters of kill, kill, kill on a good day, but with the Clown?
They seethed, they writhed, they thirsted for their vengeance and with every life taken by the Joker, the number grew.
Jazz hated the thought of death, ironically.
It’s one thing to rule the Dead and Never-born, but to add to the Realms' population by her own hand?
(It wouldn't be the first time.)
Well, Jasmine Nightingale would have to check her morals at the door, because when Lady Gotham begins to hesitantly (then vivaciously) root for you to “please end him, dear” one has to reconsider a few things about themselves.
For instance, how would she avoid becoming the next Joker? It was a hushed confession of the Lady that made Jazz hesitate at the border between Gotham and Arkham-
A dead man's switch would trigger a Joker Venom bomb, infecting those nearby.
Would the gas affect a Liminal?
True, Jazz was very much a living being (she often woke up in a cold sweat with a hand at her neck, heart beating against her fingers), but she was Death-claimed.
Was this how Danny felt as a Halfa? Weighing the living half vs the dead to see which would win out in a fight?
Not for the first time, Jazz found herself thankful that she was only Liminal.
Heart in her throat, Jazz considered her options.
It would be easy to just run him through with her ecto-sword, a gift from her once-mentor Pandora, but she would likely have to fight her way through bats and birds to both get to and away from the Clown.
Jazz could also just ask for aid from Lady Gotham and/or the Unquiet Dead to enshroud her from vigilant eyes as she absconds with Joker to Crime Alley.
(Jazz was sure Red Hood wouldn’t mind if she dropped a dead clown at his feet. He seemed the type to appreciate a job well done.)
(If her heart raced slightly in response to that thought, no it didn’t.)
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Despite all her reservations about murder, killing the clown felt like an honor for the Regent.
(Blood had long since been on her hands.)
The morning would bring chaos as the people learned of the Joker's fate, Batman's failure to return him to Arkham, and how someone finally had enough of the black furry's inaction to stop the clown.
Sometimes, inaction is just as bad as action.
(A Fenton who learned that well.)
Jazz, in full Regent armor, mounted the Joker's head at the mouth of her alleyway, the same one that she used as a checkpoint between her apartment and the Park Row graveyard. A grotesque trophy that would be used as a symbol of the Regent's authority to avenge, of her willingness to cross the line of morality.
The Unquiet Dead who owed their demise to the Joker could now pass on and Jazz could call it a night.
That was, until whatever tomorrow brought around to spite the younger Fentons.
Typical.
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[This was more of a short fic rather than the prompt I first started with, but it just came to me. I want to explore some things with events leading up to Danny and Jazz in Gotham, but I'm not sure. I need help to describe Jazz's armor because I have a general idea, but I'm not sure about the details. Ideas?]
[Hopefully I'll be able to put more Regent!Jazz than Vigilante!Jazz, but I also really like Jazz as one. Bet you can't guess the name I use for her as a vigilante!]
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arthenaa · 3 months
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a daffodil's camellia— ominis x gn!reader
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summary: you think your purpose has always been to love him.
warnings: angst/no comfort, arranged marriage, indirect exclusion, HEARTACHE, unrequited love, reader is kinda a pushover but its bc of generational trauma guys !!! imelda is a great friend, the imelda bias here is unreal so sorry im just projecting, ableism behavior guys bc these mfs are too privileged, i am fr trying to break ur heart ig. NOT PROOFREAD im lazy.
note: HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!! i slept on this mb,,,,, the angst ominis fic that i talked abt last time but didn't upload until now .... oc cameo from @localravenclaw and @esolean !! (Ren and Lydia) hope u guys enjoy this! anys have fun reading
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All your life, you think that this was what you’ve been born to do.
It’s engraved in years of tradition and history, a role you had to partake in the moment you came out of the womb. It was predetermined that your fate would end up in this situation.
Purity was an important factor for the historical families of the Wizarding world. Those who had come down from powerful bloodlines consider the tradition of keeping the family pure a sacred tradition of their power and authority over society.
A pedestal created from years and years of bloodshed to hone the perfection of wizardry and magic today. You suppose it was only an act of gratitude to be part of a long-lasting dynasty that preserved the sacred power of your ancestors. You know it’s an honor to be tasked with this role—to be given the duty of creating more branches for future generations.
You should know because this was what you were born to do.
Born and raised to be a bridge for other Pureblood families to lengthen their authority and claim over their self-built thrones. They say it’s a privilege—to be part of a family descended from the Great Four or just have connections with them through their ancestors’ relationships.
To be pure is to be great.
To be pure is to live a life filled with luxuries.
Opportunities are immediately given with just a snap of their fingers. Their authority precedes those whose blood is stained with the lesser. You’d think living a life of a pureblood would just entail all roses and gold.
Y/N would beg to differ.
“Keep your head bowed and hands on your lap,” Your mother’s voice is ever so cold. The carriage rustles with each bump against rocky terrain. You suppose it's about time you've gotten used to her tone but the booming surprise of her voice has a way of sinking its claws deep within your small heart. As a child, obedience was the foremost value you learned to be of importance. You knew that if you flick your head slightly off angle to your usual disposition due to an interest in your surroundings or the people around you, you would only get the receiving end of your mother’s wand. You knew that you'll be locked down in that dreaded abyss if your bow stuttered due to a misplacement of your foot in front of other pureblood families.
At a young age, you knew enough to not make a mistake.
Born third to the Rosier family's eldest son, you knew that your duty was to form connections—Marry off into other pureblood families and create the next generation of talented pureblood wizards. Wizards have the natural right to take what’s theirs because of their authority over society. A vision that threatens those beneath them.
So you keep your head bowed and palms tucked nicely on your lap with one palm over the other. Your mother is a cold and moving force beside you as you tried to match her pace despite your small little legs. At the age of 7, you are brought by your mother for marriage negotiations.
“Your husband will be an esteemed member of the Gaunts,” You remember your father declaring over tea. He sits menacingly in the front of the table, the glow of the flames behind him making his figure all the more unreachable. You know to only nod and not question any further. He makes a point by knocking on the wooden surface of the long dinner table that seems to stretch farther with each day. You wonder if the spaces beside you will ever be filled. You turn to him at the beckoning of your attention. “You listen carefully to your future husband, child. I cannot afford another failure.”
His words engrave deeply within your poor meek heart. You know that if you deny it, you’ll suffer the same fate that of your older sister—the one who tried to get a glimpse of the love and normalcy she desperately wanted yet ended with a tragedy.
You remembered that day in such vivid detail—the cold looks of your parents as they looked down at the state of their eldest daughter, who bawls and claws at any sort of reaction from the still and lifeless figure of her former lover.
So just like the obedient perfect child that you are, you nod and bow—subservient to the influences of those who claim to be wiser than you. You can only do so much to control your faith so alas, you let go and let the others hold the reigns.
That is until you meet him.
You were faintly aware of what he looked like. A boy with eyes as bright as the clouds, hair so smooth—so blonde that it gleams perfectly in the sunlight, and moles that litter his face, mimicking the night sky. These were murmurs of him from the servants in the halls of your manor. They say his beauty is compared to that of Rowena Ravenclaw and his demeanor spoke true as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. However, there were also whispers of his only flaw.
“They say the young lord does not see.”
You wondered before how true the nature of the gossip of the young lord was when you took your first step inside the Gaunt estate, but now, as you stand before him who seems detached from the world with his eyes as dull as the morning sky on a rainy day, you suddenly make a conclusive remark about him.
He was truly a sight to behold.
“This is the young Lord, Ominis Gaunt," His mother declares proudly from her place, chest puffed and earrings dangling from the heaviness of the jewels that clung tightly to their placements. His father stands idly and lets his wife do all the matching. Your mother only smiles, placing a firm hand on your back—reminding you of your duty.
You bow with the elegance that of a noble—A move you’ve honed to perfection from years and years of teaching and practice. You rise back up with the same pace, eyes peering up at him from your lashes. He only seems to daze off into the distance.
“This is Lady Y/N Rosier. We’ll serve you well.”
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The silence is unbearable.
You think that maybe after the taxing interaction with the grown-ups and being able to interact alone with the young lord would allow you to finally discover his true personality.
That, however, continues to be a difficulty.
"Do you like fencing, my lord?" You ask, trying to break the ice as you sit across from him in one of the receiving rooms of the Gaunt's huge manor. "Or perhaps history?"
"Stop asking." He replies curtly, stance devoid of interest. You continue to dig deep into that shell of his, hoping that your incessant need to make conversation would crumble the defensive walls he put up.
"I hear you're quite skilled in astronomy, my lord—"
"Don't call me that."
"What do I call you then?" You perk up, cheeks gleaming with a smile. The furrowing of his eyebrows only digs deeper.
"It appears that I am an avid fan of silence. I suggest not speaking at all," For a 7-year-old, his voice is cold and authoritative. You suppose it's because of his closeness to the Great Four that he is granted with such ability to freely talk however he wants. Your eyes glimmer in awe.
"I just want to get to know my future husband," You retort, trying to make sense of your fiance. You pout like a child, feet swinging back and forth—allowing yourself a moment of reprieve from the stiffness of tradition. "Mother says it's customary for us to be familiar with one another at a young age to establish proper connec—"
His hands slam hard at the wooden surface of the table in front of you. You flinch, a bit surprised by his sudden show of strength. You admit that maybe you've gone a bit too far with the questioning, but it was all for a good purpose anyway! You two are to be one in due time. So, what was so wrong about getting to know him?
You wonder if you'll ever be like him someday. To carry himself in such a stance that he doesn't need to nod or bow to anyone. He tilts his head in the direction of your voice, face contorted into a glare.
"I'll be on my way," He murmurs, voice calm, and yet his disposition evokes anger and frustration. You watch him with bated breath as he walks towards the double doors, the servants bowing and opening it for him with ease.
You know that this should be the final nail in the coffin. To detest the boy you'll soon marry as he turns into a man whose values and inhibitions clung onto him like a wolf who won't release it's jaws onto prey. You know and yet your fingers crumple the fabric of your skirt, eyes looking forward to your next meeting.
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The next time you meet him is over tea. It was the turn of the Gaunts to visit your manor as dictated by the tradition of courting within noble houses. You've practiced this scenario over and over. Countless of times alone, with your governess, and with your mother. It's engraved within the depths of your mind as the wounds of the past sting with each sip of your drink.
Act like a noble. Drink like a high-born. Be a pureblood.
The thoughts ring harshly with each thump of your beating heart. Your fingers twitch, and your form stiffens—all for the sake of tradition. The words branding the forefront of your mind as you feel the intensity of your mother's gaze.
I have to do good. I need to do good.
"Your estate is a wonderful place, Lady Rosier," The Gaunt Matriarch addresses your mother with an esteemed elegance—to which your mother only responds with a courteous smile, a part of her façade.
Your mother never liked purebloods but she respected tradition. She smiles and bows in front of her peers but mocks and beseeches them in the comfort of her room.
You don't understand your mother but as a young child, validation from her was the only thing you ever wanted.
And so you try.
"It's all due to our ancestors' hard work in keeping the Rosier history alive through the manor's architecture," You respond, lips contorted into a gentle smile. The Gaunts seem impressed by your interest in the conversation and from the corner of your eye, you see your mother shift in her seat.
"I see," Lord Gaunt eyes you with a glint of interest in his eye, and he shifts his attention to your parents. "Lord and Lady Rosier, you've raised a daughter worthy of her blood. I applaud you."
Your mother smiles and for the first time, you feel your heart thump at the recognition of doing good. She then responds, "As they should be. It is their role to be worthy and I'm sure she'll be a wonderful spouse to the young master."
Your attention then shifts to the quiet blonde sitting idly in his seat. His face is stone cold, eyes dull, and fists clenching the material of his seat so hard it turns white.
Anger was the first emotion you've seen on Ominis's face.
You wonder if you'll get to see more.
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"Aren't you excited?"
You squeal, influenced by the utter joy of finally attending school. It's your first year.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where most wizarding families are built and made from. Many of your relatives built their name from their experiences as a student in Hogwarts—after all it was in your blood to be ambitious. To dream of the impossible and achieve it by any means. That's why your family house dons the colors of green and silver—a direct allegiance to the house of Slytherin, that of which many of your blood relatives reside during their time as a student.
While being excited about Hogwarts was already a given factor as a child of magic, there's also one thing you're most excited about.
"Stop bouncing about, Y/N," Ominis grumbled as he heaved his bag over his shoulder. "We still have to find our damn car."
Your relationship with Ominis did progress in some ways. He's less grouchy now and tolerates your personality enough to let you stay by his side. You've gotten used to its indifference but you think that it's good progress with how he talks more with you albeit still with glares and a cold demeanor.
He pays you no mind as he traverses through the narrow pathway of the train with the guide of his wand. You follow closely behind, hands carrying your suitcase as Ominis guides you to your assigned car.
"I can't help it, I'm literally bursting with energy," You whine as Ominis finally reaches your destination, slides the door open, and places his things inside. He plops down to the farthest corner and leans back to rest. You immediately claim the seat next to him to which he grumbles.
"There's plenty of seats for you to take," He scowls, gesturing to the empty seats in front of you both. You only giggle as you snuggle up next to him.
"Oh don't be such a stone-faced troll, Ominis!" You whine, slapping his arm. He tenses with anger at the gesture. "It's natural for me as your fiancée to be as close to you as possible."
"Stop calling yourself that," His eyebrows furrow in annoyance, jaw clenching in anger. You roll your eyes, not minding his hostility.
"But I am though?"
