#those are just the earliest you can change them
Text
I think we should get at minimum 3 names in our lives. When we're born, no one knows who we're going to be. That's a throw away name. Name your baby whatever as long as you can identify them. Ex: frog, goober, purple people eater, etc. Doesn't matter. Name them like you name a pet.
When they become sentient and can now think for themselves- probably when they start school- let them choose their first meaningful name. Being that they're literal children, they'll probably name themself after their favorite character or favorite word or something. Ex: Steven(steven universe), Megatron, Sailor Moon, etc. This is fun and they learn to identify themself and figure out who they want to be. Imagine being friends with a kid named pinkie pie.
Finally- not sure about the age for the last one (probably 12/14-ish, when they're teenagers.)- They choose their final name. The name they want to be known by for the rest of their life. Obviously, name changes are still a thing, but this is the final free one. This name is for once they've grown up enough and are mature enough to know themselves and know who they truly want to be. Ex: *whatever the fuck they want*.
#had this thought a while ago and never posted it#names#Sparky is a beautiful name for a baby girl#This just makes sense to me#the ages I put are flexible#those are just the earliest you can change them#This would be awesome for everybody not just trans people#parents no longer would have to think long and hard about their babies name#call them pizza#doesn't matter#they'll change it later anyway#trans
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Slay the Princess Concept Art
We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)
Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.
In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.
The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:
The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.
If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.
We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.
That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:
You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!
The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.
Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.
We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.
There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.
Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.
Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.
First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)
Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.
The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs.
The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.
A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.
The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.
Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.
If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.
An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.
Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.
Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)
So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.
Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.
She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)
And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.
This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.
Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
🥂!
#delete later#ranting softly in my tags again please ignore this post aha#sometimes i wonder how the people in my direct family see me! and maybe it’s cuz this holiday season i’ve been extra introspective#but i often feel vvv lonely ! which is like so silly because i don’t doubt they love me and i have what i always say are really good friends#to keep positive energy in the universe ! but there’s always this pressure when i’m around people ! how much of the real me can i be! what#is the limit before i become intolerable you know ? and it’s like if i can’t even been intolerable with the people who i would willingly#take the brunt of their own intolerability ? who will i ever allow myself to be myself around#and yeah idk i feel like to them i’m such an tough person? like i’m argumentative and whiny and childish but those are the earliest ways i#learnt not only how to defend myself but be myself in a sense#when i was younger my mum used to say i’m too soft hearted and kind#and i ended up in friendships and situations where that led to me being the only one hurting#and ultimately feeling lonely#but idk if they realise for all of these things at the end of the day i may show a bit my discontent towards their actions towards me#but i always give up! i always just go with whatever they decide to the point that i don’t really know how to voice my own opinions in#certain things since i’m so used to deferring#like i have gotten so used to accepting that ultimately the issue always lays with me and i have to change#because that’s what they want of me#and now i’m an adult who feels lonely by herself because she doesn’t know how to be herself around people she loves#who truly believes that no one loves the real her#facets of me are truly loveable ! and i think ik pretty well where my limits of toleration are but i live in fear#that one day everyone will have had enough#and more than that i like being lonely it feels safe most of the time ! if no one knows you how can they truly hurt you#but then why am i always hurt and why do i desepertaely sometimes feel the weight of the loneliness#anyway! what a bunch of probably incompressible babbling#happy new year i grit my teeth and lived so that’s how i shall continue
1 note
·
View note
Text
Dead on Main AU 3
Masterpost
So this one is a bit longer, but that's because part of it is the same phone conversation from the other side.
~~~~~
“Road trip!” Dick calls out. All of the- siblings(?)-younger people start to scramble before Bruce calls out for them to stop.
“This is going to be a 12 hour drive one-way, which means we won't be back until dinner tomorrow at the earliest. Not all of you can go.” This causes a lot of frowns and Danny holds in a chuckle. They start arguing over why they should be able to go and Bruce pinches his nose, right between his eyes as they shout at him.
“First and Foremost, I do believe that Masters Duke, Damian, and Stephanie have school tomorrow.” Alfred inserts. Everyone quiets to listen to him, Danny notes. Everyone else they’ll talk over, he must be important, be extra nice to him.
The three must sigh and sit back down at the table.
“Cass, if you wouldn’t mind staying to keep them out of trouble overnight. I’m sure Alfred will see them out to school.”
Cass shrugs, then signs at Dick who responds “Of course!” Danny hadn’t realized that she was speaking sign language this whole time.
Bruce then turns to face Dick and Tim. “You have absolutely no way to keep us from coming.” Dick sing-songs.
“You both have work tomorrow.”
“Actually, Dick and I called out ten minutes ago, family emergency.” Tim shrugs. “We won’t be in for a few days unless things change.”
“Alright, go grab your things.” They both whoop and you can just tell they were both about to start running when they catch eyes with Alfred and just start walking really fast. “Pack light, and grab some changes of clothes for Jason!”
Before they can leave a phone starts ringing. They all look around before all eyes settle back on Danny. He feels around his pockets for where the phone is, before pulling it out and seeing his own number on the caller ID.
“Oh, it’s me!” Danny hurries to pick up as he hears someone mutter “Why didn’t we think of that?” from the table. Dick and Tim are almost immediately right next to him as he mumble out a hello.
“Um, hello, Jason?”
“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” His heart thumps when he hears his own voice coming out the other side of the phone. It somehow makes the whole situation seem a bit more real then it did before.
“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”
“Hey, we’re his family”
“We’re all his brothers and Cass is his sister.”
“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?”
So much talking at once, Danny tries to focus on his own voice coming through the phone. It’s a little deeper than it usually is, gruffer and lilted like it’s trying to talk in an accent the mouth isn’t familiar with shaping. Danny supposes the voice he’s speaking with now must be doing the same.
“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason sighs loud enough to hear over the phone and Danny chuckles at the response.
“Right, well your name is Danny right?”
“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?” They were all home the last he checked, and Jazz usually tells him before she heads out.
“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”
“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Danny rubs a hand down his face just thinking of that - his homework- being his soulmate's first real impression of him.
“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”
Danny shakes off the embarrassment “I think so?”
“Of course we are!”, “Was he not paying any attention as we decided who should go?”, “We were just planning.” There are so many people talking at once again.
Danny pulls his face away from the phone and turns to the room at large “Stop it, buzz off!”. He turns to face a wall and takes a few steps away. “They said yes.”
“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”
Danny hums, focused on something else. “Look, I do need to warn you…” what if he goes ghost, can he go ghost with Jason in his body? What are his parents working on today? “ about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”
“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?” Weird ice mist coming out of your mouth would be pretty unexplainable at the moment, but random things shooting at him can be avoided!
“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.” Almost everything in that lab is to be avoided, although since he is already in Danny’s body he shouldn’t be bothered by the potential radiation.
“Kid, what?”
“This is really an in-person talk.”
Danny does not know how he would explain this over the phone, with a room of eavesdroppers behind him. Although they’ve become respectfully quiet, more whispers than anything now.
“Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”
“Yep!” That would be best, Jazz will definitely help him. “Is there anything I should know?”
“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”
Danny laughs and puts the phone on speaker before calling out to the room, “You’re on speaker!” so everyone in the room knows as well as Jason.
“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”
“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick has bounded back over to Danny, right up in the personal space.
“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells from the table, where she continued eating at some point.
“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”
Danny starts laughing so hard he doesn’t register everyone else in the room having frozen at the outburst.
“Oh, wow, same.” Danny gets out once he can breathe again.
The room is staring at him again, but they seem to do that a lot.
“You must be Jazz.” They hear coming through the phone. “I’m Jason.”
“Jazz!” Danny calls out.
“Danny would like to talk to you.” There’s a small shuffle.
“Danny?”
“Hey, Jazz! So, apparently I’m the younger, so today’s the day. I’m with his family right now.”
“You have a plan? Are you coming home?”
“Yeah, just. Would you mind keeping an eye on Jason until I get there? It’s going to be a long drive so could you make sure nothing shoots him and that he gets edible food?”
“I’ll take him to Nasty for dinner, don’t worry.” Danny sighs in relief, he knew Jazz would help, but he did not need his soulmate food fighting with dinner.
“Sounds good, he’s in my body so he shouldn’t really be poisoned but Mom and Dad still can’t really cook. Speaking of which! He is in my body so if anything happens with the, um, medical condition, help him through that as well.”
“Of course, Danny.”
“Thanks Jazz! We were just deciding who was coming along, but apparently, it's about a 12-hour drive? So, you guys won’t see us until tomorrow.” There’s a lot unspoken in this conversation, but Danny knows she’ll do her best. “Try not to interrogate him, and no psychoanalyzing!”
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
MISTAKEN HATRED
A/N: okay im veeery nervous about this one bc its the longest story i've written in probably months and it took me sooo long to finish it so im just praying its not utter shit 🙃 anywaysss, happy holidays guys! it's not overly festive, but it has some vibes so im labeling it as my xmas fic haha feedback is always appreciated! 🎄
WORD COUNT: 6.3k
SUMMARY: Things don't go as smooth as you planned with your bakery's opening, but you're doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred...
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
This is not how you imagined the last weeks before your official opening.
You imagined the interrior to be fully done by now so you can focus on the last touches, ordering the right ingredients and promoting the opening.
Instead, you’re staring at what’s supposed to be your eight tables, intact and put together but it’s all in pieces. You specifically remember the website said they would deliver them done and you wouldn’t have to play puzzles. But they arrived six days late and very much not the way they promised.
Taking a deep breath you stare up at the ceiling and decide to take the trash out before turning your bakery into Ikea.
“It’s alright. I can do this. I can do anything,” you keep telling yourself as you drag out the trash bags that are almost the size of you.
You knew opening your own business would be tough. Especially in Eroda, the little town you have some of your earliest memories from, where your grandma used to live, the place that was closest to her heart and it breaks yours to know she couldn’t spend her last years here because she was too sick to live on her own.
She never asked you to come back here, but the moment you found her recipe books the summer after she passed, you just knew what you had to do. Now it’s been three years and you’re finally opening Nana’s that will bring her warmth and love back to Eroda, or you hope so.
Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you keep dragging the bags to the containers behind the small shop and you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even notice the two people just a couple of feet away.
“Hi, Love!”
You recognize Anne’s sweet, chirpy voice and a smile spreads across your face even before you look up, but the moment you see the person standing next to her, all joy just drains from your body.
Harry Styles is standing as grouchy and arrogant as always next to his mother, hands hidden in the pockets of his fleece jacket, his unruly curls are tucked underneath his beanie and any normal woman would be into the man, but you. Not after he very clearly let you know you don’t belong here and you should take your business back to the city where you came from.
You expected some resistance, not much has changed in town in the past decades and you had a feeling some might want to keep it that way, but you guessed older people would riot against your bakery, not a thirty years old grown man.
“Hi Anne,” you smile back and mustering up all your strength you throw one of the bags into the bin, but you overestimated your muscle work, because it only falls to the edge and almost topples right out. Luckily, you grab it just in time and push it in.
“Oh, dear, those bags are bigger than you! Harry, help her!”
“No, it’s alri–”
Before you get to protest, Harry strides over to you and grabs the remaining two bags as if they weighed nothing and throws them into the bin without breaking a sweat.
Of course he is fit, the man probably runs up the hill carrying twice his weight every morning, because that’s how you can imagine him working out.
Though you shouldn’t be imagining anything about him.
“Thanks,” you purse your lips and square your shoulders as you face the two of them.
“How is everything coming together?”
Anne has been so enthusiastic about your bakery, she comes around probably every other day, checks in on your progress and always offers her help.
“Um, it is… okay, I guess,” you let out a tired chuckle. Glancing over at Harry you see him looking to the side, as if he wasn’t even listening, but something is telling you he is very much focused on the conversation.
Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here! Not even your arrogance can chase me away!
Anne cranes her neck, peeking into the shop and she spots the pile in the middle.
“Oh, are you planning to put those together by yourself? Harry, why don’t you help her?”
The moment she suggests, you both protest.
“No, there’s no need.”
“Mum, I don’t really have the time,” he says at the same time, but it doesn’t seem to go through. Anne’s phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the two of you there.
Great, this is all you were missing today, an awkward, forced situation with the man who wants to see you gone. Perfect.
“Should’ve ordered them done, don’t you think?” he speaks up, nodding towards the shop.
At first, you just blink at him, then close your eyes and when you open them, you have the fakest smile on your twitching face.
“What a wonderful idea! I totally did not think of that!”
“Then send them back and ask them to bring what you ordered.” He rolls his eyes and it’s irking you so much. You definitely don’t need his stupid advices, not when you’re terribly behind your schedule.
“They arrived almost a week later than they should have, if I send them back there’s now ay they will send me the new ones in time for the opening.”
Harry stands there, staring at the pile of furniture pieces inside and for a moment you think he might actually offer his help, which you’re not sure you’d have accepted, but it remains a mystery, because that’s not what he says when he speaks up.
“I’m busy for real. Mum likes to offer my help around without asking me.”
It takes you a couple of moments to figure out what you feel about what he just said. And when you finally do, you see red.
“As I said, I don’t need help. I did everything by myself and I will get this done as well. I don’t need your unwanted, half-assed effort to pretend like you’re helping me.”
You come off rougher than you probably should have, but he’s been bugging you ever since you moved to Eroda. The man knows nothing about you or your business, yet every time he comes near your shop he acts like it physically pains him to even look at it. He’d be the last person you’d ask for help, he doesn’t have to act like he has so much to do and doesn’t have the time to help when he doesn’t actually want to help.
