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daceytheshebear · 10 months

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My Oak Leaf Dress post is getting some traction again years after it was first posted, and it got me wondering if tumblr might be more fertile groud to talk about some Arya Stark-centered analysis of mine I feel never got the attention it deserved in the westeros.org forum?

Okay, have you noticed that Arya's five chapters in AGOT have very very strong parallels to Arya’s five chapters in Feast/Dance? I've cataloged them and it blows my mind that more people aren't dissecting it. If we take into consideration that the AFFC and ADWD were supposed to one book, Arya has exactly the same amount of chapters as she had in book one, which is much less than she had in ACOK or ASOS. A pity in my opinion, as I love to read her, but I believe this is not a coincidence on Martin’s part as there seem to be several parallels between what Arya experiences in the first book and the last two. I’ll compare:

AGOT Arya I to AFFC Arya I

AGOT Arya II to AFFC Arya II

AGOT Arya III to AFFC Cat of the Canals

AGOT Arya IV to ADWD The Blind Girl

AGOT Arya V to ADWD The Ugly Little Girl

So, AGOT Arya I / AFFC Arya I: Both take place in a different setting from the other four chapters (Winterfell vs. Kings Landing for AGOT, the ship The Titan's Daughter vs. the city of Braavos in AFFC and ADWD). In both we have Arya directly interacting with two siblings, one who is two years older than her and whose place she would like to be able to occupy (Sansa with all her ladylike abilities, Denyo who is a cabin boy) and another who is older and more guarded and with whom she has important conversations about the ways of the world (Jon Snow and the talk about bastards and girls and Yorko and all the exposition about Bravosi culture). Quotes about Sansa and Denyo:

It wasn't fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father.

And

Denyo had taken her up to the crow's nest once, and she hadn't been afraid at all, though the deck had seemed a tiny thing below her. I can do sums too, and keep a cabin neat. But the galleas had no need of a second boy.

In both chapters we have adults who are not really happy to be in charge of Arya, who are associated with the color grey, and who frown at Arya with similar phrasing (septa Mordane and Tradesman-Captain Ternesio Terys). I'll give you the quotes:

Septa Mordane raised her eyes. She had a bony face, sharp eyes, and a thin lipless mouth made for frowning. It was frowning now. "What are you talking about, children?"

And

Arya turned to find Denyo's father looming over them in his long captain's coat of purple wool. Tradesman-Captain Ternesio Terys wore no whiskers and kept his grey hair cut short and neat, framing his square, windburnt face. On the crossing she had oft seen him jesting with his crew, but when he frowned men ran from him as if before a storm. He was frowning now. "Our voyage is at an end," he told Arya.

In one of the chapters Arya is said to be “too skinny to hold a sword” and in the other she is “too small to man an oar”. Both chapters end with Arya entering rooms where two authority figures await for her (septa Mordane and Catelyn in her room AGOT, the kindly man and the waif inside the House of Black and White in AFFC).

AGOT Arya II / AFFC Arya II: In both chapters a long time has elapsed between Arya I and Arya II. In both chapters Arya feels very isolated from people around her (in AGOT she is mourning Mycah, angry at her father’s men who let the boy be murdered and sad that even Sansa “wouldn’t talk to her unless their father made her”, in AFFC Arya takes the other servants of the HoBaW for mutes until she hears them praying, they never talk to her and Umma, who does talk, speaks in a language she can’t understand.

In both chapters we have vivid descriptions of rich food Arya eats, which is very rare in her story because she is underfed most of the time. In both chapters Needle is discovered (in AGOT Ned sees the sword, in AFFC the waif catches Arya training).

In both chapters she has a very important conversation about lies (Arya tells her father Sansa lied about not knowing what happened at the Trident, and Ned says to her: "We all lie" and later says that some lies are “not without honor”, meanwhile the kindly man says to Arya “All men lie when they are afraid. Some tell many lies, some but a few. Some have only one great lie they tell so often that they almost come to believe it”).

In both chapters Arya promises to obey:

“This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience… at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up." "I will," Arya vowed. She had never loved him so much as she did in that instant. "I can be strong too. I can be as strong as Robb."

In AFFC the kindly man tells Arya

“Remain if you will, but know that we shall require your obedience. At all times and in all things. If you cannot obey, you must depart." "I can obey." [...] “It takes uncommon strength of body and spirit, and a heart both hard and strong [to be a faceless man]" I have a hole where my heart should beand nowhere else to go. "I'm strong. As strong as you. I'm hard."

In Both chapters Arya is said to be beautiful (a word that is not used to describe her in any other occasion). In both words Arya explicitly refuses feminine roles (in AGOT she tells Ned she doesn’t want to be a lady, in AFFC she thinks she wanted none of the placements the kindly man offers her, with courtesans where she would “sleep on rose petals and wear silken skirts that rustle when [she] walks” or “marriage and children”).

In both chapters Arya uses rocks to save a part of herself: in AGOT she recounts to Ned how she had to throw stones at Nymeria for her to stop following and be saved from the Lannister men who would execute her (we hope Arya will reunite with Nymeria again), and in AFFC she hides Needle behind a loose stone step to keep it safe for later (we hope she will retrieve it at some point).

Another plot-point that repeats between the two chapters is the introduction of a teacher. Arya II in AGOT opens in a dinner scene in the Small Hall ends with the introduction of Syrio Forel in the same Small Hall, where Arya begins to learn water dancing. Syrio says “now we dance”. Arya II in AFFC starts with Arya reciting her list, and ends after the Waif becomes Arya’s teacher on the braavosi language and the lying game (she actively compares what she is learning now with the lessons she once had from Syrio) and then Arya finally leaves the temple, reciting her list like in the beginning (so both chapters start and finish “in the same place”) and saying she is “so happy she could dance”.

AGOT Arya III / AFFC Cat of the Canals: Okay so in AGOT Arya II, Arya assumes a “fake identity” for the first time ever! Tommen and Myrcella mistake her for a peasant boy, and she acts the part. In her third chapter in AFFC this is taken up to the next level and this is the first time her chapter title changes when she takes the identity of Cat. Cats! Of course, Arya II in AGOT is that one chapter that is all about cats, she talks about pursuing them and she finally kisses Balerion. She then becomes Cat in her third chapter in AFFC, and reminisces about chasing cats in the Red Keep in that chapter!

There is a sense of expanding horizons in both these chapters. Arya leaves the Red Keep for the first time in AGOT Arya III, and walks back from the Blackwater all the way to the castle. In her third AFFC chapter, Arya is exploring the city of Braavos after having finally been allowed out of the temple. She is also very cheeky in both these chapters! Arya interacting with the guards of the Red Keep is hilarious, and very similar to how she acts when being her Cat persona.

Nightmares. Arya experiences vivid, terrible nightmares in both these third chapters (and in her third chapter in ASOS). In AGOT she hears her father’s voice becoming fainter and fainter in her dreams, which some have interpreted as foreshadowing for Ned’s death and as a sign that Arya may have precognitive abilities. In AFFC it’s her mother she hears screaming. Both these chapters also explore and detail the place Arya inhabits. In AGOT Arya III the Red Keep is heavily featured, and it’s described as an “endless stone maze”. In AFFC Cat takes us all around Braavos, which of course is a “crooked city” with all its buildings made out of stone.

Daenerys is mentioned!! Illyrio and Varys discuss “the princess with child” in AGOT Arya III, and tales of “dragons hatching” reach Cat in AFFC. Daenerys isn’t mentioned in any other Arya chapters.

Retelling overheard stories features heavily in both chapters. Arya tries to convey to Ned what she overheard and is casually dismissed. In Cat of the Canals, Arya is learning to actively overhear conversations and gather information and retells them to the kindly man with caution.

Bathing is also present in both chapters. Arya usually doesn’t really enjoy bathing in ACOK and ASOS, but both in AGOT Arya III and in Cat of the Canals, on the other hands, we witness Arya disrobing and cleaning her body of her own volition, getting rid of bad smells in almost ritualized cleansing. Compare the quotes from AGOT, Arya III:

She found herself standing at the mouth of a sewer where it emptied into the river. She stank so badly that she stripped right there, dropping her soiled clothing on the riverbank as she dove into the deep black waters. She swam until she felt clean, and crawled out shivering.

and AFFC, Cat of the Canals:

Down in the vaults, she untied Cat's threadbare cloak, pulled Cat's fishy brown tunic over her head, kicked off Cat's salt-stained boots, climbed out of Cat's smallclothes, and bathed in lemonwater to wash away the very smell of Cat of the Canals. When she emerged, soaped and scrubbed pink with her brown hair plastered to her cheeks, Cat was gone.

One of the most important parallels in this set of chapters regards the Night’s Watch. It is in Arya III AGOT that Arya for the first ever interacts with a black brother, when she meets Yoren. Although Arya isn’t aware of it, it was Yoren’s death that made it possible for Dareon leave Eastwatch and go to Braavos in the first place, as the singer was assigned by Jon Snow to take up the role of recruiter that used to be Yoren’s. Yoren had other roles as well, including that of Arya’s protector. The first encounter she has with each of the two black brothers show us just how much Arya has changed. She thinks of Yoren:

He was stooped and ugly, with an unkempt beard and unwashed clothes. [...] The old man in his smelly black clothes was looking at her oddly, but Arya could not seem to stop talking.

While Arya can’t stop herself from rambling to Yoren, she has learned not to share all of her thoughts by the time she meets Dareon. This is the quote:

He is fair of face and foul of heart, thought Arya, but she did not say it

Also, in both this chapters she goes blind! “She was blind.” That sentence shows up exactly like that, word for word, in both chapters. Of course in AFFC she actually becomes blind, while in AGOT she is only in a really really dark room. But still. The wording! And structurally speaking, while the last pair of chapters starts and finish “in the same place”, now both of these chapters start with a more light-hearted tone to then plunge into really dark territory, literally and metaphorically, as Arya hears the threats to her family whispered in the dark in AGOT and kills Dareon to then goes blind in AFFC.

AGOT Arya IV / ADWD The Blind Girl:

Considering AFFC and ADWD as one long long book, Blind Girl is Arya’s fourth chapter. Arya’s fourth chapter in AGOT is the one in which she gets that all-important lesson when Syrio Forel tells her to “look with her eyes”. He also touches upon her other senses though:

“The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth."

Syrio says all that! And while Arya looks with her eyes in several moments of the story and this true seeing literally saves her life more than once, she never does explore her other senses that much… until she goes blind in ADWD. In The Blind Girl we get:

Hear, smell, taste, feel, she reminded herself. There are many ways to know the world for those who cannot see. [...] "You have five senses, learn to use the other four, you will have fewer cuts and scrapes and scabs"

Also, both chapters feature scenes where Arya in engaged in training with someone to improve her martial skills. While she practiced her needlework on her own all throughout ASOS, this is the first time she does so with someone else since Syrio in AGOT Arya IV! The way the two fights are described is incredibly similar, with the descriptions of rights and lefts and right and lefts, and the clacking sound of wood, her opponent “cheating” (coming from the “wrong” side) and there is a “sudden stinging” cut which catches her by surprise. It’s very very similar, go reread it if you don't believe me.

Another really important parallel regards skinchanging: in Arya’s fourth chapter in AGOT, Arya is helpless after witnessing the horrors that took place at the Tower of the Hand. The narration tells us “she was only a little girl with a wooden stick, alone and afraid” (the wooden stick here is her practice sword). And than, to escape, she pretends she is chasing cats… “except she was the cat now”. I kid you not, this is the exact wording used. She is the cat now, and that is what empowers her to keep going. In ADWD, when Arya is most definitely LITERALLY just a little blind girl with a wooden stick, she actually skinchanges into a cat for the first time, and that is what finally empowers her against her mentor/abuser. She “becomes a cat” in both chapters

Also, it is in The Blind Girl chapter that we learn that “the Sealord is dying”, which is comparable (both from doylist’s and watsonian perspectives) to Robert Baratheon dying, exactly what happens around Arya IV. Now a bit of a stretch: in AFFC "The Merling Queen has chosen a new Mermaid to take the place of the one that drowned. She is the daughter of a Prestayn serving maid, thirteen and penniless, but lovely." I propose the new mermaid might stand in for Jeyne Poole. While the new Mermaid is the daughter of a Prestayn’s serving maid, and we know Prestayn be a noble house, Jayne is the daughter of the Stark’s steward. Petyr Baelish, who is connected with the braavosi galley The Merling King, takes charge of Jayne, who is then a twelve year-old.The “Mermaids” are actually described to be “young maidens in the blush of their first flowering who hold [the Merling Queen’s] train and do her hair”. Of course, same as the Mermaids are being trained to become courtesans, Jeyne will be trained in a brothel to become Ramsay’s bride.

AGOT Arya V / ADWD The Ugly Little Girl: Okay, so Arya V makes me sad from the very first line to the very last. The situation is hopeless, Arya is helpless. King’s Landing is unwelcoming and claustrophobic, the people range from rude to downright mean. The people of the city likely look at her with suspicious eyes, and as much as Arya has told us she loved nothing more than to be underfoot and mingle with the common people of Winterfell, the experience in King’s Landing is traumatizing, and it ends with her father beheaded. Oh joy. In A Dance with Dragons the waif describes how people will react to the ugly little girl Arya will become after she changes her face for the first time:

"Women will look away when they see you. Children will stare and point. Strong men will pity you, and some may shed a tear."

For reasons very different than a destroyed face, this sounds very similar to what Arya experiences in King’s Landing. I find the overall tone of The Ugly Little Girl chapter to be rather analogous to that of Arya V. Arya is in the HoBaW because is certain she has nowhere else to go. Life is easier now than when she was blind, but she doesn’t feel very comfortable – and yet goes through with all that is asked of her. Though not helpless anymore, she is more hopeless than ever before. She experiences physical pain and nightmares; she is questioned and constantly told she doesn’t have what it takes to be in the only place that has been a steady roof over her head in years.

Before undergoing her magical transformation in ADWD, Arya is given a tart drink. This is the quote:

She drank it down at once. It was very tart, like biting into a lemon. A thousand years ago, she had known a girl who loved lemon cakes. No, that was not me, that was only Arya.

In AGOT Arya V, we get this:

Arya would have given anything for a cup of milk and a lemon cake,

In fact, lemons come up very scarcely in Arya’s whole story. She only thinks about the fruit in her inner monologues in Arya V and The Ugly Little Girl, both times prompted from external stimuli (there is the lemon tart she could not steal moments before she wishes for the lemon cake in AGOT, and the magical tart drink she is given in The Ugly Little Girl). The word comes up a handful of times in A Storm of Swords while Arya is in the company of Lem Lemoncloak, but the fruit not so much.

Another parallel between this pair of chapters comes in the form of Arya’s target, the binder salesman. The man Arya targets for the faceless men in ADWD is described in a way that calls back to Petyr Baelish (pointed beard, thin lips) and Yoren (a hard face, mean eyes, crooked shoulders), both of which Arya encounters in her fifth chapter in AGOT.

Eddard Starks beheading is a moment full of similarities to Arya’s “defacing” by the kindly man. This is from AGOT Arya V:

The old man shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Shut your mouth and close your eyes, boy." Dimly, as if from far away, she heard a… a noise… a soft sighing sound, as if a million people had let out their breath at once.

and this is from ADWD The Ugly Little Girl:

"Sit," the priest commanded. She sat. "Now close your eyes, child." She closed her eyes. "This will hurt," he warned her, "but pain is the price of power. Do not move."