"I swear to Merlin's name and everything he holds dear, if you don't—"
The slide of the door halts your conversation as your eyes and his head flick toward the sudden disturbance. Two brunettes pop in, one seemingly looking like a direct copy of the other. They blink, eyebrows raised as they stare at the two of you.
"116?" The boy asks with an awkward smile. "Are we interrupting something?"
You pull yourself slowly from Ominis's space at the prospect of new friendships. You smile. "No worries, just a lovers' quarrel. I assume you're the ones we'll share the car with?"
"There is no lovers' quarrel." Ominis firmly states. The two purse their lips in slight hesitance. "Please, do join us though. Merlin knows I need it."
The two then make their way to sit in the remaining two empty seats, placing their luggage in the compartment under. You smile as they settle down in their seats, bright smiles plastered on their faces.
"Right," The boy starts. "Uh, I'm Sebastian Sallow and this is my sister, Anne. It's nice to meet you both."
You nod excitedly at the introduction, delighted to make friends at the present opportunity.
"I'm Y/N Rosier," You respond. You then gesture to the blonde next to you. "And this is Ominis Gaunt, my fian—"
"Friend." Ominis cuts through, overpowering your voice. You turn to him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "They mean friend."
The twins glanced at the two of you, puzzled by the shifting of the balance in your dynamics. Anne breaks the silence.
"Well, we'll be spending quite a long while here, I hope to make your acquaintance," The Sallow girl beams. Sebastian nods at his sister's words while Ominis responds with a hum of agreement.
There's not much to say when the group falls into silence once more. The four of you were strangers after all, still not used to the presence of someone new but the feeling is welcomed.
Your eyes glance at Ominis who seems to have been resting his eyes, leaning his head against the wall—waiting for the train to begin its course. The corner of your lips curl up at his iridescent beauty.
The train sounds its whistle beginning your journey.
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"Are you dumb?"
Imelda blatantly states as she stares at you with disinterest in her eyes. She takes a bite of her apple. "Or just purely ignorant of what's actually happening?"
On your 3rd year at Hogwarts, you somehow get grounded to reality through the presence of Imelda Reyes.
You suppose it's all in due time that you'd be awakened from the trauma-inducing nightmare of tradition and sacred rules of your family. The need to fulfill your role. To give Ominis a home he needs, a family he wants, and a lover he deserves. You suppose that your role overshadowed your judgment of his character and behavior.
You had gotten used to it. To his blatant ignorance of your efforts, the glares, sarcastic comments, seething scoffs, or the fact that sometimes, he doesn't see you at all.
He's always like this, you think. You were never bothered by his indifference. You believed that you could love him enough for the both of you.
You were stupidly wrong about that too.
Sebastian and Anne are terrific company. After being acquainted in your first year, your little group had been formed then and there. The two of them stayed for the past 2 years and you were truly grateful for them. However, the twins were mostly close to Ominis. You didn't mind the gaps between you and the siblings seeing as you prioritized your relationship with Ominis more than anything.
You never really considered it to be a bad thing.
That is until Imelda begins to scratch at the surface of your finely built walls.
You purse your lips, minding your own business as you continue to sew a new stitch into the stretched fabric. You were unfortunate enough to share the dorm room with Imelda and while you enjoyed the rambunctious' Slytherin Quidditch Captain's companionship, this was certainly not something you'd rather talk with her. Everything was fine and there was no need to nitpick at every detail.
Your needle pokes through the hole, goes in, then out—thread sliding swiftly in the path you've carved out for it.
"I'm not sure what you mean, Imelda," You try to deflect her inquisitive nature. She rolls her eyes.
"It's just–" She pauses to readjust her position, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees—she eyes you with keen interest. "I'm truly amazed how you've gone 3 years with him."
You glance up at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Stop speaking ill of Ominis."
Imelda lets out a loud laugh at your response. "And you even dare to defend him? Are you sure you're not dumb?"
You forcefully drop your sewing tools on your lap as you heave a sigh at her words. You turn to face her fully. "What do you want?"
"Why stay?" She responds, direct. She takes another bite of the apple.
There's a momentary pause of silence as the question rings in your mind. You had half a mind to just drop the conversation and leave but some part of you somehow wanted to defend yourself.
"He's just Ominis. He's always been like that," You respond, chest puffed in self-proclaimed confidence. "We grew up together. We're promised for each other. That's all I need—"
A sudden burst of laughter from Imelda catches you off guard. You flinch in surprise as you watch the brunette Slytherin double down in laughter. Somehow, the clawing feeling inside you becomes more prominent with each giggle and huff from the woman's lips. Your nail begins to scratch at the skin of your thumb.
"H-Holy shit," Imelda sighs in laughter, brushing off a stray tear. She giggles a few more times before finally settling down with a smile. "You're worse than I thought."
She tilts her head with a condescending look on her face.
"Have you ever seen him with the twins? Alone?" She asks. That sets off wave after wave of uncomfortable thumping within your chest. You let out a shaky breath. "I suppose you don't because you're always so focused on your dearest fiance—Actually, y'know! If you just tried to properly look at him. Maybe, just maybe, you'd finally get a grasp of yourself."
Your jaw clenches and palms sweat.
"Stop it." You try to get a hold of yourself. To take control of the situation and get a grip on your thoughts that seem to get more and more chaotic as time passes. However, despite your tries, Imelda overpowers you once more.
"Y/N," She leans forward to rest her arms on the wooden surface of the table. "Maybe, you don't know much about him at all."
Your eyes are locked on hers at the prompt of her words. You can't bring yourself to deny despite the flurry of emotions bursting within you. She tilts her head and gives you a sympathetic look.
You walked out with no response.
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On your 5th year, the presence of a new student shook the halls of Hogwarts.
It was uncommon, of course, that a wizard would get admitted at such a late year and while the idea of a new 5th year would turn a few heads in curiosity, this was not the only source of attention.
Over the course of the first few days back to school, you hear talks of the new 5th year's incredible feats of surviving against a dragon attack. There were exaggerations, of course, and different variants of the story with how widespread the gossip had reached, but it all reached the same conclusion at the end.
This new girl had already made her mark as a formidable wizard.
You admired her at first, wanting to know how she did it and what brought on such circumstances. However, there was a slight uncomfortable nagging deep within the depths of your heart at your first meeting. While you felt regretful of such impression despite her kind deportment, you still felt uneasy at the arrival of her presence.
It was probably partly because of Anne's leave of absence since the start of your 5th year. Sebastian was quite privy to the details concerning Anne's sudden absence. You knew she was sick, but other than that, you were quite left in the dark. You convinced yourself that maybe Sebastian feels conflicted when talking about it, and his sudden avoidance of you bringing up the topic proves a testament to that. However, you've seen him and Ominis on the train when you came back after getting refreshments. You've seen Ominis give him a comforting hug—an affection you've barely received from him if there was any at all. You've seen Sebastian tap Ominis to stop talking whenever you enter the room.
People tend to have that misconception that you're awfully unaware of your surroundings due to you being characterized as a 'pushover.' You knew that your bond with Ominis or Sebastian was way different than what they had for each other. You knew it and chose not to dwell too much on the semantics. You'd rather focus on Ominis. On being the person he deserves.
This was solidified when Sebastian began including her in your lunch hangouts.
You were unfortunate enough to be separated from Sebastian and Ominis for your Potions lecture. You had to scour across the castle just to get with them for lunch. They were usually at the same place—lounging around in the Defense against the Dark Arts Tower or the Undercroft.
This time, however, you were finding it quite hard to spot the two.
"Look," Lydia Parkinson, a Ravenclaw from your year, twirls the cup of drink in her hand as she lazily looks up at you due to the lulling atmosphere of the afternoon. "Maybe you could just have lunch with us. Just saying."
Seated beside Lydia is Ren Aries, your potions seatmate (also a Ravenclaw). She has rumored romantic ties with Sebastian, which brought you to their spot in the Great Hall in the first place. Who else would know Ominis's best friend better than you?
Your eyes turn to Ren, who merely rests her chin on her palm propped up by her elbow on the table. "Don't look at me."
"You're basically dating!" You whine, hands grabbing on your books tighter. "Of course, you know where he is."
"No, we're not." Ren answers swiftly.
"Wrong." Lydia raises a breadstick and accusingly points it at Ren.
"Is she talking to you? I don't think so." Ren swats her hand away, causing the breadstick to fly across the table and into a group of first years. The three of you immediately turn your heads, not willing to face the confused glances on their faces.
Just as the first years begin to mind their own business, Lydia begins to lean in with pursed lips. "Well, I might've heard that the two left the Great Hall with the new fifth—"
Suddenly a loud slap intercepts her words. You flinch back at the sudden movement, watching as Lydia rubs her arm as she crumples over the table. Ren sends a glare toward Lydia before turning to you with a half-lidded stare.
"Don't mind her. She's delirious after drinking the pumpkin juice." Ren intercepts easily, not minding her best friend wincing beside her. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.
"I heard what she said?'
"No you didn't."
"I mean ..." You trailed off, eyes glancing between the two. "I just heard her say the new fifth year."
There's an uncomfortable silence as the two gaze at you with an unreadable stare. Somehow, this gaze seems quite familiar. You've seen it from Imelda, from Anne during your short moments together, and now these two. A budding stem of annoyance begins to grow in your skin.
"Why are you looking at me like that? They're probably just hanging out." You shrug it off like you've always had. It is no use fretting over such simple matters.
"Sure they are—" Lydia chuckles before Ren sends a nudge to her ribs. The redhead merely groans and grabs at the edge of the table. You look at her in concern.
"As I said, delirious." Ren lightly curls the corners of her lips to give you a polite smile. There's a pause of silence before Ren sighs—eyes gazing with an unreadable expression on her face. Your fingers twitch at its familiarity.
"They're in the Undercroft, Y/N." She says, nodding slightly. There's a slight hesitance to her tone of response as if telling you where they were wasn't something she was supposed to be doing. "Sebastian dropped by our table to tell me that, just in case I wanted to join."
Sebastian referred to Ren. Just in case she wanted to join. You wanted to ask if Ominis at least told her to tell you, but you're too much of a coward to do that.
You couldn't will yourself to look at her eyes, afraid that you might finally recognize the emotion that lingers in the depths of her mind. You suppose the inquisitive and empathetic nature of Ravenclaw runs deep within Ren's blood.
You nod as a thanks and left without a word.
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You hear laughter first. Your footsteps halt at the archway of the Undercroft—breath faltering as your eyes find the familiar tufts of blonde you've grown to love over the years.
Normally, you would've already bounced over to him, reveling in his attention no matter how negative or neutral it might appear. You would've teased him and wormed your way into his arms.
However, things were quite different from where you were standing.
You hadn't had the opportunity to meet the new 5th year. You only relied on hushed whispers and murmurs across the halls of Hogwarts just to get a glimpse of what she was actually like. You take slow steps towards the source of laughter, eyes trained on their figures—smiles, and gleeful expressions plastered on their faces.
You're caught off guard by the unfamiliar presence of the new fifth year—hair as dark as midnight with a touch of silver strands that decorate the front of her hair like the stars that litter the sky. She's as pretty as they say, as radiant as they whispered about, and evokes the aura of a true born wizard.
However, the true reason for her shock lies in the fact that Ominis—the man she'd known to be stoic, unmoving, and unphased, was laughing. Ominis was laughing.
"Oh, Y/N." It's Sebastian who notices you first. You flinched at the greeting, watching as the other two paused—the new fifth year turning towards you with wide curious eyes, and Ominis subtly turned his head away from you. Your breath hitches at his actions. Sebastian awkwardly glances between the two of you. "I think this is the first time you actually met Nora. Nora, this is Y/N Rosier. Y/N, this is Nora Finley."
Nora waves at you with a smile. "Hi Y/N. Hope you don't mind me intruding."
"None at all." You reply eyes glancing at Ominis who continues to have his back towards you. You decide to continue the conversation. "I was looking for you guys. I thought we were going to have lunch."
"Oh," Sebastian scratches the back of his head, hesitantly glancing at Ominis who continuously remains silent and indifferent. "We already had lunch. Sorry."
You slowly nod in an understanding, a stiff smile plastered on your face.
"That was because you were too hungry to wait," Nora intercepts with joking shove. "Apologies, Y/N. I didn't know they were waiting for someone else."
Your finger twitches slightly at her words. "It's fine."
"I was waiting for Ren! Ominis was just being an asshole." Sebastian defends himself which earns a slap on the arm from Nora. Then, you suddenly hear Ominis speak up.
"Not my fault you were actually coward enough to not go to her yourself," Ominis says. This earns a laugh from Nora who bumps her shoulders against Ominis. "I had to pull you over." The three laugh at the situation at hand, faces plastered with glee and comfort.
So Ominis was there, with Ren and the others. Yet no one thought of telling you where they were. An anxious heavy feeling settles over your chest.
Suddenly, you feel out of place. Your ears ring, zoning out, as their motion becomes more distorted in your eyes. You feel as though you shouldn't be here—that you're the one intruding instead. The ache overwhelms you.
Your feet shuffle a few steps back. "I-I'll get going." You say, voice weak as you announce your departure. Sebastian gives you a moment's glance before nodding. Nora gives you a big wave (you feel bad, she's too much of an angel). However another reason piles onto your aching heart—mind in a daze as it beats fast with anxiety.
Ominis had not once acknowledge your presence.
You leave with your dignity intact.
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Seeing Nora is now a regular occurrence.