Harry stares at you with such intensity you almost break and stutter a sorry out, but that’s when Anne returns.
“Ah, we have to run. But I will come by tomorrow, Darling. And Harry can hel–”
“No need for help,” you smile at her as gratefully as you can force yourself to be in this moment.
“Alright, then see you later,” she waves and you nod at her before your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before they walk away and you return to your shop.
It takes you six hours to assemble the tables later that day, but you do it.
With no help.
Moving to Eroda, it hasn’t been your only goal to have your business become part of the town but you also knew you’d have to become one of the locals as well. Only a handful of people know who your grandmother was and you don’t plan to reveal it until the opening. You want them to taste all the baked goods and think of her first and then put the picture together. But this means you’re a total newbie for most people around. Last time you spent more than just a day here was when you were sixteen and you’ve changed a lot since then, so it’s natural people don’t recognize you.
Anne has been your biggest help in breaking the ice and involving you in as many things as possible so you get to meet the people of Eroda. The weeks leading up to Christmas are usually filled with all kinds of winter activities locals enjoy wholeheartedly. Concert by the town hall, decorating the trees at the main square, collecting donations and cooking for those in need for example. You’ve been to all of these and very much enjoyed being part of the community. This weekend however, you can’t say you’re looking forward to the new festive activity.
Ice-skating on the frozen lake.
It sounds nice and fun, but you’ve ice-skated only once in your life and ended up breaking your wrist. Not your favorite childhood memory for sure and you don’t exactly want to relive it as an adult.
You arrive with the intention of just sipping some hot tea and watch everyone else skate around until your fingers are falling off and you can go back to the shop to finish putting up the tinker lights at the back.
Anne however had different ideas about today. Because as soon as you arrive at the lake, she is waving at you, holding up a pair of skates and you know they are not hers, because she’s already wearing those.
“Kick those boots off, Love, I brought you my old skates! Come join us!” She smiles brightly at you from next to the pier where people get on and off the ice.
“Oh, no, I don’t skate, Anne, but thank you!”
“Don’t be silly, even Bernie is on the ice!” She nods towards the old man who must be at least eighty, sliding on the ice as if he did this all his life. He might have, you have no idea.
“It’s really not for me, I–”
“Just try it! Come on!”
She drops the skates by your feet and then slides away, leaving you no chance to protest.
Staring down at the skates, you can feel your stomach churning, but as you look up you see that literally everyone is on the ice, you’d look weird standing on the pier on your own.
“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you give in and sitting down you start peeling your boots off your feet.
“You’ll break your ankle if you leave it that loose.”
You know the voice and it just adds to your stress even more. You see his black skates in front of you as you’re trying to lace your own up.
“Hi Harry, so good to see you again,” you hiss through your teeth.
“Tighten it or you’ll fall.”
“I’ll fall either way,” you mumble as you go back and pull the laces tighter. When you’re done you straighten up, but remain sitting on the end of the pier, anxiously string down at your feet. Harry doesn’t speak, but you know he is still there, probably watching you, trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you’re not just standing up and going at it like everyone else.
Your hands are holding onto the wood underneath you for dear life as you picture yourself finally moving, but you never get to actually acting.
“Do you need help standing up?” Harry speaks up at last and his voice is different this time. It’s not as arrogant, maybe even concerned. Do you look that awful right now?
“N-No.” Your voice cracks and you hate that it’s him who sees you like this.
“Doesn’t seem like–”
“Would you stop being an asshole for a moment?” you snap at him and finally look up, eyes meeting his examining gaze. You have no idea what he sees in yours, but a few seconds later he breaks eye-contact, looks around as if he is hesitating before he sits beside you at last.
“You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.”
“Tell that to your mother,” you mumble under your breath and it makes him laugh.
The sound of it is actually nice, surprising, but nice to hear something other than insults coming from his mouth.
“She can be a bit too much, but she’s just too enthusiastic.” You sit in silence for a bit before Harry turns to you. “You really don’t have to skate.”
“I want to take part, I just… I broke my wrist on the ice once when I was a kid and I haven’t tried skating since then.”
You didn’t plan on telling him much, but you felt like you had to explain why you’re being so dramatic. Part of you is expecting him to make fun of you for being scared of skating because of something that happened ages ago, but the arrogant comments never come.
Instead he stands up and when you look up at him he is holding a hand out to you.
“I’ll help you. You won’t fall.”
Any other day you’d think he is plotting against you, that he would get you to trust him and the trip you the first chance he got, but not this time. He looks and sounds genuine and as you take his hand, you put way too much trust into them than you would have ever allowed yourself to.
You hold onto him with both hands and he keeps you steady as you finally attempt to push yourself up from the edge of the pier. Your knees wobble the moment your weight is on the blades and you instantly feel yourself losing balance, but Harry’s hands wrap around your arms and keep you from falling.
“It’s okay. Relax a bit, you’ll find your balance.” He encourages you and it’s almost strange to hear him so supportive of anything you’re doing, but not breaking your neck keeps you too busy to care about his random act of kindness.
“Try to move forward.”
“I can’t,” you protest without even trying.
“You can, just relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax, it’s not gonna help me relax!”
“Y/N, you’re gonna have a panic attack if you don’t relax,” he warns you and you realize how fast you’re breathing and all your blood is being pumped into your head.
“I-I can’t, I can’t do this, I–”
“Y/N, look at me!” His hands snap to your shoulders and you grab onto his biceps as you look him in the eyes while your chest is still heaving. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re not going to fall. I’m holding you, I promise.”
Focusing on his words you finally forget about your fears and instead, you’re now trying to figure out where this version of Harry came from and why he hid from you all along.
You’re not one to trust people that easily, but just from this one promise he made, you let go of all your doubts and hesitation.
“Okay,” you breathe out. Harry nods and his hands slowly slide lower until they rest on your waist.
“You knew how to skate, right? Before you broke your wrist.” You nod. “Alright, then it will all come back quickly.”
There’s a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his lips and your heart pitter-patters in your chest, but not because of the skating this time. His hands on you are not helping either, because for some reason, you feel heat radiating through the millions of layers you’re wearing where his hands are touching you.
What is happening?
“Okay, I’ll hold your hand and you just focus on moving forward, yeah?”
You nod and panic rises in your gut for a moment when his hands leave your shoulders, but then they instantly take your hands and you feel safe again.
Slowly you start moving, inching forward, your hands gripping Harry’s so tight, you’re afraid you might hurt him, but you’d never let go of him, not when you’re getting farther away from the pier.
“That’s it, you are doing great,” he encourages. “Try to move a bit less rigidly.”
“Easy to say that,” you breathe out shakily.
It takes time to loosen up even the tiniest bit and not grip Harry’s hand as if you wanted to crush his bones. But as you slowly move around the ice, led by him, you finally get more and more familiar with the feeling of sliding on the ice.
“See? It’s not that bad,” he smiles when you stop for a short break after circling back to the pier.
“I still fear for my life, but it’s bearable now,” you nod and he just chuckles.
It looks good on him. His smile is warm and welcoming, it’s a shame it took you so long to see it. You definitely prefer this version of him.
“Honey, it’s so lovely to see you on the ice!” Anne slides over to you with ease, holding a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate.
“Well, it’s not quite my element,” you let out an awkward chuckle.
“You’re doing just fine. Besides, you just snatched up the best skater in town.” Winking, she bumps her hip against Harry’s. Your puzzled look urges her to elaborate. “Harry took over coaching the boys’ hockey team last year, the kids adore him!”
Instantly, you imagine Harry dealing with a bunch of cute kids, cheering on them, teaching them, making them laugh… The image is actually moving something inside you that’s been buried somewhere deep for a while now.
“Y/N, how are things coming together? Everyone is buzzing for the big opening!” Anne does a little dance that makes you laugh, but at the same time, something changes in Harry.
“Um, it’s going okay. Not how I planned, but I’ll manage.”
“I’m sure everything will fall into place perfectly. And if you need any help just let us know!” She turns to Harry, looking for validation that he is open to lending you a helping hand as well, but his reaction is not quite what she was expecting, probably.
“Sorry, I gotta go now,” Harry mumbles quickly, his gaze obviously avoiding you or his mother and he skates away so fast you just blink after him.
“What’s gotten into this boy?” Anne huffs, but she lets go of it fast, starts chatting about something you don’t quite catch, because you just stare after Harry, watching him slalom between the skaters so fast it’s almost aggressive.
And once again, you feel like you’re back where you began. He hates you and you have no idea what you did against him.
Theoretically, opening Nana’s two weeks before Christmas was a great idea, because you imagined all the baked goods people would order for the holidays, you knew it would be a great kick start.
Realistically, it means that now you have to do the last touch ups in the harsh winter that’s as cold as the North Pole. Or at least that’s how you imagine the North Pole.
It’s been non stop snowing for the past three days, the fresh, soft looking snow is now covering every bit of Eroda’s breathtaking view and though it’s very festive and nice to look at it from a warm room with something hot to drink, it’s not as relaxing when you’re still working on the bakery, doing the last bits of decorating and starting the first batches of baked goods, because in 24 hours, Nana’s is officially opening its front door to the public.
You’ve been here since five in the morning, now it’s four in the afternoon but it’s almost entirely pitch dark outside so it feels like it’s nearing ten. The place is not a mess anymore, but the kitchen is, there’s all kinds of dough everywhere, you’re doing everything you can now so there’s less tomorrow, but even with all the work tonight you’ll be here at five in the morning again tomorrow.
It’s been hours since the last time you looked out the window, so it fully goes over your head how heavy the snowfall has gotten lately, chasing home every soul from the streets. While you’re covered in flour and keep muttering Nana’s recipes to make sure everything is measured right, there is one more person out there who is still not home, battling the weather.
Harry has been going around town all day, helping out the elderly with either delivering groceries, or repairing the heating, whatever they needed a helping hand with. He’s usually the person one calls in Eroda when something needs to be fixed.
The roads are now not quite safe to be driving around, but with his jeep he’ll be able to get home just before it gets too bad. Or so the thought, but that is until he drives by the bakery and sees the lights on.
At first he keeps driving, telling himself it’s not his business. But the farther he gets the guiltier he feels and then he turns the car around.
You’re too busy to hear the knocking at first, but then you hear it again and know it wasn’t just in your head. Rushing out of the kitchen you stop in front of the door, because through the glass you make out Harry standing there, the snow already covering the top of his head as if he’s been out there for hours.
“It’s freezing out here, Y/N! Would be nice if you let me in!” he shouts through the glass and you finally snap out of your surprise, unlock the door and Harry practically runs inside.
“What are you doing here?” You watch him shake the snow off of him and finally turn towards you. For a moment you forget about how you parted ways at the skating, how cold he turned out of the blue after helping you.
“Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. There’s a snowstorm out there, you won’t be able to get home if you stay here!”
“Are you kidding me? I’m opening tomorrow, I have a million things to finish!”
“So you’re risking getting snowed in? Were you planning to sleep here or something?”
“Maybe! Yeah! I need to get a ton of dough ready and I still haven’t put up the tinker lights and I need to clean up…”
Harry stares at you with such a vivid look, you expect him to start screaming at you or something. But he just keeps staring until he finally breaks.
“Okay, where are the lights and where do you want them?”
“What?”
“You’ll spend the night here if you do everything alone. I’ll help and hopefully we’ll be able to leave when it’s all done.”
Now it’s your turn to stare at him as he is looking around, searching for the lights to start working, but you can’t really believe he is about to help you out when he could be home by now. On the other hand, you could really use the help and maybe finish earlier than midnight, so after pushing your surprise to the side you start instructing him. While Harry works on the lights, you return to the kitchen.
To test out the dough for the croissants, the one thing you’re the most nervous about because it used to be Nana’s specialty, you decide to make a few and pop them in the oven while you do everything else.
It’s hard to believe you’re finally at this point, so close to the opening, turning your biggest dream into reality. You wish Nana would be here with you today.
“Lights are done.”
Harry interrupts your thoughts and you wipe your floury hands into your apron before following him out of the kitchen to see the work he did.
“Oh my God, this looks perfect!” you gasp, seeing all the tinker lights run along the ceiling and walls, lighting up the place like magic.
Harry just nods, pressing his lips together, as if it was nothing.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“Yeah, I have a few pictures I want to hang up and then it’s all done–” The timer in the kitchen goes off, letting you know the croissants are done. “Let me take them out and then I’ll show you where I want them.”
You rush back to the kitchen and take the fresh, steaming croissants out of the oven, completely missing that Harry has followed you and he is now watching you curiously as you take the baked goods off the tray one by one.
“That smells like…” he speaks up, but the words die on his tongue and you just smile, placing one onto a plate, holding it out for him.
“Here, try it.”
He hesitates, but takes the plate at last. Though it’s still hot and he should definitely wait a bit, it’s hard to resist, you know that. You watch him take a tentative bite and wait for his reaction as if he is about to tell you your future.
“So? How is it?”
“It’s… it’s really… good. Really good.”
It’s obvious he is having a hard time admitting you did something right, but his face says it all. You just don’t understand why he looks kind of puzzled, but you think it’s just because he didn’t expect it to be this good.
“I bet the croissants will be the bestsellers,” you chuckle as Harry takes bite after bite until it’s all gone. He devoured it so fast it’s incredible. You couldn’t help but focus on his pink lips while he ate and those tiny sounds he let slip… they surely planted some thoughts into your head, thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of when it comes to Harry.
“Come on, I’ll show you the pictures.” It’s your attempt to clear your mind.