And of course what follows her closing her eyes in AGOT hurts much more deeply than having her forehead slashed. In A Game of Thrones, Arya opens her eyes to finally recognize Yoren. He then giver her Needle back, and drags her to a doorframe where he cuts her hair to give her a new identity, that of Arry. This is the quote from Arya V:

As the blade flashed toward her face, Arya threw herself backward, kicking wildly, wrenching her head from side to side, but he had her by the hair, so strong, she could feel her scalp tearing, and on her lips the salt taste of tears.

and this is the quote from The Ugly Little Girl:

She sat unmoving. The cut was quick, the blade sharp. By rights the metal should have been cold against her flesh, but it felt warm instead. She could feel the blood washing down her face, a rippling red curtain falling across her brow and cheeks and chin, and she understood why the priest had made her close her eyes. When it reached her lips the taste was salt and copper.

That's it! If you are interested in a more in-depth analysis check my original post from (five!!) years ago .

#arya stark #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #a feast for crows #a dance with dragons #book!arya #arya stark meta #a game of thrones

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startanewdream · 1 month

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trace, for @jilymicro-oops (I should have posted this yesterday AND it should have been fewer words, so double oops). Titanic AU. Rated M for 'draw me like one of your french girls' mention. 1697 words.

She finds him in the third class deck, sitting by one of the benches that face the ocean, his face all wrinkled not because of the sun rising right in front of him, but because he seems concentrated. For a moment, Lily just watches his profile, all the details she noticed the night before but only now she can fully absorb: his dark hair, sticking out at the back of his neck and messy in the strong cold wind; his tanned skin, glistening under the sun; the muscles of his arm, visible through his white cotton shirt; the shape of his full brown lips, spotting dimples at the corner as if he has just thought about something amusing; and the power of his hazel eyes, framed by his glasses, now favouring more green spots than brown, as he turns his face to find her admiring at him.

No, not admiring, that would be improper.

Lily is just… curious. This stranger who saved her life the day before sparked curiosity, the first thing that Lily remembers feeling in a long time.

“Mr. Potter,” she says, nodding her head in a small bow, for once as gracefully courteous as her sister always tells her to be — except Petunia would never approve of her current company, but that’s a thought that Lily pushes to a forgotten corner of her mind.

“It’s James,” he corrects her, and then he bows as well, a smirk on his lips that displays his dimples. “Miss Evans.”

“Lily,” she says at once; someway, properness seems dispensable near him.

“Lily,” repeats James slowly. She likes the sound of her name on his voice, which seems as dangerous as the ocean below them — that’s also a thought that she pushes away, though not for a place that she will forget easily. “Should you be here?”

A fair question, but James doesn’t sound accusing nor does he seem unfavorable to her presence. Perhaps he is just as curious about her as she feels about him.

“Probably not,” she admits. “But I’ve been known for doing things I shouldn’t.”

His gaze sweeps upon her for a moment and Lily is suddenly aware of how well-tailored her dress is, embroidered with tiny gold pieces; her skin seems too ivory, too soft compared to his — she remembers very well how calloused and strong his hands had felt the night before when he was holding her.

But James doesn’t look repelled. “I don’t think anyone could force you to do anything,” he says.

Her heart skips a beat; everyone always seemed to look through her, seeing what they wanted her to be, not who she truly was.

That’s not a feeling she has with James. Not after what he did last night — and that's the reason she sought him that morning, in the first place.

“Thank you,” she whispers, sitting next to him. His eyes widen. “For… yesterday. For saving me.”

“That was nothing,” he answers, a carefree smile on his lips. “You wouldn’t have jumped.” As Lily opens her mouth to discuss this, James shakes his head. “You wouldn’t—I told you, no one could force you to do anything.”

“Still. I might have slipped, though, so I am still thankful.”

He snorts, eyes shining for a moment. Lily likes it: there are wrinkles at the corner of his eyes now that tell her he laughs a lot. Is this the reason she feels so attracted to him?

But attraction is a dangerous thought, one that borders to close to things that Lily shouldn't be feeling — she’s already taking a large risk by seeking him in person, even though it could be reasonably explained as a show of gratitude —, so she finds herself lowering her gaze to the notebook on his lap.

“Wow.”

She’d thought he had been staring at the ocean, but now she realises that James had been watching a group of kids in the lower deck, playing with a ball; the drawing seems too vivid, as if she is reliving the moment rather than seeing a reproduction of the scene in chalk. There’s movement in the children’s faces, their silent laughs echoing through the doodle.

“This is amazing,” she says, lifting her eyes to find James strangely abashed for the first time since she has met him. His hand grabs his hair.

“It’s just a pastime. I am not a professional artist or anything.”

She extends her hand. “May I?”

He hesitates for a moment, but when his eyes meet hers, James offers her the notebook.

“I think you lied to me, Mr. Potter,” she says as she turns the page carefully, admiring each scene he drew—they all have the power to drag her inside as if she can be with whatever inspired him. “These are professional.”

He chuckles. “It’s not if I’m not being paid.”

“Well, but you are an artist. I had never seen anything like—oh.”

She pauses for a moment, fighting her sudden instinct of closing the notebook. It’s just a drawing, don’t be silly, she tells herself. A drawing of a naked woman, sure, but you have seen other paintings—naked female bodies were a common theme, loved by artists, so there was nothing improper in it, and still—

It was the way James drew that woman—as if he could capture the details that made the painting alive, not exactly perfect, but a body so real that she could almost touch it. The softness of the skin; the muscles and the fat layer of the body; every strand of hair; the secrets in her smile and the openess of her eyes; the curves of the woman.

“I am sorry,” James said, pulling her away from the drawing. “You shouldn’t have seen this—”

“This is art,” Lily says, grateful that her voice sounds calm.

“Still—”

“You are an artist,” she repeats. “So whatever inspires you—” And then a thought crosses her mind, something unpleasant. “Who is she?”

“Just a friend.”

“Hum.” She tries pursing her lips but finds herself asking anyway. “And is your friend aboard the ship?”

His eyebrows raise, pupils widening as he understands what she is asking. “No, no, she is in France—I mean, she is French, so I think she is in France, I don’t really—this is just a drawing, we were never—I’m not paid, but I am very professional when it comes to drawing, except—”

“Except?”

He flushes, carefully avoiding her gaze now.

“I should go,” he says, standing up. “Find my friends. And you—you should go back.”

“Ah, yes, but—” She isn’t sure of what to say, but finding words seems unnecessary. As James rushes to grab his briefcase, he drops it open; with the wind, a piece of paper flies away, and Lily catches it easily, only to find her own face staring back.

It could be a mirror, only she is not sure she has ever seen her reflection standing so strong, so fierce. James captured all the details that Lily fears she has given up showing to the world a long time ago — no one was ever interested in her curiosity, in her spark, in her desire to face the world. Snape wanted the perfect bride, Petunia wanted her to save their family income, and Lily had hidden herself so well in a seashell form of herself that she had almost thrown herself into the sea the night before, only James had seen her.

Almost as she could see him now, could picture him all focused, his eyes watching her profile carefully from afar as he perfected his drawing.

“When did you paint this?”

He takes a moment to answer her. “Yesterday morning. I saw you in the deck and I—I’m sorry if you didn’t like it, I just—”

“Liked it? James, I am in awe. It looks as if you could trace me. Not just draw, as if you were outlining every detail, and this is—nobody has ever looked at me the way you do.”

“Perhaps they should be paying more attention then,” he whispers, and there is a light in his hazel eyes that draws her in. You are beautiful, he seems to say, and Lily feels so, for all the right reasons.

Her heart jumps inside her chest; she has never been this alive. “Maybe I could pose for you someday—hire your services.”

“I wouldn’t take any money—”

“It would be very professional,” she assures, standing up to join him by the rail. “Like it was with your French friend.”

“Then—oh.” His eyes move over her face as if he is trying to figure a difficult puzzle. “So you—ah—”

Lily blinks, suddenly aware of what she just proposed—she hadn’t considered the particularities of that drawing, and she is just about to tell him that, maybe brush it off with an embarrassed laugh, only…

Only she imagines herself walking into her room and finding James there, sitting patiently with his notebook and holding the chalk carefully as he waits for her; she lets her night robe fall on the floor, hears his breath cutting short, and walks naked to the bed, laying over the pillows and then lifting her gaze to meet James’ eyes.

He would be looking at her. Not through her.

The sound of the ship’s horn makes her jump.

“I should go,” she says weakly. Her face is burning; it’s not because of the morning sun, she knows. James nods, though he doesn’t move and neither does she. Lily forces herself to breathe. “Maybe we could meet this afternoon? I would like to know more about my saviour.”

This sounds innocent; it doesn’t add any meaning, though Lily can feel the tension in the air, can feel the goosebumps on her skin at the idea of James seeing her bare—drawing every curve, rejoicing in the intimacy of being so close to her—

“It would be my pleasure,” he whispers, and Lily wonders if he was picturing the same images.

But that’s a dangerous thought, one that she should only entertain in the depths of her heart — especially considering James is invited to join her sister and her fiance for dinner tonight—, so she forces herself to bow slightly at him and turn away.

#jily micro oops #1697 words or 697 words more than I planned for #Jily #From that Titanic AU that like the ship will not finish its voyage #not sure about the rate but hey my mother didn't let me fully watch titanic when I was a teen so that's my reason

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thegreatsylvando · 5 months

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A short little dotmunch fanfic i wrote, delving more into their bond & whatever powers munch might have. also posting here in case the link fails for whatever reason.

Dot is not outright paying attention to the commercials, but the banal jingles stick in her mind uncomfortably enough for her to note that a particularly annoying one has played four times. She has a headache that coffee and breakfast failed to soothe, but she can't muster any energy to switch the TV off and give her brain some reprieve from the light and sound. Wayne is at work. Scotty is at school. They have the house to themselves. When it's all four of them, it's a hearth in the darkness. She could never want for anything ever again. She even turned down Lorraine's offer to relocate them somewhere bigger and fancier. Dot was never one for showing off wealth. Not that she ever had it to begin with, but she always found Lorraine's castle garish and hollow; a museum that happened to have some beds and a kitchen. A trophy hall. She could never leave this house. It breathes with her, is scarred like her, is bent and broken in some places but patched up in others, where it matters. And when it's just her and the strange man with ancient eyes, she feels its tendons and capillaries bind to her own.

She decides not to call his name. He might get scared, or think she wants him to do something. She shuffles up to the guest bedroom, trying to dodge the places on the stairs that creak. He's almost deliberately quiet, in everything he does. When she fed him for the first time, he cried, but he did it silently, swallowing everything with each bite of pancake. She felt it anyway. The way the fork trembled in his hand magnetically resonated in her own. He held the rim of his plate delicately, but she noted the tips of his fingers were white with effort, as if he were trying to prevent his good fortune, this dream, from floating away. She watched his tears drip into the syrup, the muscles in his swollen throat working to make room, his jaw clenching sharply to keep it focused on nothing else but chewing.

He cleaned his plate and allowed for one singular moment to drop decorum, when he sucked some residual syrup off his thumb. Dot's insides twisted when she saw that, her own throat closing up at how innocent it was, and the deprivation it inferred. A ragged "thank you" clawed itself out, and he stood robotically to start helping her with the dishes. Wayne and Scotty were stirred momentarily from their chatter when they saw him looming in their peripherals. Scotty got right back to it, but Wayne's eyes lingered before resuming, the cadence in his voice implying a sort of desperation to uphold normality in the wake of this intimidating stranger he had no words for. Dot told him he didn't have to help, but he didn't seem to hear, instinctively reaching for the dishwashing liquid and sponge with the same stiffness. He did look at her, though. His eyes were bloodshot. The skin across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose were flushed, and, against every titanic ounce of effort he put forth, his bottom lip quivered like a little boy's. She squeezed his hand as tight as she could, keeping his gaze, hoping that through the tears he could see her seeing him. Her own welled up, and spilled over when he squeezed her hand back. The water softened his calluses, and their bony sharpness made them feel like that of an old woman.

She knocks on the door gingerly.

"Munch?"

She's surprised she was able to go this long without catching his attention. His senses seem so primal. He turns to look. Around his shoulders is a thick, washed-out-blue comforter. Instead of reclining on the bed, he's curled up in the corner it makes with the nightstand.

"Dot."

A fuzzy warmth pools in her belly.

"Whatcha doin' up here?"

He holds up a yellowed copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz she didn't know she had.

"...Reading."

Her ears perk up. She enjoys the way he speaks, the way he makes her name thicker with his pronunciation, though she has no idea how to articulate that. His voice is raspy, but marbly, purposeful, with the kind of crisp emphasis on each syllable that implied English was not his first language.

"Oh, yeah? That's a blast from the past. We should watch the movie sometime."

"...Movie?"

"Yeah. You ever seen a movie before?"

"...No."

A pause.

"I know what movies are."

Something about the way he says that, the unintentional attitude, almost makes her laugh. She nods, remembering when he told her he was very old without clarifying exactly what that meant. She chose not to pry any further. It was none of her business, and she probably wouldn't understand anyway.

His expression softens as she approaches to sit beside him; the beginnings of a smile in his eyes. He's wearing a loose charcoal t-shirt with a lighter gray thermal long-sleeved underneath and plaid pajama pants, courtesy of Wayne. Dot notices the soapy scent coming off him, mixed with what seemed to be the unwashable smell of age. Musky and slightly damp, but not unpleasant, as if he were an old house, too. It's a stark contrast to when she first invited him in a week ago, and there were no forces of weather or perilous circumstances to distract her senses. Immediately, she was hit by unwashed hair; sweat; clothes that smelled as if they were locked away in the dark for a long time; fresh dirt, but dirt nonetheless; and something coppery, not dank enough to be blood but not mundane enough to be pennies either. His skin was badly chapped, his lips split in multiple places, and she noticed he tucked his chin in when he deigned it necessary to speak, as if to hide his teeth. She watched his eyes dart around self-consciously, his bottom lip disappearing into his mouth to be gnawed at. The maneater with the sun at his back that pulled her up from the pit of rot was nowhere to be found. In his place, a lost child who does not speak the language of his saviors. Immediately, she felt her chest collapse in on itself. Please don't tell me I've already taught him shame. Thankfully, Wayne saved the day, clapping a hand onto Munch's shoulder.

"S-so, you're the guy, huh? I gotta say, um...thank you for your service. I...uh...I mean, th-thank you. For what you've done. You really, um--"

He takes a breath. Maneuvers into shaking Munch's hand after realizing he flinched from the clap.

"You saved my Dottie's life. Thank you."

Munch gave a curt nod, still a deer in headlights. The face of someone who'd never been congratulated for anything in his life. Dot suddenly felt her surroundings melt away. She was eight years old, in a verdant field, the summer breeze warming her neck. In front of her was a little boy, shaggy pale hair obscuring a dirty, gaunt face that was more shadow than skin, shreds of filthy cloth hanging on his shoulders and waist. She cocked her head, and he did the same. She raised her palm towards him, and he followed. The childlike glee of old bubbled under her skin, fireworks going off in her head. The boy interlocked their fingers, and she heard cheerful laughter somewhere in the distance. Before she could determine where it was coming from, the vision vanished, Munch's wide eyes locked onto hers. He blinked away. The base of her neck tingled. Somehow they both knew this was never going to be a one-time compensatory meal. There was a thread between them.

"You have many books. We have not had books in a long time."

She almost asks what a long time entails, but bites her tongue.

"Yeah, I see ya hoarding books whenever you can like a little squirrel. You show up in front of the bookcase and there's a big gap all of a sudden."

Munch looks like he's trying to figure out how the word "little" tastes.

"I...do not mean to steal."

"No, no-no-no-no-no, hon! You're all right! I'm just playing. I'm glad you're a bookworm. I see Scotty try, but she mostly stays on her computer."

Munch starts to smile, but sucks in his lip before his teeth can show, turning it into an awkward wince. She reaches to gently squeeze his shoulder.

"Don't be afraid to smile, hon. Everything here is yours, too."

He seems to embrace her with his eyes. They're heavy with longing, and gratitude. Too heavy to hold up. He looks back at the book cover blankly, curling up further into himself.

"We--I...am not afraid of you."

"I know," she whispers.