You didn't mind it at first. You liked the girl. She was a social butterfly, easy to talk to, and her presence brought comfort whenever she was around. You couldn't argue the comfortable nature of Sebastian and Ominis around her. While you were also a generally talkative and social person, it still varied among your peers. Your personality often ventures between the lines of introvert and extrovert—only becoming active to a certain amount of people, and silent to the rest.
However, despite your positive impression on Nora, there was also the case between her and Ominis. You've seen them hanging about in various points of the castle. Even going out together when they leave classes. You haven't had much alone time to spend with Ominis as he somehow begins to become more non-approachable and cold as days pass by. Somehow, he becomes more indifferent than before.
Back then, Ominis indulges in your whims despite his initial opposition. You suppose it's probably to get you to stop, but he had always listened—one way or another. Now, he merely leaves without a word—cutting you off mid-talk and bouncing off to Nora who had just entered the room.
Your heart begins to waver and your breath speeds up. You couldn't deny the hurt that flows through you with each indifferent response of your fiance. Your fiance. He was yours as much as you were his.
So why does it feel like you're the one intruding?
"What do you think we should get Anne, Omi?" You smile, siding up to Ominis whose hands run through the braille engraved on his book. "Do you think we should get her some scented candles?"
"Anne has a sensitive nose." Ominis furrows his eyebrows before slightly tilting his head towards you. "Didn't you know that?"
"I did!" You respond with a defensive tone. Of course, you did. Anne was your friend. "I was going to buy her those simple scented candles. Just to help her with the stress."
Ominis scoffs at your words before going back to reading his book. Just as you inquire a little more about his day, you hear Nora and Sebastian chattering as they reach your spot. You were about to greet them when you felt Ominis nudge your hold away from his arm. You flinch at its intensity as he rises from his seat to walk towards the two—specifically in Nora's direction.
Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, knocking against your ribs like an ache you can't explain. You sit silently, eyes watching as they chatter amongst themselves. The looming realization begins to crawl under your skin, chipping at you—limb from limb. Your breath falters.
"Y/N!" Nora greets like the angel that she is. You smile back, albeit forced and hesitant but welcomed her warmth with open arms. She slides up to you, before calling over the two. They follow with ease. You feel Nora's arm intertwine with yours, thumbing the cloth of your robe.
Just as the two have finally settled down, Nora begins the conversation. "I'm glad you don't have DADA with these two. It's always a chaos."
You nod, still quite perplexed by the whole situation. "Really?"
"Please, Nora." Sebastian teases, arms propped on the table. "Just say you're mad that I beat you at a duel."
"Throwing a ragged cloth to my face before casting a Levioso isn't a win that you think it is." Ominis intercepts with a disappointed shake of his head.
"Blah, blah. Looks like a skill issue to me." Sebastian leans back, arms crossed over his chest. He rolls his eyes playfully. "Life isn't fair on the battlefield, Finley."
Nora turns to you with a scrunched nose. "Are you really friends with these guys?"
You find yourself pausing at her question. Thankfully, she laughs afterward, pulling tease after teasing towards Sallow. The question begins to etch into your brain as your mind conjured every possible interaction you had with Sebastian. Was he even your friend? You remember the silence and the awkward tensions whenever Ominis had to go to the bathroom or get called up by Professor Weasley. Even before then, when Anne was present in your little group of 4, the twins were always stuck to the hip, if not with Ominis. Never the three of you alone together.
Never with you.
You suppose Imelda was right. Blinded by the idea and concept of love through duty, you unintentionally neglected the possible ties that you could've had with the twins. You felt helpless.
"Oh, yeah. Before I forget, what are we getting Anne this weekend?"
Your head turn towards Nora in surprise. "You're coming?"
There's a momentary pause at your question. You wouldn't have minded it before, but now you feel the stares clawing at your skin.
"Of course, she is." Ominis replies with a tone of disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous."
"She hasn't met Anne, though? I don't think—"
"Don't speak for my sister, Y/N." Sebastian cuts through the tension with an offhanded response. You turn towards him in surprise. Nora shifts uncomfortably beside you. "We already planned this. Let's just go with it."
"You didn't tell me anything?" You're not sure as to why your voice suddenly begins to rise. Your hands clench under the table.
"My bad?" Sebastian shakes his head in confusion, as if he's the one incovenienced. "Listen up, next time then? Instead of you know—ogling Ominis, all the time?"
"Sebastian!" Nora calls out, perplexed at the sudden hostility. The brown-haired Slytherin merely turns his head away. A dreadful feeling submerges over your body as you glance at Ominis who sports an indifferent look in his face. There's a paused silence before Sebastian stands from his seat.
"Where are you going?" Nora asks, worried.
"Out. I'm floo-ing to Hogsmeade for the gift. Catch up if you guys want to." Sebastian mumbles in response. He leaves abruptly, robe trailing behind him.
Just as you were about to turn to Ominis, he stands up. "Omi?"
"You should've known better." Ominis mutters. Your breath hitches at his words. He follows through with Sebastian. Your hand clenches into a fist.
"Y/N," Nora grasps at your arm with slight comfort. You couldn't be mad at her even if you wanted to. "Are you okay?"
Your head is lowered, hair framing your face as you try to gather your emotions. You then turn towards her with a smile you've practiced from your childhood days.
"I'm fine."
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The silence was unbearable.
You're not sure when was the last time you and Ominis were seated together in a room, alone—much less the receiving room of your manor. You can feel the nervousness clawing up your throat. Your mother had persisted on the two of you visiting the manor during your winter break. You wanted to accept the invitation at first, seeing as this was an opportunity to spend time with Ominis.
But seeing the disdain on his face as soon as you told him the news, somehow regret only fills your body. You had no choice either way.
"Is Hogwarts treating you well?" Your mother sips her tea with the elegance fitting for her role as the matriarch of the house. You shift in your seat, uneasy from her attention.
"Well enough," Ominis answers from your side. His face lacks the enthusiasm of talking to your family.
Your mother furrows her eyebrows at the response but doesn't say anything regardless. "I do hope you're both preparing for your engagement once you graduate in 2 years. Merlin knows how much both of our families have prepared for it."
You nod submissively, unable to resist the pointed stare your mother gives you. Ominis stands abruptly at her words, not opting to pardon himself as he walks out of the room. There's paused silence before your mother scoffs.
"Insolent child," She seethes, taking a sip out of her cup. "If it weren't for his family name and heritage, we would've found you a more suitable heir to marry. Merlin knows his family's treating him like a dispensable asset, when his brother's already married and up to take the role as head of the house."
You sit silently, eyes focused on the untouched cup of tea. Your mother's voice booms through the room, causing you to flinch at its sudden intensity.
"Go after him, Y/N. Beg on your knees if you have to. Keep him tied to the leash before he goes off pawing at others." Your mother orders. "Your sister's a testament to that. Do I make myself clear?"
Your mother's word was law. Everyone in the house knew that. Even your father, who is recognized as the head of the house. She easily controls those around her to do her bidding, and those who resist are met with dire consequences. You'd rather be by her side than against her blade.
"Yes, mother."
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You found him by the courtyard.
Your family dog, an Alpine Mastiff that was gifted for your father by a collector of muggle creature, pants against his lap—enjoying the gentle caresses that Ominis runs through his fur. He sits against the huge tree in the middle, the leaves giving his face a gentle shade from the light. You make careful steps before standing in front of him.
"Feeling lethargic, Omi?" You smile. The dog, Xavier, looks up at you with its sleepy eyes before yawning against Ominis's touch.
"I told you to stop calling me that." He replies, eyes devoid of emotion. He merely runs back and forth Xavier's fur as if its stimulation calms his nerves.
"You never allow me to call you anything." You retort, voice calm as you look down at him with a forlorn expression. He doesn't need to know that.
Ominis shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "That's because we're not friends."
You purse your lips before responding. "If you say stuff like that, I'll get hurt, Omi."
Ominis chuckles. "You've bound me to your chains, made me a spectacle with your jokes, and you're worried about getting hurt over the truth?"
You stared at him as he continues to pet the massive dog on his lap. You've gone through this routine before, and you'll go through it again. Why get hurt now?
There's a miniscule pause of silence before you let out a laugh at his words. "So touchy with everything, Omi. You really hate me that much?"
It's a joke. Don't take it to heart.
"Yes," He answers with no hesitation, face devoid of any emotion. He finally looks up and its as if those beautiful cloudy blue eyes could stare through you. "Yes, I do."
It's not true.
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You've observed Ominis enough to know what he's thinking.
As much as others regarded him as an intimidating figure, he quite wears his heart on his sleeve. You know when he's angry, when he's joking, being sarcastic, sad, or whatever version of Ominis you're facing for the day. You didn't spend 8 years of your life loving him just for you to not recognize every detail on his face.
You've known him well enough to recognize patterns on his behavior, subtle differences to his emotions, and his current mood of the day. If anything, you're well versed in Ominis's body language, that you've grown well accustomed to how you act around him based on it.
That's why besides you're being hit with two realities, instead of one.
You've watched them from across the hall, chatting up a storm as the three of them were huddled in the corner. You've long since opted to observing them rather than being in the group itself, and ever since then, you've begin noticing things you weren't supposed to.
"What's got you looking so focused there?" Imelda's voice reaches your senses as a figure settles beside you. You give her a glance before looking back at the trio. She hums, following your line of sight. "Looking at your asshole of a lover boy again?"
"Don't I ever?" You sarcastically remark, laughing slightly. Imelda looks at you with a slight raise of her eyebrow.
"Wow," She nods. "That's improvement. You don't make sarcastic remarks when I point out your obsession with white boy over there."
You glance at her, heaving a breath as you contemplated letting Imelda know of your thoughts as of late. You suppose that she's the only person who has been real with you since the start. Everything's been a blur since your visit with Ominis to your manor. You've been trying your hardest to appear normal but things had just gone way off. You've started to distance yourself as well, only responding when asked or talked to—which most of the case is Nora's doing. Though, with Sebastian's constant needs for adventure and Nora's inquisitive nature, she had also lost the attention towards your interaction with the group.
With Ominis, you knew well enough that wherever Nora and Sebastian went, he went to as well. You've seen the three of them flee the Great Hall, not minding your lack of presence to the group. 4 years as a group of friends and 8 years with Ominis, and they haven't had a single thought about you that passed through their minds.
You suppose you should've gotten used to their exclusion to your presence. You're partly aware that this is due to the engagement between you and Ominis, how much he despises the centuries-old tradition of marrying those of the same stature as he is. How much he detests the forced nature of your relationship. You wished you had the power to null it, to start over, and meet him under different circumstances. To dream of a reality where he actually finds love in you, and wishes for a future with you in it.
But alas, life is hard for someone like you. To hold so much authority within your fingertips but be shackled by tradition and generational trauma. You've long accepted your demise.
"Ominis likes Nora." The words slips out of your mouth with ease. Like what you just said was something out of the news. Imelda chokes at what she hears. You look at her with concern.
"E-excuse me?"
"Ominis likes Nora." You repeat calmly. Imelda sweatdrops, moving to stand in front of you as she analyzed your facial expression.
"You're saying that like it's the weather—are you okay?" She asks, worried.
You shrug, eyes looking down at your twiddling thumbs. "It's inevitable. Everyone knows about it, no?"
Imelda pauses, face cringing as she places her hands on her hips. You chuckle at the silent admission. "I'm always a bit too late."
"Look, Y/N," She sighs, taking a step forward as she places a hand on your arm. "Ominis was doomed to be your fiance from the start. He's an asshole and just overall rude! You've got nothing much to lose anyway!"
Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip before pulling between your teeth. "I do. That's not how it works, Imelda."
You glance up at her, finally meeting her concerned eyes. She lets out a breath at your forlorn expression.
"I always knew Ominis didn't like what we had. I've spent most of my childhood years with him to not know the familiarity of his disdain." You reply. You recall the times you've received cold and indifferent actions from him. "He's made himself clear. I was always the one who wanted more."
"Y/N," Imelda sighs.
"I don't think Ominis ever considered me to be someone dear to him," You whispered. "I had always been something he easily cast aside. A nuisance—I've seen the way he whispers to Sebastian whenever I've said something they considered out of line. I was never something he deemed important."
Imelda is silent. You heave a sigh.
"He's happy now." You mutter. "Nora's everything I'm not, and even if I wanted to hate her, despise her—she's so pure and likeable that it's so unfair. Why is it so unfair?"
You feel tears well in your eyes. Imelda's breath hitches at the sight. She looks around, trying to see if anyone was watching. She then hears the familiar voices of the three. Soon enough she sees them walking over to pass by their area. Imelda did what she could only think of.
She pulls her off her robe before throwing it over your head, shielding you from their stares. She pulls you in her arms as the three near towards you. You couldn't see a thing but you could hear them.
"... Imelda?" Sebastian's voice comes out as confused, probably because of her hooded figure. "What's up?"
"Hey!" Imelda smiles, hands making gentle pats to your back. "Friend's not feeling well. Hope you don't mind."
There's pause of silence before Ominis responds. You feel your heart speed up. "Ah, hope they'll feel better."
"They hear that quite well!" Imelda responds with enthusiasm. You slump against her hold, feeling lethargic from thinking.
"Alright, we'll get going." Sebastian waves before the two follow them off. Just as the three of them began to make their way down the hall, you hear Nora suddenly backtrack.
"Ah, by the way, if you do see Y/N around, tell her that Professor Weasley's asking for her?" Nora says. Your body freezes and its as if Imelda had felt it as she had pulled you closer.
"S-sure." Imelda responds. The three of them began to go on their way, chatting and laughing as they disappear down the hall.
