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atths--twice · 3 months

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Chapter Four

Painting 101: A Study in Art

Saturday afternoon

“Here,” Scully said, handing Mulder two clothespins. “If you gather the edges of the tarp together and pin them, it lessens the chance of it flying off the table. Or blowing up and hitting the rocks we’ve painted.”

“Smart,” he said and she nodded as she picked up the tarp she had brought with her and began to unfold it. He took one end and she took the other, spreading it over the picnic table. “It was a good idea to bring this. Considerate, I mean.”

“Yeah well,” she said as she pinned one side of her corners together. “I know it’s a public bench and who knows what other people have done here… oh, like write Janey blows hard in permanent marker. Lovely.” He looked at her and watched her shake her head as she read the words written on the table. “So, I thought bringing the tarp would both keep us from touching or seeing those previous activities and protect the table from further ones.” She pinned the other corner and looked at him with a smile.

“Hence the tarp,” he said, smoothing down his own side and smiling back at her.

“Yeah… hence,” she replied, her smile growing.

“Alright then,” he said, quickly finishing his task as she began to lay out the rocks she had gathered and some others they had found when they had gone to a bonfire the previous evening.

Hannah, and some of Dana’s other friends, had arranged to have a bonfire at the beach. While it was not Mulder’s usual scene, he had gladly joined them.

He and Scully had walked along the shore in the dwindling sunlight as the fire was set up, holding hands and hissing when the cold water hit their feet. She had stopped to pick up rocks, putting them into her pockets and then asking him to do the same when she had run out of room.

When they had returned to the group, the rocks were transferred to her backpack and she had smiled as she closed it up, setting it next to them on the blanket they were sharing.

“We’ll have a lot to paint tomorrow now,” she had said, taking his hand and leaning her head on his shoulder as the fire popped and crackled.

She had stretched her legs out and crossed her sandy feet. He had frowned as he noticed something and as she wiggled her toes, he leaned forward to get a better look.

“Are you… is that a ring on your toe?” he had asked and she had shifted, beginning to pull her feet back.

“Oh… yeah. I forgot to take it off,” she had said quickly.

“What is it?” he had asked, moving to take a hold of her foot.

“Fox… Mulder, you don’t…” she had said, trying to stop him. “It was just a silly thing my sister sent me and I… it’s not me. I just forgot to take it off.”

“You don’t like it?” he had asked, gently wiping away the sand to get a better look, but watching her face to wait to do so.

“I do,” she had said quietly with a nod. “I just… it’s not me. I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Can I look at it?”

“Yeah,” she had whispered and he had smiled as he looked down and moved her foot closer to his face to see it in the glow of the fire.

It had been silver, not thick but also not thin and in the middle of it, a moon and two stars had been cast.

“How is it not you?” he had asked, rubbing the ring and then her toe gently. “The design?”

“Wearing it at all,” she had said, looking down at it. “It’s more something my sister would do.”

“I see,” he had said, remembering how she had spoken of her sister. “Did she make it?”

“Yeah. She said she is learning how to cast and work with silver.”

“I think,” he had said, rubbing his thumb across the moon and stars. “With my limited knowledge of your sister and my growing knowledge of you… you should definitely wear it.”

“Why?”

“Hmm,” he had said, looking down at it and smiling. “You said you liked it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s call that reason number one then,” he had said and she had exhaled a breath. “Reason two, unless you’re wearing shoes that expose your toes, you’re the only one who knows you’re wearing it. So, no one can comment on it- either for or against.”

“Yeah,” she had said again, looking down at her foot and nodding.

“And reason three,” he had said softly, causing her to look up at him. “If it makes you happy, makes you feel any way… different than yourself or whatever, then you do what you want. Who cares what anyone has to say, how they may look at it, or what their personal opinion is. They don’t matter. They can fuck off.”

She had gasped and her mouth had dropped open, her eyes widening.

“You said fuck,” she had whispered.

“Yeah, I did,” he had said, a smile stretching across his face.

“I didn’t know you vineyard boys said things like that,” she had said and he had laughed, his hand moving from her foot to her ankle, his thumb rubbing around it softly.