"You can talk to me about whatever you want. You know that, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. I don't want you to coop yourself up here because you don't wanna bother us or whatever."

"...I cannot just speak whenever I want to. Forgive me if I seem...ungrateful. The words stay in my head. Never become anything.

...But I feel. I feel...so much...and I...it is a stomachache. I have never been so full."

His voice cracks as he finishes, each word more deliberate than the last. She can feel the threads there too, making each letter longer and meatier, all of them held together by fleshy ropes of held hands that bloom from one palm to the next. She can't help but hug him, cradle his head into the crook of her neck. He shrinks into her.

"I wish I knew you when I was little. We could have played together. You'd have liked our farm. Lots of apples."

"Would have protected you."

"I know."

Then Dot blinks. She starts to ponder his tone, insistent and specific.

"From the wolves."

She flinches away from him. Fear stiffens his face, worried that he's scared her off for good.

"...How?"

He starts to take her hands, but stops before they touch, swallowing to ground himself and changing the look in his eyes to do what his hands cannot. Admirable, she thinks. An emotional maturity she truthfully, ignorantly, didn't think he possessed.

"...Things...are known to me. Other people's feelings. Their weaknesses, their strengths. Like they are on fire, and I can see it breathing around them. Changing color. Getting bigger, getting smaller."

Somehow, the explanation starts to comfort her. Thoroughly supernatural, delusionally magical, but an explanation, nonetheless.

"I...do not know why...but your fire..." He looks above and around her with reverence. A hand grazes the air for the proper words. "You...are the strongest. I can see you, hear you, have seen and heard you, from very far away. It came out at me when I--" He swallows again with discomfort, like he's tasting something bad. "--tried to hurt you. Gold, and black. After that, my head..." He knocks against his temple. "...pounded like there was another heart. And I learned that it was yours. You were everywhere."

Dot is not aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks until one drops onto her clasped hands. The wet sniffle that follows embarrasses her. Tigers don't cry.

"They tried to pay me to hurt you again. I was close-by, but I saw someone else's flame. I thought maybe I could try something else, try to ignore you. Hers...was liquid. Oozing around her in blue and gray, like ash. Her heartbeat reached out to me, too, but she did not know me. Not in this life." He taps the book cover with a sardonic wince-smile. "Once upon a time."

"Y-you know those things, too?"

"If I focus. Not very successful most of the time. But...this woman, she...when Munch was a boy, a very long time ago, she gave me water. And a potato from her garden. I was very sick. I had started to digest myself. But she gave me another chance. The water was clean. Not like water from the forest. And she washed the potato for me. Cut it up into small pieces. I did not expect her to know me now, but..."

But it still hurts, Dot thinks. Munch's face twists. His bottom lip trembles in that way again. She chooses not to acknowledge the fact that he seems to nod at her thoughts.

"She was killed...because of me. That...boy, that...creature, followed me and attacked her. I gave her money...for food. She went out...and I found her later, on the ground. Her head...cracked open--"

Munch hugs his legs, burying his face in his knees, rocking back and forth. A whine turns into an agonized groan, a child getting his first shot.

"Munch? Hey. Hey-hey-hey. No. No...look at me--Munch? Hon?" She starts to pry his arms apart, but they snap back to scratch at his scalp. She tries to force herself between his arms, but he begins to hit himself. "Don't do that, honey. Look at me." She clenches her belly instinctively, gathering the strength to fight his own, clawing at his shoulders and waist until she gets ahold of his wrists and worms her way in, and he eventually gives, hugging her back just as tightly, unloading what sounds like decades (centuries?) of pain and loss with the most ragged wheeze she's ever heard come out of a human being. Munch is tall, wiry, muscular in his thinness. He's all sharp edges and endless bony limbs, and yet the crooks of his joints melt into yarn. His hollow cheek squishes against her collarbone.

"Shh-sh-sh."

He cries so strangely, as if he's pulling a blade out of his diaphragm, and she shudders, not knowing what to do with all the blood. Closing her eyes tight, she flexes the muscles in her core again, breathes in, and relaxes, trying to make the words in her head as tangible as anything else in the room.

Can you hear me, hon? Can you feel me?

The next heavy breath is quieter, less abrasive on his throat.

They can't hurt us anymore. Its over.

Dot imagines the ribbons of her flame cloaking them both, binding them together.

You never have to be alone again. Just hold onto me.

They stay entwined for some time. Eventually, Dot weeps as well. There's a completeness here that she wouldn't be able to explain to anyone. Its not the way Wayne makes her feel, or what its like to comfort Scotty after a bad day at school. Its not a sexual or romantic fulfillment either -- couldn't be further from it. But Munch's skin and hair and even his stilted voice feel like her own. She thinks back to the vision of the boy in the field, recalling how similar he looked to her with his long hair and scabby knees, how their palms felt fused together.

"Can you read my mind, Munch?"

He sniffles. The fresh vulnerability in his voice, the way it rolls out with his head rested comfortably near her chest, makes her shiver. "...No. I feel people's intentions. Their emotions. I do not know what you are thinking. Just how you feel when you are thinking it.

Turn off the lights...for a moment."

"Yeah, sure." She reaches up for the lamp, surprised at how inky the darkness is at midday, even with the pulled curtains. Two faintly iridescent feline-like dots stare back at her. It takes her a second.

"This is what I am."

She can't hide the icy stab of fear that seizes her when Munch's voice matches them. Its immediately followed by viscous, acidic shame, then balmy fascination. In response, his cool hands slip into her own.

"...What happened?"

"...I've told you. I am very old. When Munch was a younger man, he would do anything not to starve. He would wait outside the houses of evil men, until they left or went to sleep. Then he would take their food. Most of the time, he would have to kill them. Learned to do it quietly after a while. When he was caught, he made a deal with the men in charge. He would live, but he would have to take on the sins of other men. When they died, bread and porridge were placed on their bodies. Prayers were said. Their sins were absorbed by the food. And we got to eat."

The ridiculousness of the ritual itself doesn't surprise Dot. She's never been a particularly religious woman and, after being with Roy, has not had much need to respect it.

"Many years. Many years. No one talks to us. They turn away or spit at our feet or throw things at us when we make ourselves known."

I would have killed them all, she thinks. Everyone in that damn village...or wherever he lived. The wives, the husbands, the kids. She doesn't care how unfair or cruel that sounds. Rage has been her friend longer than she's been a mother and wife. I would have fed them all to you.

Munch takes a moment to gather his thoughts. She remembers he can taste that bloodlust. This time, she doesn't feel exposed. The hair on the back of her neck bristles like a wartime cat.

"You are so angry for me," he says with a slight smile in his voice; part prideful, part touched, part in disbelief that someone could love him this much, or at all.

"I did kill them. The priests. The congregation. I finally got to watch them squirm, they way they did me. I ate the sins directly from their flesh, and got stronger each time."

Good, Dot thinks. Eat their eyes and lips and tongues and fingers. Everything they ever used to hurt you.

She blinks. Again, she is transported somewhere else entirely. The acrid funk of animal filth and poor hygiene is magnified by the flames licking the walls of the church. Someone knocked over a lantern in their scramble to escape, but the windows are too hot and broken to touch. The head priest lays shattered at her feet, screaming, his legs bent in unnatural directions. I'm saving you for last, she thinks. The moment the thought concludes, she lunges into the crowd, nails and teeth sinking into man, woman, whoever's unlucky enough to be caught. First come the layers of dirt and grime on their skin, but then the cartilaginous crunch of flesh and muscle, the savory salt of their blood and tears seasoning their meat, the pungent sour of their terror. Never has her stomach felt so empty, but so prepared. It roars, and she roars louder, her insides the sacred halls of a king, and her voice a war horn.

How much of this rage is his? How much of it is mine? Is there a difference anymore? Does it matter?

She jumps from one member to the next indistinctively. A cheek, a nose, a throat. The tendons of someone's hand as they try to push her off. Eyeballs snap in her mouth like fresh berries. Someone's brain matter smashes against the stone wall like a boiled yam. They all come apart with the ease of slow-cooked pork. She never realized how soft and tender human beings were. The blur of the slaughter starts to come into focus once the priest is truly defenseless, with no one to hide behind. His skin crackles with blisters from the heat, while she remains very much unscathed. Instead, the flames seem to coax her, comforting her with loving, delicate fingers. Mama. She starts with his arms, chewing into the muscle. The skin peels away like chicken fat. Her fingers easily sink into the priest's thighs, then his sternum. At some point, he'd finally screamed his throat raw, the only sound coming from him now the dumb, pained braying of dying cattle. She rolls the eyeballs around in her mouth, tracing the veins and residual tails of flesh with her tongue before swallowing them whole. Finally, she gets to the heart. Its rewardingly tough. The chambers are gummy. She giggles as they bounce against her molars almost playfully. A floodgate is opened, and the laughter is in full bloom. Mama's tickles don't help.

"Dot. Dewch yn ôl ataf. Fy chwaer fach."

She's back home. The air is crisp and clean. Munch is cupping her face, their foreheads touching. The edges of her mouth are sore from the laughter, and the feast.

"I did not mean for it to go that far."

"No, no. It's okay. It was...fun. I'm so proud of ya, hon."

"Dot. You must look at me."

"Munch, I'm fine. I swear."

Dot's eyes immediately sting when the lamp is switched back on. She admittedly feels a little less rabid. He looks down in shame.

"I only meant to share my memory. Not have you participate in it."

"You think I haven't felt that angry? You don't think I would have done that to Roy if I had the chance?"

"No. Did not mean it like that. I just...you have had enough inflicted upon you. Including myself."

"You can't do mind control, can you? Takin' over other people's thoughts?"

"I cannot."

"So? You didn't inflict anything on me. You wanted me to see through your eyes for a little. And if you can't control me, you can't pull me into your head against my will. I wanted to be there."

"...It was still a painful memory. I do not want to see you in pain."

"You told me before you weren't scared of me. What's so scary about you that doesn't already exist in me?"

He takes one of her hands, petting the back softly. She acquieses.

"...You would not say that if you knew how old I am."

"Try me."

A heavy pause. Then he looks up.

"...The memory you saw happened almost five hundred years ago."

It is, truthfully, shocking. But for some reason, Dot doesn't feel it. Maybe she will later. But if nothing about it stirs her now, she doubts it ever will.

"Stranger things have happened."

Munch cocks his head to the side. She caresses his cheek with her knuckles.

"I'm still proud of ya. You're the one who said you'd have protected me when I was little. Would you have helped me tear Roy into little pieces?"

"...I would."

"Well, there ya go."

Dot gets an idea. An image of Roy splayed out upside down on their old bed, spread-eagle. Munch is mounting him like a woman, kitchen knives buried deep in each pectoralis. Munch's lips and eyes are peeled back, his pupils shrunken to feral pinheads, his overcrowded, nicotine-tarnished teeth resembling fangs. Dot is at the foot of the bed with a toothy knife of her own, carving into Roy's neck. He splutters and gurgles stupidly as they bathe in his blood. She can see the inner meat of his throat snapping apart with each slice. Munch is hissing profanities in Welsh, riling her up enough that she abandons the knife halfway and starts to pull, slamming one foot flat against the edge of the bed for purchase. The sensation of her muscles digging as deep as anatomically possible for every ounce of strength she can muster is as exhilirating as it is exhausting. Her teeth clench so hard she thinks they might break. Her howls of effort erupt behind her eyes and billow into her brain. Roy's head finally snaps free, and she back to reality. Munch's eyes, aglow with encouragement, bore into her own.

"Some of that was you, ya know. On account of the Welsh."

He tries smiling again. "You knew it was Welsh."

"Only because you were in there with me." She taps the tip of his nose.

This was always me, you see, she thinks. This is what they made me. Its not evil or poisonous. They already showed their true colors when they sold me to keep the farm. When he touched me for the first time. When my menses was late. When he'd break and rebreak my bones after talking back. Everything I did, everything I became since then, was to protect myself. To survive. Just like you. And look at us now. We found each other. Against all odds. Against time itself.

She giggles as Munch rubs his forehead against hers like a cat. He raises her wrists against his eyes in veneration.

"C'mere, you." She pulls him in for another long hug, stroking his hair.

"Maybe you could teach me how to speak Welsh sometime."

"I have never taught anyone anything. I might not be good at it."

"Then we both can learn something. For example; what did you call me before?"

"Fy chwaer fach. My little sister."

#fargo fx #dot lyon #ole munch #idk if the Welsh is accurate #dont tag as ship

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cyberghu0l · 1 year

Text

Personal Nurse

Riri Williams × boxer!fem reader

After a long day of fighting, you come home to Riri so she can nurse you back to health.

You pulled into the parking garage of your apartment. Your hands released from the steering wheel, revealing blood on the black leather. "Shit." You cursed under your breath. The pain was manageable, but the hit to your rib wasn't. It wasn't every night you came home like this. Just some when your opponent decides to be a dickhead and tries to kill you. Too bad you still won.

You chuckled lightly reminiscing on the fight. He took two blows to the head, and one to the stomach and he was down. You grabbed your duffle from the back seat, and shut the door, locking it. The elevator dinged as it's metal doors opened, letting you in. You leaned up against the cold, metal wall and pressed the 6 button.

Once at your level, you stepped out. You walked carefully to your door and unlocked it. The second you walked in, the sound of cartoons could be heard from the living room. You smiled, knowing who would be waiting for you. You walked a couple feet and was met with your girlfriend wrapped up in a blanket watching 'Teen Titans Go!' She looked up after a couple seconds.

"Baby!" She jumped out the blanket and into your arms. You groaned as she hit your bruised rib. "Shit, Riri." She stepped back confused. "What's wrong?" "Just need some ice, that's it." You didn't want her to worry too much, so you were glad the only light was coming from the television. But since your girlfriend is amazingly smart, she turned on the light, allowing her to see all your wounds.

"Y/N! You're bleeding!" She moved your head slightly, examining you. "I know, I know." You never came home with injuries this bad and it scared her. "Go take a shower, okay? Then I'll put some bandages and ice on you." "Babe-" "Nope. Go." Riri knew you didn't like her taking car of you, because you didn't want to be a burden but she loved it.

While you showered, she took out the first aid kit and laid everything out. She sat on the toilet just in case you needed anything. The scientist watched as blood pooled the shower ground and went down the drain. It made her think just how many places you were bleeding from. Once you finished you put your curls in a towel, and wrapped your body in a robe.

"Sit." You looked at her questioning her sudden assertiveness. "Please?" You nodded and took her place on the toilet. "You're really banged up, what happened?" "He didn't even know what he was doing half the time, just punching anywhere." You laughed but stopped soon after you felt the sharp pain in your abdomen. This caused your girlfriend to let out a giggle.

You looked up at her as she disinfected a cut on your face. "You think my pain is funny?" She giggled even more. "No!" You put your hands on her waist and began to tickle her. She was able to break free from your grasp, though. "Stop moving so I can put this on you!" You held her waist as you stayed still so she can put bandages on your wounds. "Take off the towel." She pointed to the one on your head.

"Riri, I'm not bleeding from my-" She took the opportunity to take it off herself and show you the white towel that now had a splash of red to it. "Fuck." She moved your hair and put some ointment on the wound. "Let me see your rib." You opened the robe exposing your purple and blue abdomen. She poked it lightly causing you to wince in pain.

"Girl! You're supposed to be the smart one here!" You yelled at your girlfriend. She laughed. "Sorry I couldn't help myself." You shook your head and followed her to the kitchen for an ice pack. "Go lay down." She directed you. You obeyed as you laid down on the couch, observing the television. She placed the cold ice pack under your robe. The sensation brought pain, but also relief.

