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daisy-mooon · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023, Day 6 and 7: Made to watch, "Can you hear me?"

Unformatted sorry yall

Meg watched as Apollo all but collapsed into Hazel's arms - she may have been small, but she was strong and with Lavinia, they managed to carry him between them. Meg watched as his head lolled to the side, already limp to the purple that threaded through his veins. Meg watched as he unconsciously choked on even the miniscule sample of glittering unicorn draught, and Hazel had to concentrate with a surgeon's precision to manipulate the gold and silver medicine down his throat.

Every part of it felt wrong. Throughout her entire journey, they had defended each other with their lives. Yet here Apollo was, defeated and withering into a husk, and Meg could do absolutely nothing but watch-

He made a choking cough, and Lavinia adjusted her grip on him to push the hair away from his face. She so badly wished that she was the one carrying him: she'd hauled him into Camp Half-Blood with nothing but fear of her stepfather and even greater terror at the distant unease of the woods, but that was when they were carrying nothing but the clothes on their and she was relatively uninjured. She wanted to stop the girls, wanted to beg them to let her carry him, but that would only slow them down from getting him to a doctor. She wasn't even sure that she could actually carry him now - not with aching bones and wounds from debris. She certainly wouldn't do a better job than Lavinia, who was stocky and tall and capable, or Hazel, who was tinier but still bigger than her and carried muscle and deathly power.

Meg didn't have anything to do on the way back other than carrying Lavinia's manuballista for her and casting worried glances back at him. His face was sweating and pinched, a face that she'd grown familiar with upon their months of travelling together, a face that very much signified that he was in agony, and she forced herself to grab at the manuballista instead of him. Her grip around it was tight enough that her knuckles turned white, that she feared it might splinter.

"Easy." Hazel said calmly. It took her a second to realise that she was talking to her and not Lavinia or Apollo's unconscious form. "We'll get him back to Camp Jupiter and heal him soon."

Meg scowled and hugged the weapon closer. "You guys couldn't fix him the first time. How is giving him the same stuff going to help him?"

The girls cast looks at each other. Lavinia helpfully didn't offer anything, leaving her centurion to fend for herself. Hazel's voice adopted a tone of gentleness she'd grown accustomed to coating anger, even though she could tell that Hazel wasn't angry. "Meg," she began, placatingly, "I can't tell you that he won't die. There's a thick aura of death around him. But I can tell you that he will absolutely not die today, and there are a lot of things that we can do for him in a day."

She didn't know what reaction she was supposed to make, so she nodded jerkily and snapped her gaze back to the ground.

That was how they made their way back to Camp. In silence, the only real noise being made was Lavinia almost inaudibly humming and the ragged, cracked gasps that drew out of Apollo with horrifying ease. The purple in his face didn't move, but every time she looked back at him, his skin was a little more ashen, a little more dried. When she didn't look at him, she was struck by the freezing and terrible paranoia that he had died and she would need to kill him before his corpse killed her-

They didn't go the way they had came. It had been difficult enough before, and there was no way that Hazel and Lavinia could carry him and manoeuvre up the rocks and hills at the same time. Instead, they began to lug him down to the tunnel - not the secret one that they had entered, but the main one that actually led into Camp Jupiter.

It should have been harder for the two Romans to haul him past traffic, but she didn't concentrate on anything beyond making sure that she didn't get hit by a car herself. The guards on shift at the entrance stared, one anxiously abandoning his post to assist them. Lavinia took over, and she said a kind, reassuring and very un-Lavinia "thank you" as she took the manuballista back. Meg was relieved not to carry it, but now she had nothing to hold at all.

Her hands buried into her pockets as Hazel and the new legionnaire began to pull her friend down the tunnel. Here, surrounded by stone an all sides, Apollo’s pain grew louder. Meg desperately tried to ignore them, tried to focus on the sound of her own breathing, but his distress seemed to clear through all of it with ease.

Stupid, stupid Apollo. Why did he let himself get scratched? Why did she let him get scratched? She'd been training since she was five, wielded her scimitars and fought with them every single day, and she let him get scratched-

"Meg." Hazel's voice cut through her panic and she turned to face dark, dark eyes. She looked so much like death. "Apollo is going to be okay."

She wanted to scream, but she bit her lip and clenched her hidden hands into fists. She didn't understand how Hazel could be so calm and sure when she had just said that he had an aura of death. It mirrored Nico's relative unconcern when he had first seen him on the porch of the big house… except Nico had been looking at someone freshly bandaged, not someone on the verge of death.

"He's dying." She bit out, turning back to the distant opening. Sunlight streamed in from the exit of the tunnel.

"Hey, listen." The legionnaire, who had been silent until now, hefted the former god in his arms. "The infirmary get people who are dying all the time. Nine times out of ten, they save them. Phoebus- well, Apollo, I guess - is a tough piece of work. He's not dying on you anytime soon."

Apollo let out the beginnings of a whimper, which Hazel spoke over hurriedly. "We're almost there Meg. The doctors here are good."

"Better than Nico's boyfriend?" She sniped, voice lightening with relief as they exited the tunnel, entering the daylight, feet firmly on grass and earth. At least here, she didn't feel like she was suffocating.

"Don't tell him I said that."

She snorted despite herself, nudging a particularly large tuft of grass with her foot. The life around was reassuring, reaffirming, and she gasped as she heard Apollo groan exactly like he did when he was about to wake up.

His eyes had flickered open only the barest amount, staring straight at her. His lips twitched and another noise came flooding out, but no other part of him moved. He looked like he was-

"Meg." Hazel said slowly and carefully. "I need you to run to Camp Jupiter and get someone from the infirmary. Tell them that Apollo's infection is worse, and that he's possibly been paralysed."

"What do you mean, paralysed?!" She demanded, voice raising into something hysterical.

"He will be okay, but the sooner the doctors can help him, the better. They won't know what level of infection he'll return with unless someone tells them."

"I'm not leaving him-"

"Meg, please."

She hesitated, unable to look at Hazel's face. She focused on Apollo, watching as he could do nothing but stare blankly at her, unable to even twitch. He needed help.

With a deep, deep breath, she looked at the clump of dandelions next to her foot and knelt down, fingers brushing the stem and slowly curling around it. She could hear Hazel and the legionnaire pause in confusion, but she didn't have the time to dwell on it. With a shove at the nature, and a shove at herself, she teleported into Camp Jupiter.

A Roman shouted next to her, startled. Meg stood up shakily - this was only her second time teleporting - and gasped a question out at them. "Where's the infirmary?"

"Uh-" they jabbed a thumb at a building to her left. "It's there. Where's Hazel-?"

She took off sprinting. Her legs wobbled underneath her, threatening to buckle and sprawl her achingly on the floor, but she persisted, tearing across the cobbles, running straight through a yelling lares and almost knocking over a startled swordsman. Her hands scrabbled for the handle of the door and yanked it clean open-

A guy in a white shirt promptly dropped a pile of books clean on his foot. He swore, winced, and then squinted at her as worry flooded his face. "It's… Meg, right? What-"

"Apollo." She gasped. Teleporting was hard. "Infection worse. Paralysed."

"Where is he-?"

"Ran ahead. He's at the river- with Hazel-"

"Give me ten seconds." The healer said, snapping his body into a sprint and racing back into the infirmary. Other healers and patients yelled at him, and he yelled right back, snatching up an apron and what looked like a bag of medical supplies. It took him just over twelve seconds to scramble back to her, narrowly avoiding a collision with a wheelchair user and promptly ran. Meg blinked once before moving into action next to him.

She cursed silently as her muscles began to throb - she wouldn't be teleporting any time soon. The healer… was his name Pranjal? Probably. Pranjal outpaced her easily and she felt almost guilty as he slowed down for her. She didn't need to keep up with him - Apollo needed help.

By the time they had skidded frantically out the gates, Hazel and the legionnaire were accompanied by two more as they hurriedly crossed the river - they were using one of the girl's shields as a makeshift stretcher to carry him on, eight hands and Hazel's manipulation of the imperial gold stopping him from falling into the river. Most likely for the better. The last thing he needed was to be exposed to anything shocking.

Pranjal waited as they made their way across and Meg could do nothing but at the lolling head of her best friend. It bounced slightly whenever someone shifted their grip, and that was about the only movement he could make. Terror seized her in sickening, violent waves: Apollo, who screamed and cried and laughed and fought and was constantly moving was forced into immobility, his body held captive by an undead tyrant, and as usual, Meg had made everything worse. If she hadn't tried to attack Tarquin, then Apollo's infection would have been slower and less painful and none of this would have happened-

They exited the river neatly, and let Pranjal immediately begin checking the wound. The soldiers didn't complain about his weight, instead focusing on each other, and his limp, helpless form.

Fingers slid his shirt up and she looked away almost immediately. She'd seen some gory things in her time - rushed amputations, slitting of throats, shattered bones and so many more, but this wound took pain to the next level. The purple infection did more than corrupt the veins laced through his skin - it inflamed them, tore them, and wriggled through them in an attempt to claim his body. The actual stab wound itself…

Meg tried to look and almost threw up.

"This has gotten a lot worse." She stumbled away from the group, only distantly aware of Pranjal speaking. "I think we need to apply unicorn shavings directly."

"Do you want me to help?"

"...no. Hazel, you're over-exerting your powers. You need to rest. Go to the infirmary and get nectar for yourself. Tell the other healers what's happened, and ask for a cheese grater-"

A what.

"Get him into the stables," Pranjal instructed the other three, taking over from where Hazel had left to stumble away, and they began to walk in an odd, shuffling manner.

Meg knew she couldn't do a lot, but she gripped the side of the shield he was lying on and helped them carry it. Her gaze focused everywhere and nowhere at the same time - on Apollo's face, his wound, his sweat-dampened hair, his usually twitching yet unmoving fingers.

Soldiers stared at them as they pulled him along, gasping and muttering amongst themselves. The eyes made her skin crawl, but they were laced with just enough sympathy that she could manage it until they got him to the stables.

Hurriedly, they ushered Apollo's limp form past the gate and a staring, confused unicorn and laid him on the ground. Someone propped him up so he was lying on the shield as opposed to the hay, and he let out a shocking loud whimper that made her heart clench. A unicorn plodded over to investigate, head nudging the side of his chest, and one of the legionnaires gently shooed it away.

Moments later, another healer came running out of the infirmary, accompanied by Hazel. Pranjal frowned at her direction, making a vague gesture to her arms which were- oh. They were glittering like jewels. Will had told her that Nico dissolved into shadows when he overused his powers. Hazel looked like she was in the very early stages of becoming a gemstone. She shot a withering look back at him and gestured down at Apollo, whose veins were currently coated with amethyst, although when he motioned at her to sit down, she did so without argument.

"You guys," Hazel sighed at the legionnaires that helped carry him. "Go find Frank-"

"-Reyna's on shift, right now-"

"-go find Reyna, and tell her what happened. Lia, get someone to relieve Lavinia and Olivar of watch duty. Lavinia can give an explanation of what happened-"

"Pranjal." The second healer handed over a gold, angled box with a handle on top and started cleaning the wound as Hazel continued her instructions. "Grater."

Meg blinked and gawked at it. "Why are you trying to heal him with a cheese grater?"

"Unicorn shavings." The healer explained as Pranjal stood up gently, and went to one of the unicorns. It nudged him, poking his chest experimentally with its horn, and he stroked its back, coaxing it slowly forward until its wide-eyed head hovered cautiously over him. “You’ve seen the unicorn draught, right?” She nodded, and he continued. “We usually mix the shavings with water and medicine so it can be digested. But for cases like these, with an open wound, we apply the shavings directly onto the wound.”

“And that helps?” Meg squinted at him.

“Yep.” He didn’t explain further, choosing to focus on his cleaning of the wound. White fabric in and out of flesh that was stained purple like a berry bush had exploded inside of him and tore his skin open. “Pranjal, can you manage the unicorn shavings?”

“I’ve got it from here, Callum. You go back to the infirmary, and take Hazel with-”

“I’m staying here.”

“Hazel-”

“I’m staying.” She insisted, staring at him dead in the eye. The black of her iris seemed larger than usual, as if her eyes were overcome by shadow. "I've already taken nectar. The infirmary is just going to overwhelm me."

Both healers cast a look at her, then decided they didn't want to argue with a centurion. Callum ran off. It then hit Meg why they were hurrying: they still had an outrageous number of wounded from their last battle. Hot, fiery guilt burnt straight into her as she realised that Apollo’s injuries were distracting the healers from people who might have needed it more, and that she had caused this-

The grater slowly slid across the unicorn horn and thin, long shavings of gold slid into Pranjal’s hand. He took them carefully and began uncurling them, gently laying them out on top of Apollo’s stomach. She stared at the shavings as they dissolved almost instantly.

“Do unicorn shavings have a limit like nectar and ambrosia?” Meg asked, shuffling to look at Apollo better. She hugged her knees.

“Not really?” Pranjal answered, not looking up from where he was untangling a particularly large shred of gold. “The more shavings used, the less effective they become. But they don’t ever stop healing.”

The shavings were carefully laid on top of his wound like a glittering bandage, covering the wound entirely from sight. They started fading into his skin just as quickly as before, and Meg tried to pacify herself by watching the gold sink into purple. It really didn’t look like it was helping.

Hazel pointed a finger at a particularly thick clump of gold, and it straightened immediately. Pranjal shot her with a look as he laid it over the gash. “I won’t make you go to the infirmary, but you need to stop using your powers.”

She smiled semi-apologetically and scooched over to sit beside Meg. The healer's face scrunched up in concentration as he continued his work. The unicorn whinied softly.

She could feel her eyes settle on her. Meg ignored her. She didn’t want to talk to Hazel, didn’t want her to attempt to reassure him that Apollo was okay when he wasn’t, when he was dying, when it was her fault. She hadn’t been the one to try and fight Tarquin, hadn’t been the one to charge out and force the tyrant to force himself into Apollo-

“Meg,” Hazel said softly. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on Apollo. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She mumbled into her knees. The sound was muffled, but Hazel heard it anyway. She was a centurion - she probably heard that excuse a lot.

The older girl said nothing, keeping her company in silence as Pranjal worked. He pushed Apollo's T-Shirt as far up as it would go, and whilst it would have usually made Meg squawk in annoyance as she caught a glimpse of healthy coloured flab, now made tears threaten to spill out of her eyes as she could only helplessly stare at the sprawling mess of sickly, violent purple. The acne, usually an angry shade of red, was a shriveled shade of black. She looked away and let the tears spill- this was her fault, and now all she could do for Apollo was to watch-

Apollo made a forced, strangled noise.