You walk out and grab the box that holds all the framed pictures you want to hang on the walls, of course, all of them feature Nana.
“Okay, so I thought a few could go over here, and then on that wall as well, and these, I want them behind the counter…” You start explaining your vision, but when you turn around you see that he is staring at a photo in shock. “Harry? What’s wrong?”
You step closer and see that it’s the photo that was taken on your tenth birthday. You’re holding up one of the cupcakes Nana made just for you and she is standing behind you, with her hands on your shoulders. It’s a fond memory, one of your favorite birthdays you ever had.
“Oh, is it the dungarees?” you ask, pointing at your outfit. “I wasn’t quite the fashion icon back then,” you chuckle.
“No, it’s– who’s this?” he asks, pointing at Nana. You give him a puzzled look, because it’s not rocket science to figure out who the woman in the picture is.
“That’s Nana, obviously.”
“But as in… your grandma?” He finally looks up at you and his face is frantic, as if he is solving a lifelong mystery.
“Of course, Harry, what is goin–”
“Y/N, Nana was your grandma?”
“Yes!” you laugh in confusion. “Of course she was, that’s why I’m opening a bakery under her name with all her recipes she taught me!”
You can’t read the look on Harry’s face as he puts the photo back into the box and then starts walking around with his hands on his hips.
“Why do you look like you just learned you were adopted or something?”
“Y/N, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“That you’re… Nana’s granddaughter. I had no clue.” He runs a hand through his hair and you try your best not to stare at how his bicep flexes in the movement.
“What? Harry, why else would I be opening a bakery, named Nana’s right here, out of every possible place on Earth?”
“I don’t know!” he admits, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s why I… Okay, this is why I hated the idea so much. Because I knew Nana, I loved her! She was like… my grandma too! And I thought you just chose this name for fun!”
“Are you kidding me?” you huff in disbelief.
“I felt like you were ruining her memory, that’s why I was so against this place. I had zero clue that you are actually… related to her.”
“Oh my God, Harry!” There’s nothing else you can do other than just… laughing. This whole situation feels oddly comical, like something that only happens in movies.
“I know, I’m sorry!” He exhales sharply and you truly see the regret on his face. “I was such a dick.”
“Yes you were!” you laugh in agreement.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“Well, now at least I know why you were my biggest hater all along.”
“Not anymore!” He holds up his hands and finally breaks a smile that looks so fucking handsome, it makes you forget about everything in a second.
Turning to the side he stares out the window for a moment before looking back at you.
“The snowing has stopped, let’s wrap things up and go home, alright? Big day tomorrow.”
You both go back to work, Harry finishes quite fast with the pictures so then he helps you clean up in the kitchen and you notice how obviously different the vibes are now. There’s no trace of his usual hostile behavior, in fact he is so open as he asks you about Nana and how the idea of the bakery came. Then he tells you about her as well, how he has known him for so long and after the passing of his stepdad Nana helped him through the toughest time of his life. You’re surprised the two of you never met when you were visiting, but you believe in faith and it must be because it wasn’t the right time.
It’s almost ten by the time you’re locking up while Harry is scraping the snow off his jeep. It’s rather eerie to see the town so empty, but it’s also pretty, the untouched snow covering every inch of the scenery.
“Thanks for the help. And the drive home,” you say when he has parked in front of your house.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning as well.”
“What? There’s no need, Harry–”
“Just accept the help,” he flashes you a crooked smile. “I have a lot to make up for.”
“What if I say you’re forgiven?”
“Then I’ll do it because I want to spend time with you.”
His answer comes so fast and honest, you can’t mask the surprise on your face as you stare at each other in the dark car.
“Um, alright then. See you in the morning.”
“Good night. Y/N.”
You fumble with the belt and then climb out of the car, still feeling kind of giddy from his words. He waits for you to get to the front door and you wave at him before walking in. Through the closed door you hear the engine roar and he drives away, leaving you with quite a lot to digest.
Never in a million years did you imagine the opening of Nana’s to be like this. The small bakery is full to the brim, there are people everywhere, you haven’t stopped thanking everyone for the love and support and your heart leaps in your chest every time you hear someone talk about your beloved grandma. All the pastries are selling well, but as expected, the croissants are the biggest hit.
But it’s not just the opening that has you smiling ear to ear.
Harry did show up early in the morning and he’s been helping you out all day as if he was getting paid for his work. In the kitchen, at the counter or by the tables, he’s been a one person army and your hero. You couldn’t have done it without him.
You have just a couple of seconds to breathe between two customers and you peek over the crowd, spotting him right away by the table his mom and her friends occupy. He just made them laugh and he’s basking in their attention as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his tattooed arms.
Fuck, he looks so good, it’s criminal.
Now that he is not an asshole to you anymore, it’s pretty hard not to notice everything you’ve been trying to ignore about him. His charming dimples, his bouncy curls, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, how his nose moves when he talks, they was his hips sway when he’s walking… there is not one inch on the man you can critique.
The situation would be a lot worse if it was one-sided, but it appears that Harry is just as keen on being around you, always touching your lower back when he walks behind you, or brushing your arm to get your attention.
“I’m seriously writing you a paycheck when it’s over,” you tell him when he returns behind the counter grabbing some cinnamon rolls to bring to the ladies by the window.
“I thought that we were already over this, Y/N,” he smirks and you bite into your bottom lip as you turn back to the customer in front of you.
It kind of goes by in a blur, there’s so much happening, you’re always on the move and before you could even process the events, the day is over and Nana’s is closing for the first time. After the constant crowd, it’s weird to see the place empty again, but seeing that everything has sold, it finally settles in your mind: you did it.
As you turn the sign on the door your eyes slide over to the picture on the right. It was taken in Nana’s kitchen, you were about six or seven, the two of you are photographed from behind as you stand on a stool, next to Nana at the counter while she is teaching you how to make bread. The memory still lives vividly in your mind even though it’s been over two decades.
“She would be so proud of you.”
Turning around you find Harry behind you with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes on the photo at first, then they move to you and your heart skips a beat.
“You think so?”
“I know so,” he chuckles.
“So, I was serious. I owe you a paycheck after today.”
He rolls his eyes before arching an eyebrow at you.
“And I was serious when I said I don’t want anything in return.”
“You’ve been here since six, Harry!” you huff out a laugh. “I would feel so bad if you just went home without anything.”
He stares at you for long moments and you start to think he’ll just let you suffer with your guilt, but then he speaks up.
“Go on a date with me then.”
You suck on your breath as your eyes lock with his.
“What?” you whisper.
“Go on a date with me, Y/N. Will you?”
“I-If you’re still trying to make up for–” you start, but he cuts you off.
“I’m not. I told you, I want to spend time with you.”
You blink at him once, twice, as if you’re waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he stands his ground with a serious look.
“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” he smirks, snapping you out of your haze.
“Yes–I mean, yes to the date!” you shake your head, clearing up your answer.
“I was afraid you hated me too much to give me a chance,” he breathes out a shaky laugh.
“I never hated you, I was just confused. You were the one who hated me.”
“I couldn’t hate you, Y/N. And believe me, I tried.” You both laugh at his words. “I was frustrated, because I wanted to hate you and this place so badly, but still… I was drawn to you.”
“You were?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.
“You have no idea how much,” he admits with a soft smile, stepping closer to you. “When we were skating, I totally forgot about everything and just wanted to hold your hand and help you. It was like a slap across my face when mum brought the opening up and I remembered I was supposed to hate you,” he admits with a chuckle and e inches even closer. “I’m glad I don’t have to try to hate you anymore.”
“I’m glad too.”
He is right in front of you, his face only inches away from yours and you suck on your breath when he reaches up and takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head further up so your lips are now perfectly lined up with his.
His eyes move down to your mouth, then up to meet your gaze and even without words you know he is asking for your permission to kiss you. You push closer and he is quick to close the distance and press his lips against yours.
You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would be like to kiss Harry. Because you did, several times. But nothing compares to having him wrapped around you, his lips so soft yet rough against yours at the same time as he kisses you over and over again while you’re fisting the collar of his shirt so tight your fingers are turning white.
Maybe you kiss for hours, or maybe it’s just minutes, you have no clue, but when he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you just know your life is about to turn upside down.
“Changed my mind,” he speaks up at last.
“Huh?”
“About the payment.”
His words sink in slowly and your eyebrows rise.
“Oh.” Harry laughs at your reaction.
“I want my payment in kisses,” he then says with the cheesiest smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.
“That could be arranged,” you breathe out when you finally get what he was talking about and grabbing the back of his neck you pull him in for another one.
And another one.
And some more.
And just like that Nana somehow brought another wonderful thing into your life, even though she is not here anymore.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb
768 notes
·
View notes
Text
dp x dc 2
A what if...
If Danny was originally a ghost child, born from one of the seven ancients that sealed Pariah Dark. In an unfortunate accident, he was caught by the Fentons and experimented on. In a twist of strange fate, he was turned human, and basically given life. Because he was no longer a ghost, they decided to adopt him.
Danny had no memory of his earliest years, or the experiments done on him but Jazz does and she quietly took better care of her brother than their parents did of either of them. At fourteen, he still dies and becomes a half ghost, partially because of his heritage kicking in.
He still defeats Pariah Dark and becomes the Ghost King and the only one that knows his original identity is Clockwork who didn’t figure it out himself until Danny became a halfa. His human self being untraceable for them.
Danny is sixteen when he tells his parents about himself, oddly enough against Jazz’s advice. They didn't take it well and were ready to put him back on the table to experiment on him a second time to ‘fix him’ again.
It was Jazz that ended up sabotaging everything and grabbing her brother to run. She’d been packed and ready to go, expecting Jack and Maddie’s overreaction. Jazz finally tells him about the hazy memories she can recall about his arrival. Being only two years older than him, she was just a child but she remembered enough on top of their neglected childhood to decide to bail with him.
Clockwork was the one to give them their destination. Head to Gotham, where Danny could meet his mother, Lady Gotham, who is eagerly awaiting and preparing for his arrival.
~
~
Batman did not like being summoned for meetings, he especially didn’t like being summoned for a meeting in his own batcave. That was his own space being infringed upon and he didn’t like it one bit. Meetings were for mutual areas unless it was called by one of his own children. Even then, those meetings were usually at the dinner table.
Constantine contacting him to have an ‘urgent chat’ was the last thing he wanted. Constantine usually avoided work when he could, and anything he would bring to the table meant trouble was on its way.
He’d had enough apocalyptic chaos for one month. It was only worse that Constantine insisted they meet tonight instead of the League meeting at the end of the week. Things that couldn’t wait meant more work for him.
Batman’s eyes narrowed at the sound of footsteps moving through the west side of the batcave. Even knowing it was coming, he was unhappy knowing that Constantine used the private door that only a few knew about to get inside.
“You’re early. That’s unheard of.” Batman commented, smelling the smoke of the man’s cigarette before even turning around. “Put that out.”
“Don’t think i will.” Constantine said, a hint of stress in his voice. “I dunno what you did but i don’t appreciate being dragged into it.”
“What i did?” Batman frowned, turning away from his computer to stand. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one that wanted to talk.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Constantine said, inhaling. His free hand held another cigarette that he likely planned to light when the first was gone. “Someone wants to speak to you. You’re going to speak to them.”
“Tch.” Batman crossed his arms. It wasn’t a wonder to him why his children were so stubborn. He could see himself in many of their habits. “Am i?”
Constantine shrugged. “Yeah, i think you are. They’re your bloody benefactor so i really don’t think you got a choice. I’m just a middle man.”
“Benefactor?” Batman scowled, a list of possible names running through his mind but nothing held. Something that required Constantine’s presence was even more baffling. “What are you talking about?”
The atmosphere in the cave suddenly changed. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but given the way Constantine tensed, they both felt it. It was like a wave of something spread out through the room, brushing against both of them and moving out to fill the rest of the corner.
“John, who did you invite here?”
“Oh, i don’t think i could do something like that. Way above my pay grade.” Constantine muttered, turning to face the same direction he’d just come from. There was no noise, no footsteps, nothing to indicate an intruder other than the feeling filling every inch of the batcave. “May i present to you, the spirit of Gotham herself. Lady Gotham.”
For a long few seconds nothing happened. It wasn’t an overly timely introduction but a woman did appear. She moved fluidly, silently, disappearing and reappearing between every step. She looked to be made of stone, everything from the visible skin of her legs and bare feet, to her cloak. She could have been a fixture somewhere in the city, a beautiful gargoyle but she moved with complete ease.
The hood of her cloak was drawn low, a veil covering her face. Even making her way through the moderately lit cave, she was nearly shrouded in shadows still. The most visible feature she had were bright, toxic green eyes that almost seemed to swirl.
Sharp horns protruded through her hood that wrapped behind her head and at her elbows were a small set of stone wings that must have been useless but she gave no indication one way or the other. Not even when they seemed to flutter.
“Lady Gotham?” Batman blinked, trying to absorb what he was seeing. To commit everything to memory. Her appearance should have given away so much but instead he got nothing.
“Yes. She is who this city was named for. She is this city’s soul. Powerful, old, and the beginning of… well a lot.” Constantine muttered. “She apparently likes your ragtag team of bats and birds too.”
“Protectors…” She spoke, her voice was like a whisper, but there was an edge to it that made it seem like her speaking at a normal volume would be a very bad thing. “Protectors are always welcome here.”
Batman stared and didn’t know right off what he was supposed to say. He didn’t feel like he was in danger, but he had no idea what a supposed spirit would want with him. He’d been playing his role as batman for years without a trace of this Lady Gotham before.