She then brought you a mug of hot coco. You smiled as she fixed herself next you in her blanket again. "All better?" She turned to you. "No, I'm missing one more thing. I think I might die without it." You made a dramatic face throwing your head back. Riri laughed as she pecked your soft lips. "Now I'm okay." She rolled her eyes playfully and averted back to her cartoons.

had to do a Riri fluff just because🧎🏾‍♀️putting the two part Riri series on hold for right now and decided to finish a Shuri series, i started it a while ago and thought it was dumb, but ive been making changes to it so expect to see some Shuri angst🙊

#riri williams x reader #riri williams #mcu riri williams #black reader #black panther #riri williams x fem!reader #black y/n #mcu black panther #lgbtq #wlw concepts #riri williams fluff

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amberlide · 1 month

Text

Series: I will love you in all your forms (A series of AU where Garreth and Penelope will meet each other under different circumstances)

Salt and Seaweed

Summary: Pirate Captain Rookwood arrives to celebrate the Queen's birthday, bearing a special gift for her aquarium: a merman who can transform into a man. Garreth's fate seems to be sealed, destined to swim endlessly in a tank for the entire court to see.

Unless someone helps him escape…

Part 1 of 2 Part 2

AO3 link

Paring: Garreth Weasley x Penelope Griffith Merman AU Rating: T Word count: 3.6K Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, Rookwood is a Pirate (so what?), Garreth Weasley as merman.

A/N: a self indulgent fiction for my pirate heart, a last share before I leave :) Special thanks to my lovely beta reader Shivvy ^^

Penelope rolled the sleeve of her dress up to her elbow and leaned on the table, carefully avoiding plunging the cloth into the bowl of punch in front of her. Her wobbly image reflected in the ornate vase holding a massive centerpiece.

The strain in her hazelnut eyes behind her glasses was evident, as she extended her arm to grab a white daffodil from the composition.

The heavy head of the bloom rested on its stalk, threatening to fall onto the tablecloth. She couldn't let that happen—the Queen would be furious if she noticed such a trivial detail out of place, especially at her birthday party!

And as a florist, Penelope was determined to make sure her arrangements were flawless, even though the celebration was already underway, with the lively chatter of guests enjoying food all around her.

As Penelope's small fingers reached the bloom, she felt the velvety texture of its soft petals. A proud smile spread across her lips. She had spent years breeding the daffodils to achieve the perfect creamy color that her majesty loved so much. And over three months, she had battled the salty air and humidity of the island to grow enough blooms for all the centerpieces.

That pesky little bloom would not ruin her titanic efforts!

Stretching as much as possible, grunting in discomfort, she finally managed to grab it.

"Why are you stealing? Again?"

Penelope flinched as the flower slipped from her fingers, landing in the punch bowl. Its creamy petals turned red together with one of the laces of her corset. She cast a regretful look at the bloom, which gently navigated the sticky, fruity drink, then she retrieved the lace, trying to clean it up.

The courtiers were already so deep into their festivities, they would never notice the flower, most likely, they would drink it up with the punch.

"I'm not stealing," Penelope mumbled.

She wasn't so foolish as to repeat the same mistake twice, and she didn't like being reminded of such a shameful episode.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face her friend, who was looking at her with eyebrows raised so high they nearly reached her hairline. Her mahogany hair was meticulously parted and curled in the most elegant style, as expected from the Queen’s personal beauty assistant.

"Pen, we've been working hard for months. Can't we just enjoy tonight?"

Sacharissa reached for Penelope's hand with a tentative smile, her green eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"I'm coming, Ris. Just let me check the last table first," Penelope retreated as she gathered her gown and quickly made her way through the courtiers toward the final composition before her friend could stop her.

Unlike Sacharissa, she didn't like being amidst such a huge crowd. She preferred the solitude of her greenhouses, where she could carefully tend to her plants and hide her face, marred by acne scars from her teenage years.

She had always felt so ugly compared to the clean, smooth faces of the Queen's maids, and not even Sacharissa's beauty poultices had really helped.

Perhaps they would work if she actually cared to scrub her face with them.

Shaking her head, Penelope reached for the last composition. The flowers were perfectly arranged in their vase. With a satisfied sigh, she turned, searching for a place to hide.

The guests around her, unfazed by her scurrying around, and still sated from the recent meal, lazily awaited the conclusion of the Queen's gift-opening ceremony before beginning the dances in the adjacent room.

Penelope slipped among them until she reached her spot and idly leaned against one of the massive sculptured columns at the side of the central nave. She deftly moved her hands behind her back and pressed her sweaty palms on the cool surface, relishing the refreshing feeling. As the chatter of the guests lowered, her spinning head rested on the sturdy marble, trying to gather the strength to stay awake after the hearty dinner.

Despite her summer dress concealing her sticky skin, she was still sweating under all those layers. Her mind was set on fetching a cold drink and sipping it on the balcony of her little room, reading some book enveloped in the peace and quiet of the night.

But duty held her in place.

She drew in a long breath, hoping to dissipate the mist in her tired mind; the ceremony wasn't finished yet.

The air was still heavy with the lingering scents of the lavish banquet, the fresh and tangy tones of the finest of wines mingling with the spicy aromas of honey-dipped meat and grilled fish. Even the gentle summer breeze blowing in from the open windows, carrying salty and fresh notes from the sea, couldn't quite dissipate them.

Twirling a lock of brown hair that had escaped her simple hairstyle in her finger, Penelope's attention was captured by the roaring announcement of the crier followed by the booming opening of the doors and the irregular clicking of booted feet.

She rose her gaze, curiosity piqued.

Limping beneath the bright chandeliers that adorned the hall's high vaulted ceiling, a tall man strode forward. Despite his injury, his gait exuded pride and arrogance, his gaze locked with the Queen's in a daring stare.

He cleared his throat, his confident gaze sweeping around the crowd gathered before him. A hint of a smile curled the corners of his chapped lips, hidden under a bushy brown mustache and a badly shaven beard.

As a flock of excited and inquisitive eyes turned to him, his attention remained solely on her majesty.

She sat atop her throne, draped in a pink summer dress adorned with frills and puff sleeves—a stark contrast to the displeasure etched on her features. Her dark blue eyes, cold and relentless as stormy sea waves, met his gaze with unwavering intensity.

Penelope, observing from her corner, noted the restless movement of her small, white teeth as she nervously chewed her bottom lip.

"If she's keeping munching like that, there will be no cream in this realm to straighten her wrinkles, I told her to keep a straight face," the quick remark made Penelope chuckle, as her friend approached her. Sacharissa slouched on the other side of the column, bringing a hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture.

"Ris, one day you'll be locked up for treason. Her Majesty will find out you're just mocking her."

Sacharissa rolled her eyes, and waved her hand as if swatting the thought away.

"By the way, who's the gentleman? I never saw him, surely he has some nerve, presenting himself in that attire at the Queen's birthday," she murmured, raising an eyebrow, her tone low, hiding a tinge of worry despite her usual smugness.

Penelope shot a glance at the man through the odd hairstyles of a few ladies blocking her view; he was just raising up from a bow, inflating his chest to start his speech. She shook her head, she wasn’t sure what it was, but the shiver down her spine didn't suggest anything good.

"Your Majesty," his raspy voice with his thick, foreign accent resonated in the throne room, powerful and thundering, his authoritarian tone making it clear he was a man used to commanding and leading. A tough opponent for her highness.

Immediately the crowd shushed, their attention heightened.

"A pirate," thought Penelope, eyeing the tattered clothes of the man, from his tricorn hat to his shin-long iron heel-reinforced boots. His blue weather-beaten coat, completely worn at the elbows, couldn't hide the stains on his loose, sweaty shirt carelessly open on the front showing a muscled and hairy chest adorned with few deep scars.

Despite not carrying any weapon, the belt across his chest and the sash around his waist were completed with empty sheaths of what seemed to be multiple knives, a cutlass and surely a firearm of some sort.

Penelope could just imagine a knife hidden in his boots.

Her eyes trailed up again, and as the man opened his arms, she noticed a flower lodged in the front pocket of his coat.

She scoffed, recognizing one of the white daffodils from her compositions; that moron really stole one of them?

Of course he did; he was a pirate, after all.

Anyway, it didn't help his appearance, or what Penelope could only imagine was his awful smell. How he had managed to enter the throne room where they were celebrating was a conundrum she was curious to solve.

The man seemed remarkably at ease in this environment, and the Queen didn't flinch at his presence, keeping her gaze fixed and her hands steady on the armrest of her throne. They must have met before.

But where there was a pirate, there was a crew, and judging from the nervous glances exchanged between the guards at the door, there were likely more waiting outside.

"I bring a gift for the birthday of our majestic and benevolent queen," the man removed his hat and bowed deeply, so deeply that the tip of his nose almost brushed the shiny marble floor. Despite his deference, he didn't break eye contact.

His eyes gleamed maliciously under his brows. As he straightened up, the entire court glanced at the Queen, who simply nodded with a curt, nervous tick of her chin. Her neck was constrained by the white collar around it, another of Sacharissa's tricks to torment her.

The man smiled, a speck of gold glinting in his mouth. As he did so, the long scar trailing down from his left eye to his throat quirked, making his face even eerier.

Suddenly, he turned and raised his arm, bringing his rough fingers—thumb and index—to his tanned and leathery face. He put them in his mouth and let out a powerful, ear-shattering whistle.

"Bring the gift!" he roared, his voice booming in the silent hall.

Immediately, the main door swung open, and eight men, divided into two groups wearing similarly worn-out attire as their captain, made their entrance. One group carried a pedestal of some sort, while the other bore what appeared to be a coffin covered with a long black cloth.

"A treasure chest?" Sacharissa leaned towards Penelope, covering her mouth with her hand.

Penelope squinted her eyes, adjusting her glasses, a treasure chest couldn't be that long and surely wouldn't splash around, as the men advanced in the center of the room leaving a trail of water behind them.

Was it an aquarium? The Queen was fond of tropical fish and always eager to add more to her collection.

A new rare specimen would be the perfect gift for her.

The pedestal was soon adjusted and the coffin on top of it, then the men halted in the center of the hall and waited for more instructions with their hands behind their back, squaring their shoulders and casting smirking looks at the court.

The pirate stood in front of the coffin with a confident smile, his dark eyes gleaming.

He surely was ready for some performance.

"Your majesty, because of the benevolence you bestow upon us, I, Captain Rookwood, want to repay you with a gift that you will find undeniably precious due to its rarity., which rarity you'll find undeniably precious."

The revelers held their breath as the man snatched the black cloth and it slid down revealing a fish tank full of water.

Time seemed to stop as the eyes of the whole court were glued to the tank and its marvelous contents. They held their breath and gaped in astonishment, the haziness from the dinner now completely gone.

Penelope widened her gaze, she couldn't believe her eyes and quickly cleaned her glasses on her dress.

She had heard of such creatures, but actually seeing one?

In fact, in the tank, laying down on the smooth surface there was…

"A merman!"

"It's a merman!"

The voices around the court rose in waves, whispering in agitation, buzzing like bees in overcrowded hives. It was indeed a merman.

Penelope shook her head and blinked in disbelief, fascinated by the captivating view, Sacharissa next to her cussed under her breath repressing a gasp. The young woman's utmost surprise was soon replaced by a sense of anguish and pity.

It was a great gift, but what a price!

The creature was astonishingly beautiful, with a long, sinuous tail, covered in greenish and bluish scales, gleaming under the flickering candles and reverberating in a kaleidoscope of different hues, magnified by the glass.

The transparent fins at the tip were gently swaying in the water, but it was obvious the tank was too small for the poor creature since it was all constricted and contorted in the confined space with his arms squashed against the crystal surface.

The tail became thicker as it enveloped the bottom part of the merman and the scales didn't stop there, but trailed up his waist, adorning his stomach and his arms. As they reached his broad chest, they became rarer, scattering like smaller pebbles or seashells on a white beach.

Penelope's eyes finally traveled up to his face. He was of a stunning beauty, chiseled features on pale skin, contrasting with red, vibrant hair, floating gently in the water like anemones in the current. She couldn't discern his eyes, but he held a downcast expression that made her heart ache.

He wasn't happy to be there for sure, to be on display for everyone to see, like a prey amidst rabid predators.

Having caught everyone‘s attention, Captain Rookwood locked gaze with the Queen once more, and circling the tank started to explain how they had captured him, his voice exuding insufferable arrogance. It was a very upsetting story about a wild chase around some islands in the middle of a sea teeming with monsters and after days they had managed to finally seize him.

Judging from the size of the merman's tail, Penelope could only imagine how powerful it was under water, surely Rookwood and his crew didn't have an easy time chasing him.

The captain told his tale with a complacent look, finally hinting at the injury on his leg, just to add a dramatic touch. He then reached the point of the tank where the face of the merman was pressed against the glass, his breath forming a cloud of steam against the cold surface, red cuts under his throat —his gills— gaping in the stale water.

Penelope wondered if he had enough oxygen in the tank, noting the absence of even a trace of algae. She was used to understanding other creatures' needs at first glance, just as she did with her plants.

"And this is not the only surprise I have," Rookwood's smirk widened in a toothy golden grin that made Penelope's skin crawl. That wasn't the end of the show, a show the pirate was surely well accustomed to.

The captain knocked on the tank, keeping his eyes glued on the Queen's face.

As he did so, he took a step back, the front glass panel of the tank tipped over and the water rolled down with a splash, eliciting cries of surprise from the surrounding crowd, who promptly retreated.

The room soon filled with the briny scent of sea water, laced with a tinge of sour, while everyone was busy protecting themselves from the splashes, with the ladies gathering their skirts up their ankles and the men saving their shiny boots.

Penelope felt the sole of her shoes drenched, and she carefully raised on tiptoe to shift position, while Sacharissa next to her was straining herself from cussing out loud.

They both exchanged a look of exasperation: those were their only good clothes, prepared for the occasion, and surely they weren't keen on ruining them.

When Penelope's gaze finally returned to the tank, she couldn't believe her eyes: the merman wasn't there anymore.

In his place there was a young man in his twenties. A naked, afraid and handsome man.

He was crouched on the ground with his hands braced to the marble floor for support, casting careful and anguished looks around.

Shivering lightly, with drops from the tank rolling down his tense body, catching the flickering candlelight. His long tail wasn't there anymore, replaced by a pair of muscular legs, with thick thighs, as if the scales had melted once out of the water.

His vibrant red hair was now plastered to his face, reaching his neck in soft tendrils and framing his pale face with wide eyes which darted around filled with fear and uncertainty.

Where scales had once been, his skin was now covered in a myriad of freckles scattered all over his body. To Penelope's dismay, bluish, eerie bruises and charred scars marred his skin together with the soft spots.

Her heart sank, and she had to steady herself, bracing against the column in an attempt to not faint as blood rushed to her head, causing a dizzying feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.

Despite her weakness, Penelope forced herself to stand still. As she raised her gaze again, she sensed the young man's embarrassment amidst the hungry stares of the court. Whispers grew louder, with guests openly judging his naked form and making remarks that veered from appreciation to blatant insult.

At one nod from the captain, one of the men took him by the arm, urging him to stand up. As he hoisted him, the merman’s legs trembled violently; he wasn't used to them and he seemed exhausted, the weight of his body pressing down on them. However, the pirate paid no heed; he prodded the young man's flank, prompting a gasp as he struggled to stand upright.

His forlorn look deepened, his eyes betraying a mix of anguish and resignation, as if he had long since given up hope of escape.

Penelope bit her lip and averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing, while the ladies in front of her exchanged coquettish giggles and winking glances behind their fans.

Disgusted by their attitude, she turned toward the Queen, who was unfazed by the young man's nudity as she studied his features intently.

The captain surely knew how to captivate her interest.

"Does it speak?" Finally, the Queen asked.

'It', Penelope's stomach turned as she clenched her hands in tight fists; she was treating him like one of her pets already.

Undoubtedly, she was already dreaming of throwing him into her aquarium and watching him swim in the confined place, only to fish him up every now and then to entertain her court. As she did with all of them.