All three of their heads snapped to Apollo at once. He was still sprawled on the shield and it rocked ever so slightly as he started to twitch. Meg could have sobbed in relief as the paralysis broke, or at least began to break.

"Meg." He whimpered.

Her heart exploded and she was leaning over him in an instant, one hand scooping the curls away from his face and another snatching his with careful precision. His eyes didn't open, but his fingers curled around hers on reflex. Feeling their hands slot together felt as natural as breathing.

Pranjal frowned. "He shouldn't be awake yet-"

"Meg." And that's when she knew something was wrong. It wasn't a tone of recognition or relief, but instead a mumbled plead. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his face was clenched into an unamused frown. Like he wanted her, and didn't know she was there.

"What-"

"Apollo," Pranjal spoke loudly and clearly, causing her to startle ever so slightly. "Can you hear me?"

He mumbled something feverishly and she panicked, gripping his hand even tighter. The fear must have been obvious on her face, because in a second, Hazel was taking her arm and slowly pushing her back into a steady sitting position, this time cradling Apollo's arm as if it was made of glass.

His skin was burning hot to touch. She clung tighter, unaware of what else she was supposed to do. Pranjal was a doctor. Hazel could manipulate gold. All she could do was play with plants and swords. She felt useless, useless, useless-

Apollo let out a hoarse whine and stilled momentarily. The opportunity to lay more unicorn shavings on him was there and taken, and she would have snatched up the grater and done it herself had she not been too busy holding his arm and desperately trying to hope that he would suck in a burst of godly energy and jump upright to laugh at her. What she wouldn't do to listen to one of his stupid, cringe jokes, to listen to him lament the horrors of mortal society and to overdramatically wail about one of his exes.

Her eyes began to water again as a silent teardrop slid down his grimy, sweaty cheek. How much pain was he in, right now, that he couldn't hear them? She didn't know. She wasn't sure she wanted too.

She heard Hazel distantly trying to comfort her, trying to say that his aura of death was reducing, trying to convince her that she could feel the golden unicorn shavings flood through his veins, but she couldn't answer her. The only thing she could do was hold Apollo's hand, and cruelly wish that she could hold it forever.

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my-mt-heart · 8 months

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Hi, my-mt! Are you ok with some speculation? Don't know if you can because of strike...Well, I've been thinking about the Caryl kids: Sophia, Lydia and Henry..and now, I believe, Laurent. And I have a little theory that I would like your opinion. I see Sophia and Lydia as a pair - both girls had witnessed and/or suffered severe abuse from one of their parents, both are sweet, shy and so afraid, one got forever lost, the other one was saved, nurtured and got to grow up into a happy young woman with a loving found family. Ok, this pair is an easy one to explain.

Could Henry and Laurent be a pair too? Both are naive kids, very loved and treated as special (a prince, a miracle) by their communities, very sheltered, and have to leave their homes so they can learn new things that will help them on their future adult lives and their missions (to become the leader of the Kingdom, to save human kind LOL). Daryl agrees to be their chaperon basically for the same reason. He never developed a full bond with Henry because that wasn't the story being told, but he cared for him and tried to protect him from harm. Carol loved Henry as her own, but, at the beginning, she tried as hell to not be involved with him, and, after, she wasn't fooled by the fact that he, as Sophia, didn't have a mean bone in his body. And we can speculate that Daryl'll become some sort of father figure for Laurent, and that Carol, after meeting him and understanding how important the kid is to Daryl, will care for him too.

So it's like..Sophia and Lydia are their daughters, to them both, while Henry and Laurent are adoptive sons to one of them and cared by the other. If Isabelle dies (and I hope she doesn't, I'm tired of TWD killing off their characters), Carol may or may not become an adoptive mother, and they can wait until Laurent is grown enough and safe to finally leave France. Sophia and Henry die, Lydia and Laurent live, the cycle is finally completed and Carol and Daryl are finally free and at peace to be happy together. *cheers* Okay, what do you think about my half-cooked theory, my-mt? Followers please join in, I would like to see what fellow carylers think too. (( Oh, I don't factor Judith and RJ on this reasoning because I believe Carol and Daryl relate and care for them on a different level, on the primary basis that they are substitute parent figures who stepped in when needed. Yes, those kids are so much loved by Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol but, in the end, that's what they are, uncle and aunt, niece and nephew. Yes, I'm completely ignoring that Judith called Daryl "daddy" on the main show finale because 45 minutes later he left and got himself stranded on fucking France so...also he wanted to run away to New Mexico with his boo and leave the kids to Tia Rosita and Uncle Aaron...so...yeah. ))

Hi there 🙂

I agree with you on the parallels between the two girls. I think Lydia was meant to represent the daughter Caryl saved together. Because they all share a similar background, coming from an abusive home, Daryl and Carol were able to teach her how to rise above that trauma. They showed her how to be part of a family, plus what it really meant to love and be loved. I really wish we got to see more of that dynamic, but imo that’s where the cycle ended. Daryl and Carol were meant to chase their freedom on the road together after that 😒

Henry mattered to Daryl because he mattered to Carol, so it stands to reason any kid Daryl cares about would earn Carol’s love too. But to be completely honest, I’m having a really hard time believing Laurent fits into that equation. Why does Daryl need to be a father figure to him? Because the nun said so? For one thing, that makes me super uneasy. Without even watching, I can tell you his bond with Isabelle is nothing like what he developed with Carol, so that can’t be what’s motivating him. Unless it’s revealed later that Laurent was also abused, Daryl isn’t naturally going to gravitate to him like he did to Carol, Sophia, and Lydia. He just feels like a means to an end to me, though I’m confident the show will try to force an emotional reason and it’ll piss me off 💀

I think after Daryl and Carol help him fulfill his destiny (🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️), they can leave him in the safe hands of the family he already has. They don’t need to adopt him.

Thank you for sharing your theory. I hope you don’t feel like I’m invalidating you because that’s not the intention. I think what it really comes down to is not trusting Zabel’s writing. Especially not when there’s evidence to suggest he didn’t even bother to watch the flagship show 💀

#Caryl #caryl spinoff #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol

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the-witchs-archives · 1 year

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[MINI ARC 2 - The Holiday Cheer]

[SCENE 1]

"Hoohoo... have you heard anything from your brother?.."

Kiwi took a moment before realizing..

"Oh Herb? Yeah.. about that, mama.."

It was gonna hurt him to tell her the truth of the disappearances, but he had to do it so she wouldn't be left wondering.

"Mama, he's missing, Sugarcane is trying to find him but it hasn't been well.."

"What a shame. I saw some sort of potential in that kid of yours.. not that I'd adopt anything that young into my posse."

"Aunt Enchantress, it isn't a joking matter, he really is missing. None of us have gotten any leads on him or some other prominent figures in our city, so we're left in the dark."

"Hoo.. my poor son.."

Though, something else was coming to change the holiday drear, a heavier crunch through the snow followed by softer steps, a kid's chatter and a grown cookie's response. It was something that could easily be picked up by those who's hearing was improved.

Matcha looked over to the door and headed over, opening to look outside for the cookies

"Hoohoo! I hear you!..."

"Hey mom!"

She looked towards the voice, a teen with blue hair that was now lighter as it was frosted over, wearing a light blue and pink jacket who ran over to hug her

"Hoo! Soda!.."

And she looked up again to see a gentleman of light pink, his face accented with a beard and scars

"And hello.. darling!"

"Dad made me wear this jacket, I don't think it's too cold!"

"Hehe... better safe than sorry."

"Hello, dear. How are you holding up so far?"

The older gentleman approached, the beard dusted with snow as he went for a hug, barely a light jacket over his body. Of course, he didn't feel all that cold, used to the salty frigid sprays of the sea. His tired eyes never showed much behind their neutral expression, but yet, the slight upturn of his lips let them glow in the light of the home. Looking over her shoulder, he saw the biker head outside, excited to see the fisherman once more.

"Pops! Suds!"

Kiwi called with glee, Dark Enchantress staring outside for a moment or two before going back inside. She wasn't going to deal with this like the rest of the family.

"How's the sea?... hehe.."

"It's amazing! Well.. besides the scary fish.. but I met a fish cookie, their name was Peppermint and they had these cool horns that looked like candy but they're really shy, but we also saw another cookie scare off the sea monster!"

"Hoo?.. did you get the name of that cookie?.."

"No but dad said their name was Captain Caviar, and he's the toughest cookie of the seas!"

Matcha always loved hearing the stories from the seas, especially since all of her children were either Seaborn or just like her... a byproduct of the horrors, deep down she wished to search for Herb on her own but she couldn't risk it, because she knew stronger forces were at play.

"Woah! You saw someone chase off a sea monster!? That's wicked! Was it a big monster?"

Kiwi asked, eyes sparkling as "Suds" nodded, hair frozen in place as Salt ushered everyone to the house.

"Come on, everyone. Inside before we get our doughs too cold."

"Pops!- Oh, Alright. I wasn't minding it that much!"

"Me either!"

Both boys commented, only for a laugh from the older of the two. The house felt brighter with each member inside, a jolly party of cookies with all sorts of adaptations. The brothers sat with each other, telling stories of their times apart, while Salt sat with his wife, happy to be together again as the night went on with glee.

#cookie run eldritch au #cookie run #cookie run au #eldritch!kiwi #kiwi biker cookie #Kiwi cookie #matcha cookie #dark enchantress cookie #salt cookie #soda cookie #cookie run ovenbreak

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ladyazulina · 4 months

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Birthday(s)

So, after my Birthday's Eve post, I thought I should do one about the birthday per se, as a minimum. But I can't really talk about my twenty-fifth birthday without sharing my perspective—not about birthdays in general, but—about my birthday. So here it comes.

I don't remember ever liking it, but that's not even fair because I don't remember most of them.

I know it was properly celebrated when I was a child, things were different then, and proof of it was in memories shared from my mom and a unsuccessfully erased pink eight-shaped silhouette of the foam sculpture that was atop my cake that year from the wall. I have grown up with that shape still carving my wall. But one thing that has always shaped my day was sadness. From different sources:

I grow up without my dad. My mom kicked him out when I was six because he was still cheating on her, and one of the first things I remember around my birthday is from one year later if I'm not mistaken (and I can be), being in this weird and unknown place with this kid almost one year younger than me that I didn't like and this woman that tried to be nice to me. My half-sister's birthday is, in fact, 28 days earlier than mine. And I've seen my dad in them. What he had left in mine was this awful feeling and a craving for ice cream, which also made me sad because it was the go-to thing to do during the scarce moments of my teen years when he came to spend time with us.

My mom did the best she could, I know that, but I still grew to be a quiet, timid, and reserved kid. It didn't go well socially for me in school, and my birthday has always been on winter break or right away the last day of exams. There was one year, after a circle of friends adopted me and did their best to take me out of my shell, that my classmates allegedly threw the Christmas party in my honor because of my fourteenth birthday. The friends ambushed me on the last day of classes and made me call my mom to have her permission to go to the sleepover in the house of one of them, I didn't want to go but didn't feel brave enough to be honest, so I went against my wishes. They dolled me up, took away my glasses, put on makeup I didn't want, (created me a Facebook account), and we went all together to the party. I didn't like the food and there were two cakes I didn't touch, one with a picture of the gang of the person giving the house, and one with "all the classmates". I hope you assumed I wasn't in either, so it was hard to believe that it was even 1/3 for me. The worst part is that my house was close to the one where the party was held, but I wasn't able to be left out to go to my house, so I had to go through the sleepover anyway. (It was 2012, I believed the world was ending on December 21st, and was mad because my lil sister was sad with me, not being able to give me the gift she chose for me.)

I don't remember when I noticed I didn't like cakes (unless they're homemade), give me ice cream instead. But I think I was adamant after that party about not wanting any birthday party for myself. Brace yourselves: the year after I had a surprise party. Yearly, we have my mother-side family gathering for Christmas, so some particular characters of the family decided to use that gathering to give me a party I vehemently said I didn't want. People not excited or interested in my birthday. Wifi cut out because my sister was mad at me for wanting to chat with my boyfriend. Three rented adult dresses to change into. Makeup to bear. Five to ten centimeters of heels to break my feet with. Lots of photos, with the one using a white dress making me look like a bride with my cousin of life seeming my spouse. Of course I smiled and feigned happiness and let them drag me in whatever, my mom asked. But I took off as soon as I was able, knowing that not even that was for me.

Goddess, that sounds kind of sad.

Two years ago, my dad decided to take me on a trip for my birthday, with all his daughters (my sisters and his other two). A tourist destination. A rented house. Three days, two nights. Walking day and night. Going to beaches. Looking and sightseeing. It wasn't a trip made for me because I don't like any of that, my half-sisters do, the planners of the trip. It was cold, the water was freezing, and we didn't have a lot of sun. I discovered my birthday was only an excuse for them to go there again, and for my dad to unload one night some of the burden eating him from inside. It wasn't nice, but I still hold onto the fact that at least the rented house was nice.

All of that made me reconsider that having a vendetta against my birthday was only making me suffer, so last year I started planning to make me look at it better.

I didn't have a lot of time to do something grand, but I asked friends and some groups I felt comfortable talking to, to do something nice for me on the day (it could have been something as little as just spending some time talking with me), because that was the important part. It wasn't a good day, but thanks to their help, it wasn't totally bad. I decided then to have a date with myself the next year.

This year. Two days ago.

I'm not sure if I said everything I wanted to say about birthdays here, it feels like a rant and some reminiscences, but I'm short of words, so I should do you a favor and just stop. The summary is that I never liked my birthday and the feeling just increased with every attempt, but I'm trying to give it a 180º for myself, and this is the second year trying.

And I'll come back soon to talk about my Birthday Spree, so don't tune off.

#writers life #birthday #birthdays #rant post #personal rant #rant #vent post #vent #offf and I didn't even get started with Christmas!#Christmas was always there taking off my focus #that's one reason of why I never liked Christmas #fight me but I think I will never like Christmas

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vicjo-sims-stories · 5 months

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Haru Danielle Feng

Hey, I'm Haru. I'm the youngest daughter of Jillian and Victor. I'm a little high maintenance. Can you blame me? I'm the daughter of a renown actress and politician.

Anyway, I didn't really have anyone to play with growing up cause my siblings were busy being adults or teens or whatever.