Constantine cleared his throat. “Well since that introduction was made, i’ll see myself ou-”
“Stay.” she said, stopping only a few few away from them. She still blinked in and out of existence. Sometimes pieces of her would be visible while the rest of her faded in and out.
“Yes…” Constantine reluctantly muttered.
Batman straightened. “Never heard of you.” Constantine nearly groaned. “But i can’t refute what’s right before me. What can i help you with?”
She tilted her head, and the motion should have been impossible if she were actually made of stone. He got the impression that she was amused despite not really being able to see her face.
“Protector. Knight. Hero. Father. You have assumed so many mantles.” Gotham spoke softly. “There is only so much i can do, i do interfere when i can.”
He nodded though he had no idea what she was talking about. He’d always pulled his own weight but if there was an otherworldly entity assisting him, would he know?
“I come to you, to ask for a favor. You, with the means to grant such a thing.”
“What sort of favor?”
“A halfa has been directed to my core with his human sister. They require living arrangements.” She spoke firmly. “I can offer them my love, my welcome, my embrace, even a taste of my power but monetary needs and documents are out of my hands.”
“A halfa?” Batman frowned, not understanding the phrase other than them not being human if their sister being human was clarified.
“Nooo…” Constantine stared, looking like he’d prefer it if the floor just opened up and swallowed him. “Not the halfa that defeated Pariah Dark...”
“The very same.” Gotham clasped her hands in front of her, form flickering again. She radiated pride.
“The halfa that defeated Pariah Dark and became the Ghost King?” Constantine obviously wanted to get the hell out of Gotham.
“The same.” She repeated.
“Ghost King?” Batman frowned. “Why is he coming here?”
She disappeared, reappearing several feet to her left. “He is in need of a home. He is only sixteen human years old.”
“He’s a child?!” Constantine looked horrified. “And he became the Ghost King!?”
“Yes.” She said, somewhat patient. “My son is welcome here, so you will welcome him.”
Constantine was lighting that second cigarette. “Son… I gotta...I gotta sit down.”
Batman however was trying to ignore what he couldn’t grasp at the moment, and focus on what he could. “Documentation and lodgings for two minors is well within my means to provide.” He glanced back at Constantine who was walking away to grab a chair. “You’ll explain the Ghost King thing later.”
Constantine just waved him off as he collapsed into a chair.
Lady Gotham had moved, now standing directly in front of Batman without having moved a muscle. “My son and his human sister know what it means to be hunted. My child’s core screams for help and receives so little.” She suddenly seemed to tower over batman in a way she didn’t before. “He will receive assistance here.”
Batman stood firm, but it would be a lie to say he was completely unaffected. Despite that trickle of fear in his chest, he’d always done his best to be there for his kids. It didn’t mean he was successful, but he tried. What was two more? “I understand. Whatever he’s running from will be handled. When will he arrive?”
Lady Gotham paused. “Soon. Travel is slow, but steady. Another day.”
Batman hummed, that was plenty of time to get everything set up temporarily. He would talk to the Ghost King and his sister to discuss more permanent plans. His attitude however, seemed to be just what Lady Gotham expected.
She turned to Constantine. “You will find him easiest. Bring them here.”
Constantine heaved a sigh and pulled out a flask from his jacket pocket. He didn’t barter, try to make some kind of deal, or attempt to gain some form of payment. Lady Gotham was a force of nature all on her own but there was no way he was pissing off the mother of the Ghost King. That was asking for trouble even if the kid was a king. His power must have been something else… “Got it.” he agreed.
She sighed, the sound content. “Thank you, Knight. My son will be in good hands.” Or Else, didn’t need to be spoken.
She turned, and just like that she was gone, her powerful aura along with her. In a flash it was like she’d never been there at all.
Batman took a moment to just breathe and regain his bearings before turning back to Constantine. “What did i just agree to?”
“Not much.” Constantine said dryly. “Just being the foster dad to the Ghost King. King of the Infinite Realm.”
Well… It wasn’t the first time he’d adopted a teenager. Batman just reaffirmed his plans for the rest of the day and turned to change back into his civilian attire and head back up into his mansion. He needed to talk to Alfred immediately.
“Better you than me…” Constantine grumbled. This was going to be pure chaos, but he also had to wonder…what it was that spooked the kid that defeated Pariah Dark? That was something to look into.
Neither man had noticed when Tim had walked in, having watched most of that interaction from a safe distance away. “What the absolute fuck was that....?”
~~
~~
I would really kind of enjoy a 16 year old Danny meeting and bonding with a 19 year old Jason…
Also… Constantine texting Bruce the very moment he lays eyes on Danny. Yep! This kid is totally Wayne material. He’ll mix in with the others seamlessly.
No plans to continue this at this point if someone else wants a turn.
~Edit- I apparently lied... Part 2
#dc x dp crossover#dp x dc#Danny and Jazz are running away from home#Halfa Danny#Danny's the son of an Ancient#That Ancient became Lady Gotham#Foster dad Batman#Batman is weirdly accepting of the spirit of his city in the Batcave#Constantine needs a drink#And a vacation#Ghost king Danny let loose in Gotham
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Finished reading Trigun/TriMax a couple days ago and have been feverishly trying to piece together a timeline, so here’s the result of that ✨
EDIT: as of 3/13/24 this has been UPDATED
For a more detailed timeline (with vol/ch marks): google sheet
Full res of the graphic (& other resources): bit.l/trigunresources
Notes & rest of the timeline under the cut!
Edits as of 3/13/24
The detailed spreadsheet is organized and color coded! If you'd like a more concise breakdown of events/see some of my reasoning behind certain time stamps feel free to skim through that
Changed where in the timeline the Maylene and Wolfwood events happened (originally where I had placed them would have made Maylene like 6 when she and Wolfwood reunited which is NOT correct)
moved where in the timeline Knives started collecting the GungHo Guns (at latest he started in 0090 (20 years before 0110) since it's noted that Monev has been training in a cellar for the past 20 years
Moved where Knives initially tracked down Conrad (felt like it needed to happen at least a decade before July)
Changed up some of the months (personally, I don't think the Ark launched in December, since that'd put Milly and Meryl's arrival to the colony in July, which wouldn't make sense. So I placed the ark launch in October which of course offset some of the other month stand ins)
Added an earth year for when Knives and Vash are born. The explanation is I think at minimum there was at least a 2 year period between them and Tesla (since Rem was around for that whole process). I do think it was more than that, but that’s the earliest possible year I think it could have happened. Personally I’m more in the camp of 5-10 years, but def not 50 like in tristamp
Old Notes:
If you see any typos or phrase inconsistencies: no you don’t 💕 (😭)
Blue text can be completely ignored, that’s just kinda my personal preference/wild guesstimating of when “exactly” those events happened
Blue lines can also be ignored, they’re also just rough guesstimates on where exactly in the timeline these could have happened
The distance of the lines from one another doesn’t really mean anything, I started trying to follow a system to notate when things happened really close together but it was//// not consistently done ngl
Fun fact: by the time Wolfwood leaves the orphanage Meryl is 18! And she was 14 at the time of July’s destruction
Additional fun fact: Brad is 17 when he and sensei meet up with Vash in the Factioned city (which I think is absolutely RIDICULOUS), and we know this because he was 4 the one/last time he had met Vash and it’s been 13 years since
It was noted by Karen, one of Meryl’s coworkers, that she and Milly had been on assignment with Vash for about 4 months. (Might be that they were out searching for him during that time as well, but I’m choosing to interpret it as they were actually with him for that amount of time)
I’m also working on a 98 timeline for comparison (but more like just sequence of events cause I don’t think I have the patience to sift through the lore quite as much… mainly making it just to clarify how the anime delineates from the manga)
I am//::: feeling v unhinged after this and feel like it could be improved/i need to do a more thorough read, but I’m calling it quits for now before I actually go insane (but hopefully some people will find it somewhat helpful!)
Also: if anybody has any notes to add or clarifications/corrections I would be more than happy to hear them 👂
#resources#Trigun maximum#Trigun#trigun manga#TriMax#used my last and only braincell on this I swear#also guess I’m expanding on my blog organizing tags —>#timelines#btw this is updated!
268 notes
·
View notes
Text
If I Should Stay
Part 1 | . . . | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18
Eddie frowns. “Do you know why you were brought back?”
Steve shrugs. “Kinda. I know we knew what we were doing, when we were, but best I can figure, coming back in time messed with our memories and made them really hazy for a bit. It’s clearing up now, and I’m remembering more. Basically El found a way to send us back to make this all right from the beginning.”
Eddie nods, then seemingly changes the subject. “So Robin said you know? About her?”
Steve’s brows furrow in thought, then smooth out. “Oh! Yeah. She did.”
Eddie nods. “She knows, but… do you?”
“About?”
Eddie fidgets. “Me.”
Steve takes a second. “I didn’t know for sure, but I had an idea.”
Eddie nods. “So, you and I weren’t ever… we…”
“No,” Steve murmurs, then shrugs. “Maybe, if we had more time. And I know this probably sounds really weird to you, considering we officially met, like, two days ago, but…” Steve shrugs. “I can… I can lay off. If you want. If it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Honestly? I don’t think I’m going to process any of this until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Steve chuckles. “Fair enough. Just… let me know, yeah?”
Eddie nods, and with that they fall silent for a little while longer.
Eddie’s the one to break the silence. “The tape you gave me. Have you listened to it?”
Steve smiles. “Once or twice. I didn’t get to hear you play, but Dustin told me it was the most metal concert ever.”
Eddie chuckles. “Are you hoping for a do-over this time? Hoping to hear me play?”
“And if I was?”
Eddie sobers. “Then I guess I’ll just have to play it for you.”
Steve smiles. “I’d like that.”
They fall silent for a little bit longer until Steve sighs. “I feel like I owe you an apology. You didn’t ask for any of this. For my feelings or to be dragged into this or-”
“Hey,” Eddie says, stopping him in his tracks with a soft hand to his arm. “I asked a question. I wanted honesty, and I got it. Admittedly I got a little more than that, what with fuckin’ Mordor,” he gestures around, and Steve chuckles. “But you gave me honesty. That’s it. You didn’t push me to accept it or reciprocate anything. You didn’t even push me for a reaction. Did your answer surprise me?” He chuckles, shakes his head. “Man, I’m not convinced I’m not still dreaming. Maybe I fuckin’ drove the van into a pole on the way to school and now this is a very weird coma-dream and I’m in the hospital. I don’t fuckin’ know, man.”
Steve frowns. “Do people in comas dream?”
“I- what?” Eddie asks, then considers the question. “I- I don’t know. They do, right? They’re just asleep, I thought?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not like you dream every night, right? Maybe comas are always on those nights. Or days. Or whatever.”
Eddie blinks at him, then slowly smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re weird as shit, man?”
Steve laughs. “Only all the time.”
His smile falls as he looks out at the landscape. “We should keep moving. We’ve been out in the open for a while.”
Eddie hums. “How far did the squirts say?”
Steve sighs. “They didn’t, just said to keep going this way until El tells us to turn.”
Suddenly, a shadow flits over his face. He freezes and looks up, then curses quietly and grabs for Eddie’s arm, stilling him.
“What the fuck is that?” Eddie hisses.
“Demobat.”
“Shit.” Eddie takes a shaky breath. “If i shoot it, will the gun scare off the others or bring them to investigate?”
Steve sets his jaw, mouth a thin line. “Only one way to find out.”
Eddie cocks the gun. “Shoot and run like hell?”
Steve nods, and Eddie smiles grimly before lining up the sights, taking a deep breath, and pulling the trigger.
The gun fires.
The bat falls to the ground.
Steve and Eddie run.
Eddie almost falls once, trying to run and carry the gun, and Steve grabs his hand, pulling him along, forgetting their hands are joined until the walkie crackles to life again and Mike’s voice comes through. “Turn left,” he says, and Eddie’s brow furrows.
“We’re getting farther from the lake.”
Steve relays the information, and they pause, catching their breath while they wait for a reply. “El says he’s not near the lake.”
Steve and Eddie look at each other, then shrug. “Alright,” Steve says. “How long?”
“She says you’ll know,” comes the cryptic answer.
Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42
Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry
#stranger things#if I should stay#steve harrington#eddie munson#eventual steddie#slow burn#fix it fic#time travel#time travel fic#ngl i definitely forgot today was the day to post until like. just now#next up they find will!#…maybe#ngl i definitely forgot what I wrote#starambles
427 notes
·
View notes
Text
Anything, Always
Rhysand x Reader
Summary: Rhysand has been running himself ragged, and it hasn’t escaped your notice. In an effort to quell old nightmares, Rhysand has an interesting suggestion…
Word count: 4.4k
Warnings: Mild angst (pining + UTM reminder whoops), Feelings™️
Notes: The longest fic to date! I was working on some Azriel WIPs when this piece just happened. I wanted Rhys to get some well-deserved, utterly devoted, loving. Thank you for all the support so far; it means more than you know! ♡
You noticed that as the week has passed, you’ve seen less and less of Rhys around the townhouse. First, it was less frequented dinners, followed by mornings spent alone. Being High Lord is no easy task, but it’s all the more reason for you to lend a helping hand where possible. Instead, all of your offers have been promptly shut down with a wry smile leaving little room for argument since it's nothing more than I usually deal with, darling.
His words echo in your head as you approach his office, the ease with which he said them in juxtaposition with the dark circles beneath his eyes. You doubt he’s been sleeping very well; it was no secret that the High Lord preferred staying up in the evenings, but he always reclaimed that sleep the following morning. Recently you’ve observed his absence from the townhouse in favour of training even before Cassian, the earliest morning bird you know. This simply could not go on—he had to take care of himself. A male like him deserved better than that.