“Oh, we definitely do,” he had said and she hummed as she scrambled up and was suddenly straddling him, her arms around his neck.

“What else do you do that I don’t know about?” she had whispered, her lips dropping to his as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

A loud chorus of ohhhh and wolf whistles had filled the air. He had pulled back and she had laughed as she kissed him once more and then moved off of him. He had felt his face flushing as she goodnaturedly called for them to shut up and mind their own business. Kissing sounds were then heard and he had exhaled deeply as she had taken his right hand in her left and then flipped them off with her right.

The fire had crackled and then popped again, smoke blowing toward them as they waved it away. His head still buzzing from their kiss, she had laid her head on his shoulder and stretched her legs out again.

“I’ll keep wearing the ring,” she had whispered and he had smiled as he looked at it. “Because… fuck ‘em.”

“Exactly,” he had agreed. “Fuck ‘em.”

“You certainly added more rocks last night,” he said as he looked at the large group of them on the table. “I like the ones you chose.”

“Thanks. I like to find ones that are large enough to paint something interesting but also some that are different. Like this one,” she said, picking up a rock that was completely smooth except for two small holes that appeared on both sides. “I think I like this one the best and I know how I want to paint it.”

“How?” he asked.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” she said and he nodded with a smile. “I’ll get the paints and stuff out now. Pick your rock.”

He looked through the numerous rocks and decided on one as she finished setting up the items they would need to paint.

“Okay. Let’s get started,” she said and they smiled as they sat down beside each other and prepared to paint.

He paused and watched her, appreciating the way she selected her paint colors and added them to one of the paper plates she had brought before moving onto the paintbrushes. Dipping the brush into black paint, she began to add it to the rock with the two holes.

“I can feel you watching me,” she said, turning her head to look at him. “It’s a little unnerving.”

“Sorry,” he said, grinning as he reached for a paper plate and a tube of paint. Creating his own palette of colors, he stared at his rock and waited for inspiration to hit. “Have you always done this? Is painting rocks a hobby of yours?”

“No. Well, not exactly,” she said, shaking her head as she continued to paint the rock black.

“Do you paint other things instead? Like canvases?”

“No again,” she said, looking up at him with a smile.

“Alright,” he said, smiling back at her. “So…?”

“I had a rock collection when I was younger,” she said, her attention back on the rock as she painted slow strokes. “Like I told you, we moved a lot with my father being in the Navy. I had rocks I collected from California, South Carolina, Washington state, and Japan.”

“Japan? Really?” he asked, picking up his paintbrush and tapping it softly against his rock. “What was that like?”

“I don’t remember much about it, being so young. Well, except the base and the sea. I was only five when we left, but I brought my collection with me. They were sacred.”

“I’m sure they were.”

She smiled at him and nodded. Setting her paintbrush into the tall plastic cup she had filled with water, she clasped her hands together and sighed.

“I never painted the rocks in my collection and to be honest, it never occurred to me to paint any. But, I worked as a counselor at an overnight summer camp when I was eighteen and it happened to be one of the activities we did with the campers. Someone had collected rocks from the beach and brought them to the camp. We were only supposed to observe and offer assistance if it was needed, but there were so many rocks, I painted one with my cabin of fifteen year olds.” She smiled as she picked up a different paintbrush and touched the bristles. “I told you that I was going through some things last year, things that wouldn’t have allowed this…” She gestured between them and he nodded, remembering their conversation on the boat. “Well… I guess you could say it started around that summer and kind of continued on in waves.”

She laughed almost bitterly and he stared at her, waiting to hear more.

“You know how some people are late bloomers when it comes to puberty?” she asked and he nodded. “Well, for me, I suppose it was rebelling.”

“Hmm. You have an older brother. And a sister,” he said, watching her face. She met his eyes and nodded. “You saw them grow up and then leave. You were done with high school and college was on the horizon. I could see all of those factors leading to a bit of rebellion.”

“Are you studying psychology?” she asked and he chuckled softly.

“No.”

“You might want to reconsider that,” she said, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“I’ll think about it,” he replied, chuckling once again.

“It could have been all of those things,” she said with a sigh. “But I think I just… I don’t know. I just felt angry and upset a lot of the time. I felt… kind of out of place in my own skin.”