I am super into wellness and focused on improving my wellness skills so I can live a peaceful zen life. Ugh. Ok Yuri wants me to talk about "the time I stole her boyfriend". So Dustin kept telling me they were done but he was still living there so I gave him an ultimatum. Obviously the guy chose me, Yuri has no time for him that's why he was so unhappy with her. If y'all really want to know, Dustin and I eloped, against everyone's wishes. But after moving in together in Henford-on-Bagley, things changed and we kept arguing and it just sucked. So I left him and moved to Tartosa by myself.

Yuri, Liam and Brycen keep pestering me about this dumb story like it was so long ago. Like come on, I practically helped my sister and kept from marrying such an annoying ass guy. They're literally still gonna keep talking about it as ghosts. At least Ara only called me a dumb bitch once and never spoke of it again. Donovan is the only one who understands me.

I was living my best life in Tartosa by the water, until my brother Liam kept pressuring me to have a kid when he didn't have one of his own. Annoying ass. So I adopted this little girl from an adoption agency: Samira. Honestly...I didn't want her. I was content with my peaceful life alone in Tartosa. She's a good kid though, never complains, does her chores and does fine in school. I've grown very fond of her as she grew up. One day I received a call from apparently some distant family member? Offering me inheritance of some kind, but the catch was that I'd have to get married within the week or something. I needed money so I went to hunt down a new man, and I thought Samira having a father figure would be nice cause I was tired of doing everything myself. I met Akito around my first house in Tartosa and we clicked right away.

Shortly after getting married we decided to have more kids. Akito was the one who wanted more kids, I was done, but I guess I don't mind fulfilling that for Akito.

I gave birth to twins: Carson and Wilson. When they were born we realized my house was too small so we moved north east of Tartosa on a bigger lot. We rebuilt our house twice and the first time it was built, Carson and Wilson were stuck in their room and the door wasn't working correctly. So none of us could get in to feed them. When we finally got through, CPS came in and took away Carson. I don't know where he is now but I had to continue on raising Wilson and Samira.

I got bored just doing wellness so I took up a new job in the fashion industry. Akito does work for some company or society? (stop it, he's not a criminal) and now Samira is in high school and just joined the cheer team. I grew up in a very privileged and luxurious home and I'm happy that I can continue to live this way and provide the same, if not, better lifestyle for my family. Anyway I expect nothing less than the best.

#choi-dynasty #sims4

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strang-news · 1 year

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Cultural Corner: Employee Feature on Hannah R.

What is your favorite family dish? Who makes it the best? Why?

My favorite family dish is Arroz con pollo. My grandmother slaves over the stove for hours, getting everything to the perfect consistency. She's very tight-lipped regarding her recipe but has carefully crafted a family cookbook to ensure that her recipe gets passed down for years. She is very persistent that the only thing that makes her recipe different from the rest is the love she mixes with the rice. Obviously, no amount of love matches up to a grandmother's, right?

What local restaurant do you recommend for us to dine at that will give us a scrumptious taste of your culture? What do we absolutely have to order?

Although this restaurant is not Cuban food, my grandmother swears by it. Many Cubans migrated to Cuba from Spain, so many traditions and recipes stuck around. Her favorite restaurant is Centro Vasco in Little Havana, and the two dishes she and my grandfather order are the Cochinillo de Segovia and Zarzuela de Mariscos. It is definitely worth the visit if you’re in the area! If you're on the hunt for good Cuban food, you cannot go wrong with Havana Harry's or Versailles, both of which are Miami staples.

What is one of your favorite family traditions that you feel is representative of your ethnic culture?

My favorite family tradition that represents my culture happens on Christmas Eve and goes by Noche Buena. It’s tradition to roast a pig, which preparation begins three days in advance, and have all the traditional dishes such as rice and beans or sometimes even steamed yuca. My grandmother recalls a time in her childhood when she lived in Cienfuegos, Cuba. All her family flew to her hometown to celebrate Noche Buena together, immediately making it her favorite time of the year since it was a guarantee that no one in their right mind would ever even think of missing it.

When visiting the country of your ethnic/cultural origin what should we do as tourists? (Visit a particular site? Purchase an item from a specific vendor?)

Due to the current conditions of Cuba, it is a relatively rare place to visit. My grandmother had never returned since leaving the country through the Pedro Pan program when she was twelve. She loved Cuba and wants to keep her memory of it which is why she will never return. Many places in Miami began to mold into the likeness of Cuba because of the influx of Cuban immigrants in the 1960s. The area of Little Havana is the perfect example of this. Many traditions, decor, and ambiances have carried over from Cuba, which is why my grandmother lives to visit that area. Many Cubans gather around El Parque de Domino, which translates to "Domino Park." Domino tables are scattered throughout the space, and the booming voices of Cubans trash-talking one another fill the air. This traditional Cuban pastime reminds my grandmother of home and reminds me of every family get-together. An event that takes place in Little Havana that my grandmother enjoys is Carnival de Miami on Calle Ocho. It's just one other thing that the Cubans brought over to ensure that Miami feels like home.

What should we not do as tourists that can be seen as disrespectful or offensive?

"Pais que fueres, coma costumbre que vieres."

This a quote that my grandmother highly recommends we follow. When visiting anywhere, you should adopt the customs throughout the location. When my grandmother emigrated to Miami, she adopted the customs here; why can't others do the same?

What is a stereotype you would like to do away with?

Two stereotypes my grandmother and I would love to do away with are that Cubans are loud and talk enthusiastically with our hands. We definitely live up to the stereotype ourselves; we just wish it wasn't a standard correlation to Cuban Culture.

What was a time that you were embarrassed by your culture? How have you grown from that experience?

My grandmother touched on the fact that she's embarrassed by the refusal of the new generation to learn the native tongue of their heritage. She has grown from this experience by ensuring that she keeps the language alive in her home.

How would you describe your culture in three words?

Loud, happy, and expressive. Unfortunately, as much as my grandmother and I wish that Cubans weren't known for being so loud and expressive, we are just as much to blame for stereotyping Cubans as such... clearly.

What is something that you would teach us from your culture and traditions?

Cubans tend not to restrain their feelings or emotions in any situation. The restraining of feelings or emotions is something that, at times, can be limited due to the cultural climate. We hope that Cubans can teach others not to let those limitations stop them from being more expressive, kind, and loving throughout; something essential that we believe Cubans embody.

What is a song we can listen to that represents your culture?

Caballo Viejo sung by Roberto Torres. This song is a Cuban bonding song for all the exiles.

How does your culture define your perspective?

My grandmother expressed that the Cuban culture "gives me family ties, defines me of who I was, and prepares me for who I am."

To me, the Cuban culture has shown me never to take for granted what I have and the country I live in. Through hard work and a fresh new start, my grandparents were able to plant roots and grow in ways they never deemed possible, and for that, I will always be grateful for the Cuban culture's perseverance.

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cherry-gemz · 3 years

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Open Book: Part I

Summary: As the Assistant Librarian for a small town in Florida, you find yourself intrigued with an extraordinary little girl and her charming uncle. As each day goes by, you teach the girl about adventure and mystery with your love of books. Little do you know what's in store for you next.

Pairings: Y/N and Frank Adler

Rating: PG, all fluff

Word count: IDK, failed at the assignment 2k+ lol. So I split the fic.

Challenge Prompt: Write a story about someone trying to find the perfect birthday gift.

A/N: Happiest of birthdays dear @a-little-counter-esperanto. You are the bees knees and really a true gem! I'm so happy we've become friends - we have so many things in common it's cray. I'm wishing you all the love and happiness, sunshine! May you continue to have a fantastic birthday sleepover and enjoy being loved by all! Hope you enjoy the fic xx - Cherry

"Did you get the flowers?" Mary asked as she sat on the couch flipping through the tv.

Frank patted his chest and then his jeans in search of his keys.

"What?"

Mary kept changing the channels without a beat,"Frank. You're supposed to buy a girl flowers on the date."

Frank furrowed his brow, "Uh...no. Have you seen my keys? Really?"

Mary rolled her eyes, "She's not gonna kiss you goodnight."

He searched on the kitchen table and rummaged through old mail when a knock at the door interrupted his concentration. As he bee-lined to the door, Mary turned off the tv and hopped off the couch to grab her latest book she'd chiseled her way through for the week.

Frank swung the door open abruptly and started you as you stood at their doorstep.

"Hey! You made it, great!" Frank exclaimed. "Sorry, my head's a mess."

Mary now situated herself at the kitchen table and shouted over her shoulder, "It's because he hasn't been on a real date in over six months."

Frank turned red," What? No...I mean yes, but jeez, Mary. Remember we talked about how to read a room?"

He turned back to you, "Come in, come in. I'm just trying to find my keys."

You chuckled and nodded to the doorknob which held his set of keys and he smacked his forehead.

As you walked into the house, you noticed little knickknacks here and there on shelves. And books. Mountains of books everywhere. Piling on top of each other.

"Hi Mary," you smiled as she kept her back to you, nose deep in her book.

"Mary…" Frank scolded as he put his hands on his hips.

"Hi, Ms. Y/N."

You smiled as you approached her, "May I sit?"

She nodded in agreement and you pulled out a chair.

"I brought you something…" you say as you rummage through your canvas bag for your book on crabs. "Well, actually I was hoping you could help me...see…"

Frank smiled as he saw the two of you bonding. He caught himself admiring you more than he'd like to admit as he needed to head off to his date soon. He appreciated your assistance with babysitting Mary as the two of you first met at the local library. His date, Justine, was a waitress at the bar he would visit from time to time. While there was a chemistry between them, it was really just through vanity. With you, he had come to know you at a deeper level: the way you’d squint or furrow your brow when reviewing your clipboard. Or how adorable you’d look chewing on the cap of your pen when trying to finalize an email at your desk. He saw that you loved the color yellow, considering how many skirts and cardigans you’d paired together. And that you were a romantic at heart - the classics were your fave to read and how’d you get lost in historical facts when he had first asked you what your hobbies were. Seeing how a beautiful person you were, inside and out, he now regretted asking Justine out with you on his mind.

Mary's eyes scanned the books of quantum physics and mathematics. At first you thought perhaps she had another book instead, but as you watched her day in and day out, you were astounded at the tiny prodigy and her ability to ascertain such knowledge at her age. You'd correct the cataloging errors for the day and find her reading for enjoyment it seemed.

Then one day Frank arrived. Mary had always left on her own, but as if it were any old regular day, the handsome uncle came to retrieve his stellar niece. He had a warmness to him. His dark brown hair and beard complemented his face, one that was obvious in an overall attractiveness. And he was kind, he showed that by adopting his niece after her mother had passed away and truly nurturing her gifted talent. You learned he fixed boats for a living and lived not too far from the library. You smiled at the odd pair together, they somehow seemed to work however.

As you checked their books out, Mary tiptoed over the large walnut desk and glanced at you.

"You're pretty," she stated.

"Mary. What did we say?" Frank tsked, embarrassed, but didn't disagree with her observation.

"What? Frank, you told me that I need to state facts, rather than assumptions. And I am stating a fact that Ms. Y/LN is pretty. Do you think she's pretty, Frank?"

Frank coughed into his fist and blushed, you smirked, half wanting to know his answer, half laughing inside of how Mary was so blunt.

"Yes, Ms. Y/LN is very pretty," he replied and gazed at your eyes. He licked his lips and you had to turn away feeling flushed. You closed the last book and placed it in Mary's backpack.

"All set," you replied. "These are due on the 23rd."

Frank zipped up the backpack and slung it over his broad shoulder. "Thanks, we'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh?" You replied as Mary looked at you both attempting to assess the flirtation occuring before her eyes.

"Well, yeah, she loves it here, I mean. And we have a few other books to return."

"Yes, we'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Mary."

"Bye," Mary replied and skipped off.

Frank showed up every day after that. You found it endearing, but not wanting to read into something that wasn't there, you focused your attention on Mary. That only seemed to peak his interest further. While he had a knack for attracting women, his heart was never in it for the long haul since the minute they found out about Mary, they'd either run away from the possible responsibility, or Mary would run them off herself. But with you it was different. You were genuine and kind to Mary. Knowing quite well of her mathematical abilities, you would challenge her in other areas: art, zoology, history. You found that while she could read more college level books than any person you met in the small town, she still was a child wanting to learn about all other aspects of life. You'd sit together at a table: you, reviewing inventory spreadsheets for the latest book fair and her, immersed in some book that would put you to sleep at night.

"Frank, you should ask Ms. Y/LN out," Mary stated one day as the three of you sat at a table together. Frank practically choked and you shook your head, secretly wanting to say yes.

"Aw, Mary. Well, I bet Ms. Y/LN has guys lined up at her door every night."

"No, she doesn't," Mary replied as she turned a page of her book. Frank laughed and placed his hand on Mary's shoulder, pretending to shake her.

"Well, actually Ms. Y/LN…" he said as your heart skipped a beat.

"Y/N," you interrupted. "You can call me Y/N. I feel we're on a first name basis now considering you're here everyday."

“Y/N,” he smiled. His hair was more combed today. You had noticed that he seemed to be disheveled when you first met him, however either Mary’s tactics were rubbing off on him, or it was your pure imagination.

“Yes?” you piped. You haven't been regularly dating lately. There just weren’t many prospects these days. Not ones that could keep up with conversation, let alone intellect. So instead, you found yourself immersed with your favorite fictional characters in the sea of books you’d grown to know and love.

His brow furrowed, he seemed nervous and he picked at the edge of a book as he attempted to gather his thoughts.

“Do you have a favorite book?” Mary interrupted as Frank turned to her, but seemingly glad she saved him from embarrassment.

“Do I have a favorite book? Hmmm...” you thought and a childish smile appeared on your face. “I have many favorite books, Mary...The Velveteen Rabbit, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe…”

“Yeah, but what’s like your most favorite book?”

You extended your hand out to her and she willingly accepted. Frank perked up his interest as he watched the two of you scamper off into the fiction area. Curious, he stood up and decided to follow. The two of you giggled quietly as you made your way around the columns, your free hand lightly ghosting over the spines of the books. The subtle scent of paper and dust permeated Frank’s sense of smell. He was more of an outdoorsy person nowadays as he had left behind his scholarly days teaching in Boston. It’s where Mary learned most from, his appetite to keep learning, vernacular, and wit . You slowed down and perused a row until you found your favorite book.

“Aha!” you exclaim and hid the book behind your back as Mary jumped up and down with excitement. “Now, I’m not sure if this is something you’d be interested in, it’s more for ten year olds in my opinion. However, I know you’re a very mature young lady and I find that you’d quite enjoy the story if you give it a chance.”