The door to his study was closed and after a brief knock, you slowly cracked it open to peer inside. His head didn’t so much as lift from where he was scanning his papers, a crease between his ink-dark eyebrows. The evening light filtered through the windows behind him, casting him in an iridescent glow befitting his title. He had changed into a loose linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal solid tan forearms corded with prominent veins. He scrubbed a calloused hand along his uncharacteristically scruffy jaw. The usual sparkle in his jewel-tone eyes was lost to his evident lack of sleep.
Despite this, he was still the most beautiful male you’ve ever beheld. Even feeling ragged, Rhysand was nothing short of magnificent. No amount of stress could take away from his plush lips, the delicate column of his neck, and the elegant sweep of his collarbones leading to the strong planes of his chest. The age-old flutter in your chest surfaced, a delicate thing you had neglected for so long.
“You can come in, darling.” Finally, those tired eyes lifted to yours where you stood in the doorway. When you don’t move he sweeps a hand towards the cushioned chairs before his rich mahogany desk. You quash any semblance of that flutter until a deep void is all that remains in your chest; a talent you had mastered after all these years.
“I’d say I’m surprised to find my dearest High Lord secluded in his office on a Friday evening, but I made an oath not to lie.” You idle your way in, running your finger along the books on his shelf. You frown at the faint layer of dust over his more loved collections.
“Well, Friday evening or not, doesn’t my dearest advisor have work to do instead of chatting me up like some girl at Rita’s?” Like a delicate brush stroke, his ebony brow arched. Rhysand’s eyes tracked your approach as you walked around the spacious office, feet padding against the soft carpet. The snack you had brought him earlier remained untouched on his desk, and you clenched your clasped hands behind your back.
“Girls at bars aren't worth my time, though it wouldn’t hurt for you to try. All you do is hide away here; you’ll have the year-end papers done at this rate.”
He shrugged, nonchalant, “Better to be more prepared than found lacking, no?”
You stopped before his desk and stared, “It’s only springtime Rhysand.” At your unflinching gaze, he sighed.
“I was unimpressed with some of the projections submitted by the Court of Nightmares. Sloppy work.” His jaw worked in time to the pulse in his neck. You nodded, acquiescing as much. As Rhysand’s advisor, you were expressly aware of the substandard documents that Kier had submitted. Despite his abysmal summation of the Court of Nightmare’s projections, Kier could receive a verbal (or literal) lashing later.
“Rhys, this isn’t an express concern at the moment.” He dropped his head back to his papers, dipping the fountain pen in the inkwell. The sound of your breathing and scratching on parchment permeated the silence. The dismissal was clear, though surprisingly cruel from your usual playful High Lord.
“Rhys, look at me.” Despite your pleading tone, he remained fixed on his writing. In a few swift steps, you rounded the desk. You placed a gentle hand beneath his chin, lifting his face to your searching eyes. Where his silence was defiant, now there is only weariness.
“Rhysand… what’s wrong honey?” The endearment slips out, but your chest constricts at the sight of the defeated male before you. You miss your charming friend. Your thumb lightly caresses his cheek and his lashes flutter at the sensation. He gives you a wry smile and grips your fingers in his warm hand, “Nothing is wrong. I’m only a little tired.”
You breathed deeply, willing yourself to remain calm. Rhysand was known to undertake everything by himself, an expression of his love towards his family. While you appreciate the care he tries to show, his selflessness couldn’t happen at the expense of his well-being. This was something different.
Your silence unnerved the usually unshakeable male, and he seemed to deflate under your scrutiny. So you waited—let him process his thoughts, choose what he wanted to say.
When his grip tightened on your hand but his silence persisted, you offered an olive branch.
“I have never been able to share my feelings with ease; to feel so much… it is an overwhelming burden. And yet–” You took a steadying breath, hesitant to reveal so much but unable to help him understand otherwise. His expectant gaze was patient, if not encouraging.
“And yet, unravelling my feelings and sharing them with you is effortless. With you, I know I am safe. That I am understood. Rhysand, I want to be that person for you. You are welcome to share, and I will always be there to listen.”
When you finished, you shifted to perch on the desk space poised between his legs. Rhysand unconsciously moved his chair closer, his head pressing into your jointly entwined hands. He slowly inhaled, the scent of you a balm to his fraying senses.
“They’re back. She’s back,” Rhys didn’t need to elaborate on who and what for you to catch his meaning. You had known that nightmares plagued him often in the time since his return from Under the Mountain. Years had passed since then but the horrors he endured were not easily forgotten, “I don’t know what to do.”
The defeat in his tone nearly brought tears to your eyes, but you reigned them in—this was his opportunity to be vulnerable and you must remain strong.
“I think about all of the lives I–... I think about all of it, often. It is never not on my mind, but I can usually move past it. You all help,” At this, he squeezed your palm again, an earnest look in his violet eyes, “But sometimes the guilt–” He loosed a sigh, shaking his head, “It is unbearable.’
Rhysand pulled his hand away from yours, leaving it cold. He stared down at his hands between you both as if all of his sins were still visible. To him, you’re sure they were.
His voice was lowered to a whisper now, “When I sleep, she taunts me. She stokes that guilt from an ember to a flame and eats away at me. All I can think to do is run myself ragged, in some form of masochistic repenting.”
Rhys glances up at you, his heart dropping when he sees your eyes are closed. Even you couldn’t bear to look at him after what he had done. Clenching his jaw, he begins to pull away and prepares for your imminent disgust.
He doesn’t expect you to grip his cheeks, and pull him back to you. Rhysand’s eyes are comically large this close, your noses a hair's breadth away from touching. He has never seen your mouth set in such a serious line, your eyes blazing with such fire.
“Listen to me very closely. Everything you did? It was necessary for survival. For yours. For the Night Court’s. For our family’s. It is only normal to feel guilt—that’s what makes you the wonderful, kind male I know.” Your hands pressed almost painfully, as if you could physically push the words into his head, “But you should never regret what you did. Because it brought you back to us.” To me, but you left that part unspoken.
When he seems to hesitate you reinforce, “Any of us would’ve done it for you. If I could've traded places with you I would have done so in a heartbeat, Rhysand. And it kills me to see you blame yourself. You can repay those you mourn by living your life to the fullest in their honour.”
He regards you for a moment, plush lip pulled tightly between his teeth. Rhysand nods slowly at your searching stare, the sorrow clearing from his eyes like clouds in a bright night sky. Those stars you so love wink back at you from his midnight gaze.
Unable to help yourself, you swoop him up into your tight embrace. Rhys’s strong arms wrap around you in no time, his head at your breast. He can hear the rapid but sure beating of your heart and it brings him a peace that he hasn’t felt since the nightmares returned.
“Thank you.” His soft words lift your heart and you place a swift kiss on the top of his head.
“Always.”
You stroke his raven hair in soothing motions, running your nails lightly along his scalp. Rhys visibly relaxes in your hold, his shoulders slumping with a weight unloaded. You dare to enjoy the moment, knowing that the likes of these are few and far between; you seldom let yourself get this close, the ache in your heart too much.
Finally, you pull away, a determined look on your face, “How can I help you, Rhys?”
His face softened, and he let out a light chuckle, “I doubt you can, darling. This is just one of those things.”
“It most certainly will not be one of those things. There has to be something; maybe if we help you relax? A sleeping draught?”
He winced at that, “No sleeping draughts, preferably. I’m not fond of drugging myself.”
You scratched your chin, “No, that doesn’t seem sustainable long term.”
While you brainstormed ideas to help the male before you, Rhys glanced at you through thick lashes. He had begun to fiddle with the fountain pen, twisting the top, “I think I may have a suggestion.”
You snapped out of your thoughts, “Already? What is it?” A beaming smile stretched across your face—anything. You would do anything to help him.
He locked his eyes on yours, voice level, “Sleep with me.”
You blinked, unmoving. You stared at him a few seconds longer, the words failing to process. You’re sure you must have stopped breathing, the thumping of your heart overwhelming your senses.
Sleep with me.
A nervous laugh bubbled out of you, “I’m sorry? ‘Sleep with you’?”
A million thoughts were spinning in your head, each faster than the last. Slick skin on skin; hands fisted in sheets, in hair, scratching down a tan, tatted back; clothes haphazardly strewn around the room; pleasurable pants filling the air. You shook your head. Surely you had misheard? Misunderstood?
A cocky smile spread across Rhysand’s face, although the dusting of pink crawling up his neck isn't lost on you.
What dirty thoughts are you thinking, darling? That midnight voice lightly caressed your mental shields.
Your cheeks were flaming if the heat under your skin was anything to go by. You persevered and pursed your lips in mock irritation. You would not be undone by his aimless teasing after all these years.
Nothing that would involve the likes of you, the thought pushed right back at his adamantine mental shield.
Rhysands thick lashes lowered, his bottom lip jutting slightly. You wondered what those plush lips would taste like. Although you knew he was playing at seducing you, it didn’t stop the primal need in you from rearing its ugly head.
Would it truly be so bad with me, darling? You know I’d treat you well.
Your lashes fluttered; this had to stop before your heart wilted any further in your chest.
“What is your real suggestion Rhys?” The serious cock of your brows sobered him up near immediately. The twinge in his chest only further cooled him; the way you brushed his teasing off irritated him for reasons beyond what he dared admit.
“It is my real suggestion. I struggle with my sleep—therefore having you there will help.” The cool way he spoke, as if this was only a logical solution, helped to put you at ease. But you couldn’t help but wonder—
“Why me? How would I help?”
He shrugged, “You seem peaceful.”
Your mind whirred at his laconic response. ‘Peaceful’? You couldn’t decide what to make of the situation, but one thing had always been clear.
“I said I’d help you, however I could. If you believe me… sleeping beside you will be beneficial, then I’ll do it.”
He nodded, the same calm look plastered on his face. Rhysand’s nonchalant manner bothered you: did this genuinely mean so little to him? If so, then you would treat it with the same aloof, professional fashion.
“Alright then, we can try tonight if you’re willing?”
His ink-dark eyebrows shot up, “You wish to begin right away?”
“The sooner the better, no?” You couldn’t allow any more sleepless nights; the faster you determined whether this would work, the more time you had to find different options before Rhys ran on empty.
Rhysand’s head tilted, a panther sizing up its prey. Finally, he nodded in agreeance.
Quickly, you stood from his desk, realizing you were still perched between his legs. You dusted off your skirts and swiftly moved to the door. With a hand on the frame, you turned, “Tonight in yours?”
He swallowed, your eyes tracking the bobbing of his Adam's apple along his smooth neck, “Yes, that’ll work just fine darling.”
You stepped away from his office, the final, sure look in Rhysand’s eyes burning through you even hours later.
♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡
You nervously tugged on your silken sleep shorts, psyching yourself up to knock on Rhysand’s bedroom door.
After leaving his office earlier, your heart had been in your throat all day. Even at dinner in the House of Wind, you’d had to be snapped out of thought multiple times by members of your family. While circumventing the reason why you had been so inattentive, your friends spared no insult and pestered you to high hell. Your face had flushed, sure that Rhysand could pick up on your nervousness. Instead, there were no teasing comments; he only returned to his meal.
Now before his room, you took a steadying breath and lightly knocked, in the unlikely event he had fallen asleep. At his faint call you entered, softly shutting the door behind you. The room was aptly decorated for a High Lord. Rich jewel tones complimented Night Court black in various opulent fabrics. Pointedly ignoring the massive bed, you took in the polished mahogany furniture, surely crafted by a masterful hand. From the intricately designed rugs, to the velvet cushions, and the elaborate drapery; it was all magnificent. However, it all paled in comparison to the male inhabiting the room.
Rhys was lounging on a plush divan, drink and papers in hand, looking fresh from the finest of paintings. The loose shirt from earlier was gone, baring his muscled chest. Your eyes tracked along the elegant dark swirls that decorated his tan skin. A pair of black sleep pants adorned his lower body, looking dangerously low on his waist. As you gently padded over, you tried not to focus on the light smattering of dark hair leading below the band. He glanced up at you, violet eyes sparkling like the stars visible through the windows beyond him.
His eyes slowly roved over your figure, noting your bare legs; how you clutched your cream robe, book in hand, a delicate lacy strap peeking out. He took a restrained sip of his amber drink. You settled on a comfortable settee across from him, the book already splayed across your lap.
“Good evening, darling. Care for a drink?” He waved his glass lightly, the ice clinking softly.
You chuckled, shaking your head, “I’m alright, thank you. Is it not a little late to indulge?”
He inspected his drink as if he might find the solution to all his problems within the crystal glass, “I find it soothes the nerves.”
You cocked an eyebrow, “Are you nervous?”
Rhys lifted the drink to his mouth, only to gaze at you over the rim with heavy-lidded eyes, “With you? Always, darling. I mean—you simply strike such an imposing figure.”
You dramatically placed the back of your hand to your head, draping yourself over the settee with all the theatrics you could muster, “Oh, how I plague man with my beauty!”
A deep and joyous laugh broke the silence of the night. You glanced over at Rhysand in slight surprise to see his head thrown back, a hand to his chest. Your heart warmed at the clear mirth on his face. This was the Rhysand you had missed. You soon joined him, your laugh bubbling up with the vigour of a freshly opened champagne bottle.