“Well.. in my… studies and from books I’ve read,” he said, his tone serious as he put a hand on his chin and stroked slowly. “As well as in my observations…” She grinned as she watched him and he smiled back with a shrug.

“You’re so adorable,” she whispered and then leaned toward him, kissing him softly before pulling back.

“I was serious, though, about the changes in your life,” he said. “They can all manifest to cause turmoil we never anticipated.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a nod. “I know. But at the time though, that kind of thinking would have really pissed me off.”

“I completely understand,” he laughed and she smiled again.

“It was just…” She sighed and then looked at him, her eyes traveling over his face. “I’ve never really talked about this with anyone.”

“Not even a friend?”

“Not in its entirety,” she whispered and he nodded slowly.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You can-”

“No, I want to. I just… I don’t want you to think less of me. Or… I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t,” he promised, shaking his head and smiling slightly as he gently squeezed her knee and she sighed again with a nod.

“I was tired of being perfect Dana. The one everyone kind of babied and kept an eye on, but then seemed to forget about. I was… the result,” she said and he frowned, not understanding. “My sister had pushed the boundaries of things as she grew up. So as the result… I was treated differently.” He hummed and nodded. “I had stricter curfews, rules about makeup, dating, school, and friends. Bill, my older brother, behaved like my father at times, especially when my father was gone, telling me what to do and how to behave. We got into many fights over it and I really hated him sometimes. When he left for the Navy, I was more happy than sad to see him go.”

“That’s not too unusual,” Mulder reassured her. “Especially if he acted more like a father figure than your brother.”

“I know, but I felt guilty about it after a while,” she said and he nodded. “But I kept it pushed down, not wanting anyone to know. Then my sister left. Well… she sort of left as she would come and go, not having, as my father would say, a known purpose. But, even though they would fight, my parents asking her, sometimes pleading with her, to have direction and drive, it would end in a sigh and a shrug as if to say, Well, that’s just Missy, what can you do?” Scully sighed heavily and shook her head, her eyes downcast. “It felt… felt unfair and like… everything was then put onto me to be better than perfect and do what they thought I should do. At first I did, being the person I am. But then it made me angry and I started rebelling. It felt good at times, but shameful at others.”

“Sounds about right,” he said quietly, tapping her arm gently. She raised her head and looked at him, her eyes wet with tears. “Middle of four children… it’s hard not to be overlooked and also forced to excel.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, setting her paintbrush down and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Yeah.”

They were quiet for a couple of minutes and then she sniffled as she wiped her eyes again.

“It was small things,” she said, letting out a deep breath. “Staying out past curfew. Not calling if I’d be late. Leaving my room a mess, even though that killed me.” She laughed and then sniffled, wiping her eyes again. “I was technically an adult, but still living at home for the time being. I fought with them, acted out, went on dates with men that I… that I didn’t really like, because I knew it would bother my parents. But when the men wanted more from me… I broke it off and then…” She shook her head and he gave her a small smile as she looked at him. “I was so self destructive, if I had met you then, I would have hurt you with my actions.”

“You know,” he said softly, setting down his paintbrush and taking one of her hands. “I’ve always been a really good judge of character.”

“You don’t have to brag,” she said with a sob and he chuckled as she shook her head.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a smile and she nodded, sniffling softly. “But what I meant is that… I tend to observe, then act. Always have. I would have seen past that bravado you put up. Seen you. And I would have been your friend.” He leaned closer and gently kissed her forehead as she let out a shaky breath. Pulling back, he smiled and she scrunched her chin as tears filled her eyes again. “But… that wasn’t the journey we were on. So the past is the past and the present is now.”

“Yeah,” she whispered and he nodded.

“I’m sure I would have wanted to know that Dana. Just as much as I want to know this one. Older and wiser.”

“I’m twenty. I’m not old,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically and he laughed softly. She smiled as she dried her eyes again and then stared at him. “Thank you. For listening and understanding.”

“Of course,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“We kind of steered off topic,” she said, glancing at the rocks on the table.

“Does one have to do with the other?” he asked and she looked back at him.