Frank smiled, perplexed as to what book could possibly be your favorite. You pulled the book from behind and showed Mary.

“Little Women,” she stated. “By Louisa May Alcott.”

“Yes. It’s a beautiful story, really. About sisters and the trials they endure during the American Civil War. There’s friendship, love, and growth.”

Mary bunched her nose, you could tell she was on the fence about whether she’d enjoy a story about fictional sisters and yucky love stuff. You started to pull it away, however she grabbed it from your hands. You laughed and looked at Frank who leaned onto the columns and folded his arms.

“Seems someone is wanting to expand their horizons,” he chuckled.

“So it seems,” you smiled back as Mary skipped off to return to the table leaving the two of you behind.

“I’m more of a Lord of the Rings man myself.”

“Really?” you responded playfully. “The Hobbit included, right?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “I think I actually just read that one to be honest, I just wanted to impress you. I spent my time reading Calvin and Hobbes more, probably how Mary learned my sarcasm.”

You laugh and touch his forearm as a reflex, but quickly realize and pull away. The spark that you felt when you connected was undeniable. You felt butterflies with him standing next to you and you hoped he hadn’t noticed your inability to remain calm.

“Y/N…” he started to say nervously. “Would it be alright if I called ya? Maybe we can get together sometime?”

“Oh, umm,” you replied, caught off guard. While you definitely had caught feelings for the handsome man, you never would have thought it’d be reciprocated. You stuttered, trying to gather your response.

Your hesitation threw him off, and he quickly replied, “I mean...like to sit for Mary or whatever. She really likes you.”

“Of course...yes,” you reply defeated in hopes that he would have asked you out. Instead of asking why he didn’t, you started to walk back to Mary. Frank scrunched his face in frustration in knowing he missed his shot with you and blurted out the most platonic question instead. He realized as well and quickly shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and followed your lead.

Frank watched as you comfortably plopped yourself next to Mary on the couch, dreading that he had to meet up with Justine. He’d much rather relax on the couch with you and the rugrat, enjoying some silly kids movie together.

You peered over the couch, “Is it okay if she has popcorn?”

“What? Yes,” Mary said flatly and jumped off the couch to the kitchen.

“Okay, miss. But not too much sugar. Bedtime is still at 9,” Frank replied as you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s the weekend, Frank,” Mary called out from the kitchen.

“Yes, but-“

“Will you be late?” you asked.

He looked at you in surprise, “Um, no. Probably before ten?”

“Okay, have fun.”

“It’s Y/N’s birthday,” Mary replied, carrying two coke bottles and a bag of jelly beans.

You shook your head in regret of ever telling the child when your birthday was. She was so inquisitive that day, asking about all your favorites: food, animals, books, and now birthday.

“It’s your birthday?!” Frank asked.

“Yeah, no big deal.”

“How old are you?” Mary asked as she set the drinks on the coffee table and then remembered how Frank would scold her about leaving water rings. She grabbed the coasters and placed them under the bottles.

“Mary!” Frank detested and placed his hands on his hips.

“How old do you think I am?” You tease, waving off to Frank that it was okay.

“Older than Justine, that’s for sure. She said she was 24, but looks 34. But she acts like she's 12. She hasn't even read anything on quantum physics, she thought wave mechanics was something Frank was working on with a boat,” she said coolly and popped a few jelly beans into her mouth. She nestled herself back into the couch cushions and wiggled her feet.

“Mary Elizabeth!” Frank’s voice boomed as he entered the living room.

Mary leaned over to whisper to you, “Frank says I'm not supposed to correct older people. Nobody likes a smart-ass.”

“And a busy body,” he huffed.

You nodded and laughed quietly, entertained at his expense.

“Well I am 32,” you smiled and looked at your watch, “As of one hour ago as a matter of fact.”

“That’s good. You’re much more mature than Justine and a better fit for him. Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Mary…that’s it. You’re on your last warning,” Frank bellowed. “Don’t make me let Y/N go home and then you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“What? No! Okay. I’m sorry,” she lamented and folded her arms.

Frank’s demeanor changed as he turned to you, “I hadn’t known it was your birthday. Don’t feel pressured to sit for her tonight if you have other plans.” Secretly he wanted to cancel on Justine and spend the night celebrating you instead.

“Oh it’s okay! It kind of appeared out of nowhere. I usually go back home and celebrate with friends and family, but my schedule didn’t permit it this year. Next year, perhaps.”

“What’s your favorite dessert?” Mary asked as she chewed on another handful of jelly beans.

“Red velvet cheesecake,” you smiled. “I have a sweet tooth.”

Frank couldn’t concentrate on his date with Justine. His mind was elsewhere. On you. Justine grazed her hand as they sat next to each other at the bar. He seemed unfazed by her gesture and looked at his watch, 9:14pm. Would it be too obvious if he cut the date short that he was into you? He coughed and took a swig of his beer.

“Do you wanna come back to my place?” She cooed and bit her lip in anticipation.

“What? Oh actually I was gonna head out. The sitter needed me home by 9:30,” he lied.

“Oh, sitter?”

“Yeah, Mary. Remember? My niece?”

“That’s right. How old is she again?”

“Seven,” He said, annoyed. He recalled they had met once before. The bartender approached them and handed Frank the receipt.

“Hey, do you have any desserts on the menu?”

Justine’s ears perked in curiosity of where he was going with asking about dessert.

The bartender grunted slightly and threw a mangled tri-fold menu and Frank grabbed it quickly.

“Buddy, ring me up for the red velvet cupcake.”

#Laurens birthday challenge #Lauren's birthday sleepover #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #frank adler #gifted #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fluff #♡ frank adler ♡#open book

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kuronanox · 3 years

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I can’t let go-Nozel

(Authors note: This may be angst or maybe not haha I've been in the mood! Also I've been a huge ass simp for Fuegoleon and Nozel! Help I can't like them both)

"I can't stand the sight of commoners talking to royals like it's their business." Nozel sneers in disgust as him, Fuegoleon and (Your Name) stood all side by side and watched the party go on in the ballroom.

"I'm basically a commoner!" (Your Name) tells Nozel with a grin as he rolled his eyes. She wore a regal dark green dress and her hair was curled elegantly. The shining gold around her neck and ears. She was definitely royalty to him.

"Adopted into royalty." He said in a matter of fact. "So it makes you royal." He adds ignoring the way she looked at him with amusement.

"You just won't admit you like a good for nothing commoner like me!" She stuck her tongue out and joined some of them into the dance floor.

"Always so harsh on your words." Fuegoleon chuckles as he watches the young teenage girl dance with some squad members.

Nozel shrugs as his braid moved along side with it. The two teens watched for a moment of silence before Fuegoleon broke the silence.

"I've been meaning to tell her about my feelings."

Nozel froze in his spot, his rival was interested in (Your Name). "Why does that matter to me." He plays it off and knits his brows growing bitter after each minute passes.

"I was just going to ask how you felt since she is technically a commoner... not that it matters to me." Fuegoleon adds with a smile of warmth staring at her as she smiled back at him with a grin and she slightly lost balanced but laughed it off.

Nozel felt jealous of how fond they were together. "I don't care what you do in your love life. It doesn't concern me."

Nozel was staring into space as he heard a knock on his office door. "Come in."

"Im sorry I needed advice." The Crimson Lion Captain says in a rush as he took a seat across from the desk. Fuegoleon looked as if he was sweating a ton and he didn't sleep that night.

"What is it?" Nozel sighs and signs off some papers he still hadn't finished.

"(Your Name) is back and I don't know what to do! I mean we've been together since we were 18 but I want to celebrate it! She's coming home after so many years!"

Nozel clutched his knees a bit and let go before rolling his eyes. "She should stay in that nonsense village and go live with those commoners she helps all the time." He adds with malice and a coldness that lingered in his heart.

Fuegoleon was silent before taking his leave. "I don't know why you are so bitter about her? Has she done you wrong in some way?"

"No." Nozel states and looks back up to his rival. "Many has done me wrong but I won't say to what it is... Now! I have a lot of paper work so if you wish to talk more nonsense to me I suggest to go to someone else."

"Well ...you are always welcome to visit her when she gets back." Fuegoleon invites Nozel before taking a leave.

"Nozel! Guess what?!" She cheerfully says to him as they walked around the kingdom doing small task for their captains.

"What is it?"

"Me and Fuegoleon are dating!"

He doesn't say a word and continues to walk, what could he say? Congratulations? I'm so happy for you? No he couldn't because that's not how he felt. As much as he despite the relationship he could never stoop so low to tell her how he felt now. It was to late.

"Are you happy?"

"Always!"

(Your Name) smelt the air of the Clover Kingdom and sighed in happiness. She was glad to be home again after being away for so long. After helping the less unfortunate and other villages she decided it was time to head home and be with the ones she loved.

Walking into the entrance of the the Crimson Lion base she spotted her favorite person in the world waiting with open arms.

She grinned as Fuegoleon looked back at her with longing eyes. She dropped her bags running towards his embrace. "I've missed you." (Your Name) whispers into his neck as he kissed her head. "I've missed you too love."

"It's been to long, I can't believe we lasted this long." She exclaimed as he picked up her bags from the floor. "I never doubted us." He tells her with a wink as they walked linked together into the base.

"(Your Name)!" Leopold yells running towards her with full speed and gives her a bear hug. She laughs and hugs the boy back. "You've grown little one!"

"Of course! I can't wait to show you how strong I've been!"

"I can't wait!" She says to him as he jumps excitingly like a little kid again. "Where's Mereoleona?" She adds.

"She wanted to come see you but you know she's doing Mereoleona things right now." Fuegoleon says slyly as they settled in.

Nozel frowned as he looked up to the Crimson Lion base. He really didn't want to see them together being all lovely dovey yet he missed her dearly. He was cold to her at times but he didn't know how to show he cared.

He wasn't surprised to see there was a spot saved for him at the table. They were close friends for a long time till she left to help the villages.

"Nozel!" She yells with excitement in her eyes as she rushed towards him and gave him a big hug. "I didn't know if you would show up!"

"Of course, I had to see this stupid girl after so many years away." He warmly smiled at her as she held his hands and grinned before showing him to his spot.

"I'm glad you came. She was asking for you." Fuegoleon tells Nozel with a happy smile. It was as if they were teenagers again.

"She really asked for me." He thought sadly with a warm feeling.

"I wrote letters but you never got back to me." She says as the banquet continued.

He hesitantly tried to say something before he made up a lie quickly. "I'm sorry, I don't think I ever got them."

It happened at the young age of 24 Nozel was starting to get tired of his endless emotions he felt for (Your Name). He was on a night walk to clear his thoughts when he heard familiar giggles from ahead of him.

"Stop! Someone might see us!" She tells Fuegoleon as he shakes his head, chuckles and grabs her waist to pull her closer. "Shh no one will, stop screaming then." He says as she gives him a small smirk.

"I didn't think Mr.Serious could loosen up a bit."

"Stop teasing." He blushes and kisses her cheek.

Nozel was fuming with anger as he watched the two interrupt his thoughts. He wanted to escape the two only to find them acting like children.

"Let's go home and finish this then." She tells Fuegoleon and he pouts a bit wanting to see the beautiful sky that night. Ignoring her statement he pulls her into a passionate kiss to which she returns before he nods and guides her back.

"Insufferable." Nozel says bitterly as he makes way back home with a heavy heart.

"Are you okay? You've been tightly holding your fork for a while." She calmly guides him back to reality. Nozel clears his throat and continues to eat. "I'm fine, I was just thinking about a new method to train my squad."

"Well me and Fuegoleon have exciting news! We might be trying for some kids now!"

"I get Nieces and Nephews! Woohoo I'm going to be the coolest uncle!" Leopold cheers as some fire comes off of him from excitement. "How many how many?!" He begged to know.

"As much as (Your Name) will let me have." Fuegoleon respectfully says giving her hand a light squeeze as she returned the favor.

Nozel stayed silent the whole time trying hard to be happy but nothing was working. "I just forgot I have to be up early tomorrow, I will take my leave. I give you my early congratulations." He says and walks off.

"I'll see you off." Fuegoleon says and walks side by side with Nozel. There was silence between the two and it was getting uncomfortable for the both of them to break it. "Why did you lie to her?"

"I didn't lie." Nozel grits his teeth and looks forward.

"I saw her letters on your desk before."

"Why do you care so much. We are adults now, I chose who I wish to contact." Nozel says sighing in expiratation.

"I only wish you told me how you felt about her before we got together." The older man says with guilty eyes. "I would never wish you pain even though you are my rival."

"I know you knew, I didn't think you'd bring it up."

Fuegoleon stops walking ahead and watches as Nozel silhouette disappears through the night. He truly never meant to hurt his friend and companion.

Dear Nozel,

It's been so long, I'm not sure if you have gotten my letters but I reassure you that when I get back things will go back to as when we were kids! I can't wait to go on adventures with everyone again unless I plan other things back home. The village side is beautiful, I only wished you could see it too. The grass is so green and the air is so fresh compared to the kingdom. I hope you've found someone by now, a girl that can handle that attitude of yours! Hmph I know you will make her the happiest she's ever been. Over protective, cold but caring and kind. The greatest treasure someone could have would be you Nozel. Lighten up a bit and let go. I'll see you soon.

Nozel sits on his desk reading all the letter she's ever sent him and sorrowfully burns them in his fire place. Her heart was too connected to another to see how much Nozel wanted her.

Maybe he could find someone, but you don't find love you just fall into it.

(Authors note: Angst? Also please leave some characters you would like me to write!)

#black clover #black clover oneshots #black clover x reader #nozel x reader #black clover nozel #nozel silva #black clover fuegoleon #fuegoleon vermillion #black clover imagines #yuki tabata

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thejustmaiden · 4 years

Text

Jaken = Rin's Dad?

Okay, is this how a daughter treats their so-called father?

Most definitely not.

Rin and Jaken's relationship clearly screams of your typical sibling rivalry punctuated with cute and silly moments of playful bickering.