Imelda finally pulls her robe off you, eyes filled with concern. "Y/N ..."
"They knew I wasn't around," You mumble, breath trembling, and eyes devoid of emotion. "They knew. He knew."
Imelda raises a hand to fix your hair before smiling. "There's nothing much I can say that will be of help, but I do hope that you'll take care of yourself—Of what you'll do from here on out."
You pause at her words before nodding silently.
The realization settles in and its heartbreaking and grueling. However, despite that, things haven't been much clearer than before. You'll set things right. For him. For yourself.
Because love is your greatest weakness, no? Your greatest threat. Love for him, and love for your family.
Whichever will prevail?
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A/N: before yall ask, yes this will have a part 2 ... i just really wanted to finish this and it went beyond what ive planned. stay tuned mwehe!!! this will not have a happy ending btw. the title daffodil's camellia is in reference to their meaning in love. daffodil can mean new beginnings but it can also mean unrequited love, camellia means romantic love or devotion. just wanted to let yall know that!
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So you want to write about a Jewish Ed Teach - a quick guide to writing a Jewish man of color, by a Jewish moc
Given Taika Waititi is Jewish, I am always so happy when I see fanfic authors writing about Ed being Jewish! We need more Jewish poc rep and I'm always happy to see it. That being said, I've also seen a lot of misunderstandings, so I wanted to to write up a few quick guidelines.
Disclaimer: I'm just one Jew with an opinion, and this is based on my own experiences! I'd love if other Jews, especially other Jews of color, in the fandom would like to chime in with their thoughts as well!
It is possible to be a Jewish athiest! Judaism is membership in a people, and belief in g-d is not required (and, in my community, it's even considered a very personal question!). Some of the most observant Jews I know are athiests; belief in g-d and level of Jewish observance are not directly correlated. Cannot overstate how common it is for Jews to not believe in g-d or go back and forth on the question.
On that note, there are different levels of Jewish observance. Every individual is different, but in general there's Orthodox (very strict), and then, way on the other side, there's Reform and Conservative (Conservative does not equal politically Conservative). Conservative and Reform are very similar, except the Conservative movement tends to be more observant of traditional Jewish law and uses a lot more Hebrew. If you live in an area without a lot of Jews (like where I live!), it's very common for Reform and Conservative movements to have a lot of overlap and collaborate on a lot of stuff together.
Not every Jew keeps Kosher, or keeps Kosher to the same level of strictness.
Synagogue services are not like Christian services, especially outside of holiday services. Ordinary Saturday morning services are often more like a group conversation as we try to work new meaning out of the Torah. The B'Nei Mitzvah, the big ceremony that marks a kid being old enough to participate fully in Jewish life, is more like "baby's first thesis defense" than anything else! There have literally been pauses in services I've attended before as someone ran to the temple library to check their sources.
Not all Jews speak Hebrew. Some Jews might not know any, some might be able to stumble through the more important prayers, some might be able to sight-read okay, some might only know religious words but not modern words, some might be fluent! Just about any level of proficiency is believable.
Ed's got a lot of tattoos! Tattoos are a big traditional Jewish no-no, but (again!) different movements and different Jews have their own opinions. I know a Conservative tattoo artist! It's not something that other Jews would comment on (unless they're just assholes) and it wouldn't make anyone kick him out of synagogue services (no joke, I read that in a fic once).
Hannukah is not the only (or even the most important) Jewish holiday; it's just the one most non-Jews know about. The two biggest holidays are Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. I think Ed's favorite holidays would be Purim (you get to wear costumes and put on plays!) and Passover (retelling of a story along with a big meal!).
Depending on the area and the Jewish demographic, Jews of color can sometimes feel uncomfortable in our own community, especially when other Jews automatically assume we must be converts. While this is a real issue, it is not something I want to read authors who aren't themselves Jews of color write about because it is a deeply inter-Jewish issue.
Depending on the community you grow up in, religious trauma isn't as common with queer Jews as it is with queer Christians. The Reform movement has been advocating for queer Jews since the 1960s (you read that right, yes). I'm not saying there are no queer Jews who have religious trauma, I'm just saing it's a lot less common, and I have always felt immediately accepted as queer in Jewish spaces.
The inverse is not true. Queer spaces are not always accepting of Jews (or of people of color, a double whammy!).
A few stereotypes to avoid: Jews are often stereotyped as being greedy and corrupt. Jewish kids are bullied by Christian kids because "we killed Jesus," when I was ten I had another kid ask to "see my horns." Always avoid comparing Ed directly to animals, especially rodents.
If you're a non-Jew looking to write about a Jewish Ed, I recommend doing some research. MyJewishLearning is a great website that's very accessible.
Every Jew interacts with our Judaism differently, so if you're writing a Jewish Ed, please take a moment to think about what it means for him! Membership in a community? Calming traditions that remind him of home, family, and community? A point of pride - we're a resilient lot! Even just a note in his background that he's not as connected to as he might like to be?
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blueinkjpeg · 5 months
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Okay but one thing I really like about Kit’s characterization is that she’s the antithesis to the Disney princess stereotype but also fills the stereotype perfectly?? But also in a way that subverts the troupe??
Like okay, we can guess from her line about how she wishes she were “anyone but a princess” and the general way she acts that Kit has a complex relationship with femininity. I’m mostly just speculating, but it’s probably just because she associates most feminine traits she has or is forced into with her royal title, and so hates it all.
Being a princess political and socially demands a few immovable things. Having the patience and emotional bandwidth to run a nation, present herself in a distinctly feminine and uptight way, and marrying specifically a man her mother chose so that she can give birth to precautionary heirs.
These are all things Kit is incapable, or relatively incapable, of doing. Kit, just base personality wise, isn’t a patient person. She doesn’t think ahead most of the time, and she doesn’t have the interest in learning it. Also, she’s literally a lesbian and if she goes through with the marriage her mom set up, is doomed to a life of misery and unfulfillment, not to mention that the s*x part of the marriage will be traumatic no matter how it happens. And I literally cannot imagine her as a mom, sorry. Forcing Kit into this role is like trying to shove a circle into the square hole of those baby toys.
I can only imagine Sorsha trying to continuously shove Kit into this role that she cannot fufill would leave Kit frustrated with herself for being unable to fit, and hating anything having to do with it. Like— the whole reason Kit was born was to fill this role. Imagine being physically and emotionally incapable of doing the one thing you were born to do? Kit’s never feeling good enough trauma is just apparent in the show as her abandonment issues. Despite knowing she can’t fill this role and clearly not trying to anymore, doesn’t mean she doesn’t hold a lot of frustration with herself for it.
As an obvious butch, I think Kit would end up in her style no matter how her life turned out, but I also think that the more her mom pushed Kit toward femininity where Kit wasn’t able to fit correctly, the more Sorsha ended up actually pushing Kit in the opposite direction. Frustrated she can’t go one way, she’s clearly ended up going the opposite way.
Just like when her mother didn’t want her to learn sword fighting, she sought a way to learn “on her own” with Jade. Kit isn’t really an authority person. She likely sees it as getting farther away from her mother, and closer to her dad, like how she lost her mom’s sword and picked up her dad’s in the show.
But it’s not just fashion, Kit’s shown distain for “feminine traits” (or traditional Disney princess traits wink wink) she has in her personality. The most obvious example is Kit’s feelings for Jade. They’re very deeply ingrained onto who she is as a person. They’re raw and venerable and Kit goes like five whole episodes after kissing Jade to even consider talking about them. Kit goes lengths to avoid talking or confronting her deeper emotions.
But it remains that Kit feels things very deeply. When Sorsha yells at Arik and Kit in episode 1, Kit’s the only one that starts crying. She loves Jade so much, and is so afraid of being rejected, that when she confesses, she also starts crying. When locked in a cage thinking Jade might be in trouble, she freaks out on Elora. On truth strum, she borderline begs Elora for advice. When she finds out her dad might be alive and that he thinks Elora is “what matters most in this world,” she breaks down and yells. She uses the power of love to save Arik’s life.
Girl cannot hold a grudge to save her life, btw. She’s so pissed at her mom episode 1, the next morning she’s crying at her bedside because she’s worried Sorsha might be upset with her. Jade says she’s abandoning her and Kit’s over it and kissing her on the lips in the span of a few hours. Kit apologizes to Graydon for being a bitch at the engagement dinner. She gets pissed at Boorman for potentially leaving her dad to die and then it’s literally never brought up again bc she’s over it. She tries soooo hard to be mad at Elora for mattering to both her parents more than Kit does, and fails miserably after like a week max.
She’s a teeny ball of rage but it’s not in her nature to hate people for whatever reason.
She’s a very sensitive person. So much so, that she has a quiet arc about how she can’t really stand death.
That possum she has to go fetch for Elora? She can’t even look at it. When the jar breaks and she has to go hold it in her hands? She’s pinching it a full arms length away from her body. As Elora’s cutting it up she’s physically gagging. She tries to talk about Ballentine with Jade, but she can’t even say the word “killed.” She tries SO hard to be macho and tough and be the one to kill Graydon, but Jade and Boorman both already knows she’s weak shit. Kit BAILS. It’s the moment of truth and Graydon’s dying and Kit ORDERS Jade not to kill him as she SOBS and BEGS Elora to figure out a way to save his life bc she can’t stand to watch him die. A throwing star hits her in the arm and she SCREAMS ANS PASSES OUT. Jade has to mentally prepare her to rip it out and she SCREAMS AGAIN. She’s the most reluctant person in the world to fight her brother. And when she wins the fight and tries to kill him, her body won’t even let her. When Elora tells her to stand down, Kit collapses into tears like she was praying someone would stop her.
And it’s clear at the beginning of the season, Kit hold a lot of resentment towards herself for having these traits. They’re not inherently feminine traits to have, but she associates them with being a princess and hates them on principle. She’s probably been told her whole life to be nicer, politer, more empathetic. She doesn’t want to be any of those things, she wants to be who she remembers her dad to be; a brave, admired, tough knight. Kit wants to be brave and strong and she thinks she can’t have that if she acts like Sorsha wants her to, since it’s clear Sorsha doesn’t want either of her kids to be like Madmartigan. She wants them to be a certain way, she wants them to be the opposite of the militaristic way she was raised. But the truth is, there’s nothing Kit can do about it. She is a sensitive, loving, empathetic person, that’s it. This is who she is, and her arc in this show is learning to be herself. All parts of herself.
Kit gets to love the venerable, sensitive parts of herself without giving up the masculine badass sword fighter that she’s always wanted to be, the way she assumed she’d have to. She gets to be both!!! She gets the cool ass armor and she can be emotionally available. She can express fear and love and still be brave and strong!!!
Kit emerges from this show at the heart of the questing gang. Y’all have no idea how much I love that.
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heaven4lostgirls · 1 year
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“What do you mean you’re not going?”
sirius black x insecure!fem!reader
TW: ED, panic attack, breakdown, body images, crying, emotional traumas happy ending tho!!
a/n: this isn’t proofread and this is literally my first fic be kind pls!!
Y/N had always been considered a marauder since she sat with them during their first ride of the Hogwarts Express in their first year however once she was sorted into Hufflepuff they obviously were not able to spend much time around one another
Y/N had also developed a crush on a certain Sirius Black during the course of their fifth year when he had run away from his parents and had openly shown his love for muggle traditions such as nail polish and eyeliner.
Sirius had never noticed her affection mostly because she spent most of her time avoiding him, however every year the 4 marauders including the Hufflepuff girl would meet in Hogsmead for their annual marauders day.
It was a tradition started in first year when they all had gotten their permission slips signed and decided that they knew nothing of Hogsmead and it would be safer for them to travel together in which they soon found themselves wanting to go to the same stores and thus a bond of everlasting love and friendship was born.
Y/N was now however considering cancelling her plans with her friends because her outfit that she had picked out to wear at the beginning of the week had somehow looked tighter than what she had remembered it looked like.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had used these clothes but that didn’t matter because her size had never changed before. Her mother had made sure of that whenever she visited home that she was to be placed on a strict diet because upon arriving her mother had noticed her stomach had looked chubbier than when she left.
Y/N had admitted she was not one to focus on portion control because the good at Hogwarts was amazing and she was used to eating a lot so that she had enough stamina to get through quidditch practice and none of the other boys ever commented on how much she ate because they all ate similar to her.
She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and decided that she would try and find another outfit. Y/N tried on countless clothes she had in her wardrobe only to try on a pair of jeans she hadn’t worn since she was 12 that obviously no longer fit her however that was her last straw as she collapsed into the pile of clothes and sobbed.
After cleaning herself up and pushing all her clothes back into the cupboard trying not to look too closely at herself in the mirror stuck inside her wardrobe doors she pulled on a pair of Sirius’ sweatpants and one of James’ old quidditch t-shirts.
She knew there was no way she would be able to make it to Hogsmead now considering she was already late from doing her hair and makeup which was inevitably ruined by her breakdown so she decided to walk to the Gryffindor common room to let the boys know she would have to skip out on todays adventures.
She softly muttered the password to the common room however upon arriving she noticed that Sirius was the only one sitting at the fireplace. She cocked her eyebrow wondering where all the boys were and walked over to him and as he looked up he gave her a confused body glance at her choice of attire.
“What are you wearing? We’re late and the boys are already on their way to the leaky cauldron!” Sirius exclaimed and she smiled forcefully before she looked him in the eyes as she hugged herself in comfort. “I- uh actually can’t make it to Hogsmead today…” she murmured embarrassed that she had made him wait for her only for her to turn him away.