“Yeah, in its own way,” she said. “When we painted the rocks at the camp, I was listening to the girls in my cabin talking. There were two camps actually. On one side of a large lake was the boys camp, and on the other side was the one we were at, the girls camp. So naturally, the girls wanted to figure out a way to get to the boys camp.”

“Of course they did,” Mulder said with a laugh.

“And of course, my job as a counselor was to discourage such behavior. But then I thought about all of the times when I wanted to do something, and I was told no, or simply given a look that meant that was not how I was to behave, and I remember saying under my breath- fuck it. And then I said it loud enough for them to hear me and all of them stared at me in shock.”

“I’m sure.”

“As we sat there,” she said, touching the rock she had painted and smiling. “We came up with a plan to sneak around the lake and see the boys. The rush I felt from doing something… bad… made me feel invincible. It was different from how I had ever felt before and I liked it. A lot.”

She glanced at him and he smiled, encouraging her to continue.

“Well, we snuck over, although…” She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know if snuck is the right word as we were quite loud. We had invited another cabin so it was twenty four girls and four counselors walking through the woods at night, laughing and chatting in loud whispers.”

“How far did you get?” Mulder asked with a chuckle.

“Nearly to the cabins. But the boys' camp leader met us in a golf cart, shaking his head and crossing his arms. The girls all screamed and started to run, us counselors following after them. I was in the back of the group and when I looked back, he was laughing.”

“I bet.”

“We all laughed as we walked back and some were planning when our next attempt would be, but for others it had been enough. I felt torn as I would normally have been scared to go once and mortified to go a second time. What if that leader was there again?” She looked at him with wide eyes and he laughed. “But then, as we got back to the cabin, and the girls started getting ready for bed, I thought about how exciting it had been to break the rules a little. So the next time we planned to go over, I was one of the counselors who took them. The group this time was smaller, and even though we didn’t make it much further, instead of heading back to the cabin right away, we stayed by the lake for a little bit. We threw rocks in the water and looked up at the stars, talking about boys and growing up and… everything and nothing.” She smiled and he nodded, picturing the moment perfectly. “I heard them talking, thinking about how they were different and braver than me. I wouldn’t call them defiant, but my father certainly would have. But sitting with them there, I thought about how I wanted to make a change.”

“And so you did.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “ I did, and like I said at times, it was great and at times I hated it. It was a year of some serious soul-searching before I started to come back to myself. And strangely enough, it was finding both my rock collection, and the one I had painted at the camp, that had turned things around.”

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well,” she said with a smile. “The rock collection made me think about myself as a child and the things that I had held dear and were important to me.” She smiled again and let out a sigh. “And then as I looked at the rock that I had painted, with the added thumbprint of each girl to remember them by, it made me think of myself as the grown up I now was. Staring at the two together, I realized that I’m more like my younger self than what I believed to be my older self. They are two sides of a coin, and yet I am more like one than the other.”

“But you need both sides to make the coin whole,” he said softly and she nodded.

“Exactly. That’s exactly it. I was trying so hard to be one or the other, I didn’t think about the fact that I could be both. So,” she said, laughing through her nose. “So, I changed again, or maybe not changed, just embraced who I am. A people pleasing, good girl at heart, with a bit of a rebellious streak that might not be right at the surface, but definitely lingers below.”

“Huh,” he said, his hand once more at his chin as he stroked it thoughtfully, his eyes on her. “Yes, that would be my assessment as well.”

“The girl at the country club who would work up the nerve to convince you to join her in some debauchery, scared and thrilled that we’d be caught at any minute,” she said, her eyes shining as she placed a hand on his knee.

“And the boy who was just simply terrified of everything- getting caught, you for being so bold, and myself for the joy it brought me,” he replied, covering her hand with his own.

“That place wouldn’t have been able to handle us,” she whispered and he laughed as they both leaned forward and their lips met.

“Ewwwww!” came the cry of children’s voices and they pulled apart to find the source of the sound.

A small mixed group of boys and girls around the age of seven were staring at them with disgusted faces.

“Kissing is yuck!” one kid said and the others agreed, nodding vehemently.

“You’ll change your mind one day,” Scully called to them and they shook their heads before running off toward the playground.

“They will,” she said to Mulder. “Especially if the person is as good a kisser as you.”