Gradually, you both settled into silence, and with a wink from Rhys, you both returned to your previous occupations. The cool breeze from the open window carried with it Rhysand’s citrus and sea smell, the faint note of jasmine like a goodnight’s kiss. You basked in the peaceful mood, snuggling closer to the settee with your book. You couldn’t help but look up at Rhys every few pages, taking in his striking profile as the ambient lighting cast shadows across his elegant features. Eventually, you noticed his eyelids beginning to droop and knew he was only stalling the inevitable.
You yawned loudly, covering your mouth for effect, “I think it’s time we retire for the night.”
He smiled, gently placing his empty glass and papers aside, “I agree, darling. Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
Rhysand stood and stretched his arms over his head, and you quickly made your way over to his bed, refusing to stare any longer at his chest than necessary. You shed your robe and tossed it over a nearby chair while you both silently readied yourselves for bed. No longer was the silence comforting—instead, your heart threatened to burst from your chest.
You didn't realize how stiff you were until Rhys settled under the covers beside you, the shroud of night concealing your reddened cheeks. You remained rigid, arms at your side like a soldier at attention.
It’s only me, darling. The smooth voice slipped through the cracks of your mind. Rhysand’s low timber reminded you to take a deep breath—you turned towards him and lightly reached your hand out in the space between your pillows. Even in the stygian dark, his eyes shone brighter than ever. That midnight gaze fixed on your open palm. Slowly, he crept his large hand up and brought it to yours, strong fingers caressing your palm. You held your breath as he steadily entwined his fingers with yours, hand sliding across your own. You squeezed lightly in assurance, your eyes falling shut.
Before the throes of sleep could claim you, a gentle caress to your conscience pulled you back.
Can I hold you?
The whispered request was nearly lost in the haze between waking and dreams, but you would always come back for that voice. Beyond words, you pushed your consent to Rhysand’s mind.
Strong arms gently slid around you, pulling your back to a hard chest. Your synced breathing within that warm embrace finally lulled you to a peaceful sleep.
♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡
Light filtering through the window assaults your eyes, bringing with it the realities of the morning. You stretch like a cat in the sun, silken sheets sliding across your bare legs. You hadn’t slept like that in years, Cauldron, centuries even. The sweet haze lingering from your sleep washed away once you noticed the empty—albeit still warm—bedside. You quickly sat up only to be interrupted by Rhysand waltzing in through the doors, breakfast in hand.
“Good morning, darling. I hope you’re hungry—I’m loving the bedhead by the way.” He swooped over to the bed, deftly handling the large tray in hand as he settled back beside you. You swiftly patted your hair down, “Yes, good morning Rhysand.”
Your dry tone didn’t damper Rhys’s wide smirk one bit. He was glowing this morning with an air of contentment; the full night's sleep had done him well.
He gestured to the amalgamation of various foods before you, “I wasn’t sure what you would be craving, so I grabbed a little bit of everything.” The delicious smell wafted before you, your stomach grumbling without consent.
“If this is how I’m treated, I don’t think I’ll ever leave.” You popped a berry into your mouth, relishing its succulent flavour.
“Consider it a thank you,” You paused, buttered toast halfway to your mouth, at Rhysand’s words, “For giving me, perhaps, the best sleep I have had in my five centuries.”
The earnest look in his eyes prompted you to butter your toast more vigorously, hoping he would miss the rosy flush seeping across your features.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve never slept better either,” You smiled gently, hoping to not sound too heartfelt in your admission, “And there is no reason to thank me, Rhys. You know I’d do anything for you.”
You held your breath at the candid confession, praying he did not understand the real meaning behind your words.
Instead, his chest swelled with emotion. He brought his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a swift kiss to your hair.
“All the more reason for me to thank you, darling.”
♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡
The next few weeks continued much like that night; you would both lounge around in the evening and then retire to bed. Only, your inclination towards one another had become irresistible. The moment you got beneath the covers, you found yourself instinctually reaching for Rhysand’s embrace. Often, he held you close, your head poised at his soft neck. Occasionally, on the more difficult nights, you would swaddle Rhys tightly to your chest, caressing his hair as he was lulled to sleep by your steady heartbeat.
However much you enjoyed your time in bed with Rhysand, you couldn’t deny the increasing difficulty with which to hide your escalating feelings. What were once mere fleeting glances, were now lingering stares; no dark circles were to be found on his handsome face, his beaming grin a drug that would surely consume you. Rather than have the moments together soothe your ache like a balm, you only craved his attention more so.
As you both fell into your usual routine for the night and settled under the covers, you finally ripped the bandage from the festering wound.
“I think I may sleep in my bed beginning tomorrow night.”
Rhysand’s body froze beneath your touch, his arms still only half around you. Quickly, you continued, “Your nightmares seem to have passed—which I am eternally grateful for—therefore I don’t see any reason why I should continue to sleep here.” With you, the words didn’t need to be spoken; they loomed in the air around you.
A beat of silence passed before he spoke, “Why not?”
You gasped as he seized you closer to his chest. His breath was heaving while he squeezed you tighter in his arms. You quashed the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, reluctant to hurt your feelings further.
You sighed, eyes closing, “Again, there is no reason–”
“I want you here. With me. That is the reason why you should stay.”
You audibly swallowed, taking his words with a grain of salt. Your voice took on a placating tone as you lightly placed your palms on his chest, “I understand that you’re worried about the nightmares–”
“Darling, you understand nothing,” You stared, dumbfounded at his earnest tone.
“The agony of lost sleep pales in comparison to the loss of your presence. There is nothing more that I desire than having you here next to me as I fall asleep and as I wake. Seeing your radiant face every morning—I feel like the luckiest male in the world. And I am greedy; for your touch, your time…” He shook his head, putting his forehead to yours, “I know I am asking much of you since—”
You surged forward and placed a passionate kiss on his lips. His lashes fluttered before he was pushing back with just as much fervour. You pressed your body tighter against his, feeling the contours of his body moulding perfectly to your own. You wanted him closer—had you been one body right now, it would not have been enough. He thought he was greedy? He had no concept of the depth of your selfish desires, only scraping the surface with this ardent kiss.
You pulled back, breathless and entirely at his mercy, “You could ask for all the stars in the night sky and I would scorch my hands to deliver them to you,” He brushed his nose against your own, your swollen lips lightly caressing, “There is no limit to what I can give you Rhysand, if only you’ll let me.”
His violet eyes shone with disbelieving wonder as if he was undeserving of your affections. Rhys kissed you gently; this kiss held a promise that the others lacked. It was a promise of love, of reverence, of total, utter devotion. Your heart soared in your chest and for once, you let it; a caged bird finally tasting freedom.
That same gentle presence filled your mind once again.
I would be honoured, darling.
The message was bundled in the gossamer enormity of his feelings for you. With your heart content, you whispered under the cover of silky night,
“The honour will always be mine.”
Final Notes: Anything for my bbg Rhys <3 (Can you tell I recently rewatched Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time?) Hope you all liked it!
#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#rhysand x you#rhys x you#rhysand/reader#rhys/reader#rhysand#rhys#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#acomaf#acowar#acosf#cherhys
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
I really enjoyed seeing your last post!!! It reminded me of something else that I noticed when I was younger and not really seeing LO through the eyes I am now- even when I lived LO, I noticed that Minthe’s bust size.. Might’ve changed? (I could be remembering wrong, and I’m sorry if I am!) I didn’t think on it too much back then, but it felt a lot like the “she could never measure up to Persephone”, or the “she’s nothing to worry about when it comes to Persephone”!!
But then, when Minthe was supposed to be more of a “problem,” I noticed she’d get drawn with a larger bust- or at least larger than it had been back in the earliest episodes!
This could all make absolutely no sense, (and I apologize for just rambling in your askbox!), but I watching a character’s “worthiness” be portrayed through something as simple and neutral as their chest size stuck out to me then, and sticks out to me now!! 😓)
Oh don't apologize, you're literally pointing out exactly the things we've even talked about in the ULO community !
Literally here she is in S1:
And we even get a scene of her smooshing her boobs together in Episode 35 in an effort to make them seem bigger because she legit feels like Hades is pursuing the "new hotness" in the office based around their physical appearances:
But then she conveniently goes up like 3 cup sizes when it's time for her to be cemented as the villain and suffer her fate by getting turned into a plant?
I've literally seen fans grasp at straws to explain that maybe she got a boob job but then they don't realize that the story at this point has only been going on for like, 3-4 weeks at most. At best you shouldn't have to make those massive leaps to explain the inconsistent character body types. If Minthe really did get a boob job, don't you think that's something that should have been explained in the comic?
And let's be real, we all know what it's really about because it's just more of Rachel pitting women against women:
What's wild though is that Rachel is vastly misinterpreting a classic image here:
A lot of people look at that image of Jayne Mansfield and Sophia Loren and just immediately assume that Sophia is giving Jayne the stink eye over her outfit. And of course, we see this misinterpretation in Rachel's drawing that swaps Sophia and Jayne with Minthe and Persephone.
When in FACT what was actually going on was that Sophia spotted Jayne getting dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction / nip slip and the camera just happened to catch her making a face that could be misinterpreted as slut-shaming.
"Yes, Paramount had organized a party for me. All of cinema was there, it was incredible. And then comes in Jayne Mansfield, the last one to come. For me, that was when it got amazing. She came right for my table. She knew everyone was watching. She sat down. And now, she was barely… Listen. Look at the picture. Where are my eyes? I'm staring at her nipples because I am afraid they are about to come onto my plate. In my face you can see the fear. I'm so frightened that everything in her dress is going to blow—BOOM!—and spill all over the table."
Ans Sophia has actually stated that she doesn't like those misinterpretations and is trying to actively distance herself from it.
"Actually, many, many times I am given this photo to autograph it. And I never do. I don't want to have anything to do with that. And also out of respect for Jayne Mansfield because she's not with us anymore."
Jayne died in 1967, only living for about 30 years, and Sophia herself is actually still around. I can imagine how disheartening it is to see people still misinterpreting a photo of two friends and colleagues especially when it's through the lens of slut-shaming an accomplished actress who is unfortunately no longer with us.
Sooo yeah all that said, I'm less inclined to believe it was Minthe getting a boob job and more inclined to believe it was more of Rachel's weird internalized misogyny picking and choosing which women are "sluts" and which ones are "victims" for dressing or being built a certain way. It's really gross when you start to notice it.
People have also pointed out how odd it is that every single character who gets into a relationship or is in a relationship by S3 seemingly morphs into copies of Hades and Persephone, which is really just more of a testament to how lazy Rachel is in her character designs. In her head she's just trying Hades and Persephone all the time but different colors, I imagine at this point the H x P relationship is the only thing that she's interested in writing/drawing about (and even that's arguably hanging on by a thread because she couldn't even let their long-awaited wedding scene have real room to breathe) so it's almost like she's defaulting to just zoning out and drawing nothing but H x P and then having her assistants color them differently based on who it's actually supposed to be.
But I digress. The body shaming and slut shaming is definitely hard-baked into LO and how it portrays its characters. Despite Rachel having written an actual comic portraying sexism in the past, she still can't seem to express her ideas around sexism, to the point of, again, saying she "didn't know sexism was that bad" until she worked on LO. Like, girl... you drew a comic about sexism before LO, what are you talking about? Is this more of you not wanting to acknowledge ANY of the work you did prior to LO, or are you telling me you didn't intend for those older works to be interpreted as sexism???
"I feel like female characters in general, people will be a little harsher on them and sometimes way harsher on them, and I used to be like.. before I started writing the story and like making a story I was like yeah, sexism is not that bad, and [now] I was like oh it's bad. It's quite bad [laughs], so like, I don't know, I feel like the female characters in the story don't get so much of a pass. But this isn't consistent across the board, it's not all the time." - Rachel Smythe, Girl Wonder Podcast circa 2022
#WHICH IS IT RACHEL#DO YOU THINK SEXISM WASN'T THAT BAD OR DO YOU BLAME THE PATRIARCHY FOR EVERYTHING#DO YOU THINK PEOPLE ARE TOO HARSH ON YOUR FEMALE CHARACTERS OR DO YOU MEAN JUST PERSEPHONE-#lore olympus critical#anti lore olympus#lo critical#ama#ask me anything#anon ama#anon ask me anything
197 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I love your writing and I just wanted to ask if you could make a fic about Azriel and a chronically ill reader? I have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, and it can be really difficult sometimes. I’m currently in a flare-up and I would love to see what Azriel would be like if he had a partner with a chronic illness 🩵 please and thank you!
{The Fixer} Azriel x Reader
Hi my love!!! While I myself do not know what it's like to live with a chronic illness, my mom has chronic migraines and I was always the one taking care of her. I hope you enjoy and are taking as best care of yourself as you can through this flare-up my love <3 Title and story inspired by this song.
Word Count: 2,193
Warnings: struggles of chronic illness, headaches, vomiting, fluff
Tagging: @cyrygher @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @blessthepizzaman @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars
Summary: Azriel notices. Even when you try to hide it from him. There is nothing he hates more than seeing you in pain, and it's his mission to make you feel as comfortable as possible.
~~~~~~~~~~
Whether it was the dots spreading across my vision or the ache set deep in every bone in my body, I knew I was off. Short of the normal dizziness and weakness I had, I felt like shit.
I rolled over in bed to find Az gone, and I sighed. Getting to the bathroom was going to be tough. Half an hour went by before I could fully open my eyes and not see the world spinning before.