“Are you sick? I mean none of us have missed a single Hogsmead trip together since first year, even when Remus had a full moon the night before we dragged him out of bed just so that we could get-“ Sirius was cut off by a frustrated and pained voice “I know Sirius, I just don’t want to go! Okay?” She exclaimed.
“What do you mean you’re not going?” He looked at her confused. “I just can’t go, you guys should have fun without me and bring me back some sweets from Honeydu-“ however it was her turn to be cut off by Sirius who shook his head “I’m not leaving without you Y/N, it’s a marauders day and if you can’t be there then there’s no point in the day is there?” He smiled and winked at her.
She was confused on why he was making such a big deal out of her going however she just rolled her eyes. “I just don’t think I look good in what I planned to wear and..I didn’t want you guys to be embarrassed…about me” she looked down as her eyes glossed over with unshed tears.
“Hey hey, don’t cry” Sirius cooed softly as he pulled her towards him and stroked her hair as her muttered comforting words into her hair. She felt her tears leave her eyes and she sobbed into his leather jacket. Sirius felt her body shake with each sob that tore through her and he felt his heart break a little with each painful sound leaving her.
“I can’t look at myself in the mirror anymore Sirius, I hate it i hate it i hate it. I hate how I l-look and how when I-I smile I have lines around my mouth, I hate that my t-thighs t-touch and that I c-can’t stop my eyes from getting dark circles and that my t-tummy isn’t flat” She cried hysterically into his shirt.
“I can’t do this anymore, i-it hurts. P-please make it stop P-please Siri make it s-stop” Sirius could feel the tears running down his face as all he could do was hug her tighter as he pulled them towards the marauders dorm and laid on his bed with his arms wrapped around Y/N.
“I know I can’t fight those thoughts for you but I need you to know that I will always find you beautiful, nothing is going to change that for me okay?” He squeezed her tighter as he heard her panicked breathing turn into shallow breaths.
“None of us will ever be embarrassed of you because of how you look okay? Do you remember in fourth year when James walked into the great hall with no eyebrows because he thought he could shave a slit into them?” When he felt her nod as a sign she was listening he continued the story.
“The rest of us were busy laughing but all you did was pull him outside the great hall and you gave him the hair growth potion Slughorn had taught us and hugged him before walking in like nothing had happened. That was when I knew that you were one of the kindest people I had ever met” He felt her snuggle into his chest and sniffle.
“I didn’t know that you saw me do that, I thought you guys were busy laughing. I just wanted James to feel better I would’ve done the same thing if it had been any of you, you know that right?” she spoke into his chest.
“I know love, are you sure you wanna stay behind, I will stay with you but I want you to know that even if you decide to go I know that the boys have been dying to talk to you about our new idea for a prank” he smiled down at her.
Her heart swelled at the idea of the three boys waiting for her with excitement. She nods slowly and gets off of his bed. “I-I think I’d like to go, w-would you mind giving me a minute to change and we can be on our way?” She smiled shyly.
He nods and smiles back and before he knows it Y/N leans forward and pecks his lips and scurries off not before saying “I guess that was your thank you for everything” Sirius stands in shock of what happened before grinning and touching his lips before running after her.
He picks her up with ease before carrying her to the marauders dorm. “Sirius!! Put me down! We have to go meet the boys!!” She shrieks and laughs. “Fuck them, you can’t just do that and think I’m not gonna make you mine” He kisses her neck with a smile before nuzzling her.
Safe to say they were over an hour late and walked into the leaky cauldron with their hands intertwined meeting the gazes of their shocked friends.
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hangmanssunnies · 1 year
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Square Peg, Round Hole
Summary: You love Bradley Bradshaw. He really is like a dream. You just wish that your parents didn't love him as much as you do.
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Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader
Word count: 2k
AO3 link
Warnings: complicated parental relationship, childhood trauma, venting, healthy relationship, bad jokes, slight angst. Let me know if I missed any.
Authors note: Did this scene in The Good Place ever make you cry? Or have your parents ever liked your partner more than you? If so, this fic goes out to you. <3
"Was I too much with your parents again?" He asks you. It's only moments after he passed you a milkshake and eased his foot off the break. The Bronco creeps forward out of the drive-thru, and Bradley checks both ways before turning back on the road home. You sip your milkshake and consider his words carefully. 
It was one of those things. It didn't bother you…not really, but then again, maybe it did. You had always felt that you weren't really meant to be your parents' kid. And you loved your parents, of course you did, but it never really fit not the way it was supposed to. And your parents were bursting at the seams for parental love. You just weren't really the right shape for it. On the other hand, Bradley Bradshaw was the perfect shape; your parents adored him, and he loved them right back. The only reason Sunday brunch had started as a tradition was because of Bradley willing it into existence. You think your parents were more into Bradley than flies were with honey. They just clicked and latched on to Bradley's natural charisma and bright personality. 
It was a beautiful thing for you to think about sometimes. How, at least, you could bring them together. It wasn't your purpose to be your parents' perfect kid. It was your destiny to unite this lonely man with a family, though. It's hard to describe. It's not like you saw Bradley in any shape or form, your brother. However, you knew that if they felt they could get away with it, your parents would choose Bradley over you if you ever broke up. 
"No." It's not until you say it that you realize it's true. "No, you've made me love my parents again."
"What is it then?" He asks. 
"It's hard sometimes to see you with them. See how they are with you," You laugh and put your milkshake down in the free drink holder next to Bradley's own. "I mean, my dad watched four documentaries on the Navy and listens to a podcast about the history of TOP GUN while he drives to work. Then, my mom, she tells you to eat more! She fucking glows when you agree to play that cheesy keyboard they bought me in high school. The one that I never learned to play." You're quiet for a moment then, spinning your ring around your finger, fiddling with it. You hope the action will put you at ease, but it's primarily unsuccessful. You want to try to explain yourself more, and the hurt aching in your chest. However, the words don't come, forcing you to sit there with it. 
"I'm sorry," Bradley eventually says. 
"I don't want you to be sorry. I think you are the most amazing man on the planet," You immediately tell him, not wanting Bradley to get how you were feeling all twisted in his own head. 
"I'm not sorry for my actions. I'm sorry for you, baby. I'm sorry for the hurt you feel," He amends in a soft, gentle tone.
"Don't be sorry for me, Bradley. I have a happier family than I ever dreamed about in my adult life." Despite your brave words, a few tears burst from your eyes. You quickly wipe them away, drying your hands on your side. It feels like when you forget to grab a napkin for the movie theater popcorn, not really gone, mostly just smudged. 
"The way they are with you made me realize I was wrong. I think that's my big issue. I always thought they just weren't built to be parents. They weren't meant to love someone else like that. So, it wasn't that they couldn't change or they didn't have the capacity to love me. It's that I wasn't ever good enough for them."
Bradley's heart fucking broke hearing your confession. It broke into a hundred more pieces than he thought it could. He loved your parents and couldn't conceptualize any parents making you feel the way you did. His own parents had loved him wholeheartedly and openly right up until the moment they took their last breaths. They were never shy about it either, ensuring he knew they adored him. He never questioned that he was loved. Having made it one of his life missions to love you, he never wanted to see you feel anything less than that. Yet, you could tell the idea of it all made him uncomfortable. 
"So, I'm not mad at you. I'm not even mad at them because they are so happy. I love seeing them so happy, and I love seeing you so happy. All of that makes me happy. I'm not actually mad at myself, but maybe I'm mad at the little girl inside me. Or maybe she's mad at me. But either way, one of us, or both of us. Me. I wasn't enough for them to love me like that, and I never will be." Abandoning your ring, you clench your hands over your knees hard. The winded explanation made your emotions regarding the situation bubble hotly in you as more tears threatened to spill. You stop looking out the window and decide that Bradley's broad form is much better at capturing your attention.
  "First," Bradley starts, slowly drawing out the word, "I want to say I think you are enough, and I love you so much. Next, will you hold my hand?" Bradley's primary love language was physical touch. He was always touch starved. Any time he was with you, he needed to touch you somehow, even if it was just the edge of your foot pressed into his calf. Sometimes he twisted his pinky with yours or would stroke an ankle on the couch when your feet were in his lap. You knew he needed to touch you to feel reassured. You took his hand then, slotting your fingers together. You could see him visibly relax and shift at your touch like it helped pull him back from an edge.
"Thank you," you whisper in a watery voice. 
"How can I support you right now, my love? Would you like me to listen, or do you want a solution? Or I can call your parents and tell them off." Bradley's deep timber tells you just how serious and involved he is in this conversation despite driving. Fuck, you loved how good Bradley was at communicating. You were worried about being with him at first. Military men don't really have the best reputations, but he was so mature and so good to you. You were unreasonably in love with him, it was consuming, but that wasn't something you were upset about. 
"Can you listen a little more?" You ask. 
"Of course, baby. Why do you think these ears are so big? It's to hear you better." 
"Bradley," you whine with a half laugh. Bradley's mouth spreads into a wide grin, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. Only when his thumb starts tracing soothing circles into your skin do you find the energy to speak again. "When I was growing up, they weren't how they are now. And every time we see them, part of me is always prepared for how they used to be. For them to be cold and mean, or indifferent, or criticizing, or any of the other things that made me feel so much less than. I wish I could just accept that they had changed, but I don't think I'll ever really believe that, no matter how much time has passed. And then it's so frustrating that I'm caught up on this. I'm an adult! So, why do they have this grip on me? I just want to be free. I want to be done with this hurt."
"There is nothing wrong with you feeling this way. That little girl in you that they hurt, that they still hurt. She is allowed to have her feelings hurt, but I don't think that you should ignore her and how she feels like they did."
"I don't know how to do that, Bradley. I can't just be having a breakdown all the time."
"Well, we can start by making sure you feel safe." He pulls the Bronco into the driveway and puts it in park. As soon as he does, he turns to give you his full attention. 
"We are home, and you're safe. You are also so loved. I love you and the little girl you used to be too. I know I can't fix this hurt for you, but I want to see you happy, and I want to help in any way I can. Okay?"  Bradley's big eyes sparkle with emotion, and you are briefly concerned that he might cry too. When you give him a small nod he continues, "Well, we can talk about this more whenever ready, and we can work through it however you need." 
"You don't have to take care of me, Bradley."
"I want to," He says earnestly. "I maybe even need to sometimes. So, if you'll let me when you need that or want that, I'd love to take care of you. I think you don't let me do enough."
You take a deep, slow breath to steady yourself. Bradley's face is serious but open. His lips pull taught under his mustache, with his warm eyes still a little misty. Leaning forward, you connect your lips with his. It doesn't even take a moment for Bradley's lips to move with yours softly. The gentle comfort of his lips makes you feel a little warm and gooey. The tears dripping off your face. The storm cloud hovering over you doesn't disappear, but the rain lets up a little, and you feel like you can breathe right again. Pulling away from Bradley, you give him a weak smile before requesting, "Please make me laugh."
"Yes, Ma'am. I think that's something I can do." He says after leaning over the console to peck your lips one more time. "What do you call a fish wearing a bow tie?" 
"What?" 
"Sofishticated."
The terrible joke does get a small snort out of you, and you roll your eyes at him. "You could have done better than that."
"I will have you know I have been working on that joke for weeks and was saving it for our aquarium date." That gets another chuckle out of you, and a wide triumphant grin spreads across Bradley's face. However, it fades a bit as he cups your face and swipes away the remaining tears off your cheek. "Can I actually say something more?"
"Yes, of course," you answer.  
"I'm sorry I don't have parents to give you and make you feel jealous, baby." He didn't say it in a condescending way. He was genuine in his want. You knew that if Nick and Carole were still alive, he would wish you were getting the mountains of love they would have showered on you.
"I'm not trying to make anything about your parents about me," you tell him quickly.
"You aren't," he reassures you. "They would have loved you, though."
"Thank you, Bradley. Now can we drink milkshakes and watch our show?" 
"Absolutely, baby," He says as he reluctantly lets go of your hand. Immediately grabbing it again when you two are out of the car and walking inside. 
"You know, I do have Mav, and you are more than welcome to him." 
"Maverick!?" You giggle at the very idea of Bradley's charming uncle and pseudo-father spending time with you. 
"I promise, he is just waiting to get rid of me. And he already likes you more."
"One, Mav loves you. And two, no one could want to get rid of you, Bradley,” you protest.
"Are you sure about that?" He asks.
"Yes, I'm very sure because I want to keep you forever."
"Yours forever? I like the sound of that."
"Me too," you tell him squeezing his hand before letting go to unlock the door. Bradley's free arm wraps around your waist, and he starts peppering your neck with tickling kisses, not caring how much harder it makes for you to get the door open. 