He would certainly be a fine show for the grumpy ambassadors of foreign lands.

"It doesn't, your majesty. It has never spoken to us, but it surely can sing, as one of my men swears to have spotted him while singing," replied Captain Rookwood confidently.

At his gesture, one of his men brought him a whip, and unwinding it, he gripped its leathery handle. "Let's see if we can make it sing for you, my Queen," he tilted his head with a malicious, slanted smile.

Penelope's heart ached, foreseeing what was going to happen.

The young man's skin, with all his cuts and bruises, told a tale too easy to guess.

"Sing," Rookwood commanded, his voice booming in the high vaulted ceiling of the hall, but the merman remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground, his sopping red hair hanging down, covering his face.

As the whip hissed, Penelope turned her head, closing her eyes and bracing herself. The air froze around her as another sharp blow was delivered and everybody around her held their breath.

It felt like winter now and the festive atmosphere of the lavish banquet was long gone, eclipsed as swiftly as the tide recedes from the shore.

Her stomach was now heavy with dread rather than food and she felt nausea threatening to overwhelm her.

"Pen, he's not hitting him," Sacharissa whispered into her ear.

Penelope raised her eyes, following the scene in front of her with bated breath and a parched mouth, drier than the sand. Surely, the captain wouldn't dare to ruin the Queen's gift, but by the way the young man was shivering, it was clear he was accustomed to tasting the leather of the whip on his skin—the marks on his body told a clear tale. Additionally, he seemed terrorized by it, his broad shoulders shrinking, keeping his eyes low, concentrating on the slippery floor as if he wished to melt into the pool at his feet.

As the Captain spoke again, urging the men to walk, he slipped on the floor and before he could regain his balance, the pirate hit him, this time for real. The echo of the whip hitting skin was only surpassed by the sound of a sword slipping from the grasp of one of the guards next to the entrance.

Penelope locked eyes with the embarrassed guard, his brown eyes full of resentment under the helm. She knew she wasn't the only one revulsed by the situation.

As Rookwood kept talking, Penelope realized she couldn't bear it any longer. Gathering her gowns, she took a step forward. "Ris, do you still have that sleeping draught of yours?" her voice barely leaving her lips.

"Of course, it's in the first drawer of the dresser next to the window," Sacharissa murmured. "Don't finish it, I'll need it," she added, casting a weary look at the scene in front of her. Maybe the thought of dancing the night away wasn’t that appealing anymore.

Penelope nodded, and with a final greeting, she swiftly left the room.

As she passed the door, the guard from before exchanged a knowing look with her.

#hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #garreth weasley fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley merman #amberlide writes

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dc-said-bi-robin-rights · 6 months

Text

Rose is beautiful, Cassie thought. It was the only thing she could think, with the way her head was pounding, with the way her lungs felt like are were they are going to explode.

Rose was sitting up in bed, her head pillowed by the arm she’d casually placed between it and the headboard, looking blissfully unaware of Cassie’s inner turmoil. Her silky white hair, which shone silver under the moonlight, was splayed across her shoulders, sweaty and slightly frizzed in a way Cassie found intoxicating. A thin cigarette was held lightly between her index and middle fingers, and every so often Rose would leisurely bring it to her mouth and take a slow puff, like she wasn’t even dazed, like she hadn’t just fucked Cassie’s brains out and left her panting like she’d just run a marathon. It was maddening, it was hot as hell, and Cassie…

Cassie needed to say something. She’d been staring way too long not to. She’d look like a total freak if she didn’t spit something out now… not to mention she’d rather die than continue living knowing Rose Wilson had had the satisfaction of rendering her speechless.

“How are you not tired?” Cassie asked, because it was honestly ridiculous that she wasn’t.

“I’ve got a lot of energy,” Rose said, a smirk in her voice. That wasn’t new—Rose was as smug as they came, and took great pleasure in rubbing every little thing in everyone’s face. She was so lucky Cassie found the infuriating little superhuman attractive, because otherwise Cassie would never put up with it… not that she did, but still.

“Uh huh,” Cassie scoffed, reaching out for the bottle of water on the nightstand. “And that would have nothing to do with your father’s serum, I’m guessing.”

Rose’s smirk only widened. Cassie made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, keeping her eyes on Rose even as she gulped down the contents of her water bottle. Almost against her will, they drifted lower and lower, finally settling on the thin sliver of nakedness not covered by the thin, wet sheet for less than a moment before Cassie forced them. It was too late though: Rose had seen, if the way her smirk widened even more was any indication, and Cassie’s cheeks flushed scarlet even as she looked away, scowling.

I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face one day, I swear.

“Like what you see, wonder witch?”

“I…” All of a sudden, Cassie couldn’t even summon the energy to pretend to be annoyed. A wave of desire surged through her body, but this time it was different than the one that had pushed Cassie into this situation in the first place—instead of wanting another round, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to hold Rose, or to have Rose hold her. This was familiar, but Cassie felt her stomach drop all the same. She knew it was only natural to feel those kinds of desires after sex, but… why did it have to be with Rose? Conner was safe enough to snuggle up with… but, she and Rose had never… would Rose even want that? Would she snuggle her back? Or would she think Cassie was some lame, sentimental crybaby who couldn’t handle them just being casual hookups?

Did she even care what Rose thought?

The answer, uncomfortably, turned out to be yes. Yes, she did care what Rose thought about her, and about their relationship, even if she knew she shouldn’t, Rose being who she was.

Well… only one way to find out, I guess.

Without saying a word, she slowly shifted over to Rose and, equally as slowly, laid her head on her chest. She felt Rose stiffen beneath her… but she didn’t push her off, and a moment later Cassie heard the cigarette being pinched out. They stayed like that for a while, silently, until Cassie eventually felt Rose’s hand slide over her stomach and settle there.

“What does this mean?” Rose’s voice was careful, quiet, and impossible to read.

“I think…” Cassie closed her eyes. “I think I’m starting to love you, Rose.”

The hand on her stomach retreated as quickly as it had settled there, snatched away as if her body had suddenly lit on fire and scalded it. Cassie started, alarmed, but Rose drew back from her. She looked stricken, and confused… and something else. “You don’t.”

“I…”

“Whatever you’re feeling right now… it’s not real, okay?” Rose almost sounded… angry. “Trust me.”

“Rose…” There were many things that one could call Cassie Sandsmark, but an idiot was not one of them. “If this is because of what happened with Eddie…”

She knew she’d messed up even before Rose’s lips twisted into a snarl. Eddie wasn’t a word anyone was allowed to say in Rose’s hearing yet, least of all Cassie. It was just too raw. They’d agreed on that, in a wordless, unacknowledged sort of way, when this all started.

And now Cassie had broken that agreement.

“I don’t need this,” Rose said, kicking away the sheets and standing up. If it had been any other time, Cassie might have noticed the angelic glow of her hair, or the way the moonlight backlit her curves and figure. “I don’t need you.”

“Rose, wait,” Cassie breathed, grabbing onto her wrist. “I didn’t mean to…”

Rose snatched her hand away, and Cassie had no choice but to let her. The door slammed shut a moment later, and Cassie felt stupid, pointless tears come to her eyes. She’d born her heart out to Rose yet again, only to find it callously, selfishly stomped on yet again.

For the life of her, she can’t even remember why she expected it to be different this time. After all, it was Rose.

That’s who she was. Selfish.

#rose wilson #ravager #dc #dc comics #rosecassie #cassie sandsmark #cassierose #teen titans #wonder girl

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graysongayson · 2 years

Text

this is a character analysis about terra based directly on the symptoms of bpd she exhibits. i am not a professional whatsoever, just someone who really enjoys studying psychology, ESPECIALLY bpd (and yes i do have bpd). if any of this text is misinformed, please tell me!

the trigger warnings for this text are:

- self hatred

- self destructive behaviors (no physical self harm though)

- grooming & general manipulation of a teenager

- children being experimented on (brief reference to terra's past)

a few more notes before we begin:

- sorry if this text treats you like you know nothing about terra it was originally written for my friends who had never watched teen titans before

- i am using the backstory she has in the teen titans (2003) wiki

- the little numbers (¹, ², etc) mean that there's a footnote attached to the sentence! i recommend reading the attached footnote before you progress with the paragraph! (lmao sorry for these this is kind of an old analysis and i should eventually fix these footnote things to make it smoother to read)

- splitting is a thing borderlines do where you flip from idolizing someone and putting them on a pedestal (splitting white) to hating them with a burning passion (splitting black)

- fp stands for favourite person (NOT the same as someone without bpd's "favourite person" as in a best friend or something, this is a whole term specific to borderlines), a person that someone with bpd may be obsessed with both negatively and/or positively

- i tried to avoid repetition but sometimes i summarize the same events in different paragraphs to make a different point about them

1. fear of abandonment

the root of bpd! let's get right into it! when the teen titans meet terra, she isn't affiliated with any group and lives in a cave. she ran away from her kingdom a while ago after being experimented on and given geo powers. soon we learn that she has tried in the past to make friends and find a place to stay, but always ends up causing disasters and ruining everything instead because of her uncontrollable powers. her life is a constant stream of rejections. because of this, she's worried the titans will leave her because of her catastrophic powers. robin figures out her lack of control, and she leaves before anyone can react to that knowledge so they can't leave her first¹. in her 2nd appearance, terra asks beast boy if he'll still be her friend no matter if she did something bad or not. once she reveals she's working for slade, beast boy rejects her entirely, telling her she has no friends. this is like... terra's worst nightmare coming true². the abandonment she feared (from her fp of all people) is real. later on, when she's being overpowered by the titans in a fight, she starts panicking and realizing that she has no more chances left. they're the only ones who trusted her over and over and over again, and she realizes even they are done with her at this point.

¹she immediately assumes beast boy told her secret, showing that she expects to be disappointed by people.

²she splits black on beast boy right here.

2. unstable relationships + splitting

beast boy definitely becomes her fp. she tests his love for her at the end of their date¹ (revealing a very bad thing she did to see if he "truly" cared about her) after the date, she splits black on not just beast boy but *all* of the teen titans. her extreme rage against them in her 3rd appearance is genuine and absolutely makes sense in her mind. the reasons why she split black could be: beast boy didn't respond the way she wanted him to (fp made a mistake and abandoned her when he's meant to be "perfect"); raven not trusting her²; her expecting everything to go wrong because they were being so nice and it DID go wrong, reinforcing that she will never be accepted by anyone; and slade keeping that fury alive and vicious by encouraging her to enact revenge.

¹she wants to confirm he won't leave her by purposely putting him a tight spot to see what he does. she's also hoping he can save her from slade's manipulation without outright saying it. when he fails, she splits black on him.

²terra likely doesn't believe she deserves to be trusted (especially considering she's afraid of her own powers), so raven not trusting her just confirms her own fear of herself.

3. impulsive and risky behaviors

all of her fighting tactics up to her 3rd appearance are over the top and extremely dangerous. she lures a giant scorpion into a dead end with her to smash it with a massive block of stone. she doesn't stop to think about the consequences or if so much brute force is even required (ex: raven needs to forcibly stop her from smashing a supercomputer and making things worse instead of hacking into it), she just does it. 4. intense mood swings her mood swings can be reflected in her powers before being properly trained. she accidentally uses her powers or uses too much intense force mostly when she's afraid, and is very ashamed of this¹. she reacts strongly and sharply to any form of rejection or betrayal such as when she thought beast boy told robin she can't control her powers. when beast boy asks her out, she becomes so overwhelmed with a mix of self hatred² and powerful emotions that she literally just... leaves. she straight up closes the door in his face and then comes back a few minutes later after she sorts out her mood swing³. we've got a LOT of rage from her too, which i'll expand upon in my explanation of number 5, extreme bursts of anger.

¹in her backstory, she was pitied by her people for her lack of control over her powers. she's also been rejected in the past by several groups for causing massive amounts of damage and hurting people.

²self hatred is not stated directly, but terra is being groomed by slade at this point and is literally trying to kill or injure the titans right as he asks her out. she probably felt very guilty in this particular situation.

³she was also disarming the security system if i recall correctly? however i definitely feel like she also needed a moment to chill out, it'd be unrealistic in my opinion if she ONLY left to fulfill the mission and nothing else.

5. extreme bursts of anger

terra quickly becomes and stays furious for a while in several instances. when slade tells her the titans will abandon her if they find out about her secret, she becomes enraged and loses control of her emotions, producing a tornado¹. later at the tower, robin casually mentions that she should train to improve her control over her powers, which makes her freak out on beast boy² and run away in a rage. she's angry at raven when she tells her it's too dangerous to smash the drill machine with a rock. she also gets mad³ when she asks beast boy if he'll still be friends with her even after what she's done, and he tells her she no longer has any friends. in her 3rd appearance, she's obviously furious at all of the titans and attempts to kill all of them⁴.

¹the fact that beast boy comforted her here probably helped solidify an fp relationship.

²she may have split black on him here. could just be a violent reaction to something that terrifies her so deeply though.

³another black split caused by such a solid rejection.

⁴yep, another black split!

6. feelings of emptiness

this one is more implied than shown outright. terra says she's been wandering around for some time (and in her backstory, she's been going from place to place ever since she ran away from home). she also says she constantly fails to find a group of people who will accept her, and is VERY stressed about the titans finding out about her lack of control over her powers. this could obviously lead to a sense of emptiness and identity issues (expanding on this in number 7) due to never attaching to one place or group.

7. identity issues

throughout her whole arc, terra has obvious issues with her identity. she doesn't have a home, family, or friends to help her identify herself. she *wants* to have a clear identity, therefore this leaves her vulnerable to slade's manipulation. he grooms her into believing her "true identity" is vengeful and violent¹. during her 3rd appearance, she monologues about how she has now chosen this path of evil and is aware of it and okay with it². terra is grateful that she now has an "identity", even if that "identity" is just... doing bad things and hurting people. she believes that that's just who she is deep down (a common issue with borderlines is feeling like you're a monster).

¹it's important to note the "not some sad little girl" line when fighting robin (she's outraged at the idea that robin pities her). terra and her brother were experimented on as kids to give them powers so they could be "heroes of markovia" (terra is the former princess of markovia). as she was completely unable to control her powers and only ended up making things worse, people were likely disappointed by her and pitied her constant failed attempts to help. this in turn made her feel pathetic and disastrous. robin trying to give her another chance while she was trying to kill him made her feel like she wasn't a real threat to him, like he had the space to decide whether or not to let her back in. obviously this made her even more upset. she wanted to be anything but pitiful or weak, so she became even more violent, embracing what she thought was her "true identity".

²splitting black on the titans filled her with a blind rage, which is why she thinks she's okay with being slade's "apprentice"(tool).

8. paranoia

terra is TERRIFIED of beast boy telling the others about her being unable to control her powers. when robin casually mentions it, she bursts into fury and storms out of the tower, refusing to even give beast boy a chance to explain¹. she also fakes sleeping to listen to what the titans are saying about her.

¹this may SEEM like overreacting, but for her, it isn't. her uncontrolled blunt powers are very dangerous. terra's hurt people before with them (as it is part of her backstory). she's afraid the titans will reject her if they know about it, since it's happened in the past. so she leaves immediately to avoid that rejection. it's clearly connected to symptom number 1, fear of abandonment.

9. self destructive habits

terra often sabotages herself and her good relationships. in her first appearance, she leaves right after "realizing" that beast boy told robin about her powers, not sparing a moment to think about how robin actually reacted to the information or how beast boy was protesting¹. once she comes back later with control over her powers, she tries to confess to beast boy that she's working for slade within a short period of reconciliation². finally, she fully joins slade and completely severs her friendship with the titans. robin gives her yet another chance and she attempts to kill him³. at the very end, she sacrifices herself to kill slade, a redeeming but self destructive behavior.

¹not trying to say she overreacted or should've done something different, just saying she sabotaged her relationship with the titans here.