“Back at ya,” he said and she laughed. “Whaddya say we get back to these rocks? I was promised Toni’s after this and I’m starting to feel a little hungry.”

“Yeah,” she said, squeezing his knee gently. “Let’s do it. You know what you’re going to paint now?”

“I do,” he said with a nod.

“Then let’s get started,” she said, turning her attention back to her rock. “Thanks for listening. And understanding.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “It’s free of charge this time, seeing as I don’t have a degree in psychology.”

“Yet,” she said, raising her eyebrows as she glanced at him.

“Right,” he agreed with a laugh and she nodded as she picked up her paintbrush.

After painting six rocks each, they began to clear away their mess and the extra unpainted rocks as they left the others to dry a bit longer. When everything else had been done, they looked at the creations they had made.

“I like them,” Scully said, smiling at his rocks. “This one especially.” She pointed to one of the last ones he had made and he smiled happily.

“I made that one for you,” he said. “I’m glad you like it.”

“What?”

“It’s this picnic bench,” he explained, pointing at it. “It looks ordinary on its own, the sun setting behind it, but it’s not. It’s a place where I learned more about you and why rocks are important and what they represent.”

“Fox… Mulder,” she said, her fingers running lightly across the rock. “I love it.”

“You’ll notice I didn’t add Janey blows hard, so it’s not completely accurate,” he said and she laughed.

“It’s better than accurate,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, hugging her close. “Thank you again for telling me.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and then looked up at him, silently asking for a kiss. He smiled as he kissed her, the wind blowing softly around them. “I made one for you too. Can you guess which one it is?”

“Oh, let me see,” he said, letting go of her and looking at her rocks, which were painted and detailed much better than his own.

He looked through them all twice before he shook his head and looked at her.

“I don’t know. They’re all beautiful and very well done, but I…” He shook his head again and she smiled.

“This one,” she said, pointing to one with a medium blue background and what looked to be purplish blue berries clustered together on a dark green branch.

“I don’t-”

“You gave me your sweatshirt on the camping trip,” she said softly. “Without thought of being cold yourself. It was so warm and smelled so good. We didn’t really know each other and yet you did that. Then you fell in the water and didn’t ask for it back.”

“Well, I had other clothes.”

“Still…” She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “Then you heard me singing while we were looking for plants and things to eat.” She laughed and shook her head. “God, I was trying so hard to get your attention.”

“What?”

“I wanted to know you better. And as I gathered up the berries, I promised myself I would do just that,” she said. “So, I painted them for you. Because now that I have gotten to know you better, I want to know even more.”

She looked at him and he grinned, lifting her off her feet and kissing her as she squeaked in surprise.

“I do too,” he whispered, kissing her again and setting her down.

“How about we accomplish that over an early dinner?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “Say… Toni’s? My treat?”

“It’s like you’re reading my mind,” he teased.

“Imagine that,” she said, smiling as she began to gather up the rocks.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, picking up the rock with purplish blue berries painted on it and smiling. “Imagine that.”

#the x files #msr #alternate universe #college au #college classmates #bonfire #kissing #hanging out together #day at the park #discussions #getting to know each other even more #childhood memories #stories of the past #teasing #laughing #comforting #happy #flirting #xf fanfic

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ruporas · 1 year

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i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #despite it all though badlands rumble is like. the only universe where we get wolfwood thinking vash died first... and i think that means a #lot to their relationship and how it may bloom if there was more to badlands rumble considering vash literally saw wolfwood carrying a piece #of vash after his supposed death. u know! despite the short time they were together vash still meant so much to wolfwood that he couldn't #just move on or forget him in anyway. needed to keep a piece of him for himself and the rest of his days. but ofc vash lives and wolfwood #was like ill beat ur fucking ass into tomorrow. there's just so much honesty in vash being able to see that gesture bc he wouldnt know #otherwise just how much he might mean to him. ANYWAY. trimax with with the eternal pining featuring the two chapters where imo #where the both of them really fell for each other... i wrote my thoughts about this on another comic i did before #but vash solidifying his feelings during the hospital arc -- ww solidifies his when he realizes his allegiances are permanently with vash #98 my lovelies but also to me they are so one-sided bc ww pined like no tomorrow and vash only realizes after ep 23?24? his heart did tickle #whenever ww complimented his smile though #and tristamp vw my beloveds. it really just feels like they get the chance to be closer and closer and more honest with each other #with every version that comes about. in trimax they knew how little time they had but struggled so desperately to get closer. in 98 ww felt #more willing to forsake for vash. in badlands rumble theyre Angry but as mentioned earlier ^ more blatant truth... due to circumstances #mainly but has the chance to lead to discussions and tristamp literally. first day of knowing each other ww saves vash - 2 days later vash #saves ww like. Man. AND NOW THEY MAY POTENTIALLY GET EVEN CLOSER!!!! with s2....#ruporas art