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beyonsatan · 10 months
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How to spot an amateur astrologer who's misleading you and doesn't know as much as they're letting on 🤏
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Some people that read this are gonna think I'm being toxic or a bit excessive and that's fine, not that what other people think even matters anyways but...I just don't like when ppl are getting scammed and lied to and also because alot of people charge (way more than I do) for readings and it's alot of misinformation that gets around with these readings and money in additional to time is being wasted so I see this as me doing people a favor. I'm going to go over some things only a person who has absolutely no knowledge of astrology beyond social media will do
• they associate the outer planets, neptune, uranus and pluto with the signs aquarius, pisces and scorpio. This is like the most obvious sign and I talk about it so much not just on here and because the outer planets change signs every decade or so, they're generational planets, not personal ones so think long and hard about what "personal" even means and then get back to me. It isn't really fair to assign the signs I listed above to planets that aren't personal and then to assign the rest of the other signs to the inner planets that reveal so much more about our daily lives than the outer ones do, it just seems so elitist to me honestly and overall misleading. The signs themselves literally rule over certain aspects of our life and they get their meaning from their traditional rulers. Aquarius being an outcast ? That comes from saturn not uranus, pisces being spiritual gurus with lots of love to give, that's from jupiter not neptune, Scorpio being a sexual sign that confronts us with our trauma, weaknesses and mortality? That comes from mars 😫
• 90% of their posts begin with "astro observations." This one especially I think is gonna upset some people because it's all you'll run into across astrology Tik tok or like I said even on here and everyone eats it up because they get an ego boost off of these posts that don't offer anything real or helpful in your everyday life but I wanted to say that a lot of these posts are just so surface level from the observations down to the critiques especially since so many speak from a personal place and arent objective enough about it. You'll read things like "moon in the 2nd house can indicate you like savory food" which even if that were true there's so many other things to consider with that placement like what it's aspecting, what sign is it in, is it fallen etc, if they're not elaborating on why and where they read this, it's null and void and they're making up shit as they go like i'm actually ROTFL as I type this 🤣
• they associate the houses with certain signs. Among everything I listed before and after this, this is probably THE most misleading one because I've had so many people come to me thinking that they had an exalted venus because their venus was in the 12th house and I really don't mean to laugh when people tell me this but hearing this did give me one hell of a chuckle ☠️. This idea that the signs have some proximity to the houses (like i mentioned in a previous post) is what created the grounds for people to think pisces is this misguided damsel in distress junkie who has no sense of direction and is more likely to fall victim to a drug habit which is just not true. Having alot of planets In this house is an indicator of partial drug use or habitual however having planets in pisces in NOT, like it's not even similar a little bit 💀💀💀 people keep getting pisces meaning from neptune and the 12th house and it's a mistake westerner astrologers especially Americans continue to make and it plays a role in why astrology is so ridiculed. Just like having personal planets in the 1st house isn't like having planets in aries because the 1st house isn't even the joy of mars, its the joy of mercury which finds exaltation in Virgo. Sounds familiar to you guys?
• they give devised meanings to "empty houses." What I mean by this is when certain people teaching about astrology say things like "having an empty 2nd house means you will struggle with money" or "having an empty 3rd house means your academic performance will be poor." This is not something that they read up about, learned with a teacher or on their own, this is something they're making up as they go. I would never tell a client that "your empty 1st house means you don't exist and lack an identity" because that's just illogical. Empty houses do not mean anything at all lmao. When houses are empty you look at what planet is ruling that house and what house that planet is in to get an idea of how that empty house is being served in the horoscope. It is impossible to have planets in every house and there are going to be at least 2 empty houses in a horoscope
Ps: i'm not looking down on anyone for choosing to believe these things, I used to be like everyone else just learning everything about astrology online instead but if you're anything like me, at some point your curiosity is gonna get the best of you and make you ask these people where they are learning this stuff from, who is their teacher and where are THEY learning these things from, what books do they read, you know what I mean? I just want people to know the truth and who they're learning from. You can continue to believe the things that alot of self proclaimed astrologers teach their audience because i broke through a facade, that's fine but I'm not concerned with "letting people enjoy things" in order to maintain feeding their delusions, the truth is meant to hurt
Hope this helps xx
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we play with fire because we like the way it burns
a mob boss!Nico x nurse!fem!reader au
Masterlist
things to know before you read
Y/n loves helping people and decided to go to nursing school in Michigan
There, she met Luke Hughes, business student, because they were in the same orientation group
There was no attraction. It was more a mutual feeling of “I am surrounded by shallow idiots and you seem to have substance”
So they became best friends despite their clashing majors and schedules
It got to the point where Ellen included items for y/n in her care packages to Luke and even special care packages just for y/n
Everyone thought they would get together, but they saw each other as siblings
“Ew, gross, he’s basically my brother”
They started movie nights because y/n wasn’t a party person and barely had time with her workload
It generally occurred at her place because she chose to always live alone. Roommates were not her style, and Luke had too many to have a peaceful movie night at his
Once y/n got accepted to nursing schools, before she even decided to go to umich for sure, she knew that she wanted to apply to hospitals and clinics all over the states to keep her options open and see where the universe takes her
Once she becomes besties with Luke and as school progressed, she realized she wanted to be relatively close to him because she couldn’t picture her life without him being her annoying best friend nearby
Jersey was already a state she was considering, but knowing Luke wanted to join his brother Jack after college pushed her a little further in that direction
After graduation, Luke moved in with Jack with the hope of joining the same mob his brother is in, while y/n found a place on her own not too far from the hospital she would be working at
Y/n knew about the mob from Luke and the stories he could share from Jack
But she didn’t think it would affect her life as much as it did once she started living in Jersey
The amount of questionable injuries she saw as an ER and trauma nurse were enough for the police to take her statement at least once a week
She carries a pocketknife and pepper spray on her, per Luke’s insistence
She has to remember to leave them behind each time she goes to a place with bag check and/or metal detectors
And she would generally be with Luke in those situations to make sure she wasn’t alone
Luke naturally has a spare key to her place, especially since there is no doorman in y/n’s building
He even made sure she got into the habit of checking her peephole each time there was a knock on her door
Y/n knows Jack from him chauffeuring his brother from time to time and other meetups
She hasn’t officially met Nico but she knows who he is, as does the rest of the city and greater area
Nico knows of y/n through Luke because he makes sure that he knows his brothers and any potential weaknesses that could be used against them
But he’s never actually met her because Luke does his best to make sure she’s not dragged into the life
The nhl exists, but the players used as mobsters are not in the league
Mob “families” are not traditional in this universe because they are based on hockey teams than actual families
The main mobs in this universe are the devils and the rangers
The teams replacing them in this universe are the New Jersey angels and the New York Americans
Most of my knowledge of mobs comes from tv, so this is not accurate or realistic by any means
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sp0o0kylights · 2 years
Text
Like the Wolf Steve/Eddie Werewolf AU
I  have so much of this stupid thing written and it’s stuck on ch. 2 so imma just throw all the pieces up here now. 
This is a werewolf AU, not an A/B/O fic. My version of Alphas and Omegas runs like a mixmash of Patricia Brigg’s, Ilonia Andrew’s, and Carrie Vaughn’s. There is no second gender, werewolves establish a hierarchy within a pack by who is most dominant/submissive, with two Alpha’s to a pack and Omegas being an extremely rare gift.  Direct eye contact is considered a challenge and society has evolved to accept multiple types of Packs, including ones that include others beyond werewolves. All is explained in fic.
Warnings: Period typical homophobia, Eddie having trauma responses/being bullied/being hunted, mentions of Chrissy’s bones going snappy snappy,  and a general mention of the delightfully dumb social/moral/ethical issues that paranormal creatures raise.
Eddie Munson was not anyone's idea of a proper pack Alpha. 
Nor was he the kind of guy people wanted in a Pack, (capitol P intended, because “Titles are important, Edward.” and fuck did he hate when adults called him that. He went by Eddie for a reason.) or anywhere near them, period. 
Experience taught him that even in a traditional Shifter town like Hawkins, filled to the brim with werewolves and not much else, people would pick literally anyone over him when it came time to pair up.
Witches, the Fae, hell, even humans were better than him in the eyes of his peers. They wouldn’t pick him to be their PE tennis partner if he was the last guy left, let alone allow such deep and familiar actions like “treating him nicely” or “waving hello.” 
Letting him in their Pack? Any Pack, from a “true” one with the whole bond thing and fancy magic, down to the stupid social ones that did nothing more than let you know who your friends or coworkers were? 
Perish the thought!
“My mom says you’re a total freak.” One of the old-blooded, rich brats had said in third grade, and the nickname had stuck like glue ever since. 
It followed him throughout the years like it was branded on his forehead, accompanied by a steadily growing list of insults.
Weird. Faggot. Failure. Lone Wolf. 
Other.
Different.
He'd tried long ago to stop letting it hurt him. The way they made him aware that he fell so outside the realm of what others considered normal that they actively shunned him. 
It took until his sophomore year to get good at pretending it wasn’t painful, and at least by his third attempt at graduating, he had it down to where others believed it. 
Had even carved out a place for himself, starting with the Hellfire club. 
Gone about, rounding up all the other undesirables, the outcasted freaks who just didn’t fit into the stupid little social circles or dumb hierarchies of small towns the world over. 
Took in Grant the human, and Jeff the half vampire and Gareth, who was sick all the time even though he was a werewolf. 
Then the small group of incoming Freshman who’d been too loud, too proud, and far too nerdy to walk the halls without some kind of protection. 
It wasn’t much, but for someone like Eddie?
It had been everything. 
Too bad he was in Hawkins, Indiana, where people like him didn’t get to enjoy things.
Not without bad things happening.
Really bad things. 
Chrissy Cunningham pulling an exorcist level of demonic possession, dying on his ceiling, and crashing down like a broken porcelain doll to the floor of his trailer level of bad things. 
Suddenly Eddie wasn’t just the guy who couldn’t follow the same societal norms as every other bland teenage werewolf. 
He was dangerous. 
Satanic. 
His freak status elevated from “guy with long hair and weird clothes who wouldn’t stop acting like he was an Alpha” to “wolf willing to exchange his very soul in order to bring about the end of the world”-or something. 
Eddie hadn’t really listened much to Jason Carver’s rabid ranting, but he got the gist well enough. 
It didn’t even matter that for all the magic in the world, demons and satan were more of a human concept than anything that had proven, hard hitting magic sitting behind it. Satanic panic was just in, and Chrissy-
He couldn't think about Chrissy. 
Not that the  truth mattered anyway. 
No, the only thing that did was that one of their golden children had died in their town. A town they built, full of old werewolf families and a handful of powerful allies, that catered to them. 
They needed reparation for the insult that had been brought upon their power. 
Eddie was just the convenient lamb they had chosen to slaughter. 
So here he was, outcasted by the whole town. Watching as the people who hated him collectively lost their minds, regressing back to the days of one singular Pack hierarchy controlling everything. Two Alpha’s to rule them all, with Jason fucking Carver was taking on the role as one of them. 
Screw all the centuries of the world that had built past that. The way society was no longer “letting the inner beast win” but was instead getting along, moving forward. 
Eddie hadn’t needed whatever had actually happened with Chrissy to know how much of a lie it was, but then he hadn’t planed on pulling back the facade either. 
To bad for you, you idiot. 
Not that there was anything he could do. Not with his van, stupid idiotic, easy to spot van out of commission, blown up transmission leaving him stranded not even two miles from his house. He’d exhausted himself just to get to the boathouse, knowing damn well that it wouldn’t make one ounce of difference if he’d bolted or called the cops. 
They were gonna lay Chrissy’s death on his head, and now his chance to escape their wrath had all but dropped to zero. 
Best he could do was hide. Wait it out. 
Hope whatever the fuck had gotten Chrissy wasn’t going to come after him too. 
The reminder didn’t help, that he had no idea what the hell had even happened. His  mind ran in circles with his terror, trying to make sense of it, but all he could think about was how he could leave this damn boathouse. 
How he could get out.
Out of Hawkins, out of Indiana, just fucking out. 
It was that terror, the surge of adrenaline and the pure knowledge that if anyone caught him, his chances of survival dropped to damn near zero that he blamed for not recognizing Henderson’s voice. 
Hadn’t even picked up on the younger wolf’s scent, he’d been so freaked out. 
Wired with the intensity of a cornered animal, Eddie’s wolf staring out of his eyes and firmly in control the second he realized he wasn’t alone and whoever was here was calling his name, and all rational thoughts went right out the door. 
Add in Steve fucking Harrington, former King of Hawkins High and total asshole violently poking around, and well. 
There wasn’t a thought to be had at all. 
Not in Eddie’s head, anyway. 
He’d attacked when hiding no longer remained an option, proud of himself for pinning the larger wolf to the wall, snarling like the devil they thought he was. 
And Harrington-Harrington let him. 
Put his hands up as he crashed back against the wall. Kept his eyes off of Eddie’s, kept his throat exposed until Dustin could talk Eddie down. 
Explain some things.
Explain all the fucking things, which didn’t help his situation, at all, but did at least help his overall mental state. 
“We’ll work this out.” Henderson had said, voice confident, and Eddie, exhausted, starving, haunted by Chrissy’s bones snapping every time he closed his eyes-believed him.
Even if it was the stupidest thing to do. 
Because for all his bravado, all his jumping on tables and loud speeches, the Throne he DM’d from and the Hellfire Club he ran-Eddie Munson had a secret. 
He desperately, desperately, needed someone on his side.  
Anybody. 
Especially now, when he could feel himself seconds away from falling apart, life ripped out from under him a second time. 
Pity this time round he didn’t have yet another Uncle to run to. 
(It took Eddie a long time, in that same boathouse, to realize that Harrington had never retaliated against him for Eddie’s attack. For pinning him to the wall in front of his Packmate’s and making him look weak with a broken glass bottle, of all things.  
 Had in fact, backed down. 
Which was a hell of a thing, when Eddie had discovered that the damn freshman hadn’t been fibbing for fun.
They really did have a little established Pack, bonds and all, and Steve Harrington really was the Alpha in control of it. 
A born werewolf from one of Hawkins oldest families, with all their rules, fancy parties and refusal to be anything other than the best and he’d let Eddie, trailer park trash and son of two bitten, made, werewolves, pin him down like a puppy. 