²she likely had already split white on him by this moment, and was probably testing him to see how he'd react to such damning information (to prove he either "truly" did or did not love her)(this is sort of projection cause i do "tests" like these often as a borderline).

³connection to the identity issues and splitting here! she wants to be consistent with her "bad" identity, and blowing her last chance confirms it for her. there's also the fact she still had split black on robin, so she felt enough hatred and rage at that moment to go through with it.

if you read all the way to here: wow. thanks! hope you enjoyed it! terra is my favourite borderline character by far so i enjoyed writing this little analysis on her based on her symptoms of bpd.

#terra #terra teen titans #teen titans #dc #terra dc #beast boy #dick grayson #dc robin #raven #self hatred tw #self destructive behaviors tw #grooming tw #manipulation tw #child abuse tw

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lady-grace-pens · 9 months

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Follies Excerpt [11]

100k. Homegirl breaks a mirror + another bit from the Heads Up Seven Up snippet from this morning ;) I’m obsessed with these scenes

Taglist: @wordwizards @serafyyn @isabellebissonrouthier @flowerprose

•••

The devil fashions himself the epitome of casual. A lax European model with his hands stowed away in his pockets and his brows raised in layman’s sympathy, all but shrugging with a metaphorical cigar on his lips.

Much as I burn to cause a scene that would honor Cleopatra and the great actresses of long past… I flex my fists. Nothing more.

“So that’s it then?”

He goes to speak. I strike him twice, once per cheek. In the time it takes him to process my movements, I snatch the maroon blanket on his couch. Wrapping it around my body, I storm out the front door, not bothering to slam it behind me.

The street is nothing but a spotlight. A void of sun and the whites of eyes, with the concrete gradually baking my bare feet. Whispers fill my ears, the greatest proof that I’m making an utter spectacle of myself.

I sprint across the street and throw myself against the red door of home.

It doesn’t budge.

Fumbling with the knob yields me the same result, but it’s all I can think to do. Possessed by instincts, I drive myself into the damn thing again. And again. And again.

By a miracle, it opens. I stumble inside. It shuts behind me. I glance around but the place is soulless.

Cal. Where is she? My baby, she… Oh God. What of Pierre?

I whirl around. Ilya replaces my view of the door. Before he has room to interrogate me, I demand the whereabouts of my sister.

“She’s still with Pierre. Hospital decided to keep him and Matt a bit longer but they should be home soon.”

“She’s isn’t here? What do you mean she isn’t here? Where’s my sister? I—I need my… I need my…”

Ilya’s voice is a murmur to the titans groaning in my ears. The memory of Arthur pairs with insects skittering across my skin. I dash upstairs, to my room, and lock the door behind me. Fingers draw blood from my scalp as I slave over the empty stretch of floorboards.

In an onslaught of mania, I sweep the ornaments off my dresser. I tear down the lights and rip the tapestry from its hooks. The force of my screams sends me to my knees in the center of my room.

Dammit! Don’t I deserve more than this? Acting as if it never happened. Posing as if it’s anything lesser than what it is. Childish first love, the thrill of a summer fling, or the cool breeze.

Infatuation, at best.

I catch her snake eyes in the mirror above my dresser. For a moment I can’t register her as a fraction of myself. This rage can’t be my own. It can’t be human. It can only be a beast whose features are the envy of a snarling old olive tree.

My fingers coil around a candelabra laying at my hip. Heart raging, breath abandoned, I launch it at her with one fluid strike. Time crawls as glass rains down upon me. Laughter foams on my tongue, tickled by the crystalline shards glittering through the air. For something so dangerous, they carry themselves with the beauty and serenity of falling snow. My eyes flutter closed. I lift my head, even open my mouth for a taste.

Ilya’s feet thunder upstairs. Screaming my name, he sprints for my door and rams himself against it. The locks are old things, so they give way without much force, but for my life I can’t understand what possessed him. At the sight of me, his eyes bulge and his grip tightens around the doorframe, exclaiming, “Jesus! Fuck.”

Fractals of glass are splayed all around me. Each one is bonded to the other via streams of blood gushing from an unknown source. Perhaps multiple, considering the volume. They retain their function as a mirror, displaying my lazy smile and half-mooned eyes—though both are muddied by streaks of rust.

Turning over my limbs, I can’t resist a laugh. Crystals and crimson dress my body. Ilya gawks as if I were a circus freak, but I’ve never felt more divine. I could make an army of men worship me with my tongue of diamonds.

What good would that do when the one I love scorns me? What then? What now?

My coat of ecstasy slips. The head bows and the eyes grow fuzz, staring at nothing yet musing over everything. Silence rots my will to speak. Ideas stall and my joints lock.

Ilya scoops me into his arms. Caution bleeds through the cracks in his voice. Too many. Too obvious.

“Come on. Let’s go visit Pierre.”

•••

“Em.”

“What do you want from me?” I spring to my feet.

Arthur gapes through jaded lashes. Times skates on before he settles on the word, “Truth.”

I shake my head. My voice teeters off the edge of a rocky summit. My stomach has already taken the fall.

“I can’t be like you. I can’t.”

“But you can! You can.”

He floats to his feet, sweeping my hips into his palms before I have the mind to object. His face is centimeters from my own—acetone to our surroundings. The steam from our breath piles in the faint cracks of our smile lines. I part my lips. My hand finds it’s way to his stomach where I latch onto his belt. Our torsos collide, coaxing a moan from my lips. His grip tightens. Our foreheads touch.

I lick my lips, grazing his own. His mouth bursts with plums. Saccharine and tart create the exact impression I’d expect from our second first kiss.

“Last night melted your tongue so sweetly,” he utters, praise only fueling my acrid desire to suckle him dry. “You remembered our dream—”

Memory extracts the wool from my eyes. In a bout of agony, Arthur becomes my pillow and my punching bag. Think fraught caresses and impassioned pounding, lonely pleas versus touch-starved mangling. Each jerk of my head rubs my nose in my snot, spit, and tears as I wail into his chest.

“Please don’t make me say it. Not like this.”

He stopped holding me ages ago. I realize that only as my arms fall to my sides and my sobs begin dragging their tails. He scorns me with his arid pause, unchanging. My hope sticks to the morning grime costing my teeth.

His hand is a gavel clamping down on my shoulder. My sentence is proclaimed without having mentioned a word.

I wipe my nose with my sleeve. Upon the gathering of my wits, I straighten and look up to face the grave I’ve dug for myself.

#wip: foad #wip: follies #writing #my writing #writeblr #creative writing

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 6 months

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No need to apologize ppl are busy I understand ;)

1: what’s their biggest pet peeve?

2: what’s something they both can’t agree on? Best spider-man actor, best Star Wars trilogy, etc…

3: what’s their favorite & least favorite animated Christmas movies?

4: is Jon & mar’is reaction the same as the duo when they react to: somebody getting hit in the nuts both real life & movie/cartoon, toliet humor, & the whole rikishi stink face thing?

5: for the duo, what’s the best gift they got for each other? I can see Jake giving Chris a blue domino mask with white lenses.

6: are the duo fans of the game awards? If so, what game are they hoping for win game of the year?

7: not really a question but I like the little fanfic snippet of “Lava bridges & you” would love to see a full fanfiction of that, would love to help to ;)

Thanks for your patience. It’s very appreciated ;-)@gothicghost2000

1) For Chris, while getting his superhero identity confused with Dick’s Nightwing is an all too common way to annoy him a bit, a far bigger one for him would be hearing and looking at comments of all sorts that claim Superman being a ‘lame’, ‘boring’, ‘Un-relatable’ and overall ‘dull excuse’ of a superhero who should step aside in favor of any other heroes, especially Batman, just because they’re ‘cooler’ and ‘edgier’. Yeah he doesn’t take it too kindly deep down of people having those thoughts about his adopted dad. Frankly neither Jon nor him is they would be honest.

For Jake, it’s from what he can admit is a tad bit more petty on his end and he apologizes for it. That said, do not mock the original Discowing in front of him. Jake looks up to that first suit his father made with pride and he will not be taking any badmouthing against it if he can help it, No siree. Not even family members are other Titans are safe from his objections to their opinions should they make fun of Discowing

2) Best Star Wars film (Chris votes on A New Hope while Jake firmly believes it’s The Force Awakens) , Best Pizza Place (Jake will always back the local Marv and George’s while Chris favors Shakey’s) , Fairly Oddparents (Jake) vs Jimmy Neutron (Chris) but most of all and most fiercely, the Best Godzilla film ever made (besides the 1954 OG; Chris champions Godzilla vs Monster Zero while Jake touts King of the Mosnters 2019 as the best)

3) Chris

- Favorite: Elf (2005) (Not just for the obvious reason of it being funny as heck but also since it deals with themes of adoption and trying to fit in, he can relate so well with Buddy)

- Least Favorite: Grandma Got Ran Over By a Reindeer (Mainly cause the song it’s based on just sounds too morbid for a cherry beat and tone)

Jake

- Favorite: The Muppet Christmas Carol (Alfred and him almost every single time at the family’s Christmas party do a karaoke of ‘A Thankful Heart’)

- Least Favorite: The Nutcracker 3D: The Untold Story (Those visuals all throughout the movie….he can never get them out of his head no matter how hard he tries)

4) More or less almost the same though Jon is tad bit more likely to have a small chuckle with watching a Stink Face as long as it’s short and against a true heel. Mar’i also doesn’t cringe as hard with nut shots as she had seen her Dad pull that off during Father-Daughter patrols together sometimes and the reactions from the crooks who receive are pretty funny form a distance.

5) While Jake’s best gift for Chris was that mask as described, in turn thanks to Chris, Jake was given a rare one of a kind 12-inch replica of Voltron which being a fan of, all to well bringing a big smile to Jake’s face

6) They’re a bit more casual than most when it comes to those shows as the Duo really only enjoy the games they play and Jude on their own merits. That said as for this year, Chris and Jake are hoping for Super Mario Bros Wonder to win Game of the Year as they love that one

7) You know maybe later this month I can write a small snippet to expand it. Not saying it’s a guarantee but it’s certainly an idea now that you brought it up lol

#chris kent #jake grayson #starburst duo #jonathan samuel kent #mari grayson #christmas #discowing

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spaceprincessem · 2 years

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next year all our troubles will be out of sight | 1.2k dickkory & titan fam fic

read here or on ao3 | for the DC Titans Naughty or Nice 2022

Day 1: snowed in

Dick places the last dish onto the drying rack, nudging the lukewarm water off before he turns looking into the now cleaned kitchen. He can hear the echo of laughter from the living room, the lingering smell of popcorn and hot chocolate wafting in from the hallway. It didn’t take too long, considering he had Connor and Rachel to help out with the majority of the cleaning after dinner.

(Their team had lost the snowball fight that commenced this morning when they realized their plans to go skiing and snowboarding were not happening as a good couple of feet of fresh snow kept them trapped in their cabin. “Cabin? This is a mansion.”)

Dick waved Connor and Rachel off about a half hour into the dishes, their big pleading eyes something he quickly caved into when they heard Tim and Gar queuing up a holiday movie for the evening. Dick didn’t mind though. He took enjoyment from the soft Christmas music playing over the radio, the methodical movements of washing dirty dishes, the high stack a gentle reminder that their family is all here. That they survived and now they get to just be.

After the fight with Brother Blood and Mother Mayhem Dick wanted to give them someplace safe. Someplace they could rest and recover and just enjoy their time together as Christmas rapidly approached. He quickly found a cabin in the mountains of northern California and promptly booked the place on their way out of Metropolis. They stopped along the way, him and Kory picking up gifs for the kids, the kids sneaking gifs for each other, and all the things they would need to make their two week stay feel as festive and relaxing as possible.

The cabin (“Dick this is definitely a mansion”) was expansive and private, beautiful dark logs with white bricks, large windows to let the natural light in, and a wrap-around porch on both the main and upper levels. There were at least ten bedrooms and all six bathrooms boasted soaking tubs and saunas for ultimate relaxation. There was a living room perfect for movie nights, a game room, and at least two hot tubs. There was already a fresh dusting of snow and the cabin had been beautifully decorated for the holiday. Greenery was wrapped around every inch of the cabin, twinkling lights and ornaments of all shapes and colors adorning the space. The only thing Dick requested was to let them cut down their own tree for decoration.

After settling into the cabin they explored the small town down in the valley, loading up on a variety of Christmas ornaments from the shop before picking up coffee and pastries next door. Gar picked out all the animal ornaments and Rachel claimed every single snowflake she could see. Tim‘s bag was filled with a variety of Santas and Conner chose the star to go on top. Kory found an ornament making kit and spent the first evening decorating beautiful red and gold balls with their names on it. Rachel and Tim made popcorn garland while Gar and Dick untangled lights and Connor passed around eggnog and spiked cider.

Dick peeks into the living room, warmth flooding his chest at how content and settled everyone looked sprawled on the couches and tucked on throw blankets as some cheesy movie plays on the television. For a moment he feels his breath hitch in his throat, the pang of guilt and fear taking hold. He almost lost this. Almost lost the family he and Kory have worked so hard to build and keep together. He knows what it means to be a hero. The risk that it poses, but it never keeps away the underlying terror that comes with watching the people who mean the most to you put their lives on the line to save the world. It feels nearly endless. Like they move from one end of the world scenario to the other. Dick knows peace won’t last forever, but he hopes the universe just gives them this once chance to breathe. He lingers for a moment longer, letting the itch beneath his skin fade into a quiet buzz before he’s moving, almost like falling into gravity as he seeks out Kory.

He easily finds her on the balcony of their shared room, leaning over the railing with a glass of champagne in her hand. She’s wrapped in one of his sweaters, a little oversized on her small frame, but she looks absolutely gorgeous in the moonlit, beneath the twinkle of lights wrapped around the banister. He quietly slips outside, the cold biting, but he doesn’t care as he pads over, wrapping his arms around her waist. She is blistering hot, a sun contained, and Dick presses in close to steal her warmth.

“So how long did you last until you let Rachel and Connor go?” Kory asks, amused as she takes a sip from her glass.

There’s another one waiting just for him on the small patio table next to where the bottle is sitting in an ice bucket.

“Mmm,” Dick hums into her neck, “twenty minutes?”

Kory laughs, her fiery hair tickling his nose as she turns to catch his gaze. “I am so shocked to hear that,” she says, not shocked at all.

“What can I say?” Dick shrugs his shoulders, “They drive a hard bargain.”

“Somehow,” Kory muses, “I don’t believe that.”

Dick just grins before leaning in to kiss her. She tastes like champagne and cinnamon. Like the first snowfall and waking up early on Christmas morning. Dick licks hot into her mouth, pulling her impossibly close. She manages to set her glass down, her hands soft and warm against the sting of the wind as it nips at his cheeks. And Dick could do this forever. He could hold Kory in his arms. Kiss her slow and sweet. Hot and needy. Hungered and full of irrevocable love. Anything and everything she could ever want or need.

He tries not to think about how he punished himself, just holding her out of reach. How he was punishing her too for straddling the line that kept them from taking the very thing they’ve wanted for years now. His feelings for Kory have always simmered just below the surface. Through Trigon and Deathstroke and Barbara and Gotham. He’s never felt deserving, never felt like he could be everything she needed, but god did he try. Even if they couldn’t be anymore than co-leaders of the team. He never wanted to let her down. And through the hurt and the fear and pain they still, somehow, found their way to each other. Dick never plants on letting her go ever again.

“You know,” Kory raises a mischievous eyebrow, “since the kids are working through a holiday movie marathon we have the entire hot tub to ourselves.”

Her grin is wolf-like and Dick feels his mouth go incredibly dry. She carefully extracts herself from his arms, moving towards the hot tub, removing one article of clothing as she goes. Dick marvels at the way the starlight makes her glow and he knows that there’s no one in the universe more beautiful than Koriand’r.