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otaku553 · 6 months

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Quite frankly still obsessed with the three of them

A little procrastination doodle

#one piece #portgas d ace #sabo #monkey d luffy #it’s 5 am and I do not have the time to be spending on procrastination doodles but that is neither here nor there #ft. my headcanons for their outfits as kiddos but not really because I think this is pretty close to canon #oversized jacket for sabo because I refuse to believe he has worn the same clothes after being a runaway for at least a few years #like kids grow so fast and I can see undersized jacket for that as well but I feel like undersized would just be uncomfy and restricting #straw hat is definitely too big for 7 year old luffy so I hc it goes around his neck more often than not #or sabo or ace gets annoyed at luffy for having his eyes blocked all the time while they’re fighting each other or hunting so they #eventually get luffy to wear it around his neck more #also you can’t convince me that the fuzz on luffy’s shorts is like… actual fur #I think it’s more like very frayed edges of denim if you know what I mean #ace with baggy pants because it’s what he deserves. baggy pants ftw #also probably bigger pockets for his pickpocketing #sabo complains about noble clothes like girls complain about small pockets #‘what are they even supposed to hold. why are they so tight. this is just them trying to get us to buy expensive bags’

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bullagit · 8 months

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due to personal reasons i am now firmly on team “i hope aziraphale does change heaven for the better actually (going on the assumption that his return is as straightforward as it seemed etc”

like if the alternative is just this ohhh he’s so NAIVE and SOFT and so WRONG and he’ll have to LEARN A TOUGH LESSON etc etc nonsense then yeah 1000% go for it babe knock it out of the park

i hope choosing hope and kindness pays dividends. i hope the soft traits that made other characters continually disparage and underestimate him and his intelligence turn out to be his greatest assets bc i kinda don’t give a shit about a “toughen up it’s the only way everyone else knows better” life lesson for this character

(which like honestly a lot of the rhetoric is dismissive of the fact that persistent goodness in the face of an existence of disparagement takes great strength and that at the end of the day aziraphale has always been able to stand up in his own way)

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #aziraphale IS in fact a dark horse #he is consistently dismissed and underestimated and overlooked bc of how he presents himself!#even crowley does this with him (not in any sort of malicious way its a sense of protectiveness)#(i am not here to get into how aziraphale n crowley treat each other in ways that are unintentionally hurtful id be here forever lmao)#the point is that aziraphale is smart and tbh he knows more about how shitty heavens treatment has been the past few thousand year??#since he's. he's been the one getting treated badly. that whole time.#anyway theyre both right theyre both wrong and end of the day i just.#i hate the concept of a s3 that equates softness and kindness with being wrong and naive and dumb etc #it does not feel very good omens to me idk man #so i hope that's not where it goes

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allforthe-gay · 10 months

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it is completely one hundred percent baffling to me that any of the foxes would come away from witnessing neil and andrew's reunion in baltimore with the opinion that their relationship was just hate fucking . like my brother in christ are you blind

#andrew was FERAL .#he fucking choked KEVIN like COME ON #and he was like RACING into the room to see neil and #he was all like *tugs neil's hoodie to get his attention* *threatens anyone who tried to come close to them (abby)*#he was all like 'i dont trust them to give you back.' come on man .#and neil was looking at andrew . most definitely Like That. when he was talking to abby #neil was all battered and bruised from barely dodging a fucking death sentence and he sees andrews partly red eye and thats #the first thing he talks about #*lightly taps a thumb against the bruise at andrews eye* i didnt know theyd staged a riot #they were all like Looking at each other and ..... idk i am not explaining this well enough but .#you don't need me to. you all read it #it was So Fucking Obvious my god #im crying bc even neil thought nicky wasnt far from the truth at that point #like he could not have been more incorrect istg .#aftg #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #all for the game #mi ne