If Eddie hadn’t been wrestling with the existence of a hell dimension, hand made superpowers, and the reality of a world where humans were experimenting on species of various kinds, the long held treaty laws be damned while they raced the Russians to do fuck knew what, he might have caught on that Steve was just as different as he was, a whole lot sooner. 
As it was, he just remained exhausted, hungry, and very, very grateful for the stupid freshmen.) 
                                                         xXx
Shit hadn’t really gone sideways in the boathouse until the third time Henderson's little crew had dropped off food. 
Dustin took in the look on Eddie’s face when Steve had unloaded the honeycomb cereal box, like the man had just seen water in a desert, and outright cackled. 
Eddie reached out automatically, hooking his arm around the freshman’s neck and pulling him taught to his side. Dustin shrieked as he was put into a nuggie, Eddie spinning them as the younger wolf pushed ineffectively at his arms. 
“Say uncle!” Eddie taunted with a grin.  
“Ow, ow, Eddie!” Dustin whined, before finally going limp and shouting; “Fine! Uncle!” 
Eddie dropped him with one last hair ruffle, grinning widely at him. 
Dustin grinned back, even as he pretended to fuss at his hair and clothes. “God, it’s not my fault you just realize Steve adopted you.” He said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Why you gotta take it out on me?” 
Eddie went to automatically deny that he was taking anything out on Dustin. He was just the youngest wolf in the Hellfire Club which meant by all the rules in the universe, he was the automatic target for all teasing. 
The the kids words sunk in. 
Sunk in the same way fucking teeth went into a steak, all sharp and deep and pointed. 
Eddie froze so fast he almost nailed his face on one of the overhanging oars. 
“What?” He said, positive he misheard. 
“Those are your favorites right?” Dustin said, pointing at the offending cereal box on the ground. “He’s always been like, weirdly good at knowing what his packmates eat. I’d say it’s an Alpha thing but it’s totally not.” 
“What.” Eddie said again, his voice coming out as more of a surprised croak. 
“Max insists he pays super close attention but come on, it’s Steve. I once watched him trip trying to do the dance from the Breakfast Club. It’s absolutely just like, his weird little superpower.” Dustin hummed for a moment, face scrunched up in thought. “Like, snack-sense. Stevie Snack Sense!” 
Eddie stared, the words “Steve adopted you” and “weirdly good at knowing what his packmates eat” ping-ponging around his head. 
Henderson’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Get it? Like Scooby snacks?”  
Then he laughed his weird little cackle again, ignoring the way Eddie had crashed like one of the shitty computers their school was so proud of owning. 
‘Danger alert, the Freak is overheating. Danger alert, the Freak is-’ 
“Henderson are you coming or what!?” Steve yelled, causing Eddie to jump and Dustin to spin around, shouting something rude back.
“Keep your walkie on, okay?” Dustin said, turning back with a worried look that would have been touching if Eddie had been paying any attention at all, before scampering off to have an argument with his Pack Alpha. 
The same one who apparently, allowed such things from whiny, teenage puppies, and also, was trying to adopt Eddie. 
Into his Pack. 
Eddie just stared after them, feeling vaguely like the world no longer made sense.
Probably because it didn’t.
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finniestoncrane · 9 days
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hiya finnie! congrats on 2k! the good ol' autism has locked onto rdr for me so if there's still slots i'd like to purchase front row romcom tickets for me and arthur morgan with some fruit juice and a rainbow cookie. (gn/male reader preferably i ain't a woman lol) have a nice day!!!!
thank you friend!! i'm always in the mood to write for arthur, and i think this is the first ever request i've gotten for him outside of a commission a while ago, so i am EXCITED!! 💚🩷 cw: fluff, first kiss, when you're a handsome cowboy and you realise your limited interest in women isn't completely down to past traumas and might have something to do with your desire for cock 🔞minors dni🔞 send a request • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2k (to follow or to block)
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Arthur was usually the type to slap his male friends on the back, one solid, brief show of pride or happiness. But you were one for embracing. A long, meaningful gesture that lasted long enough that the meaning behind it could be understood and felt.
It had never occurred to you that his long tradition of avoiding any physical contact beyond a swift pat might have made Arthur a little touch-starved, wanting for more. And despite the fact that his entire body tensed up in your embrace, mostly out of surprise, partly out of his uncertainty about what to do next.
"When do we stop... touching each other?"
You moved back, laughing at him as you sat down by the quickly assembled campfire. He'd been out in the wild too long. He was rough, grizzly, a man's man.
"It's the same as with a woman. You never held a girl in your arms?"
Arthur sat down beside you, sipping at his flask as he considered what you were asking.
"Course, but that's different, ain't it? Besides, I'm not all that familiar with the fairer sex. One or two have tolerated me, but I don't understand them. I can't connect to that. I just... I do what I think is done, and what I think is right."
"But..."
"Not always what I want."
Looking at the side of his face, you watched Arthur grimace into the fire. It might be pushing him too far, but you knew you'd feel worse if you didn't ask.
"And what do you want?"
In the long silence, you decided to turn your gaze from him, knowing that your stare might be putting undue pressure onto Arthur's conscience. But once your cheek was presented to him, he leaned over to you, a clumsy kiss placed against your skin.
And then he had turned again to the fire, cheeks red, but not visible in the light of the flames. You sighed, placing a hand on top of his.
"You might need some practice there, but it's a lot easier to do when you're doing what you want."
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presidenthades · 4 months
Text
Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 7!
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My original expected chapter count for this fic was 7 (one stanza of “The Song of the Seven” for each chapter title), but as I started increasing the number, I realized I needed to get creative with chapter titles. For this chapter, I picked the penultimate lyric “close your eyes, you shall not fall” because much of the chapter consists of Aegon helping Jace not “fall” into a further downward spiral, and there’s a certain amount of faith required by all parties that everything is going to be OK in the end.
Originally, Jace’s road to recovery was going to be even rougher than in the final version. She refuses to eat or drink anything, and her family gets pretty desperate to the point of doing stupid things to get her to eat. But I felt like that was unnecessary angst and trauma, and she’s already been through enough, so I dialed it back.
Similarly, she was going to have bad perinatal depression up until and after she gave birth, and there was a sequence where she refused to even hold Cheeseball for some time after he was born. But again, it made me feel like I was whumping on Jace and Aegon for unnecessary pain, so I focused more on the “comfort” rather than the “hurt” part.
This chapter is in Aegon’s POV because it was originally supposed to be the second half of Chapter 6 before I realized it was way too long. After I cut it in half, I debated rewriting it in Jace’s POV, but she’s stuck inside her head a lot this chapter whereas Aegon has a lot more action and growth. We return to Jace in Chapter 8 when she’s feeling more like herself but still recovering.
Orwyle is not a popular character in the fandom, which is understandable. He only gets like one minute of screen time, but that one minute made me think a lot about his character. When he’s a junior maester, he suggests a new poultice to try on Viserys instead of the traditional leeching method, and he shows a bit of doctorly compassion to Rhaenys when Vaemond’s body is being prepared. In the book, Orwyle’s defining trait is that he’s cowardly (he literally rewrites history to make himself look better to the Blacks, and he flees from the ship taking him to the Wall). But I was intrigued by how he ends up working at a mid-level brothel and teaches the girls there to read (how he gets caught later). He didn’t have to teach them how to read, but he chose to anyway (to his own detriment).
Overall I consider Orwyle as someone who’s very talented at his job (healing and teaching), and is actually a pretty empathetic person (good quality in a doctor), but he’s not strong-willed and is willing to cave on his principles to stay alive. Not exactly a villain, definitely not a hero either. So he’s going to do his job and do it well, regardless of his patient (especially in this AU verse where there’s less conflict).
After three years in the Stepstones, I’d be shocked if Aegon didn’t learn first aid (same with Aemond). He’s not necessarily interested in healing and such, but he’s capable of basic combat-adjacent medical tasks. So he knows how to clean and bandage wounds, and he can recognize common healing herbs.
I don’t think I need to explain that Westeros has a pretty poor understanding of mental health and doesn’t know what therapy is 😅. For most people who’ve undergone trauma, they would probably be told “carry on, as you were, etc” and they have to just “get over it.” But Jace is a princess who doesn’t have to worry about earning a living, has an overprotective husband, and is pregnant with a very important baby so her health and comfort are of paramount importance. So she luckily has a supportive environment dedicated to her recovery.
As is stated later in the chapter/fic, Jace fires her remaining LIWs because she’s convinced herself that it’s her fault they were injured/killed, and sending them away from her service will keep them safe. Irrational to be sure, but Jace has always been prone to blaming herself for things. She’s also worried that firing the LIWs will reflect poorly on them, hence her trying to compensate them monetarily. But the offer is insulting to Rhaena, who acts as a LIW primarily out of love. If Jace were more herself, she would’ve realized the implications of her offer equating Rhaena’s love/loyalty with a monetary value.
Initially, Jace’s list of “safe people” is very short: Aegon and Luce. Aegon is self-explanatory. Of all her sisters, only Luce makes the initial list because a) they’ve always been very close and b) Luce was there when they found Jace at the Garden, so there’s an added feeling of security. Although Aemond was also at the Garden, he isn’t on the list because their prior relationship wasn’t nearly as close as the other two.
When Rhaenyra touches Jace’s face while trying to feed her, Jace flips out because the Tyroshi grabbed her face when forcing down the dreamwine and later during his attempt with moon tea.
A little irony in Aegon offering to be Jace’s taste tester, when you think about how he dies in F&B 😢.
During Chapter 7 of the Handbook, Luce picks up three dragonglass daggers from the blacksmith. I mentioned them in the Handbook commentaries, but I’ll reiterate that she intended for Jace, herself, and Joff to each have one, as the three full-blooded daughters of Rhaenyra and Laenor. Jace clearly hasn’t been using her dagger, except to display it on her mantel maybe.
Daemon has decided to develop an emergency protocol in case any of the Targ girls are kidnapped again. I’ve been debating writing a oneshot about it.
Castle kitchens are hot, loud, messy places, and a princess would have no reason to ever go there. In a castle as large as the Red Keep, there are probably multiple kitchens. I imagine the Holdfast has a king’s privy kitchen and queen’s privy kitchen solely for prepping their food, and probably other kitchens too. I imagine the largest kitchens to be in the main part of the Red Keep, and that’s where Aegon puts Gyles and Ronnel. It’s a longer walk to get the pies to Jace and Aegon, but Gyles and Ronnel have a much wider social circle of other servants. It’s also where Aegon has his little office of petitions, and he likes being able to run out and grab pies whenever he wants.
Gyles and Ronnel are used to Aegon, so they’re relatively chummy with him. But they’ve never met Jace before, have only ever seen her at 1000% gorgeousness during her wedding parade, and have heard plenty of Aegon’s stories about how perfect she is. Of course they treat her with more respect and awe than they treat Aegon 😛.
I like to think that Ronnel does become a knight one day, and he wins a tourney in Jace’s name 🥰. And he’d probably take on a house name like Baker to honor his father.
I was trying to figure out how orange juice was made before things like juicers were invented. England had cider presses for apples, but citrus wasn’t really a thing for them back in the Middle Ages. Eventually I stumbled across the citrus reamer, which is definitely something they could’ve carved/created back in the day, but I COULD NOT get over how phallic it looked 😂. Naturally, Aegon finds it hilarious. I’m debating whether Gyles truly is innocent or if he’s messing with Aegon and has a great poker face.
I lingered on the details of how the pies are made because it’s important that Jace sees the process for herself and internalizes that pies are safe foods, they aren’t drugged, Gyles is trustworthy, etc.
I wanted to make sure that Jace wasn’t in a depressed, traumatized torpor all the time, because that isn’t how it works. She can have “good” moments when she’s moving around and seems normal, and then there can be “bad” moments when something triggers her, or she’s having an off day, and she spirals. The important thing is that she’s overall making progress, and it’s OK if she has days when she takes a few steps back.
We got more info in Chapter 8 on what Jace and Luce talk about in the garden. Luce is thinking about her upcoming nameday, which is the earliest date that Rhaenyra will allow her to be betrothed. But then there’s another year until her sixteenth nameday, when Rhaenyra will allow her to get married. Luce is pretty impatient, so she wants to figure out how much canoodling she can get away with during the year in between. So she asks Jace, because she’s positive Aegon didn’t keep his hands entirely to himself before the official wedding 😏.
Aegon is now very loath to ever let Jace out of his sight again, unless he’s 100% sure she’s safe in their room. The Joff incident in Chapter 9 probably doesn’t help.
Luce always haggles, even if it’s about how much distance Aegon has to stay behind her and Jace.
Aegon immediately gets bored of guard duty. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some form of ADHD: Impulsive, restless, moody, hyperfixation (usually on Jace, but he can get really into his sleuthing).
Hypersexuality sometimes occurs after trauma/sexual violence, hence Jace’s uncharacteristic behavior after the garden scene. And knowing Jace, she’s probably (wrongfully) blaming herself somehow for “leading on” the Tyroshi.
Luce heard the Langward knight gossiping about Jace and got upset, then Aemond beat up the knight to make her feel better, as one does.
Court life means people are always going to gossip and run with the most salacious rumor possible, and it reignites Aegon’s desire for a private life, where he and Jace can live according to their own devices without worrying about what other people think. Unless he pulls a Maegor, he can’t do anything to stop the courtiers from acting like courtiers. So he comes up with the Dragonstone solution, but it’s only a temporary solution. As Otto says in Chapter 10, they are inextricably a part of the game, and Aegon and Jace can only hide away in Dragonstone for so long.