“Dick,” she chides with a laugh, pulling her lip between her teeth, “you just going to stand there all night?”

Dick just smiles sheepishly before quickly shrugging out his clothes. As soon as he’s in the water he pulls her close, slotting their mouths together. He only breaks their kiss for a moment as the first few quiet flutters of snowflakes fall on their cheeks. They look up into the night sky, dotted with stars and snow, and Dick kisses Kory like it’s the beginning of forever.

tagging some of the besties @escapism-through-imagination @jonskory @ambelle @ambeauty

#DC Titans Naughty or Nice 2022 #dickkory #dc titans

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ssj2hindudude · 2 years

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2nd Gen Pandavas Pt. 2

Part 1

Abha

Age: 10

Gets most of her looks from her mother but definitely has her father’s eyes. She might even be able tap into the Apsara smolder.

Sherlock Holmes outfit...until she got a 30 minute fashion lecture from her Aunt Nikita. So now she sticks with the closest thing by cosplaying as Detective Conan: white shirt, blue jacket, red bow tie, and a black skirt with leggings.

When Abha is visiting her grandmother’s museum, the first thing Krithika does when preparing is to find an archaeological paradox/mystery for her to figure out (Where did the city of Dwarka sink, what exact year did Kali Yuga start, etc.)

Her mom has been trying to get her into Lord of the Rings for years...it still hasn’t worked...Aru considered getting a DNA test but stopped when Abha got into Harry Potter...

Regularly goes on photography field trips with her dad. Most of the time they don't even go to any landmarks. They're content with simple places like parks and nature preserves. One of their favorite models is Aru early in the morning...and they both got grounded for taking pics of her just waking up...

Questions literally everything. Never takes anything at face value. If there is a mystery to be solved, she will find it.

Priya

Age: 11

Long hair with a ponytail meant to look like Lara Croft. Brown jacket, black T-shirt, and jeans to mimic Mikasa from Attack on Titan.

Wants to ask her dad to show her how to make her own sound rocks so she can make bullets that give off sonic frequencies...but the glare from her mom tells her it’ll have to wait...

Instead, Rudy just lets her pick from his own rocks. She made a slingshot to test them out and now whenever she needs a distraction, she just launches one. Both she and Rudy got grounded when she used a lullaby to put her math teacher to sleep and leave early. How was she supposed to know the rock would land right where Mini was pulling up?

Game night with her cousins are a constant thing. But since the adults keep looking in, they have to avoid the M-rated games and stick with Splatoons. Everyone is ok with it, though.

BB gets along with all of them, but he likes Priya best because she can sneak in a lot of flammable substances for him to snack on. She’s even fallen asleep with him after grooming his feathers (Nikita gave her a fireproof comb). Also, she has the best control whenever they’re flying.

*Sidenote: the next gen flies on BB to their missions like Dojo from Xiaolin Showdown*

Suru

Age: 9

Round glasses, bright eyes, slender frame. T-shirt and shorts that Mini had Nikita enchant to change with his snake form.

Cries a lot and has anxiety. Priya snipes anyone who laughs at him

Likes it when his dad transforms with him and they go on little trips to the forest.

Wants to be a doctor like his mom, but more specifically he wants to work with nagas and naginis. His grades aren’t bad, but he still has to take therapy to work on his social skills.

Eventually learns how to spray venom and depending on what Otherworld substances he eats, they can have different effects (burning, poison, smells, etc.)

Ghata

Age: 13

Chubby frame, short hair. Anyone who makes fun of her for it will incur her moms’ wrath. Anyone that the parents miss will be taken care of by her cousins.

Likes dresses with belt buckles. Agrees with Aunt Aru’s philosophy that all dresses must have pockets.

Brynne actively tries to be a better mom than her own. She goes out of her way to make sure Ghata knows she and Hira love her.

One time, some kid told her her moms committed a sin and deserve death. That kid ended up face-down in a crater...

Well, that’s all I got for now. Again, let me know what you think! Maybe give me some ideas for other characters or even villains!

Part 3

#aru shah headcanon #aru shah headcanons #aru shah #yamini kapoor mercado lopez #brynne tvarika lakshmi balamuralikrishna rao #aiden acharya #the pandava quintet #the potatoes

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thedum1 · 1 year

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I wanna talk about my dumb little OCs and whatnot.

This will get long and I will go overboard. So I’m trying out the read more thing. I’ll list them off from oldest to youngest, not when I made them but the year they would’ve been born...this list made me realize I’m not good at naming my OCs.

--For most of these the year the show/thing came out will be the year it takes place as well.--

Jazz and Coy the Goody Two Shoes Cat Siblings, not their actual last name, for Animaniacs They were made not long after the Warner Siblings were locked away. So I’d say around Christmas season of 1934. They were made to balance out the very high energy and extremely tooney Warner siblings. But their show flopped big time and the studio saw it as a waste of money. So similar to the Warner they got locked away but in a spare and mostly forgotten storage space. Why did it flop? Most popular cartoons had a very toon energy about them. Being full of slapstick comedy and cartoonish violence. The Cat Siblings were the exact opposite of that. Being calm and full of life lessons on being a well behave kid without the fun parts of cartoons. They were freed in 2020 during the C-19 Plague by Yakko accidentally. Now they chill with the Warner sibs and are slowly learning how to do slapstick toon things. (They are cartoon cats....they have no race...)

Some quick facts about the siblings:

Jazz, lowkey based off me in the sense of older sibling with a strong “must protect my younger siblings” vibe, imagine her around the same age as Yakko.

She’s a bisexual demigirl and goes by she/it.

Its got a crush on Roxanne from A Goofy Movie. It and and the others sometime pop by the D*sney Studio for a visit.

Coy, lowkey based of my younger siblings. A very big bookworm and enjoys school. He’s around Dot’s age.

Currently cisgendered and goes by he/him.

Michael Smith is my first and currently only trans OC. He’s from the YouTube series Good Game, though I’ve never watched it myself. He runs and own his own café/bakery, which is below his apartment. His food is what fuels Alex, Ryland and the others during practice sessions. It was actually Ryland who found his place and actually becomes a regular, he recommends his place as “gamer fuel” for practice. This leads to Michael and Ryland getting close and eventually developing a mutual crush, because yes. Michael was born in the year of 1987, his birthday is June 9th....because 6/9/87 as I am a child and 69 is fucking hilarious to me. (My special boy is just a regular white American boy.)

Facts about my son:

Michael’s parents LOVE the country Queen, Dolly Parton and originally named Michael after one of her songs, Jolene. They accept Michael’s transition and name change with open arms.

Alex and Michael’s relationship is a little rocky in the beginning because I’ve decided Alex has a slight thing for his gamer roomie and is jealous. He gets over it and actually ends up with one of Michael’s BFFs, a male Australian Cartoonist.

Michael and Ryland get married and even have a kid, which they announce at the Announcement of Michael’s second shop location becoming a thing.

I’ve come up with a stripper AU for Michael, I don’t have much info on it other than Michael works at an LGBT+ club and is a top tier stripper.

Phoebe “Frostine” Summers my ice power wielding villain for Teen Titans (2003 version which I’ve decided also takes place in 2003). She was brought into the world in 1987. She’s got her powers not long after turning 9. To be exact she started showing weird signs (always cold and could never warm up) the day after her 9th birthday. The first time her powers come out is around 7 months later. Of course her parents freak out and shipped her off somewhere. H.I.V.E. academy took her in when she turned 12. She learned to control her powers and became a really good villain. Though that wavers after meeting Robin. (My daughter is full white. Most ancestors come from predominantly white European contries.)

Facts about my icy daughter:

Yes, she got her villain name, Frostine, from the CandyLand character Queen Frostine. I am not sorry about that.

Around the time the show starts, ‘Go!’, Phoebe makes a civilian persona out of boredom. She goes to the same school as the bratty teen villain Kitten. She was very jealous of the fact that Kitten got Robin to be her date to the dance...yeah she was that into being a regular teen.

Did is say jealous? Yes I fucking did. I’m pushing my old childhood crush onto her. The reason she got into being a civilian was because she likes Robin how he’s nicer to her. She does reveal herself to him at some point.

While Phoebe is a villain for most of the series she actually doesn’t really like the other H.I.V.E. teens and likes to take their steals sometimes. Other times she’ll just annoy/distract them and get them caught. She eventually just stops being a villain at some point, which is great because she knows villain things to help the heroes.

Beau Young my bisexual “6teen” half Canadian Indigenous teen. Born in the year of 1988. Beau works at the Galleria Mall in the Albatross and Finch store. I haven’t touched his “story” in forever so I don’t remember too much for him. But he is half-sibs with another OC of that’s coming up. (His mother is where he gets his Indigenous blood from.)

Some facts I do remember about boy:

He’s friends with the main 6teen cast but is particularly close with Nikki and Wyatt...he thinks Wyatt is pretty and Nikki is super cool. But he’s not close with Jen or Jonesy. He finds Jen to be too uptight and Jonesy a very annoying, especially when it comes to girls.

He’s a grade above the main teens and is willing to help with school shit if asked. Yes that includes Jonesy...as long as someone else is there too.

Beau plays the violin and likes having coffee and jam sessions with Wyatt. The violin also gets him extra attention from girls, which Jonesy hates.

Him and Caitlin talk about relationships and judge each other on their taste in boys.

Beau Carriedo the half Spanish half French teen of Code Lyoko. Born in 1989 from a surrogate for two men...a French man, Francis Bonnefoy, and a Spanish man, Antonio Fernández Carriedo. (I have ZERO shame in that one). He’s somewhat new to the OC pile. Another gay OC as I refuse to be stopped. Sometime ago I looked at Odd Della-Robbia and decided he needs a BF, so Beau was born. I also decided Odd may have not yet come to terms with non-heterosexuality so it takes time for anything to happen between them. Beau also has an on-off crush on William, which doesn’t become a thing anyways.

Facts about my NOT A-Hetalia-Love-Child child:

Beau is the same age and year as Yumi, which is why he knows William and is close with him. But he’s not a Lyoko warrior.

He knows French, Spanish and English. Which makes him my first/oldest multilingual OC on this list.

It was Odd who made Beau realize he liked boys. For a while he thought none of the girls at Kadic were his type. Then BOOM!! Odd came into his life and he realized that there were girls who were his type...except for their gender.

Beau was someone who found Clone!William weird and off putting, not funny. I don’t know if I want him to find out that Clone!William is a clone and Real!William is trapped in Lyoko, which would then lead him to learning about Lyoko.

Taro “Yama” “Sakura” Yamada my Japanese femboy for Death Note. Born in 1990, between Matt and Mello. Been at Whammy’s house since he was but a wee babe of 2. He is cis and gay, just finds feminine clothes more comfortable to wear. He has a deep crush on Mello and even left Whammy’s to go for him, with Matt. The young boy learned coming off as a cute and a “needs to be protected” girl got extra cash and sadly attention. When the boys meet again Taro, who goes by Sakura to be “undercover”, helps Mello to get the Death Note. I’ve yet to decide if I wanna go with the canon ending for Matt and Mello or give the boys a semi-happy ending. I’m slowly working on a fic for him. Dunno if it’ll come out or actually be finished, it’s just a thing I work on on and off. Either way Taro doesn’t die.

Facts about my sad boy:

He’s good at acting and manipulation which Mello uses to his advantage.

Because I stopped caring I’ve decided Matt has a crush on Taro while Taro has a crush on Mello who is undecided on romance. How does it end? It depends on how I want to finish Taro’s story.

He is somewhat friendly with Near and would sit in silence with the boy before he left Whammy’s.

Taro is a fairly recent OC actually. Not even 2 years old if I’m remembering correctly.

Jean Grey my only goth OC at the moment. She’s the half-sister to my other OC Beau Young. In 1991 she was born and her X-Men loving mother named her after her (mother’s) favorite character. Yes. Beau and Jean have different mothers. They come from polyamory parents and Jean carries that on into her own relationships. She’s very bi and has dated both boys and girls before Total Drama takes place. She eventually starts dating Cody, sometime before the end of season one, and Lindsay, between Action and World Tour. (Homegirl is just white...that’s it really.)

Fact ‘aboot’ bi-poly goth girl:

She’s got a couple of pet chinchillas and misses them terribly when she’s doing Total Drama.

She’s goth in terms of clothes mostly. She definitely doesn’t act like typical goths do and is fine with that. She’s been tempted to “borrow” Gwen’s clothes during the competition.

She’s got the strong urge to fist fight Heather, Courtney and Alejandro...Chris and Chef too obviously, as I’m sure most of the competitors do.

I’m working on a fic where Jean is a new to fame cover artist and is still dealing with Total Drama nonsense...I’m also not that far into it.

Jasmine “Jas” Luna was technically me at one point before just becoming her own person. She was born in 1994 to a workaholic mother and loving father. Sadly her father was a victim of a speeding accident when she was 8 and her mother never cared for children. She left home at 18 to wherever Mystic Messenger takes place. She meets and befriend a young man who also recently left home. They find a kitten and become cat parents for the little guy. Her canon story is intertwined with said friend and they go through Zen and Saeyoung’s stories at the same time. She’s related to an MC on this list as well. (She’s half American Indigenous and half Caucasian.)

Facts about no-longer-me MC:

She discovered the lovecore aesthetic right before she moved away from home and it became her everything. The soft pinks and vibrant reds paired with hearts is just her vibe. Even the food she makes is cute and soft looking.

Her cat is my cat but smaller and nicer. She has him during the events of Mystic Messenger and will set up kitty playdates with Elizabeth the Third no matter the ending.

Her “true” ending is with Saeyoung. But if I had to chose a different member for her to end up with it’d be best coffee wife Jaehee. She finds her very pretty and is touchy with her, though it’s platonic when she’s dating one of the boys.

My shortest adult human MC/OC. Standing at a whopping 5 feet even and on the plump side to boot. If she was a male....4′10″ max. We love short kings and queens.

She knows English, Korean and Japanese. Which makes her my second multilingual OC. While I’m sure Mystic Messenger takes place in Korea I thought it’d be fun if it was in Japan and was amongst a group of Korean folks.

Jaci Summerhill the younger but much taller than his cousin, Jas, MC of Obey Me. 1997 the year of their birth...along with their twin brother Jack. Jaci, and Obey Me, got me to come to terms with my non-cis...ness?? When I first started the game I used my name but that felt wrong. So a google search later Jaci was born. While it took some time for Jaci to become what he is today I knew he was meant to be masc presenting, so a masculine nonbinary Jaci became permanent. His pronouns are he/they. At the moment, when not in the Devildom Jaci lives in France as a professional chef. (Jaci is mostly American Indigenous.)

Facts about my tallest OC/MC:

Tallest? YES!! This version of Jaci is my tallest character. They stand at a WHOPPING 7 feet even!! It’s why I’m such a big fan of tall reader/MC fics. Had Jaci been AFAB instead of AMAB they’d be slightly taller standing at 7′3″ because tall ladies are my favorite.

Jaci is very weak when it comes to Asmodeus, Simeon and of course Luke. The Little D’s are also a slight weak point for them. He’d do anything they asked because he just loves them that much.

My sweet tall child....is a bit of a himbo. They are very big, both height and build. Not the best when it comes to school. Yet he did learn 2 other languages. He speaks English, French and Japanese.

Jas and Jaci are very close and see each other as siblings more than cousins. Before Jaci became an exchange student he used to visit at least twice a year. They even learned Japanese because she did.

Miguel Jimenez my only selective mute OC who lives in Gravity Falls. Born in 1999 just before summer season, so May-ish I’d say. He’s the young nephew to local TV personality Shandra Jimenez. He lives not to far from a bestie of his with Shandra and his older sister, Andrea. He likes to spend the summer with the Pines Twins post-Stan’s-first-party-at-the-Shack. Miguel and Andrea lost their parents to a terrible accident when the young boy was even younger. That lead him to being mute, only talking if he feels comfortable around the person. (If you didn’t pick up on it Miguel is Hispanic.)