The snow was blinding across Velaris, burning my eyes and making me jerk my neck too hard in the opposite direction. Much like my hips and ankles, the joints in my neck screamed for relief. Just a few steps away was the bathroom. If I could get there, to the cabinet above the sink I could get my-
My sweater pocket caught the post on the bed and I got yanked to the floor. Landing shoulders first, pins and needles raced up and down my left arm. Fingers numb. With more than a groan, I rolled off of it and found a new ache in… well, everywhere.
It took a long time to roll on my hands and knees, but I did it, and now I was on the cold tile. It did wonders for the radiating heat in my freshly injured palms, but it chilled it to the marrow of my bones.
As much as I wanted to, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand. The pounding of my head and the rolling of my stomach was enough to force me to sit against the wall opposite the toilet.
I pulled my head back and tried to breathe.
Those life changing blue pills that Madja gave me would be useless now. They could only prevent a flare-up if caught at the earliest signs. I’ve been able to catch the past few, but I wasn’t expecting this one.
Azriel was right when he told me to take it easy during training yesterday. All I wanted to do was prove to him that I could keep up. I knew I couldn't, and so did he, but that wasn’t the point. He shouldn’t just assume I can’t because I’m sick.
Yet here I am, paying for it on the bathroom floor.
I could feel the circulatory pattern of my pulse. A never ending cycle of pain. Starting in my head, down my neck and in my teeth. To my shoulder, numbness down my arm and tingling in my finger. The surge of agony in my hip, through my leg and in my knee. Gods my ankle, what did I do to my ankle?
A quick check under my sock and I could see the culprit. A huge bruise accompanied by an abundance of swelling. I must’ve kicked the post in the night again. Or it could’ve been from sparring, or our sprint up the stairs.
I gave up trying to keep tabs on all my possible reasons and focused on the fact that I was all alone in the House of Wind. Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta were all away in Illyria for the day to train a group of new recruits. Nuala and Cerridwen were here, but I always feel weird asking them for help.
I can make it to the evening. I’ll get up and I’ll take that pill, even if it will only decrease the length not the strength of this flare-up. Anything. I’ll do anything to get it over quicker so I’ll be back to normal.
On the count of three, I’ll get up. I’ll push with the strength I’ve built up from training with Az. I’ll push myself up and grab the pill and go back to bed.
One.
Two.
Three.
My arms do nothing but scream in pain, and my legs lose feeling. I go nowhere but back on my ass. I try again, after another count of three. Nothing. Holding my breath while doing it only makes the dizziness worse. And the nausea.
I drag myself over to the toilet and empty whatever is left in my stomach. It’s not much, and it burns on the way up. Tears fill my eyes and mucus fills my nose and throat. I know when pain and headaches get so bad you vomit, the episode is going to be particularly brutal.
My skin is damp and I start to shake. Water. I need water.
I flush and manage to make it on the toilet. I turn on the sink with some blind movement and I’m greeted with the lovely sound of water. I can’t lift my left arm any more and I think it might be out of socket. I can’t tell. Doesn’t matter. I scoop some water into my mouth, but most of it makes it down my shirt instead.
I let it run and run and run, letting the cool liquid calm my swimming head.
At some point I laid my head down and didn’t pick it back up. I stayed in this awful state of micro sleep, sometimes drifting off, sometimes thinking I’m dreaming but I’m just letting my mind wander. The bright morning sun turned into the dull brightness of the afternoon. I think.
My heart beat loudly in my ears. Then it would stop, and then it would start again. My pulse was taunting me. It must be. It sounded like Azriel’s wings which only made me miss him more. The memory of his scent blasted through me and the tears started.
I want him so bad. I need him.
“Shhh, it’s okay, just breathe, Yn.”
My eyes snapped open, and through a blurry mess of tears, Azriel kneeled in front of me. “W-What are you doing here?”
“The second you woke up I could feel your pain,” his thumb slid across my cheek. “I turned around when I realized why. You need help.”
I shook my head, or tried to. It just sorta rolled back and forth.
“Squeeze my fingers, Yn.” Azriel placed two of his digits in my palms and I squeezed as hard as I could. Not even the tips of his fingers turned red from the pressure. “Are you going to let me help you or are you going to be difficult?”
“I don't want to be difficult. I’m in so much pain.”
“I know, my shadow. I know.”
As gently as he could, he sat me up and carried me to the bed. He took off his armor somewhere along the way, the bony ridges of the scales not digging into me like they normally do. I was eternally grateful for the small detail he remembered.
Even our mattress hurt just as much as the floor.
“I need to take a look at you. Where are you hurting the most? Did you fall?”
I nodded deliriously, “My ankle’s a mess. And so is my shoulder. M’arms numb.”
As carefully as he could, he propped me against him and peaked around. I didn’t hear him make any gasps, but I could feel that pull on the bond that meant he didn’t like what he saw.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough for me to call Madja. She’s on her way. I told you to take it easy-”
“Don’t.”
Azriel completely disregarded whatever he was going to say next. “I’m sorry.”
“Just get me the pill, please,” I faulty gestured to the bathroom. He didn’t even move, but then a pill and a cup of water was pressed into my lips. Those shadows of his are so helpful.
“I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I just don’t like seeing you in pain. It makes me… it makes me wild.”
“I appreciate it, I do Az, but you can’t protect me from everything. And I don’t want you to. There's a reason why I wanted to train with you in the first place.”
“I know, but there's no need to exert yourself to this just to prove a point. I know how tough you are, Yn. You are the strongest, most resilient soul I’ve ever met. But making yourself like this in spite of me is something I never want you doing.”
I smiled, cheeks heating up as I leaned against his chest. His body radiated heat like a roaring fire, and I soaked up every morsel of it.
With enough pillows and heat packs, I was propped up against the headboard. Soon after, Madja and Nuala came in. I could smell the fresh bread and juice from across the room and my stomach growled.
“It’s cheese bread with a nice tomato and herb soup. Azriel requested the sweet tea just for you.”
I smiled up at him, my eyes suddenly heavy with love and adoration for my Shadowsinger.
I ate as Madja poked and prodded. Az held my hand and kissed the tears away when she had to reset my shoulder. By this point, my body was in so much pain that I couldn’t think of anything else. The healer was kind enough to give a sedative and an injection that did something.
“She’ll be asleep soon,” Madja said across the room to Azriel. “When she wakes, send for me again and I will bring one that doesn’t make her drowsy. Do not let her out of that bed unless she is in your arms, Shadowsinger.”
“Thank you, Madja.” And the door shut. Once again, the bed dipped and he trailed a gentle hand up my legs. “Just go to sleep, my shadow.”
“I hope you know that shot will do nothing, Az.”
“I thought they were working?” He asked, puzzled.
I shook my head, “I thought so too, but they’re not. There isn't anything you can do to ease the pain, Az. No amount of pills or injections or stimulation therapy will do the trick. I just have to wait it out.”
“So you rest until it passes,” Az climbed in beside me. “I will be here when you wake up.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” I hissed, frustrated tears spilling down my face. “I want to train and go to dinner and drink red wine and dance like the rest of you.”
I couldn't bear to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the sadness in his eyes. After a long silent moment, he took a deep breath.
“It’s okay if you need rest. You’re not expected to work or thrive in the condition you’re in. I could tell last night you weren’t feeling good.”
That made me perk up. “How?”
“You get this hazy, far away look. That's how I know you’re in pain.” Azriel muttered, snuggling in close so I could latch on for warmth. “Let me take care of you. Don’t focus on anything other than healing and my warmth. I will be here when you wake up.”
I didn’t care to read into how much he read into me. My heart blazed with thoughts, all of him and those offhanded looks and questions he always asks. He is such an observer.
“I’m the spy for the Night Court, my shadow. Of course I’m observant. I notice everything about you. What makes you smile, what doesn’t. The foods and drinks that give you headaches and swelling. When your flare-ups are coming and when they’re finally withdrawing. I make it my mission to make sure you are as safe and comfortable as possible. I am sorry I wasn't there to help you this morning, love.”
“I felt fine last night, no need to say sorry.” I kissed his cheek, then he kissed my lips. “Thank you for turning around.”
“Cassian thought I had been shot with an arrow with how hard I dove down to the ground to turn around. I felt this rush of pain from you and I thought for a second it was my own. But don’t feel bad. I want to be here anyway. You’re much better than any of those awful camps.”
“I’m a lot better,” I smiled, nuzzling into his chest.
The glint in his voice was enough to make me swoon, “Yes, my shadow. Everything about you is better than those camps.”
-------
Through the rest of the day, Az laid with me, running hands through my hair, massaging my legs when they cramped up. He got me water, food and snacks. Kept the entertainment up when I was in too much pain to nap. All through the night, Azriel held me steady so I wouldn’t accidentally roll around.
Madja came in the morning with more useless injections, Nuala with a stack of chocolate chip pancakes and fresh bacon.
I made Az eat some because I didn’t see him steal a crumb earlier.
Later, he took me into the bath where he scrubbed my scalp, massaging my temples. I tried to do the same for his back and wings, but he refused to let me move. Just sat me in his lap, chest pressed against my back and let us soak for hours.
As we got out, he sat me on the bed while he gathered clothes for us. Per my request, he kept his shirt off and just through on a set of lounging sweats.
One foot at a time, he put me in the comfiest pair of pants I had. The fleece lined inside keeping out the cold. He put thick socks on my feet and found something to wrap around my top half so I didn't have to move my arm.
We laid back down, me tucked in his arms. I absently stroked the back of his scarred hand.
I was calm. The ache is still present, but ignorable with a few of his stories. I drifted to sleep, in the safest place in Prythian.
"Thank you, Az," I murmured, sleep evident now
He kissed me softly, "Anything for you, my shadow."
~~~~~~
#acotar#azriel#acotar fanfiction#acotar fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel imagine#azriel fanfic#azriel x reader
167 notes
·
View notes
Text
Another writing that got long, so putting a Read More~
I wish I could've continued this interaction as a comic, but I ran out of energy. Life got busy, my mood fluctuated. So this one's written. X3
~~~~~~
PREVIOUS
NEXT
ARC START | CHRONO
~~~~~~
Lavender woke in her bed with a gasp. She sat up, gulping air as the dream vision invaded her waking mind.
It wasn't real... It was just a vision... It wouldn't have hurt you, Lav. It wouldn't have hurt you...
As she calmed down, her attention shifted to something else.
She reached out with her mind.
...Nico?...
Nothing.
Lav's face scrunched up in anger. Dang it...
She flopped back onto her pillow, her arms sprawled out beside her. Here eyes were shut tight. Rrrrrrgh... Sorry, Nico, I didn't mean to wake up!
Something tickled her attention in her mind, but she didn't dwell on it.
Curse the flimsiness of our connection!
This time, she couldn't ignore it.
.a...v..nder?...
Lav froze, listening intently and focusing with all her might.
...Nico?
...u.. s....ll ..ear m....?
Lav smiled and mentally shouted as strongly as she could, careful to not connect with her family's mindscapes. I hear you, Nico! I hear you! Can you hear me?!
Lav? Lav!? I heard you!
Yes! Lav clenched her fists in her spike of joy. YES! Finally! We can talk without the worry of it collapsing at the slightest breath!
I'm... Kinda surprised you still want to talk... I'm sorry about the visions. I got carried away...
No, no, it's fine! It just startled me!
...It seemed like a strong reaction for just a startle...
I'm fine, honest! Lav tried to ignore that he was right. Anyway, that’s not the end of the story, right? You said you didn’t feel guilty then… But you clearly regret what happened.
...I do... His voice was subdued. Yes. I now regret what happened. But... Back then, I was truly the monster they wanted me to be. I was their good little weapon, until I decided they didn't see me as an equal.
After I d... d-destroyed the lab... I roamed Kanto. I challenged people and Pokemon alike... I attacked them... I...
His mental voice broke.
I killed them...
Both Lav and Nico fell silent. Lav could tell she was getting more adept at this connection thing, as she faintly felt that they were still linked.
What changed?
You said Fuji taught you gentleness and kindness, but you still... She shivered, hoping that he couldn't sense her apprehension. What made you change your mind from "monster" to regretful?
...Jovie.
Lav couldn't help smiling at the pure warmth in his mental voice. Your mate?
He spoke with a wistful tone. If Fuji planted the seeds, Jovie watered and nurtured them.
I, uh....
I stumbled into her home town. A little hidden place called Shadegrove. I... I attacked... And she defended.
Looking back... she was amazing.
So brave, and strong. Determined to save the town and people she loved.
And she succeeded.
I couldn't overpower her, so I left. Exhausted. Embarrassed.
And Furious.
First my parent, then this...
Lav felt a jolt.
I figured Mews wanted nothing to do with the Monster they had created.
Woah woah woah, wait! Your parent? Did you know your parent?
...
I saw them leave. Before I left my incubation tube.
Incubation tube? Lav took a mental note of the strange phrase.
I'm sure of it...
It's my earliest memory.
A Mew's tail vanishing into the distance... Either my parent, or a Mew who knew me...
It abandoned me.
And after Jovie attacked me, I thought... I thought it was me. Mews hated me.
But I was wrong.
She followed me.
And I would be dead now if she hadn't
She found me after a challenge I'd made went wrong, and healed me up. And she did the unthinkable.
She was kind to me.
She worked to get to know me.
She cared about me.
And I found myself returning those feelings.
She made me laugh.
She made me care.
She made me happy.
And eventually... we fell in love.
That's... pretty much all the important stuff...
Lav sat quiet, contemplating the rest of the story she'd heard. Is that how you got that scar?
...Yeah...
You ever hear about Zapdos?
She felt her heart skip a beat, remembering stories her dad had read to her of the powerful electric-type legendary bird. ...Wow...
Yup.
They both went quiet.