Yes, Jaken may technically be her main provider, but that doesn't necessarily equate to him being more of a father than Sesshomaru. If anything, he demonstrates more of a brotherly love towards her. As we all know, parents (which Sesshomaru embodies more based on real life patterns and parallels) will leave their older more capable children in charge of looking after their younger brothers and sisters. In this case, that would mean making Jaken responsible for watching over Rin and protecting her if need be. Ah-Un offers protection, too. Think of it as Jaken as the big brother and Ah-Un as the family dog who are babysitting while Sesshomaru as the parent of the household is away at work or taking care of business. I mean, they literally fit that description to a tee and I'm dying at the accuracy of it all! 🤣👌

[Quick! Someone write up a modern au where Sesshomaru finally gets out to have a nice date night but everything goes wrong in the most spectacular way. Like maybe Rin and Jaken catch a ride on Ah-Un to go spy!]

I recently revisited some episodes from The Final Act, and I couldn't believe how many moments like this there were where Rin got after Jaken or when she would "put him in his place" so to speak. Obviously, all of it is mostly harmless. I was only surprised by how often it occurred, not to mention how Jaken would just stand there and take it. Towards a supposed father figure, Rin's behavior is downright unacceptable. There's a certain level of respect a child is expected to show their parents/guardians, and that's just not what I'm witnessing here between them. Like at all.

Rather their dynamic has the nature of some sibling relationships like I mentioned above. So I really wish fans would stop pretending otherwise, because based on what we know of father-daughter relationships- healthy ones at least- they don't appear anything like what Jaken and Rin have. If you could please provide me other examples of where we've seen similar portrayals in fiction or in real life, then perhaps I can get on board.

Look, that doesn't have to mean that because Jaken isn't her father then Sesshomaru must be. They can both be her caretakers without necessarily filling that traditional father role. I'm just saying that if we're going to start assigning titles to characters, let's make sure we are accurate and truthful in our assessments. If you're going to label anyone Rin's dad, then it needs to be Sesshomaru. Jaken doesn't have precedence over him in terms of fatherly attributes, that just wouldn't make sense.

After all, this isn't about what you want to see, this is about what Rin very likely sees. It's safe to assume that she views Sesshomaru more like a father than she does Jaken. She knows she's safe with him (broadly speaking lol) and that he'll come for her no matter what. That sense of security and comfort is what a child seeks and what they should always feel in a parent's presence. She trusts and even idolizes him, just as a young and innocent child tends to do with their parents. At that age, parents are perfect and could do no wrong in their child's eyes. Idk about you, but this describes perfectly how Rin is around Sesshomaru.

Rin adores him and will follow him anywhere- yes, even into danger! That's what the innocence and unconditional love of a child will bring them to do if necessary. Fortunately, at the end of The Final Act we learn Sesshomaru takes Kaede's advice when he realizes that leaving Rin with her in the village is in her best interests. That way she'd be able to lead a more normal and safer life alongside other humans. Remember, Sessrin shippers, that doesn't mean he wasn't still a part of her life and didn't witness her become a young woman over the years right before his very eyes. Therefore, if they eventually do become romantically involved, then most if not all of those gifts had intimate and seductive intentions and it essentially constitutes as child grooming.

I understand from a Sessrin shipper's point of view why it'd be so much easier to claim Jaken as the father. In doing so, they diminish Sesshomaru's role in her upbringing. By refusing to acknowledge the real role he had in helping raise Rin (short periods can be crucial and impressionable too esp. in a child's early years so yes they did assist in raising her not only Kaede), these shippers are better able to justify how their filial-like relationship evolved into a romantic one. So yeah, I get it, if I were a Sessrin shipper I'd probably do the same. It's one of the more plausible arguments available to them, after all. "Let's pin Jaken as the father to fend off antis!" is the best chance they've got, but even so, it's still not good enough. But if you insist Jaken is indeed like a father to Rin, then Sesshomaru is most certainly one too. Who says she can't have two fathers anyway?

The thing is however much you want to deny or downplay what Sesshomaru truly means to Rin and vice versa, nothing will ever change or hide the truth of the matter. Please, stop acting like they're only traveling companions and nothing more. Some of y'all even go so far as to say that they're like strangers. Knowing potentially little about a person is not equal to a lack of love and affection. Making big assumptions such as this to defend your ship is actually doing you more harm than good. Let me elaborate.

According to your reasoning, if that's all Rin ever was to him was a companion and Sesshomaru had no real attachment to her, then what precisely is the basis of your ship? Recall that Adult!Rin doesn't exist yet, thus we have no real idea what she will be like or if she's even alive. So how can you make comments like that but then go on later to say "they have such a unique and unbreakable bond" or "only Rin can be the mother because she's the only human he ever cared for" if all that time spent traveling together didn't amount to much in the first place like you claimed to believe beforehand? Do you see how your rationalizing is confusing?

Contrary to what some of you may think, I'm not just saying all this because I'm an anti and I'm obligated to disagree with you, or whatever other excuse you want to tell yourself. Believe it or not, I'm attempting to give as unbiased and objective of an analysis I can based on widely accepted interpretations of family dynamics, development, and any history we know of.

Of course I respect that at times fans will perceive things differently since that's bound to happen. What's hard for me to wrap my head around however is the unwillingness of some fans- not exclusively Sessrin shippers- to apply basic common sense and sound judgment to their observations and deductions.

Looking at all our facts, then taking the small handful of scenes Sesshomaru and Rin do share together into account, one can logically conclude that their dynamic is akin to one found in a typical parent-child relationship. If you still fail to recognize Sesshomaru as a parent to Rin, then that's fine too. In the end, that won't really change the fact that he'd still take on a role resembling an adult figure overseeing a young child's care and protection. Be it as a vassal, guardian, what have you. Plus, nobody is saying here that Sesshomaru doesn't make mistakes regarding Rin's general well-being, but so do all parents. Overall, I think the majority of us agree that Rin is in good hands. Whether it's in his direct company or in his occasional supervision from his frequent visits to the village.

In other words, it doesn't really matter what exact title you assign him in relation to Rin, as the distribution of power is all inherently the same with any and all adult-child relationships. That bond never changes once you've established it either, seeing as it's a special kind of connection one can only form with a child and a child alone.

I was a teacher for a few years, and speaking from personal experience, you don't need to be a parent, per se, to take on a role of authority in a child's life. I know without a doubt that I could never and will never view any of those kids I taught in a sexual/romantic light later down the road; yes, not even once they become grown-ups who are independent and more than capable of making their own decisions. Those of you who disagree are usually missing the whole point though, because we're not trying to dictate what Adult!Rin can and cannot do like many tend to accuse of us doing. This isn't a question of taking away from her autonomy nor does it fall under "purity culture," which is why people shouldn't continue jumping to these outrageous conclusions and really listen for a change. You're deflecting from the real issue here when you choose to misinterpret what we're saying by ignoring the problem we're actually referring to. You cannot present a valid counter-argument if you persist in twisting our words.

Bottom line: once these kids become old enough to pursue a sexual/romantic relationship, of course they have that right if they're ready. All we're trying to say is you guys ought to stop pushing forward this it's-completely-normal-to-want-to-bang-your-adoptive-dad-since-you're-an-adult-and-can-do-as-you-please agenda and not expect backlash. Ship it if you want, but please stop acting like their romance would be the epitome of a pure and healthy relationship.

Sesshomaru may not wear his heart on his sleeve, but it's foolish to presume he didn't actually care about Rin during their whole time together just because he didn't openly express his feelings until the very end. Surely everybody can comprehend that people handle and process their emotions differently. The way Sesshomaru chooses to is completely valid for the most part, so let's cut him some slack regarding this already.

What I'm trying to get at is that any child whose life you played an influential role in will always be a kid in a lot ways to you even when they're old and wrinkly. Just as they will always picture you as the loved one who guided and protected them when they were most vulnerable and couldn't always fend for themselves. Can't we relate this to children we know personally and apply it accordingly?

Finally, I want to end on this note. Could you kindly take a look at these two images below for a second?

The reason I ask is because of something I recently read that's relevant to the topic. There was this pro-sessrin tweet I saw that stated Rin trying to take care of Sesshomaru when they first met is what a mom would do for a child, which in their opinion, translates to Rin being more like a mother than a daughter if anything.

First off: are you freaking kidding me????

Seriously, so now children aren't allowed to tend to their sick or injured parents?! Parents are apparently superhuman and shouldn't be offered a helping hand from a child, even if they mean well and want to help their parent who's in pain?? Now this Twitter user was mostly being a smartass, but at the same time, it was evident they genuinely thought they offered a valid enough point that warranted no further explanation or clarification.

Secondly, by saying this Sessrin fans don't seem to realize that in actuality they're contradicting themselves and proving the point we've been trying to make all along. Glancing at the first picture and moving down to the second, the role of the one being cared for and the caretaker is reversed. So then by their own logic, Sesshomaru IS in fact like a father to Rin.

What it comes down to is the names you give to the roles these characters play aren't as crucial as the dynamic they share. The specific characteristics of that dynamic are what define the importance of said role, not so much the name in the role itself. So real father or not, Sesshomaru and Rin clearly mean a lot to each other. Close relationships are defined and solidified by the devotion and belonging they have to one another, not solely by the duration of time spent together and their proximity.

Well, that's a wrap! I hope you guys got something outta this blog, and that you enjoyed or found some portions of it interesting. I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject from this fandom, but only engage in conversation if you plan to be respectful. Thank you!

#inuyasha #hanyo no yashahime #sesshomaru #rin #jaken #anti sessrin #child grooming #family dynamics #parent child relationship

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el-michoacano · 3 years

Text

"Do you still love me?" Had he been human, Nikolai's eyes would have been brimming with tears. He had long since learned, though, that vampires could not cry. "Do you still love me, despite my being a monster?"

A historical vampire AU revolving around Nikolai, Aleksander, and Zoya. Ranges from 1799 to the present. Be aware of the tags, and all the horrors that come with such an AU.

London, 1799

"I'd like to watch the sunset with you."

It was a ridiculously romantic notion, but Nikolai smiled all the same. "We've only just gotten engaged, my dear." There was laughter in his voice, barely audible over the music of the gilded orchestra occupying the farthest corner of the ballroom. "It's hardly proper for us to be alone together."

Zoya gave him a sharp look. They had only known each other for a few weeks, but he had grown fond of that look. "A warning, Baron Lantsov," she said, pulling him by the hand out into the corridor, the sound of music and chattering and laughter fading as the massive doors closed behind them. "I may be a woman, but I'm not much of a lady."

"So I've heard." Nikolai lifted Zoya's hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. The silk of her glove was warm against his lips. He desperately wished it was her skin and not fabric, but he didn't dare say so, though he knew she would appreciate boldness. When he pulled back, he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Zoya accepted, of course, but their move to the stairwell was stopped when another couple stepped around the corner, beautiful and shining, and Nikolai spared a glance down at Zoya when her grip on his arm tightened.

"Do you know them?" he asked as the new couple stepped closer, the man's eyes on Zoya, cold and hungry. Nikolai felt a familiar protective urge come over him. Zoya could handle herself, he was sure, but she was his. He would always save her, even if only from another man and his wandering eyes. "Who are they?"

Zoya didn't answer, her attention on the new arrivals, and as they finally came face-to-face, she gritted out a chilly, "Duke Morozova."

The Duke gave her an appraising look, lingering far too long. "Have you forgotten my name, Zoya?" His voice was rough with cannon smoke, his voice accented not with any English inflection, but something more Eastern. He was as foreign as Nikolai was.

"Aleksander," Zoya said, coldly polite, "this is my fiancé, Baron Nikolai Lantsov. Nikolai, this is Duke Aleksander Morozova."

Though Nikolai held out his hand for a shake, he was ignored, Aleksander instead taking Zoya's hand in his, saying, "Dance with me." When she pulled away, holding onto Nikolai's arm with both hands, Aleksander tipped his head to one side, asking, "You aren't still cross with me, are you?"

"You chose her--" Zoya jerked her chin toward the woman on Aleksander's arm-- "over me. Of course I am." She shot a glare at Aleksander's companion. She was his wife, Nikolai realized when he spotted the ring on her finger. To both of them, Zoya said, her voice colder than Nikolai had ever heard it, "Enjoy the party."

As Nikolai let Zoya lead him away down the hall, though her eyes stayed on Aleksander over her shoulder, he asked, "Who were those two?"

"Just an old flame and his puppet." Zoya sighed, resting her temple against the curve of Nikolai's bicep. As tiny as she was, she had no hope of reaching his shoulder. "I don't know how they would even know about this party. No one would dream of inviting them. They're not--"

"I'm sorry our being here has upset you."

Though Nikolai turned toward the source of the voice, Zoya sighed, letting her eyes slip closed.

"My husband is... Tactless." She looked almost ashamed of him, Nikolai thought. Perhaps he really had only married her for her money. He hoped he would be a better match for Zoya than Aleksander was for the Duke's adopted daughter. "And if he catches wind of a party nearby, he considers himself obligated to attend. A Duke has obligations."

Though her nails pressed into Nikolai's arm through her gloves and his suit sleeve, Zoya turned and said, sounding sincere, "You don't need to apologize for him."

The Duchess gave a gracious nod, then looked to Nikolai. "Would you give us the room, please?"

"We were just going to get some air, actually," Zoya said, giving Nikolai's arm a squeeze before she released him. She was tense, he could tell, unwilling to go, but shoving her discomfort aside in favor of politeness. He could tell how much it pained her. "Would you like to see the sunset with me? There's a lovely view from the portico."

As she stepped away, Nikolai touched her hand for just the barest second, softly saying, "Go easy on her."

Zoya gave him a sneer for that, replying, "Do I ever go easy on anyone?"

Shaking his head and smiling as Zoya and the Countess vanished arm-in-arm around the corner, Nikolai was soon accosted by the Duke, who wasted no time in asking, "And what makes you think you're good enough for her?"

Nikolai's breath stuck in his throat for a moment, a little lump of nervousness growing until he swallowed it down. He knew a challenge when he heard one. "It doesn't matter if I think I'm good enough, nor what you think," he said. "It was arranged, and not by me."

Aleksander huffed at that. Nikolai wasn't surprised by it. "Are you implying that Sabina Nazyalensky believes some privateer from parts unknown is good enough to marry her only daughter?" Aleksander flashed his teeth. "Don't think I failed to notice that accent. Russian, I suppose?"

"Just so." Nikolai met the Duke's eyes in a challenge of his own, hazel on gray. Aleksander's eyes, he noted, were the color of London smog. Unusual. "And I'm no privateer."

"Are you not?" Though Aleksander was a fair bit shorter than Nikolai, there was something thoroughly intimidating about him. It was something to do with the stoic way he held himself. Had he been a soldier? "From what I've heard--"

The Duke's voice was cut off by a woman's scream. Nikolai didn't recognize the voice, but he did recognize its owner when she stumbled into the room, clutching at her stomach and covered in blood and deep, wet gashes, up and down her arms, her neck, her stomach, crimson soaking into the fine gold silk of her gown.