When they were kids, Aegon came up with many plans that got them all in trouble, so Luce recognizes the face he makes 😝.
Aegon has a very soldier mindset of “just pack some clothes and leave,” without thinking about how complicated it is to actually pack a princess’ household. Luckily Luce knocks some sense into him!
I don’t know what winter roses are supposed to look like except that they’re blue, but I liked the idea of petals close together huddling for warmth. And I completely made up Valyrian roses. Not sure if they actually came from Valyria or if it’s named just for the appearance.
Despite everything that happened, Jace is STILL WORKING 😭. What else do we expect from a girl who worked on her wedding night, I guess…
KL has a well system (it’s a big deal during Jaehaerys’s reign), but I imagine the public wells and fountains get real dirty real fast, especially in poorer parts of the city. When Jace was at the Garden, I imagine the girls had limited clean water to offer her for drinking and washing because they have to walk pretty far for good water. So Jace is thinking about that as she writes her well cleaning proposal.
I’ve been thinking a while about writing an Otto POV fic, and one of the ideas I jotted down for myself was that Otto is secretly a nerd about public infrastructure and sanitation. Oldtown seems to be a much cleaner and better run city than KL. I like to think about Otto adopting pet projects that make the capital less smelly and dirty. So Otto is naturally a supporter of a well cleaning project, and I’ve mentioned before that he likes Jace. Also he’s very invested in the pregnancy being successful, so he’ll do his part to reduce stressors.
Once again, the key to influencing/manipulating Jace is not by appealing to her own desires, but by appealing to the happiness and well-being of her loved ones. Aegon knows this, and it’s a good thing he adores her too much to use this power for evil.
Aegon’s household is basically just Gyles and Ronnel, so his departure preparations are quick. I’m sure he has personal servants assigned to him who handle his laundry and such, but he probably bribed them years ago to leave him alone so he can have privacy and sneak out. And he became rather self-sufficient in the Stepstones (although as royalty, he would’ve had servants there too for menial stuff), so he doesn’t want anyone helping him dress or shave or bathe or whatnot.
Aemond is such a bro, holding down a knight so Aegon can beat him up 🥲. Aegon knows Jace would disapprove of him breaking someone’s jaw for gossiping so he’s careful not to leave any evidence on his person.
Aegon also knows how to push Aemond’s buttons, so he easily convinces Aemond to join the Dragonstone vacation. Aemond would probably have invited himself anyway once he found out about the guest list.
While Jace has been reducing the governing work she does during pregnancy, Rhaenyra has been doing more of it. In canon, Rhaenyra seems content to isolate herself with her family at Dragonstone, so I carried over that attitude of savoring domestic bliss into this verse. But here, Jace is an overachiever, and I think her example kickstarts Rhaenyra into being more active too. So Rhaenyra has work obligations, and social ones as she’s been ingratiating herself at court again. It would be difficult to pack up her entire household (much larger than Jace and Aegon’s) and disappear to Dragonstone for 2-3 months, so she can’t immediately leave like the kids can.
Like Aegon, Rhaenyra is a bit paranoid now about letting Jace out of her sight. She’s also had a longstanding petty grudge about Jace picking Aegon as her #1, so she strongly disapproves of Aegon’s plan to take Jace away, even though Dragonstone is very close and technically her castle.
Aegon is not what I’d call emotionally mature, and he’s a troublemaker by nature. So he deliberately responds to Rhaenyra with things he knows she’ll hate hearing. And in the end, he forces Rhaenyra’s hand by telling Jace “of course Rhaenyra would love for us to go to Dragonstone” 😇.
Poor Daeron is too pure for Daemon’s Torture 101 class. Meanwhile Joff has an avid clinical interest in human anatomy, and Daemon is having the time of his life. Targ family bonding!
The Tyroshi put a collar on Jace, so Daemon put a collar on him to make things fair.
The Tyroshi knows he’s never going to escape, and he’s already endured an awful amount of torture/mutilation. At this point his goal is to die swiftly, so he tries to provoke Aegon into killing him.
I haven’t 100% decided the Tyroshi’s backstory, but I’m imagining him coming from one of the powerful conclave families in Tyrosh. There was absolutely no need for him to go to Westeros and make money through usury and slavery; he chose to because he thought it’d be fun to “get one over” the Targaryens by conducting a trafficking ring in their own capital (I imagine Tyrosh having an ancestral hatred of Valyrians, even though a lot of their culture was inherited from them as a result of being part of their empire). Just in case it wasn’t clear what kind of sadistic sociopathic person he is.
Joff has been brooding a lot about Laenor’s death ever since they found Old Willow, and now her guilt is carrying over into recent events with Jace.
We will learn more about the wet nurse in Aegon’s memory in future fics 👀. She calls him “Uncrowned One” because in this verse, he’ll be another Aegon the Uncrowned.
“Three children you shall have with your wife, black or green or something in between.” In canon, Aegon has three kids with Helaena. In this verse…well, I feel like I’ve dropped a lot of foreshadowing about him and Jace 😊. “In between” refers to how there isn’t a strong black/green divide in this verse, but there’s a new faction (gold) that includes people on both sides.
“All of them shall break like your legs and wings.” In canon, all of Aegon and Helaena’s children die terribly, and Aegon and Sunfyre end up crippled. In this verse, there is a close call during Cheeseball’s birth; if the maester and midwives had chosen to save Jace, the process for extracting a stuck baby is really gruesome.
“Unless you keep this little shadow close to the sun.” Jace has gotten a lot of sun imagery in this fic, and Joff is kinda obviously the shadow. It’s because of Joff’s intervention that the birth ends well. So there’s a way to avoid the “broken” part of the prophecy, but the condition must be met.
Aegon is a skeptic when it comes to witchcraft and prophecy, but there’s a reason his subconscious brings to the memory at this moment. Don’t leave Joff behind!
Aemond finds it extremely undignified that Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world and a veteran of multiple military conflicts, has been relegated to delivering baggage.
The stained dancing slippers that Jace finds in her room at Dragonstone are the same slippers that someone (Luce) accidentally ruins in Chapter 3 of the Handbook.
Valyria is strongly inspired by Classical Greece and Rome, so I decided to give them Roman-style bathhouses, which were often decorated with mosaics and has a hot room, warm room, and cold room. The Targs (or whoever built the castle) imported this to Dragonstone, and the volcano means they can get hot water very easily. Aegon was in the guest quarters last time he visited so this is his first time seeing the family bathhouse.
Some commenters suggested that Luce and Aemond are probably canoodling during their trips to the Dragonmont. There might be some of that going on, but Aemond is a huge dragon nerd, so I can imagine him geeking out about exploring the Dragonmont while Luce is disgruntled about him being oblivious to her attempts to make out 😂.
Gerardys is hoping that Jace will be OK with him and the midwives helping her by the time it’s time to give birth. But in case she isn’t OK, he decides to put one of the Targ girls on a midwifery fast-track. He picks Baela because she’s the strongest of the bunch, and acting as a midwife can be very physically exhausting.
Meanwhile, the mysterious bangs in the tower are Joff and Daeron trying to figure out ways to light the glass candle. This involves blowing up some stuff along the way.
Hyrkoon the Hero is part of ASOIAF lore, one of the potential alternative names for Azor Ahai. I decided that he’s the main character in quite a few fairy tales/myths, and every hero needs a sidekick. I invented the sidekick Santus the Swine by combining a half-pig character in Chinese folklore and Don Quixote’s Sancho Panza (whose name is supposedly derived from the Latin Sanctus), and it wasn’t until afterwards that I thought about the Pink Dread (which never happened in this universe because Jace stopped Aegon). I guess Aemond really can’t escape the pig references in any universe 🐷.
Anyway, Aegon’s really lucky he didn’t get himself and baby Jace killed when he shoved their wagon down their stairs. And Jace not being cut by the Iron Throne is a sign, maybe??? 👀👀👀 And yes, there is much symbolism in little Aegon helping baby Jace climb up the throne 🥺.
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skeletonsgeorg · 25 days
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Hi again!!
For Megatron: 🎶, 🦾, 🧸(or whatever you consider the equivalent of his childhood)
For Soundwave(gasp!! Twist!!): 👻,🖕,🏳️‍⚧️,😭
Thanks!!!!!!!!!
Megatron:
🎶 A headcanon about music
When Megatron finally allows himself to enjoy human music, he finds himself especially fond of music that involves the human voice as an instrument, as well as more traditional string and percussion instruments because they're the most alien from the heavy electric and industrial tones of Cybertron. I think he'd be especially fond of Heilung and The HU. Earthspark Megatron especially loves this song:
youtube
🦾 A disability headcanon
Megatron suffers from fibromyalgia, triggered from trauma. He's been to every Decepticon medic about his chronic pain, which can flare up so bad it becomes debilitating, only for all of them to respond that there's nothing wrong with his frame. All his readings and tests come back normal, his joints are well-oiled, his pain sensors aren't malfunctioning. Several pieces of medical equipment (and at least one medic) have been destroyed as a result. His healthcare team has him on a cocktail of painkillers throughout the war.
🧸 A headcanon about their childhood
Given that Megs was constructed cold and never got to have a childhood, I headcanon that he age regresses. This utterly mortifies him and he viciously conditions himself to only allow himself to regress in privacy. This is in large part due to Terminus teaching him that if the foreman or even other miners saw him acting like a sparkling he'd be thrown in the smelter. Orion made him feel like he was finally safe enough to regress around someone, but then they have their falling out and the war started and nowhere and no one was safe again. Only Soundwave knows, and he discreetly covers for Megatron just like Terminus did. (Optimus resolves to take Megatron's secret to the grave)
Soundwave (pog):
👻 A headcanon about what scares them
The unknown. Not knowing exactly what's happened, is happening, and will happen fries his nerves like nothing else. Knowledge is his power, his weapon, his shield. To be deprived of his senses would be the worst thing that could happen to him.
🖕 A headcanon relating to anger
Soundwave has a very cold, quiet, dangerous anger. His silence is deafening when he's angry, his stare sharp enough to cut. God forbid you make Soundwave angry, because you will lose something. If you're lucky, you'll lose a part of your body, maybe even your life. If you're unlucky... you'll lose what you treasure most.
🏳️‍⚧️ A gender headcanon
Soundwave is genderfluid between agender, voidgender, and wavegender. He's also fond of neopronouns.
😭 A headcanon about the worst thing that happened to them.
Oooooooooof. The worst thing that's happened to Soundwave... can I cheat and say it's my fic Who Did This To You? If not, then it's probably when he was cast out from his home and functionalist society in general as a pariah and outcast.
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ok so like 2 people said they wanted to see the "ford is the most realistic genius" post and that's all the encouragement i need. i'm probably gonna sound pretty full-of-myself on this post but that's just how it be like sometimes.
a lot of the time, "intelligence" is assumed to mean "knows more things." fictional characters who are supposed to be geniuses typically just...miraculously Know information they have no real way of acquiring, anticipate events that cannot reasonably anticipated, or every other character just suddenly gets stupid when the genius character is around so that the "genius" character just doing the logical thing comes off as particularly smart.
so you have a character who supposedly has a really high iq, but in practice they may as well be psychic.
as someone who actually has an iq of 147 (bear with me, because this isn't a flexing post), being "really intelligent" does not mean Just Knowing Things. what it means is that someone who's "smart" (in the traditional sense) can process more information, draw more conclusions, and do so faster than most people. it also usually means being really good at rationalizing things. so if you're someone who's well-adjusted and well-informed, that can definitely look like knowing all the right answers...but if you're someone who's not well-adjusted or well-informed, it can, if anything, make you even wronger. you get better at rationalizing your mistakes and digging yourself in deeper. and heaven help you if you have paranoid tendencies, because it's that much harder to convince someone they're being irrational when they're on a whole 'nother level of finding information to back up their irrationality.
ford is a genius. he learns incredibly fast and thoroughly. but he's also constrained by the information he has available to him, and by his own biases and past trauma and people issues.
that one writing advice post that made the rounds saying that a character's biggest flaw is usually their biggest strength in the wrong situation is very true of people who are very intelligent. it's why, for example, you'll sometimes see doctors, academics, experts buy into conspiracy theories. it's not because they're stupid; it's because they're smart enough to recontextualize all their knowledge to support their biases and beliefs.
and so many people do not understand this because they still think of "intelligence" as "knowing & being right about everything." so you get people arguing that ford isn't really a genius, because he was wrong and he made mistakes. but in my opinion, the mistakes he makes make perfect sense because he's a genius. that kind of recklessness is exactly what you get when you combine abnormally high iq with ford's myriad of personal issues. you get someone who's great at rationalizing, great at taking in information, and great at finding surprisingly well-thought-out reasons why their paranoia and antisocial tendencies are totally just the rational response.
think of it this way; the smartest people alive in the medieval era believed in the miasma theory. they weren't too stupid to understand what bacteria and viruses are; they just didn't have the tools needed to observe them. so they came up with a theory based on the information they did know, wrote essays and papers about it, made medical practices based on it...and it was completely incorrect, because genius without correct information leads to spectacular and very well-thought-out mistakes.
anyway, all this to say, as someone who could nominally be considered a "genius" but has been hella wrong about a lot of things in my life, i think ford is an incredibly realistic take on what most "geniuses" are really like. impressive in the right situations, not so much in the wrong ones, and very much not magical beings capable of mysteriously knowing all the correct information because they're Just That Smart. and very much not immune to emotional and personal issues getting in the way.
thanks for coming to my "i-just-slept-for-20-hours-and-my-brain-is-a-bit-scrambled-right-now" ted talk
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