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starry-bi-sky · 2 months

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i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc prompt #man i just really need more dpdc stuff where danny and bruce have a good relationship. like man i NEED it. like i need to see these two #bonding together. and not in a cracky 'oh danny is a distant friend/cousin/etc' stuff but like. active participants in each other's lives #or as active as can be in this case. i neeeeed these two getting along and caring about one another #this idea came to me like last night and hasn't left since nd it was driving me up the wall to think about both positively and negatively b #i neeeded someone to hear about this or i was gonna implode #danny is the first son #tried to just get the general gist of the idea down but i definitely thought of the idea that bruce lowkey suspects vlad for having a hand #Vlad allows Danny to sneak off because he thinks Danny is alone. if he knew Bruce was there he'd be piiisssed and would put a stop to it #Sam and Tucker are alive they just got ghosted for a bit by danny bc he was in Major Grief and didn't wanna socialize. He couldn't go to #them because he didn't wanna put them in danger via Vlad.#oh that thing he handed Bruce? Yeah that's his ghost core. I have a headcanon (that isnt always applied) that ghosts can take their cores #out of their bodies at will and painlessly and without issue. and its common practice actually to do so bc they can be a not insignificant #distance away from said core before problems start to act up. and its common for ghosts to leave their physical cores at their lairs for #safekeeping because as long as the physical core is fine: so is the ghost. they can reform if their body gets destroyed. it also acts as a #fast travel sometimes. where they can reform at their core in an instant. its not inspired in the slightest by SU but i do see the overlap #most cores are pretty small for safety sake: its harder to hit if its small. and they're pr resilient too but its better to be safe than #sorry. so yeah. danny essentially gave bruce the physical embodiment of his soul and indirectly said #'if anything happens to me at least i'll be safe with you'#danny doesn't know he's batman btw #starry rambles.#was gonna go into danny becoming a vigilante beside bruce but im sleeeepy so i'll do that in a reblog. he's gonna go by nightingale if #anyone is interested. stereotypical but to be frank it is a *good* name imo. has a good amount of syllables and consonants to it #and the bird theme. and since its part of an ancestral name it has even more backing for it being bird-y without being meta

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listles-s · 18 days

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man laios and toshiro's/shuro's dynamic is incredibly compelling to me on multiple levels

when you look at them, you can see the cultural and personal barriers that drive almost every single aspect of their relationship, both positively and negatively. laios is incredibly outspoken and driven by his passions, which he expresses freely even in the face of annoyance and/or criticism- he's allowed to be as authentically himself as he pleases, and it's this drive that allows him and the others to survive as long as they have, especially due to the fact that these passions and interests are intertwined with his skills as a dungeon diver. toshiro, in contrast, is incredibly reserved, not only due to his eastern upbringing but also his status as nobility- a combo of cultures that both demand that one save face, to avoid conflict at any cost, even at the expense of one's own feelings and individuality. this, in turn, has made toshiro the perfect samurai, as he's politely-spoken, agreeable, and an honorable, skilled man. both are also incredibly devoted to falin on different levels, having come to accomplish the same mission of her rescue despite drifting apart from the party.

on the flipside, it's these same strengths that cause them to clash- laios is outspoken but unable to truly decipher the emotions of others, leading to a lot of false assumptions and frustration from those who interact with him. toshiro is stoic but to the point of complacency, leading to a aggressively neutral disposition that's ushered by the needs and wants of others, rather than himself. neither man truly knows where they stand with the people important to them in their lives, and hold the ones that they do know how they feel with a fierce admiration expressed in ways that aren't always traditional.

in the end, they both share a growing feeling of isolation from other people that comes to a head when they meet again in the depths of the dungeon, and they both have different ways of coping with the frustrations that arise, seeing the other as only the things they have seen face to face.