"Alina!" Aleksander was at his wife's side in an instant.

Nikolai followed, but when he moved to pass them, Alina threw her slashed arm out in front of him, saying, soft and desperate, "Don't." When Nikolai opened his mouth to argue, she said, "You don't want to see this."

He was quick to shrug her off and move around the corner-- And instantly regretted it.

The stairway leading up to the portico was drenched in blood, and from this angle, he could see a single hand elegantly draped over a stair, attached to nothing.

Zoya's engagement ring glittered against a torn silk glove.

They were to be married in the spring.

Spring, Nikolai thought, would never come again.

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #zoya Nazyalensky #the darkling #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #zoyalai #darklina #alarkling #sturmling #zoyalina #the grisha Trilogy #the grisha series #tgt #tgt fic #my grishaverse #my writing

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mami-koppe · 4 years

Text

Desperate - Dabi x Reader

This is my first fic ever in this fandom pls be gentl. no beta reader WE DIE LIKE SCUM. Also please note that english is not my native language so if you find something wrong *please* point it out 👀 Enjoy!

TW: smut, angst, mentions of drug use and abortion, violence, yadda yadda. aaa

Cyan eyes open up, alarmed and scared and anxious, only relaxing when following the rise and fall of the lump under the white comforter set just beside him. He knows he shouldn't be here; he's had a few more nightmares about a fellow villain finding out about your existence than he was comfortable with. In his dreams they would tear down your house, break the heirloom grandfather clock in your hallway, ravage all the cabinets and drawers (maybe they would find that picture of him under your Christmas-decorated pine tree, the only proof you had of his existence intermingled with yours, and you thought you hid it oh so well but Dabi's far more smarter than that). A shiver runs down his spine and he breaks a sweat when he imagines if Overhaul was the one raiding your apartment. The yakuza boss would most likely delight himself in breaking and putting you back together, again and again, only so he could leave in your bedroom wall a myriad of blood splatters for Dabi to find and grieve for. Chisaki would make sure he wouldn't even have a body to bury. Maybe if he was feeling lucky, not even a brick of your house would be intact, your whole life only resisting in Dabi's memory.

He wishes he could be honourable and selfless enough to say that's the main reason he never bothered to officialise your relationship; but even greater than the fear of coming home and finding your body reduced to a pulp, is the fear of being vulnerable (yet again). He kinda cares about you, yes, he can say that much, and anyone who has met you for more than 15 minutes know that you're in deep. He's not that emotionally stunted. But he's jaded enough to know that caring is a concept with many translations and definitions, and if you so happened to have a different one than he did, specially if that concept involved controlling and screaming and fighting and black bruises all over his back while his skin burned off at every flash of his quirk painfully taking over his body ... He couldn't just sit down and wait to find out.

Also, you seem pretty fine with this arrangement. He has a knack this has less to do with letting him roam free range, and far more with knowing that as soon as you express the need to define the feelings that have grown stronger and stronger for over three years, he will be out the door to never come back. And that simply won't do.

Almost as sensing his distress, you wake up and wrap both your arms around his neck. He tenses for a fraction of second, then relaxes, reaching out for the cigarette pack you leave in the nightstand just for him.

_ "What's on your mind, babe? You seem real distracted. I know you're usually kinda emo but that much brooding just isn't you. Are you okay? Perhaps you're having... cravings again? Did something happen? Was it crusty fuck again? If he tried to decay your face again, I'm so gonna fuck him up..." You run his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to show your adoration while lightly pressing your lips to his jaw and he shudders both from your ministrations and the mentions of his past cravings.

_ "...Whoa whoa whoa, calm down princess. Why are you even awake? It's still really fucking early for so many questions. One would think you would be out like a light by now, since we had so much fun last night, but guess I haven't fucked you hard enough if you still have half a mind to think about all that, dollface. And fuck you, I'm not emo." – he stops, cringing at his out-of-nowhere flirting and vague answers, hoping you don't see right through his crude words, thrown around in case you haven't noticed he's been shaking for the last 20 minutes.

Please don't notice. Please let it go. Please don't point it out.

_ "...Yeah, maybe you're right. But I should be asking you the same, it's 2am and you still got the energy to lewd me. And YES you are emo and well fuck you too. Forget I asked anything, love, if you want to we can talk about that tomorrow morning. Can't afford to be tense when tomorrow's gonna be such a long day, right? So what do you say about letting me tire us both out so we can finally have a full cycle of sleep?", you say, and in that moment he knows that you know.

The sudden pause in your sleep ridden speech tells that you have at least an idea that he's not fine in the slightest, but decided to just ignore it, knowing that your black haired lover wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So you lift a leg just above his hipbone to pull him closer to your hot, warm core, both of you still naked and spent from your previous lovemaking, one of the few displays of affection he's completely comfortable with.

He runs his hands all over your sides, commiting them to his memory (just in case common sense comes to you without knocking and you finally leave him); suddenly his hands find your hair and tug at your nape, pulling your neck back to find his charred lips. Your smells mingle together, and it's all a blur of smoke, sandalwood, scotch and black pepper.

You kiss him, bringing his mouth towards yours with fervor, while slowly stroking his manhood, pausing around his tip, smearing his precum on your mouth with your fingers (you know he loves seeing you covered in him, and after all these years he wouldn't man up and admit it freely, so you tease him to no end). He can't find it in himself to be rough to you tonight, but it seems you have different plans because it doesn't look like you'll be patient enough for foreplay; and in a blink you are tangled in a mess of sheets and legs and sweat, him sliding swiftly into your heat, appreciating the drag of his swollen tip inside your pussy, going in and out roughly, the fast paced rythm of your skin slapping together only stopping when you feel the familiar head rush of your impeding orgasm and the sensation of his white hot seed spilling deep inside your throbbing center.

His low moans fill the room as he feels you tightly clenching around him; you cannot follow him in his vocal declarations due to being physically incapable of screaming anymore, a mix of pleas and gasps falling out your lips as he bottoms out and groans your name, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. The space between your foreheads close, both heavily panting near each others mouths, following a kiss that's way too sweet considering your personalities.

For a moment, he kinda wants to say those damned three words, but he will be dead before he makes a fool of himself like that, so he kisses your forehead and pull you to his chest, helping himself to a now dreamless sleep.

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It's one of your biggest flaws yet: you are far worse in keeping secrets than you give yourself credit for.

In the five years you spent together, he has plenty of evidence to support this case – all the gifts that were supposed to be a surprise, the job promotion you were hoping to disclose about at a movie night in your house (that said promotion tumbling out of your mouth in one of your daily, unimportant phone calls), the stray cat you tried to adopt without his knowledge (because obviously he would say no without even thinking about it, but now Tama's getting fatter and meaner than ever and Dabi lives for it), and you always said it was the other way around, that Dabi was the one who was way too good at uncovering things that he wasn't supposed to.

And in that exact moment, he wishes you were wrong, because the ripped blue cardboard box he finds forgotten in your bathroom floor just behind the toilet – probably fallen, since it's a bad habit of yours to let your shit fall all over the floor and eventually forget to pick it up – looks too much like the ones he would see in drugstores and at that time Shigaraki made him work undercover for a week in a brothel to gather intel about a winged pro hero who was kind of a degenerate, and he freezes.

He sensed something wrong weeks ago, your delicious skin even more tender to the touch and your face perpetually stuck in a barely concealed frown. He tried to ask you what's the matter a few times, before finally granting you the same leniency given to him when he was having a bad day and wanted to be left alone.

Now the only things going through Dabi's head is "why didn't she tell me", "wasn't she on birth control", "what the fuck is going on" and suddenly he understands why his – wife? girlfriend? lover? fuck buddy? SHIT – always said that some things can't just be left ignored. He never wanted to get high so much in his life.

Like a man possessed, he goes through your trash (it's not like he's not used to some dumpster diving and other unsavoury survival skills, since being a kinda prolific villain can only happen so late in life and before that, you have an empty stomach and way less standards than you'd like to), pausing when he finds what he was dreading: a fucking plastic wire, adorned with two dark pink lines. His eyes begin to blur and he can only thank so much you're at work right now so you can't hear his raging shouts ressonating around your room.

-------------------------------------------------

He does what he does best: he ignores it, simply leaving it all exactly where he found it and waits for you to come home. He helps you cook your favourite meal – you insist it's his turn to choose, but he says he's craving yours – runs you a bath, making sure to douse every crevice of your body in that cherry body wash he loves to smell in you, makes love to you until your head spins and your body is feeling almost bloated with his essence.

Can't get anymore pregnant than that, huh?

He asks about your day, and you let it all out, and every time you make that face you do when you want to tell him something important, he kisses you until you're breathless and changes the subject.

He desperately hopes you choose to keep it.

Then, after you're sleeping soundly on his naked chest, he brings out the duffel bag he hid earlier beneath his side of the bed, gets dressed, gives Tama his beloved wet food, sitting him down for a few minutes of belly rubs and leaves your home, his home, sending you a text through his burner phone that tells you too much about an undercover mission for the LOV that might last for years and none about where your relationship stands.

He's never felt so inadequate. Suddenly he hates being a villain.

He hopes you might catch the underlying forlorn tone in his words – that this is a "goodbye", not a "see you soon" – and not foolishly wait for him to come back. But he kinda knows it is unreasonable to expect you to move on and find a more loving, present person to warm your bed, put a smile on your face, a ring on your left hand, give his only child a decent attempt of a family, promise you the world and keep that promise. He leaves knowing that much.

And as you wake up in the middle of the night, with a cold bed, an empty apartment, a text and the briefest memory of Dabi lovingly kissing your midriff, you cry out for what could have been. Said text was supposed to be monotonous, robotic even, and it's so much like Dabi to go on a mission without wanting to say goodbye in person (because he's too cool for that) that normally you wouldn't even bat an eye, but you know you'll never see him again because of the words adorning the end of your screen.

I love you.

--------------------------------------------------

Yet again, Dabi's dreams haven't ever been easy on him. He jumps out of the bed, startled, as he fumbles with a bag of white pills which he spent the last year or so sneaking from your sight and angrily swallows four at once; the image of a little girl with her grandmother's hair and his azure eyes, no older than three, tightly clutching his hand and smiling. It's way too early in the morning for this shit and he can't be bothered to deal with that yet. Not sober.

Papa, look! I've drawn us today at school! I've made sure you look cool enough like you asked, okay? That's you in your coat, that's mama, that's Tama and that's me!

He's not sure he should burn the image to his mind or off his mind. He still hears your stupid giggles in the back of his head (probably it doesn't help that he has been watching almost daily for the last six months that particular video of you hollering, high as a kite, when he and the LOV raided the compounds of a drug cartel that was antagonising their plans, and let's say that Dabi has come home that day with more than a few weed satchels).

Feeling the top of his head getting heavier and his eyes blurring with difficulty to focus, he clings to the porcelain sink in his hotel room, mindlessly bangs his head on the cabinet just below the small mirror until his forehead is openly bleeding – not that he can feel anything when he's like that anyway, but he DID always try – and lets himself fall to his knees, silently glaring at the floor.

He somberly notes that his blood has painted the bathroom floor a vibrant red. He hopes yours isn't painted too.

Later that day when he has already puked almost all the drugs out his system, he and Kurogiri are sent on a minor errand; some human trafficking ring leader, a former ally, was threatening to spill out their secrets and they were to break and enter, kill him swiftly and move on with their lives, no biggie. But as he steps into the compound – a shell orphanage, he notes – Dabi knows it's not going to be a normal mission. Soon as the children know the leader's dead, most of them flee, making a run for their long lost freedom; but a small group, maybe six or seven of them, stays. And usually Dabi is proud of being the nonchalant, motionless member of the party, but with the late events even he can't help to be a little horrified when he notices that children as young as four have the same eyes he had when he fled his childhood home, Ende- his house.

Children that have seen so much grief and despair they can't be bothered to exit the building, even when he irritatedly screams at them to get out already as the walls roar up in flames. They have no reason for escaping; their will to go on died way before their bodies did. He can look into their eyes and tell already that they will turn out to be like him, or worse. This would be the perfect time for a rookie wide-eyed pro hero to appear and save these innocent children just so they can grow up so emotionally damaged that they will turn to villainy, to be eventually caught and brutally murdered by the very same hero.

Dabi knows the kids will stay rooted to the same spot until they're engulfed by the flames or choked up in poisonous smoke and that's gonna take so much longer; he's already in deep shit with Shigaraki because he said "no witnesses" and so many of them have already fled, so he does what he does best – ignores the vision he has of that little girl, his little girl, embraced by the blue fire of his body as he gives the children the most quick, painless death he can think of.

Dabi's thankful that they don't bother to make a sound. He doesn't think he could stay clean for much longer if he could hear the white haired girl's voice in the squeals and pitiful sobs of the children who stayed behind.

--------------------------------------------------

He returns to his empty hotel room that day, still hearing Shigaraki's screeches ringing in his ear, and the only thing he wants to do is to swallow the whole bag of pills he still has under his mattress and doze off until he chokes up on his own vomit and doesn't wake up the next morning, but he cannot die, not yet, and that night he remembers the children's empty glares as he brings out the half full bottle of whiskey sitting besides his bed and drinks till he's tumbling unconsciously down the wall.

The morning after he wakes up a little emptier inside and his sheets are actually wet with the sweat he expelled during his goriest nightmare yet, but the possibility that yet another child is going to end like the ones he has spared killed the day before drives him mad with frustration. And then, he takes the longest steps he's ever taken in your home's direction.

-------------------------------------------------

This time, is your turn to wake up in a sweat. You can clearly hear the noise of a window lock being picked (your former lover did this way too much in the beginning of your relationship, so much you suspected that he did it for fun, even when you gave him a spare key), and the sheer panic that runs through your whole being when your brain computes it's the nursery window lock being picked, you grab the pistol Dabi gave to you after a night out with your friends almost went sour in a robbery, and runs to your newborn daughter's room. You can feel the tears gathering around your eyes, desperate to hear her make any sound – anything to know she's alive – and when you kick the door open, the gun in your hands seems heavier than it does when shooting, as soon as you reckon the black hair and blue eyes you loved (honestly, love) so much, you seem to forget how to breathe.