Facts about my quiet child:

He was gonna be gay but I believe just queer is more fitting for him. It’s a nice umbrella term for him and he feels most comfortable using it. He does date Dipper by the end of the show though, so draw up whatever conclusions you want.

Miguel “co-parents” Waddles with Mable, as he’s grew quite attached to the sweet pig.

Miguel’s first friends are Candy and Grenda. But he considers Dipper to be his best friend and talks to him for the first time right before the twins leave. They do nightly phone calls till they can see each other again.

Wendy and her group of friends (which includes Andrea) will sometimes let Miguel hangout with them, especially when Candy and Grenda are busy and can’t hangout with him themselves.

Jasmine “Jazz” Luna (Alt version of Jas) Uh...I’m gonna be real with y’all. Jazz is for the new-ish Cheritz game ‘The Ssum’ and I don’t have any plans playing it after the 200 days are over. Since I have no real way to say this game as a set date, other than the early 2020s, I’ll say she was born in 1999. (She’s just like Jas...don’t know what to tell you.)

Do I have facts for her??

Um....she dated Zen (not MysMes timeline) for a hot minute I guess.

She’s cousins with TWST!Jaci.

So far she’s not me but not her own person??? Does that make sense?

This is probably it for her. I’m planning on uninstalling The Ssum when I’ve finished the story for Teo. Won’t even bother looking at Harry’s. Way too many microtransactions.

Julien DeForest the fully French OC for Miraculous Ladybug. He’s got lesbian moms who run a popular flower shop. He has no contact with his dad beyond birthday gifts and congratulation phone calls, by mutual agreement as papa moved and has a budding career. 2001 is Julien’s year. He’s my gay little mural artist who’s got a FAT crush on Cat Noir. He does enjoy helping his moms in the shop though. He may or may not also end up crushing on Nathaniel, his BFF, and Adrien. Thomas Astruc can fight me in the back of a Denny’s for the adoption papers for his characters. I’d treat them better....also make more of them openly LGBT+. (Boy is just white.)

Fact about gay flower son:

If I wanted to give him a canon miraculous it would be the Bee. He’d place it on the back on his head right above his little ponytail, if I feel like drawing him with it. If he doesn’t get a miraculous he actually cuts his hair shorter.

Julien has been friends with Nathaniel for years, since they were 8ish. Julien used to do those stupid looking anime doodles on Nath’s notes when he was bored, which is how he got into The Arts~!!

My boy just loves jamming out to Clara Nightingale and Jagged Stone while working on his next mural....sometimes his music gets too loud and he gets paint on some poor soul who “sneaks” up on him.

One of Julien’s mom is a black woman named Odette. He loves her and how happy she’s made his birth mom. When he was little, about 6ish, he got to be the ring bearer in their wedding. It’s one of his favorite memories and stories.

Jaci Summerhill (Alt version of Obey Me!Jaci) but now he’s cisgender and hangs out with twink-ified (for the most part) D*sney Villains. Just like The Ssum I have no idea when Twisted Wonderland takes place so I’ll say the early 2020s. With my...sub-par math skills I’ve come to the conclusion that TWsT!Jaci was born in 2005. I’m not too far into the game at the moment so TWST!Jaci doesn’t have much to him. I do like the idea of him being a theater kid and he likes musicals in particular. (Again, he’s just like Obey Me!Jaci.)

Some facts I do have about boy:

His favorite musical is Chicago and he loves Billy Flynn’s songs the most. He’s also fond of Sweeney Todd and knows all the lyrics to all the songs.

Jaci actually doesn’t really like Grim and blames him for them almost losing Ramshackle when they were dealing with Azul. He does feel a little bad the little gremlin doesn’t have family.

He’s slowly learning all 800+ rules that Heartslabyul has to follow...mainly to get on Riddle’s good side because he thinks the dormleader is very pretty. Also cause his favorite dorm to hang out in is the Red Queen’s dorm.

Despite Jaci learning all of the Queen’s rules he finds Vil’s to be too much for him. Perhaps it’s because of the power Vil has. Good with potions and a huge fan base? Yeah, that’s intimidating.

Kan-D is my rollerblading and graffitiing teen for Jet Set Radio Future. I read somewhere from Google JSRF takes place in 2024. Since I want Kan-D to be around 16 he was born in 2008. The canon characters don’t have too much going on for them so neither does Kan-D TBH. (He’s fully Indigenous.)

Facts ‘bout skater boi:

He lives in Tokyo with his dad’s parents because he was causing problems and his parents were sick of him.

I’ve dubbed this boy as pansexual. He likes to tease Yoyo because he likes to see him all flustered. He’s also got a crush on Boogie and maybe had a thing with one of the Rapid 99 girls....though that’s “just a rumor”.

This skater teen loves grinding and is found in Sky Dinosaurian Square. The way he joins the GGs is actually a grinding challenge. Gotta do the same tricks he does, like Combo’s challenge.

Beat and Kan-D have a frenemies relationship. Kan-D just finds him annoying and a little egotistical.

Ishya Chee my first fully adult OC. MHA takes plays mid to late 2100s so I have no idea when she’d be born. I will say she’s 30. Ishya and her parents moved to Japan when she was just starting her last year of middle school. Her powers are plant based, she can grow plants from her limbs and her “hair” is thick vines. She’s in a relationship with FatGum and they want to get married, with the 1-A students as guests because those are her kids now...sans Mineta. (Ms. Chee is afro-indigenous, she’s got a black mom and American indigenous dad.)

Facts about plant mom:

I said the 1-A (-Mineta) kids are her children...I’m not really lying. She cares for them obviously but Bakugo is the one kids she definitely sees as hers. Seeing how his mom treats him (WHO SMACKS THEIR KID INFRONT OF HIS TEACHERS ONE WHO WAS THE NUMBER ONE HERO!!???) leads her to being protective of him when talking about the class.

Inshya is a class assistant?? Like in the MHA where she is a real character the first year classes get a little like...teacher assistant. They help pass out papers, grade assignments and act as a bit of a counselor for the students, especially the heroes-in-training. She got that job though Aizawa after a heroing accident.

Her reaction when Bakugo was kidnapped was heart wrenching. After all the students were taken care of she just clung onto Aizawa and sobbed. In the UA apology she’s in standing behind the others, with the other TA, and she’s clearly tired and not paying attention.

Ishya’s always wanted kids but the heroing accident left her unable to. That’s why Aizawa got her the UA job. She gets to help budding heroes grow up and act as a sort of parental figure for them if need be.

Jazz is my ACsona so no real age other than young adult. Currently he is a mostly masculine pronoun using genderfluid 20-something year old. The pronouns he uses are he/they/it. Their backstory differs depending on the AC game. I play New Leaf (I need a 3ds charger) and Pocket Camp but I desperately want New Horizons. (He’s American Indigenous and Hispanic.)

Small facts about the sona:

He likes wearing feminine clothes with a predominantly soft pastel color pallet. Things like skirts in a mid to light neutral color with a pastel colored top. Typically paired with cute accessories and mary janes.

He’s very close with Apollo, Julien and Cherry. I like to imagine Julien and Cherry take turns in playing dress up with him. Apollo gets the after pics for final say though.

Please gift this sweet child flowers. He loves them so much and cherishes them for so long and gets sad when they wilt. He’ll save and press a flower from each bouquet he’s received.

Bubblegum KK is his favorite. Do I need to say it? Probably not. Is it cliché and over done? Definitely. Do I care? Pft. Fuck no, man. Just let my little guy bop along amongst the flowers with the homies as they sing Bubblegum KK.

~~~~~~Feel free to ask about any of them or just judge me.~~~~~~

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villains4hire · 1 year

Text

Let go.

In a white, clear space of her mind, she stared at Bolo, "Well, it took some time, but I think I managed to more or less leave behind what I wanted to the people I care about. So... now what?"

"Well we could just vibe in here for a while, play some cards maybe. I know a few soap operas I've been wanting to share with you." His spiritual form shaking for one of their hands, it was clear they were holding on.

Chuckling but then giving a soft frown as she kept his hand still, placing it on the fluffy side of her head, "It's weird, I saw you do this to the other me, but I remember how it feels like. It's kinda nice, I'm glad we've become the friends we have. You've held on longer than anyone else, I'm... glad I got to say goodbye to them though."

He struggled to make a smile, but his face wasn't really capable of it, "Yes, I thought you at least deserved that, but well. There's still plenty we can do, what about-"

Frowning deeper, a hand touching the side of his face, "Bolo! Bolo... it's okay. You've been so strong for all of us, and especially to me. What you did to weaken Invictus is what gave us a chance to win, but now? You have to let go of me or I'll consume you, please. You- they all taught me what was unbreakable deep inside me, what I used and the willingness to do anything to win, to keep what I loved even if it meant burning everything to the ground around us. I can't run from it forever, Bolo. Even if Invictus was going to be free eventually, as you said? It doesn't change the countless lives lost to the choices I made, what I became, and what I'll become again. There always needs to be an Invictus or something will take its place, but I'm not going to run. I have to answer to what I did, to what I'll do even in the future... so please, don't add to that. You're a part of what makes me unbreakable, you all are- I am going to break the cycle, but you have to trust me."

A hitched, almost pained breath of air from the titan, "I do! Never doubt that I don't. I'm... I'm just sorry. I wasn't strong enough to stop Invictus like I promised, I lured you all to Final Space. Only in death do I see the folly of my own vengeful arrogance and what it's cost the people around me, what it's cost you and the price all continue to pay for my weakness."

"Hey... stop that, it's okay. What you did was enough and so are you, alright? You taught me that, but this isn't goodbye. One day? I'm going to bring you back, we'll make everything right again. I promise, but I know that you need to rest now. And that the hardest part to anything at the end with someone?"

"Is letting go," Ash hugged him down to her level, the Void Spawn comforted the prideful titan.

There were no tears from Bolo, but a deep pained sobbing for only a second, but there nonetheless broke out for a moment before going quiet. His voice strong again, going by her first name, "Ash, if I see that you are at the verge of falling into the abyss. I will do everything in my power to pull you away from it or if I have to? Destroy myself pulling you out from it. You are not alone, you have all of us."

"....I know, but it's time, Bolo. Goodbye." Ash remarked with watery eyes, pushing him out to let him drift out of her mind before he could react, only managing to let out a 'Wait!-'. This was something she had to face alone, but she knew she never was.

#ic #long post #void inheritor #drabble save #drabbles

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dawn-of-worlds · 1 year

Text

The Ones Who Walk Heavy Upon The Earth

Tepponilamek uses Create Race for the second time this turn, leaving them with zero power.

In the years of their wanderings, after the creation and departure of the algaekin, Tepponilamek gained a new appreciation for the simpler things of the world, and paid more attention to the trees and stones and grasses.

Coming at last to the west coast of Incarien, which had barely ever felt the feet of mortal kind, Tepponilamek sat and listened for a while, and found that there was in even the simplest things of the land a desire to grow and thrive and know. Never able to refuse a being who sought knowledge, Tepponilamek sought to awaken the land itself around them; but no matter how much of their own essence they placed in their warm breath or in poured water, the land would not awake. For it was something stable and steady, while Tepponilamek changed like the wind and the waves.

Frustrated, Tepponilamek turned themselves into a seabird and spent some time amongst a vaster flock, diving into the waves for food. There, beneath the water, they came upon an oyster, and ate the insides. Choking, they coughed up a single white pearl and bore it aloft above the waves, where it turned a deep blue-green. Returning to the shore, they felt within the pearl the faintest hum of their own drive, their own essence. The climbed a hill by the seashore, and walked towards a vast stone pillar. With a word from Tepponilamek’s mouth the trees bent their limbs towards the stone, and the grass rose up in great waves to embrace it. They bequeathed the pearl unto the stone and wood and grass, which cried out for life and vitality; out of the pillar stepped Antieram, the first of the Titans.

Antieram’s form was tall and broad; her skin was rocky and hard, though flesh lay underneath, and blood yellow like tree sap. She walked slowly and ponderously, though could run at great speed if she saw the need; her dark-green hair was long and bound itself as she willed it, and she often formed it into a nest for birds to rest in; her hands were large but gentle, yet could shape solid stone like clay.

Tepponilamek sat with Antieram a while, and told her much of the world; then she walked into the hills beyond the shore, to build a home for herself, while Tepponilamek went to gather more pearls to wake the rest of their kin. Soon there were ten titans; then a hundred; then a thousand. Each one, after a while on the shore, wandered inland to make a home for themselves.

Eventually, Tepponilamek grew tired of diving into the water, and bade the many flocks of seabirds on the shore gather pearls to him. The seabirds, each hoping to possess a pearl blessed by the god, dove for them and recovered them, until they had amassed a great pile. Tepponilamek breathed upon the pearls, imbuing them with . Satisfied, Tepponilamek called upon the seabirds to carry them from the beach to the forest, to become Titans there; but the seabirds, angry at having been tricked, stole away the pearls and scattered to the many corners of the world.

Yet Tepponilamek’s anger towards the seabirds was carried as whispers of malice on the wind to them wherever they flew, and soon none of them could bear to carry the pearls. Each seabird deposited the pearl somewhere inland, hoping to escape the fury of Tepponilamek, and there new Titans awoke who knew a little of their maker and the wide world, but not enough. And most were terribly lonely.

Saddened, Tepponilamek headed inland, to see what home Antieram had built. They searched for many moons, until they found a village hidden in a labyrinth of spires of rock. They walked within the village, and looked around in dismay. There were many Titans there, but not so many as they expected, and Antieram was nowhere to be seen.

“Surely I have made more of your kind than this. Do they dwell elsewhere? Where is Antieram, whom I made first?”

Another Titan spoke up.

“There waits Antieram.” he said, and pointed.

In the centre of the village was a vast stone pillar, and gazing upon it Tepponilamek could see Antieram’s pleasant features fixed into the rock.

“What has become of her?” they asked, dismayed.

“She returned to stone to rest, as we all must do. It is more comfortable for us to rest for months or years at once, so the earth may rest from bearing our heavy weight. For the more of us walk upon the land, the greater difficulty it is for the earth to support us, the and quicker we tire.”

Tepponilamek, gladdened that Antieram had not passed into death, looked at the stones surrounding the village.

“Is each one a Titan?” They asked.

“Yes.” the Titan said.

“Wake them all. I have a task for them.”

The Titan hurried away, as did all the others in the village, and spoke special words to the stones to awake then again. Soon the many Titans stood before Tepponilamek, and the very earth quivered with the weight of them. Greatest of them all was Antieram, who was half again as tall as she had been when Tepponilamek had first made her.

“Many of your kind have been scattered to the corners of the world. They will be lonely, and not know much of their nature. I ask that you venture into the world and find them, and help them.”

“Why are they scattered?” Antieram said.

Tepponilamek bowed their head.

“Because I was foolish, and lazy, and sought the aid of the untrustworthy in continuing to make your kind.”

At this, there was much grumbling amongst the Titans. But then Antieram spoke up.

“Our Creator’s failings are of little consequence. Our kin need our aid. We shall head out into the world, and spread out, so we tire slower and can search more lands for our missing kin. We shall make settlements in different lands, to gather individuals amongst our kin, and a great city to gather all our kind in a place closer to the centre of the world.”

Tepponilamek saw that they had done good work in making Antieram, and smiled. But then Antieram turned to them.

“But we do not forgive you for this, our Creator. You have placed a great burden on us. We will bear it out of duty to, and love for, our distant kin. We do not do it for you. It is to each of us to commune with you, or not, as we decide; we owe naught to you, for you are of wind and water, and we of wood and stone; our natures are not alike.”

Tepponilamek saw the rest of the Titans agreed with Antieram, and bowed their head in sadness once more. They departed, and left the Titans to their work.

#world 02547 diegesis

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