it's laios' ability to express himself emotionally without consequence that sparks jealousy in toshiro, leading to a physical fight born out of miscommunication and envy. while toshiro is a driving force in the conflict, it should be noted that the actual fight is started by laios, breaking the dam of indirect communication through force. nothing is more direct than a slap to the face, and it's only after they start hitting each other that toshiro's true feelings come to light.

however, at the end of it all, toshiro is the one who stops torturing himself, listening to laios and giving him the bell, allowing laios and his party entrance into his homeland should they need it, and ultimately giving him support in his mission to defeat the dungeon mage, albeit in his own way. despite it all, they're still good friends with a conflict that boiled over, but came out the other end with a slightly better understanding of each other. the fight was painful for both of them, but it was a necessity for their dynamic to improve, and for them to be made aware of their faults and improve as individuals as well.

but also, if you think about it, their dynamic is literally just this

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #toshiro nakamoto #shuro #shuro dungeon meshi #character analysis #anyways toshiro haters with surface level takes get the hell off my lawn boy #i hope you know this entire character analysis was born out of the realization that i'd seen this dynamic before in a different light #and i thought. man. what is the funniest comparison i could make here rn. and i'm still right abt it btw #oh yeah also of course the autism read is still there #as an autistic person myself they don't read at all like neurotypical v autism. they read a LOT more like autism v autism #you know how people with autism either get along REALLY well with other people with autism or repel each other with a force #yeah they're basically that. to me #reading toshiro as autistic with the immigrant lens btw makes him even more compelling to read that way #but that is an analysis for another time #man i missed writing these #dungeon meshi spoilers

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 5 months

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Thank you all for voting in the poll to decide who was going to be the leader of the band! It turned out to be such a close race!

#poorly drawn mdzs #better drawn mdzs #mdzs #madam lan #A-qing #Band AU #(Reminder that Madam Lan's design inspiration goes to Qourmet!)#Madam Lan may have been the winner per vote count but there were so many strong advocates for A-Qing!#I played around with a few versions of what the 'poll winner' art was going to be and ultimately decided I wanted them both.#As any good theater love knows though - The battle for leadership was a ruse. They *all* get a chance to be featured.#Cooperation was the real end goal! However I do think these two have the best frontman energy of the group.#Or at least 'crowd favourite' energy. I also really loved hearing what people thought their vocal styles would be like!#This was probably one of my favourite polls to do and I love drawing these characters a lot B*)#I'd love to spend a bit more time in this AU so count on me bringing it back.#One thing I keep feeling like I need to redeem myself on is Madam Lan's Translucent skirt. I have *not* done the concept justice yet.#It is such a crack-platonic ship but I want to think Madam Lan and A-Qing would enjoy each other's company.#Possibly also with JYL as well. They can be like mutually beneficial therapy dogs to each other.#Madam Lan never got to see her kids grow up into teenagers after all. She only had sons. Never daughters.#Even if she saw her kids once a month we do know she treated them with so much love and kindness.#She would bite the shit out of YZY for yelling at JYL. What a sight to see. A-Qing would also start biting (for fun).

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shortnotsweet · 5 months

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[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

#rhaenicent #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra x alicent #my art #a book show fusion where alicent is the wicked resentful older stepmother first and foremost but even so she and rhaenyra have a connection #burdened by envy and fixation and reluctant affection. in this universe rhaenyra is given more liberties and trains as a knight would #is given a sword and flies into battle frequently and wears extravagant clothes which endears her to the small folk and makes her a hot #topic amongst royalty for her strangeness and charisma. alicent is expression not only of her freedom and expression #but of the company she keeps. rhaenyra has so many lovers and so many who are willing to follow her and it’s just not fair ok. alicent #and rhaenyra understand each other and know each others misery like no other. those other flings and beloved friends are going to get #her killed w how much they indulge her and encourage her dangerous habits and alicent may be in a cage but she won’t live in it alone. with #out her stepdaughter to torment and be tormented by (she represses the urges rhaenyra inspires bc she is devout to the faith) then there is #no meaning to suffering. god she’s in love w her. she hates her so much she wants to be her she wants to be with her she needs to touch her #she need rhaenyra to stop looking at other people bc it’s killing alicent by the day

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