The father of your child is holding onto her so tightly, a pained but relieved expression on his face as he clutches her so close to his warm chest, and you feel something wet running down both your cheeks as he presses his trembling lips to her forehead, almost like he expected to find the spare room in your apartment just the way he saw last, empty and full of broken spare parts of utensils and furniture. Your daughter is not bothered at all, like she recognizes him even if she never met him before and your heart is so confused.

Is he gonna leave again?

You longed for him throughout all your pregnancy, wanting him to know he was going to be a father, wanting him to see her first sonograms, feel her first kicks but you knew Dabi could only be there when his mission was over. And you waited, even if every cell in your brain screamed at you for it, confirming what you already suspected – he's abandoned you, both of you.

He thought that maybe you would be gullible enought to believe he was gone for a few months, not the slightest intention of leaving you behind, but in that moment, he knows that you know. And as you choose to let it go once again, he feels all the weight on his shoulders disappear as you both say, in unison:

"Welcome home."

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha angst

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hello-mojo · 3 years

Text

[Ok so the following is a story, (Rise Above This was was a working title) I was working on this completely on my own and I was quite excited about it. I actually had tried to plot out the progression and main plot points, and a few other notes for things I needed to look up and research to mesh the timelines a bit better. I hadn't gotten around to it though and now... well I don't know if I'll ever bring myself to write fanfiction anymore. I loved this story premise though and had such Hope's for it... ah well. The first chapter was completed but there was supposed to be so much more.. Frances having accidental magic and then getting sick and Healer Harry to save her... ah well. If you like the fic let me know, if you want to adopt it, comment.

Oh one other thing... not all the songs are actually nirvana songs, there's a pearl jam song used too but I was looking for songs in the right genre that seemed to work for the plot. It's all fair in fanfic right?

Anyhooty... I doubt I'll post the stories that were completed on my main profile as I orphaned them and they can still be viewedon archive just look up my old. Penname CagedNTorn.

For unfinished stuff I had oh let's see... 3 different charlie/Draco fics I was working on, one that was all but complete... I had a draco/spike crossover fic, plus there was the sailormooon/Harry Potter crossover... that was actually a Drarry fic too, there were a bunch of things that I'll likely never finish. So I'll post them by and by.

Do let me know if there's a better place to post the plot bunnies that are up for grabs.

Now I've blathered enough so here's the first chapter of Rise that can be adopted if someone is interested in finishing it.]

Rise Above This

Draco was backstage at the place he was playing that night. He sat tuning his guitar wearing ripped jeans and a white long sleeve thermal t-shirt with thumb holes burnt in and also a mohair sweater he was particularly comfortable in. Western Washington state was wet and cold pretty much all the time.

This didn't really bother the English man though as England had similar weather. He'd grown his hair out and had it cut shaggy and it hung in his eyes perpetually now but he didn't care. It drove his mother nuts whenever she came to visit.

Narcissa still hadn't quite gotten the hang of blending in with muggles but she was getting better. She was sitting nearby chattering about her trip to France. She was wearing faded bluejeans and a fitted corset top that she'd bought in paris. She also had a posh cashmere sweater on where most of the kids were wearing flannel and converse sneakers, just like Draco.

She had her long blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail. Draco smiled at her as she nattered-on about wines and the latest runway fashions. At least he still had her. Pansy was floating around somewhere too, probably flirting with someone.

"I just don't understand why you have to look so scruffy though darling. You have such a lovely face! Can't you at least comb your hair back?" Narcissa was saying. Draco rolled his eyes at her but gave her a shit-eating grin.

"Because I like looking scruffy. It pisses off the establishment. Even if it didn't, I'd still do it. Hiding myself away is comfortable." Draco said, handing his guitar to a stagehand.

"Besides, this grungy war refugee look suits him. He's ridiculously hot." Pansy stated with a grin as she sidled up to accompany Narcissa out front to watch the show. Draco could already hear the crowd cheering as the lights went down. Draco and the 2 other blokes, 1 squib and one muggleborn, all cast outs of the wizarding world lined up off stage. They formed a circle and everyone put a hand in and they shook them, clapped and cried out their chant.

"Music and ass, gas or grass. We're here for a good time, not here for a long time. Lets do this!" Draco led the chant the guys all cheered and then took the stage. Dave went first and started a drum beat, Krist was next and began the base-line. Then Draco, carrying his electric guitar, went to the mic. He never looked at the audience. He wasn't here for them, not really. He was here for himself. Because he had something to say. Even if no one really understood him or interpreted his messages clearly.

"Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy

Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old memoria."

He strummed the chords and sang the song not really looking at anyone. He was trying quite unsuccessfully not to think about a certain messy haired brunette.

After the war he'd had every single door slammed in his face. Even the most menial of jobs wouldn't hire him. Potter had kept his word and put in a good word for him and his mother but the blonde on stage really didn't know why he'd bothered. No one in the Wizarding world wanted him or any other Slytherin around. Dave was a muggleborn Slytherin in the year below Draco and had also been chased out.

"Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old memory."

It was hard not to think of Potter when he sang this song because it was about him, at least mostly. There was always a thinly veiled anti establishment opinion mixed in. The fans loved it though and he didn't really mind. It’s not like Harry would ever show up and hear it. He was too busy still saving the world, having babies and whatever else it was that heros did. Not Draco. His long shaggy hair hung in his face as he sang the chorus, and shook his head. Just one word. Memory. His best and worst thing. His respite and the source of his nightmares.

He finished off the song and they hit a heavy chord progression into the next song.

"Load up on guns, bring your friends

It's fun to lose and to pretend

She's over bored and self assured

Oh no, I know a dirty word"

The kids surged forward jumping up and down and shaking their heads as they raised their fists in the air and sang along.

Draco had worked with Dave to put his thoughts on the war into muggle terms. He thought they'd done pretty good honestly. Even if they hadn't, the teenagers in Seattle and California couldn't get enough. He screamed the chorus and the kids screamed it with him.

"With the lights out, it's less dangerous

Here we are now, entertain us

I feel stupid and contagious

Here we are now, entertain us

A mulatto

An albino

A mosquito

My libido

Yeah, hey, yay"

Five years ago Draco had left the wizarding world and his mother behind. Narcissa was more than able to take care of herself. Draco wasn't concerned about her in that respect. His father had been a lot of things but stupid had never been one of them. Misguided certainly, but not stupid.

Luscious had moved money around in various accounts all over the world. He'd taken Draco with him on nearly all of his business trips. Draco had had many private tutors growing up and could speak French, English, Russian and German fluently. He could read in several languages. His father had insisted. Draco learned to balance a ledger when most kids were learning to ride a bicycle.

When the ministry had seized their accounts in Gringotts, they hadn't even seized a tenth of the true fortune. Draco hadn't needed to work. He'd wanted to. However no one would let him. So he'd packed a duffle bag of casual clothes, taken his muggle id and cards and left for America. He'd covered his accent fairly well he thought, and if he came off sounding like a stoned southerner at times… no one pointed it out.

He met Dave hanging around kings cross station panhandling. The two 18 year olds decided to strike out together. Draco and Dave were sitting together at some boardwalk in Seattle, Washington when Draco flipped his skateboard and saw a kid playing guitar near-by. He'd been hooked from the first chord. He'd bought them instruments and they taught themselves to play.

"I think you'll all know this next one."

Draco hit the distinctive chords and the kids in the audience squealed with delight. This was more personal, more singing than the growly screaming. More about his feelings than anything else. He hid in his hair not seeing anyone. In his mind he tried to be back in that skatepark with scraped knees, just him and Dave.

"What else should I be?

All apologies

What else should I say?

Everyone is gay

What else should I write?

I don't have the right

What else should I be?

All apologies."

He sang the words not looking at his mother, not caring about her reaction to that statement. He'd forgotten she hadn’t heard this particular song before. Well she had to find out sooner or later he supposed.

"I wish I was like you

Easily amused

Find my nest of salt

Everything is my fault

I'll take all the blame

Aqua seafoam shame

Sunburn, freezer burn

Choking on the ashes of her enemy."

Draco finished the song and the kids were crying out various songs they wanted to hear while cheering and clapping. Draco loved it. He lived for it. They only had one more song to play. It would end the show on a high note before the next band took the stage. The next song he was about to play was about a lot of things. Various parts of the war, Tom Riddles beginnings, the discrimination in the Wizarding world, his own parents a bit. In hindsight, Draco realized that he likely should have adjusted the set list a bit when he'd found out his mother was coming to the show. 'Too late to do anything about it now.' He thought to himself. Maybe they'd finally have a real conversation for a change. He set his guitar in a stand nearby and took a deep breath.

"At home

Drawing pictures

Of mountain tops

With him on top

Lemon yellow sun

Arms raised in a V

And the dead lay in pools of maroon below."

He shook his head, hiding in his hair and not seeing anyone. Only Dave and Krist, only his guitar. The kids screamed and jumped and sang along. Draco thrashed around stage with them, just the microphone cord wrapped around his hand.

"Daddy didn't give attention

Oh, to the fact that mommy didn't care

King Tommy the Wicked

Ruled his world

Tommy spoke in class today

Tommy spoke in class today"

The guys backed him up intermittently on the chorus and the base thumped throughout the song, a steady heartbeat. Draco couldn’t let himself worry about hurting his mother's feelings. He sang what he needed to say. He knew nothing was ever simple. There were at least two sides to every story and a variety of contributing factors.

"Clearly I remember

Pickin' on the boy

Seemed a harmless little fuck

But we unleashed a snake

Gnashed his teeth

And bit the recess lady's breast."

Draco knew the words painted a vivid picture. He didn't care. Maybe people would learn that bullying others for shit beyond their control was stupid and had far reaching consequences. There were certainly a few chapters in his story that he'd like to rewrite.

"How could I forget

And he hit me with a surprise left

My jaw left hurting

Dropped wide open

Just like the day

Oh, like the day I heard."

There was no possible way he could make up for some of the shit he'd done. He knew that. He tried to just pass on the lessons. Hoping that if he could even reach just one person, it'd be worth it. Exile in the muggle world. They weren't so bad really. Their fashions were quite fun, and much more functional than robes. He missed making potions, doing magic. It was a particular skill set that he was good at. There was no place in the muggle world for magic. He had to be even more careful now that they were getting really famous. People were always watching him. Hiding in the bushes, trying to sneak into his hotel room, everyone wanted pictures of him to sell to the press. He couldn't risk anyone seeing him perform magic. He did little things like casting stasis charms or heating up a hot beverage, or casting a cooling charm on himself and the guy's. He knew his mind was spiraling away from the uncomfortable conversation with his mother that he was anticipating after this.

"Daddy didn't give affection, no!

And the boy was something that mommy wouldn't wear

King Tommy The Wicked

Ruled his world

Try to erase this (try to erase this)

From the blackboard."

He knew his parents had loved him. They had been very cold, and reserved in all things though. His mother could be formidable when she wanted to be and his father was doting yet terrifying. That was something about Tom Riddle's life that Draco had been able to understand. Feeling alone, as if no one cared, no one understood you. He knew how cruel kids could be, because he had been the one leading the mockery in his day.

He'd never once thought about what it might feel like on the other side of it. Until he'd been on the receiving end of such mockery, ridicule and unfairness did he begin to re-think his actions as a snotty young man. The crowd was going wild.

Draco stood as the lights came up and he bowed with the guys. They all smiled and waved to their fans. Off stage, he saw his mother standing with Pansy. Narcissa looked a mixture of hurt, worried and angry. A reporter from MTV was there, shoving a microphone in his face. Draco smiled his small smile, just a turning up of the corners of his mouth really. He answered all of the questions asked in a rare and rather lengthy interview, glad for the temporary reprieve from his mother for the moment.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar set of green eyes and messy black hair, accompanied by none other than Hermione Granger and a regular. Analese Taylor was no stranger to Draco. She had been a fan since the band's boardwalk skate park days. Now that they were famous, she was their number one fan. The way Granger was clutching her arms, the strong resemblance between the two women, Draco could slap himself for not realizing what was so familiar about the girl. She had to be related to Granger, no other explanation.

Before he could really panic about the three familiar faces another familiar set of arms was thrown around his knees and a very delighted

"Daddy!" Rang through the room as his daughter Frances threw her arms around him. Draco glanced around for his soon to be ex wife. He spotted her nearby with arms crossed, looking furious. He sighed deeply as he scooped his daughter into his arms. The child was his whole world outside of his music. Draco glanced back towards Potter and Granger as his wife stormed over as the press and other onlookers were cleared out by Pansy.

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crownin-thestars · 4 years

Text

Best Friends - Pt 1

This is a request by a Wattpadder!

Request: Skeppy, Zelk and Mega all meet as kids. They all come from not so happy pasts so they relate with each other. The three become close friends and and hangout often. Timeskip when they're older, they all haven't seen each other in a long time. The three all reunite and have a nice(sort of nice*cough*sassymega*coUGh*) interaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regular Saturday in the playground. Children were playing and parents were supervising, occasionally having a chat. One of those kids was a young ten year old boy with dark and fluffy hair in wearing a thin hoodie. His name was Zak, but preferred to be called Skeppy for. . . Reasons.

Skeppy sat alone in the sandbox in the playground, using a stick to draw little figures of his dreams. The drawing was of him, his mom and dad holding hands together with the words 'Happy Family' above them. He already knows that it was close to impossible for them to come true, but he wanted to believe in what he believes. Skeppy put the stick down and sighed, looking up towards the other kids.

"I wish Mom wasn't watching me. . ." He whispered to himself, hugging his knees to his chest. No one wanted to play in the sandbox, but at the same time Skeppy couldn't leave it because of his mom. He hid his face in his arms, feeling tears forming in his eyes. His mom seeing him cry was out of the question.

Skeppy heard someone running in his direction, presumably wanting to get to the swings behind the sandbox, but then he heard the sound of sand crunching. He looked up and saw another kid around his age. He was in a squating position, looking like he was gonna say something.

"H-hi?"

"Hi! Are you okay?? And can I play with you?" Asked the boy, sitting on the sand from his legs getting tired from the squating. He was in a blue and white jumper with a Superman logo on it. "My name is Jacob, but you can call me Zelk! That's my favourite nickname!"

"Zelk. . . My name is Skeppy, and sure, you can play with me!" He smiled, finally finding another to play with. "Oh. . . But my mom won't let me leave the boxy." Zelk tilted his head a little at the last bit, understanding after Skeppy traced the edge of the sandbox in the air.