Nico...
Lav's mental voice was soft.
Thank you. Seriously. For being brave enough to share that with me.
Wou... Would you be okay with me telling it to my dad?
Nico was silent. Lav could almost feel the buzz of his mind as he contemplated. Finally, he spoke up.
If you think it'll help. I... I worry it won't, but... You know him better than I do.
Do what you think is best, Lav.
Lav tried to form the question; Why are you afraid of him? But a yawn broke her concentration. She looked at the time.
Shoot. I should go back to sleep, or I'll be hurting tomorrow. Catch ya later?
If you want to!
Yeah! She smiled. Good night, Nico!
Good night, Lav.
~~~~~~
PREVIOUS
NEXT
ARC START | CHRONO
206 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rise Characterizations: The Foot Clan
Since I've posted on Cass, I figured it would be useful to post separately on the Foot Clan as a whole.
So the Foot Clan's obvious goal is the resurrect The Shredder.
They have paralleled origins to that of the Hamato Clan, the distinction of which caused by Karai splitting into her own clan.
One of the only mentioned laws of the Foot Clan is: you can only take control by succeeding where those have failed.
This leaves room to interpret that there could be a history of in-fighting or struggle for power within the Foot Clan.
Ranking:
To officially join the Foot Clan, a recruit must attempt an assigned solo mission, and return with success. The more missions a recruit/member go on, the more they are qualified to be raised to a higher ranking.
A foot marking on a face is implied to accompany a higher level of respect. Since Huginn and Muninn haven't raised their rank higher than the equivalent of a 2, we can assume that getting a foot print you must be a rank 3 or higher.
Members:
Foot Lt. offhandedly mentioned they get recruits online in "ninja chat rooms", so it seems they prioritize quantity over quality.
Then there are the origami warriors, who serve as canon fodder. We see the origami warriors as the earliest army of the Foot Clan, but this is ruined with the turtles' involvement. I wonder what determines the value between the origami warriors and the human members.
The Foot Clan is already kind of built on flimsy foundations. Foot Lt. and Foot Brute seem to be the only ones in the know of what's going on (being able to navigate through the Hidden City, use/locate mystic artifacts, and have some knowledge of the Hamato Clan), but even they don't really understand the Shredder's motivations. It makes me question how "human" or disconnected from their humanity they are, especially considering the flaming heads and purple skin.
There is some mentioned donors of the Foot Clan (such as Jocelyn's parents), but after the Shredder was detained in Seasons 2's opening, the members of the Foot Clan kind of jumped ship. This forced Cass to find purpose elsewhere, and Foot Lt. and Brute to retreat to the shadows. When the Shredder returns, it's just the three of them. This might have to do with where they recruit from.
In-fighting and changes between leadership through violence could also lead to muddled history and values. These people aren't bound together by one purpose, just broad destructive chaos.
Names and identities don't be appeared to be valued within the Foot Clan. For the majority of the show Cassandra is referred to as "Foot Recruit", and the only names we're offered with the two leaders are "Foot Lt. and "Foot Brute". This is could be read as a gag, but again Foot Clan history is completely open to interpretation.
Goals:
We've discussed their connection to Shredder's resurrection, but even beyond him what they're really aiming at it world domination and destruction. We see this reflected in Cass with her inherit fierceness, but also how she deals with the fallout of the Foot Clan by raising an army of brownie scouts to take over the world.
And then there's the inherit role of servitude that both Foot Lt. and Brute put themselves under. When Draxum dons the armor they "await" his orders (with the misunderstanding that the Shredder has risen), and when asked what they expect the Shredder to do they simply shrug and say "shred". They live to serve and destroy for a higher power beyond their understanding. A few lines that particularly stuck out to me in the movie was: "Tonight we liberate our masters from their dimensional prison. With this key we shall free them to lay waste to this world and enslave its people."
And finally I'd like to discuss their relationship with the Krang and the key.
Since the events of s2 the Foot Clan appears to have taken residence in an abandoned garden, whether it was the same in which the boys had broken into to smell the corpse flower remains unclear to My findings. Their numbers have grown again for an unknown reason, and they have been collecting parts of the dimensional gate and finally key.
I would also like to mention the inclusion of the boat and dock here. Especially since we were introduced to the Foot Clan through their paper thievery, and the boys had their first win against them on a similar boat that served as a paper hoard.
Moving back to the Krang, they have a similar fundamental misunderstanding of their place in relation to their masters, as they did with their master the shredder. It begs me to ask the question of when exactly and how did Lieutenant and Brute start giving attention to the Krang.
They were never mentioned before during the show, but in the movie Lieutenant does refer to them by name, "We shall follow the Krang as they lead the Foot Clan to glory!" So did this reach for a new master come from desperate research on the Shredder's origins, or was that the end goal when the Shredder was released? The oni that gave Shredder is shown to be a Krang before they were even confirmed, and the armor appears eerily similar to the armor that the three Krang don in the final sequence of the movie.
Then the source of empyrean (the source of mysticsm, yokai, mutants) is shown to come from a kraang corpse. There's so much of the Foot Clan tied to the Krang manipulating Oroku Saki, but a lot of their origins appear to be lost to history.
But again that leaves much to interpretation and wiggle room to poke at!!
#rise of the tmnt#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#the foot clan#rottmnt the foot clan#analysis#save rise of the tmnt#save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#save rise of the turtles#critter talks#character analysis#long post#wow this has been rotting in my drafts for a while let's get this baby out there
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
you looked back at me once (but I looked back two times)
summer sleepover masterlist
ted lasso x gn!reader
summary : “talking and realizing they're just nodding to everything you say (because they're busy admiring u dhsdbgfgydesuh)” requested by anon.
an : the anon who requested this was so right when they said it screams ted I acc can’t think of anyone else in the world it’d fit better
“So it’s only feasible to get it done Tuesday, if that’s okay with you guys?” Though you tried your best not to make your way down to the coaches office until lunch time, today you had to go on business, driving you to be down there bright and early at 8am.
Roy, Beard and Ted had been nodding along to everything you said, each taking your words into account and trying to figure out how they could rearrange their plans to fit it in to their schedule. Roy, naturally, was the first to disagree with your change of plans. “Can’t do Tuesday. I need-“
“I can pick Phoebe up from school.” You assured, fingers drumming against the back of your clipboard. “She can come hang out in my office while we wait for you to finish up.”
Roy clearly hadn’t expected a response to that, nodding his head with a half-scowl on his face.
Beard was the next to query the change of plans, his hands raised above his head waiting for your permission to speak. “It won’t interfere with your dentist appointment, Beard. We won’t need you until 2pm at the earliest, so you’ll have plenty of time to get there.” Beards hand went back to his side as quickly as he raised it.
When you turned to the other coach in the office, waiting for a question or query from him, you were met with silence. Ted was staring up at you with the most doe eyed look you’d ever seen. His chin rested against the back of his interlocked fingers and his head was tilted so he could look directly at your face. Not a single thought was running behind those eyes and if you weren’t trying to make sure things would run smoothing you’d have found it ridiculously cute.
“Ted? Any feedback?”
It took him a good second to regain awareness of his surroundings, but when he had, that lovesick smile returned to his face. “Not at all darlin’, it’s absolutely perfect.”
“You’re sure?” Ted’s mind was so filled with you that he couldn’t think of anything else, but judging by the wicked smile that was curled on your lips, you clearly had. “Not even the fact you were meant to be going for dinner with Trent Crimm Tuesday?”
He’d totally forgotten about dinner with Trent, but he was sure the journalist wouldn’t mind the fact he had to reschedule. “I wouldn’t know what I was doing without you sweetheart. Do you mind calling up Trent and rescheduling?”
“You got it coach.” With a salute, you left the coaches office, the three coaches waiting for the clack of your shoes against tile to stop before they spoke.
“You’re in love with them.” Beard immediately accused, pointing his finger at Ted. “And don’t try and deny it, you weren’t even paying attention to the conversation, you were just staring at them.”
Ted turned to Roy, hoping to find reassurance that he’d played it cool when you’d entered the office and not made a total fool of himself. “Looked like a fucking puppy, you did.”
One day Ted would be brave enough to do more then just admire you when you walked into a room. And although today had not been that day, with each time he saw you, he knew that day was getting closer and closer.
270 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don't see how trump turning America into a christofacsist state is any different than the norm? like it's been like that for native and black people since it's creation like we inspired the nazis in the first place so like what the point? oh trumps gonna kill everyone who isn't a white cis male! and? that's what america's best quality since day one
Okay I'm actually going to respond to this Edgelord Supreme bullshit, because as absurd as it looks written out like this, I actually do think a lot of people are feeling some half-articulated version of this despair and cynicism. Let's kick that in the ass.
First, let's get one thing straight. History has been terrible awful bad always and forever. There have been a thousand genocides and a million wars and a billion brutal, inhuman war crimes. Back in the days of the earliest civilizations, wiping out entire cities when you defeated them was basically just how things were done for many societies. The fact that we have international laws and international bodies of justice, however obviously toothless they remain, is the result of thousands of years of extremely mixed progress.
So at this point, you pretty much have to say either that a) humans are an incurable blight and don't deserve to live, or b) that we've done amazing, beautiful things and experienced billions of moments of happiness and created art and fallen in love despite all this, so we're still worth working on. Personally, I am very strongly in camp b. I see things worth living for a hundred times a day. There's really no comparison.
Second, the USA is not uniquely bad. It is terribly damaging to people both within its borders and all over the world. It is build on genocide and slavery. Many of its foundational institutions are deeply corrupted by these things. And guess what, that's uh....pretty common. No, really. The US is currently a big fucking problem. It's our turn with the big stick, for sure. But even then, we're not alone.
So how the fuck is this encouraging? It isn't. I'm not encouraging you, I'm telling you to fucking GET GOOD, because when you say shit like the above, what I hear is "Oh I SEE, I'm a TERRIBLE PERSON I guess I should just kill myself to make your life easier." I hear someone who would rather give up and call their country morally bankrupt and irredeemable than to PUT IN SOME FUCKING WORK.
Cynicism is so comfortable. It doesn't ask anything of you. "It's always been like this," it says. "Nothing's going to change."
Except things do change, and things have changed, and your entire premise is in fact absolute dogshit. The two presidential candidates are not remotely the same, and we are not, yet, a Christofascist nation. I could, as many before me already have, enumerate the million concrete ways in which your premise is just not true, but honestly I won't bother, because it's not a premise in good faith. What I mean by that is that even a cursory examination of the actual facts would totally trash your expressed beliefs, so you're not really interested in the facts.
Change for the better can happen. Change for the better has happened. It's just not as EASY as you want it to be. There are more steps. For example, you can't have viable independent candidates until you have campaign finance and voting reform. So you have to push for those things. For years, probably decades. Many people have died without seeing the realization of things they fought for, and yet those things have come to pass. You may die fighting the good fight and not see the victory. I may too. Meanwhile, you make the choices that will hopefully get the fewest people killed.
So stop acting like we're all just too shitty to bother about, and put in some fucking work.
72 notes
·
View notes
Note
During ancient times there was the kingdoms of Judah and Israel. But according to the Tanakh (Hebrew Bible) there was also the United Kingdom of Israel. BUT the thing is that a lot of ancient history about Jews is written in the Tanakh. And you can never really 100% trust religious books as historical sources. The Tanakh was written on stuff that can actually be preserved. While possible other sources on history of the Jews and other groups were written on things that perished. There is a lot of debate about the extent of the United Kingdom of Israel or that it even existed.
You have two kinds of historians when it comes to the Hebrew Bible:
The maximalists: accept everything unless proven incorrect by outside sources. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_maximalism
The minimalists: Hebrew Bible is limited in historical value. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_minimalism
Thanks so much for these links actually while looking at "biblical minimalism" I recognize some of the authors being cited in some of the works I read. I should check them out.
Also love reading academic beef the way that both groups named each other's "study" but neither operates with those labels lmaooo classic academics.
But also so people don't misunderstand me or try to take me out of context regarding this whole discussion: I also don't think the Quran is a 100% accurate historically, and it's stories are mostly used to educate on certain topics and ideas as it's primary purpose (think of aesop fables when i say this). Of course religiously I believe in the Quran, but most of the Quran is written in poetic verses in arabic and even as a baseline Muslims believe there's more to a quranic translation than just the direct translation. In quranic book history what we focus on a lot is the way books were made throughout history moreso than the actual contents (which religiously, we are not supposed to change at all... I believe the Hebrew Bible also is like that? Would love if someone could tell me more about it tho).
Even with the Birmingham Quran (the oldest quran that has been carbondated to around the time of Prophet Muhammad), i dont think its as important for the text itself (other than comparing contemporary and ancient to see if any changes happened through the few leaflets that survived), the most valuable parts of it is the fact we can carbon date it and see what sorts of materials they used back then and to see when the earliest surviving fragments came from. Plus we can analyze the script and rubrication to see if this was actually used to be read or used as a mnemonic device.
I can't say too much about archeological study more than this and that other post though. That's not exactly my field of interest or expertise. If people want to share more I can't provide much input unless you're talking about book history LOL.
But yeah just wanted to clarify so people don't assume bad faith/try to use my words to push their own agendas. In general historical studies should separate themselves from religion I feel if they go beyond analyzing societies the time in which the books/material were made or written.
Also here's a direct link to Birmingham Quran if the above one doesn't link:
54 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cozmoz
ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴢᴍᴏᴢ
s-amlike
samlike
that-floating-ghost-key
Keys Random Stuff
sweetdemolitionlovers
The Light Behind Your Eyes