"That's okay, I like the boxy!" He told him, using Skeppy's term to make sure he understands. Skeppy smiled widely, he won't be alone anymore! "What's this?" His new friend asked, pointing at the little drawing he had made just not too long ago.

"Oh. . . That's the kind of family I wished I had. I even wrote Santa letters for it!" He mentioned, pulling out a piece of paper from his hoodie's pocket. "This is the one for this year since Santa hasn't gifted it to me yet!" He said, showing the letter to Zelk. Zelk had a read through before smiling a little.

Before Zelk could say something about the letter, an adult approached them, kid by her side. The kid looked nervous, like he had never had an interaction with another kid before. "Missy. . . What if they don't?" You could hear him say despite how quiet he was. The woman spoke up.

"Good morning little ones, this is my boy's first time coming to the playground, do you mind if he joins you?" She says, stepping behind the kid. The boy turns around, doing some hand signals to the woman, which she replied to very softly. He turns back around and waves lightly.

"Sure, we could use more friends!" Zelk replied, patting on the ground right next to him, signalling that he can sit.

"Thank you for being so kind. I will just be over there." She smiled and pointed to a bench nearby the playground before walking off towards it. The boy sat down where Zelk welcomed him. He pointed to the drawing on the ground, tilting his head to the side, but stayed silent.

"That's my drawing of a family I wanna have! Lookie, this is one of my letters to Santa about it!" Skeppy put the letter in front of the boy for him to read. "My name is Skeppy, by the way!"

"I'm Jacob, but you can call me Zelk!" He added, smiling at the new boy. The boy searched his pockets before picking up the stick and writing in the sand.

The grown-ups taking care of me call me Mega, so. . . I guess my name's Mega.

"Why did they call you that??" Skeppy asked.

Maybe because I'm so mega at surviving?

Mega. . . Could you say it was a laugh? It looked like he did but no sound came out.

"Why are you writing in the sand, didn't you just talk to your mom?" Mega sighed, clearing out the original sentences and writing new ones.

I have a complicated issue, but to make it simple, I'm mute to most people. And I don't really consider her my mom.

Mega wrote out, adding in an 'I'm considered adopted' to the message. Skeppy and Zelk looked at each other, then at Mega.

"How do you know?" Zelk asked, genuinely curious.

Well. . . For one I was randomly found my them when I was 7, so a week after my real mom left me.

Zelk's face was full of shock while Skeppy's was just confusion.

"Okay cruel." Zelk replied. Mega just shrugged while we still had a confused Skeppy. "Oh yeah! It also sounds like we're all the same in some way!" Skeppy just looked at him even more confused as Mega raised and eyebrow. "So Skeppy doesn't have a very happy family, Mega's mom doesn't like him and to be real with you. . . My dad died while doing his job. . ." Zelk looked down at the drawing, like having a parent die was something to be ashamed of. Skeppy quickly gave Zelk a hug, same with Mega.

"Don't be sad! Wherever he is now, he's probably proud of you already!" Mega nodded in understanding. "My dad works for the military, so he's always away, but he's still proud of me!"

"C'mon man, I'm not that sad, I'm still living." Zelk smiled, knowing these friends he has made will be long term.

"Zak, it's 3pm! Time to go!" A woman shouted, getting up from a bench. Skeppy swallowed.

"M-mom! Can we please stay a little longer?" He tried to request.

"No! When I say we leave, we leave!" She yelled so loud that even China could hear it.

"But pleeeaaase?" He dragged out, begging his mom for extra time.

"Zak. . . What are the ABCs I have taught you?" Skeppy went silent for a moment before replying.

"I will not A, argue, B, bargain, C, complain and D, delay. . ." He sounded so dead inside compared to when he was just talking to Zelk and Mega.

"And what did you do?"

"I tried to bargain. . ." Skeppy looked down, getting up from the sandbox.

"Good. Your punishment will be worse for breaking this rule when we get home." You could hear Skeppy wince a little before waving a small goodbye to the two. He lingered his way over to his mom, who immediately pulled at him arm, making him stifle a squeak in shock.

Eventually, the two learnt that without Skeppy, it wasn't fun anymore. So they said their goodbyes, Mega in sign language, before parting ways to their guardians.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: 1218 Words

#minecraft #megapvp #zelktheelk #zelkam #skeppy #fanfic #request

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hopelesstvaddict · 5 years

Text

Jon and Sansa's relationship is fragile because of Jon's insecurities

[So we're back. Instead of full reviews I think I'm just gonna write about specific subjects that make me pause and think, more than the general episodes]

So we've been treated with Jon's return to Winterfell and his rocky relationship with Sansa resumes. Again. Ain't this old by now ? Perhaps not.

Jon and Sansa are at their most affectionate when it comes to hugs but this second time, Sansa keeps focused on what's important. I don't really understand why Jon would take issue with Sansa speaking up at the council in the Great Hall; she brought up very valid points. Saving the world is important of course but people tend to forget what needs to happen behind the scenes in order to ensure that. I think I'm not alone in this but I also wondered why she didn't take into account Dany's army when preparing all the food storing. While that can be blamed on sloppy writing and it's fair to say that she could have at least entertained the idea, it's also fair to remember that Jon's main idea was first to mine dragonglass and then try to convince Dany to help them. Sansa was not convinced he would succeed; in her mind, Dany would only care about her throne. So far she's not proven entirely wrong. And we also have to remember that Jon didn't send any message to her for a long time and certainly not before he knelt. Probably the last scroll she got was something like 'Hey I'm ok' and then next thing she knew he had bent the knee. So by this time it was already too late to gather whatever food was necessary. Plus I think it's safe to say the entire North brought what food was available FOR THE NORTH ONLY. Obviously there wasn't much and in any case, even if she had been warned she'd have to feed many more, there wouldn't have been enough. Sansa takes care of all this, and all the political stuff - things that both Jon and Dany do not care about and have little regard for. Jon still doesn’t quite realize how much he needs Sansa to handle all of this because he doesn’t realize how important it is. Yet.

The scene that stood out the most takes place during Jon and Arya's reunion in which Jon tries to dismiss Sansa. Live reaction: Ok so we're back to this 'Jon-putting-down-his-sister' nonsense? At first view, it's quite infuriating to see Jon acting this way and it's hard to believe these two ever found a way to unite and effing retake Winterfell. But once you stop and think about it, this little exchange yields so much to analyze.

As many pointed out, Jon likely tries to revert to a childhood joke he shared with Arya when they were younger and used to diss their sister together. Fair point. Siblings often side against one another. But that shows several things. Jon has been away from Arya all series long and he doesn't realize yet that she's not his little baby sister anymore. His conversation about Needle further proves the point. In any case, Arya is having none of it and supports Sansa. We're all here for this.

Here Jon seemingly tries to diminish Sansa's intelligence. But he knows that she really IS smarter than everyone else. He knows it. So I think part of what's going on here is that Jon works as the embodiment of the last part of the general audience who still thinks that Sansa is useless and this scene was written for Arya - a known fan favorite - to dismiss this and assert her support of Sansa - to really drive home this idea. The scene with Tyrion (another fan favorite) serves a similar purpose.

Narratively, beyond Jon dismissing Sansa yet again, this reads as another instance where it's more about Jon than it is about Sansa. Several times Jon has confronted Sansa about her asserted cleverness - and all those times, she's been right - and each time it boiled down to Jon's lack of self-confidence and the need to prove himself to his sister. When she told him that Ramsey was more devious than what he thought, his first reaction was to boast about his military achievements. When she told him to be smarter than Robb and their father, his reaction was to half-jokingly dismiss her offer of counsel. This essentially is a version of him saying 'Yeah she's smart but so am I and I wish she saw it too'

This ties closely with the rest of the exchange where Arya tells him that Sansa is defending the family. Pay attention to what Jon says next - specifically the choice of phrasing it.

There is so much to draw from that line. He doesn't say 'She's my family too' or 'she's our family' or 'I'm your family too'. His choice of words means 'I, Jon, am part of Sansa's family too'. That singles out Sansa as Jon's focus for discontent. He could have said 'I'm your family' or just 'I'm family too' and that would have included Bran and Arya as well. But no, Sansa alone is who Jon focuses on. This shows that he still has some unresolved issues with her - even after all that happened between them. After two seasons of her repeatingly validating him, her saying out loud 'You're a Stark to me' he still doubts HER in particular

Perhaps that boils down to her behavior towards him when they were children since this comes up again later. A seemingly random bit of conversation but one can't help but wonder why this was brought up again. Jon and Sansa weren't close growing up and Jon is a deeply insecure person, being a bastard and all that and it's understandable that he would have a hard time letting go of all these presumptions when they all but defined his childhood. She was the sole of his siblings to make him feel like he didn't have a real place in the family (to make it very simple), hence why he doesn't have a problem with Arya or Bran. Yet.

But how can Sansa change that ? A girl can repeat her support for him so much and reassure him all the time but really it's up to Jon to get past childish jabbing and accept the woman his sister has become and that she's genuine in her concern towards him. That she's changed.

'I'm her family too' is another way of saying 'I'm part of her family too so why is she always antagonizing me/fighting me/disagreeing with me?' Jon still thinks Sansa doesn't consider him family and she's the last one not to in his mind.

The choice of words also emphasizes the 'I'. Rather than say 'she' and put focus on Sansa alone, the use of 'I' brings the sentence back to Jon and puts the spotlight on him as well. 'I am part of her family too'. As if he's saying it out loud and repeating it so that perhaps his thick brain will finally accept it. This is a clever exchange that foreshadows the existential/identity crisis that he's going to go through no later than before the end of the episode. Which renders Arya's 'Don't forget that' quite unsubtle. This will be Jon’s final storyline, the resolution of the one problem that defined him at the beginning of the story.

This need to gain Sansa's approval is driven further in the scene the two of them share later on (another candlelit setting). We have yet to see Jon interact with Bran or Arya but Jon is decidedly different with Sansa. Perhaps that's because they're the eldest. Perhaps that's because they're closer in age. Perhaps that's because they are the leaders of their House. Perhaps that's because they went to war together. In any case, Jon is wary, unsure and insecure about how she feels about him. He doesn’t look to Sansa the way he affectionately looks to Arya or Bran. A smile is rare when he interacts with Sansa. He yells, they don't see eye to eye, he feels like she belittles him, he feels hurt and at the end of it, this :

This is him asking her for reassurance. Asking for a clear answer. 'Please trust me. Please tell me that you support me'. He craves her validation. After he all but dismissed her in front of Arya. Why go see her? Why take her intel so close to his heart then ?

To which she responds 'You know I do'. Two things to take from this. First, once again she reassures him and reasserts her support and loyalty to him. Second, 'YOU KNOW I do' means 'you already know the answer'. This shows that in her mind, Jon should ALREADY know that he has acquired her undying support - probably against her better judgement. Newsflash : he doesn’t.

Can we stop now for a second and breathe a sigh of relief that Sansa has grown confident enough to be sure of who she is and not question Jon's lack of faith in her ? Thank the Gods one of them has their shit together because if she were like him, this wouldn't go anywhere.

It's possible that her not lashing out at him and instead adopting this quiet, sad behavior is also the manifestation of her own fear towards him - that he effectively abandoned her. For all the tough 'no one can protect me' behavior, anyone is going to be touched to have someone pledge to protect them.

Anyway, Sansa trusts Jon but he doesn't. It's quite interesting that he was the one asking for mutual trust before and yet he is the one in the end who can't totally do it because in his heart, he is still deeply insecure about her. Sure there were some steps made. Ensuring the safety of the North and entrusting her with it was a huge improvement. But still, we see that on a personal level he is quite not there.

The obvious question then is WHY. Why is he still insecure ? And why Sansa in particular ? The beginning of an answer can be found in the relationship he had with her while they were children and how it compares to Arya and Bran. Maybe that's just remnants of that strained relationship.

But if Sansa has changed and for the better and Jon still struggles to accept it, let's just hope that a similar situation doesn't arise with Arya and Bran. Let's rule out the latter since he's all about the zen attitude but we've already seen that Arya is not Jon's Arya anymore and that she will stand beside Sansa when needed. For now, Jon has no reason to doubt Arya like he does Sansa. When the reveal about his parentage comes out, how will Sansa and Arya react ? If he can't handle the thought of one sister seemingly doubting him, what's it going to be if it's two sisters ?

All of this insecurity regarding Sansa - for now - is at least partly in preparation of the drama that is sure to unfold in the next weeks. Jon fears that Sansa doesn't see him as family and now, he has even more reason to be afraid. All the drama that has happened between them for seasons boils down to this deep fear of not being accepted by her and now we're in for the culmination. There will be a lot of fighting, we’re told. Jon will sulk and convince himself that he was right in the end, that he wasn't part of the family and more so, that SHE was right not to accept him. Sansa on the other hand, I suspect, will mainly fight to make him accept once and for all that he is a Stark. That's the passionate fight for her this season. To make her family complete.

Another interesting thing to note - as others have observed - is that the conversation is left unfinished.

Sansa asks if Jon loves Dany and he doesn't respond. Once again, Sansa demonstrates - to us and to Jon - how perceptive she is, how well she can read people, and him specifically. As of now, Jon’s relationship with Dany is still a secret and yet she has figured it out.

What's really notable is that this is a pattern in a lot of Sansa/Jon conversations, specifically the ones where they argue in private. Compare this one to the tent scene in 6x09 or the one in 7x01 right after the council or even in 6x07 when they argue about the men they have. We have Sansa and Jon arguing heatedly then the conversation tones down to soft, sad voices and then it ends before resolution can happen, either because they choose to end it there, someone else interrupts or we simply are denied to see it.

Sansa and Jon have been arguing ever since they reunited. Every season they were pitted against each other as the siblings who fought. Now in the final season, it's still brought up and used in the narrative. Meaning that it means something, that it's important to the story. We saw that Arya and Sansa fought in Season 7. It was tied to their old bickering from childhood and ultimately it was resolved and now Arya stands by her sister. Narratively, a conflict plaguing characters has to be resolved when the story comes to its conclusion. Sansa and Jon’s storyline has been going on since Season 6 now, so their relationship HAS TO come to a resolution, one way or another. And it'll be all about Jon finally accepting that he is a Stark and about him accepting that Sansa has accepted it.

#got #game of thrones #sansa stark #got meta #game of thrones meta #jon snow #jonsa #actuallyjonsa #arya stark #got theories #game of thrones theories #got thoughts #game of thrones season 8 #got s8 #got season 8 #game of thrones s8 #jon x sansa #got analysis #game of thrones analysis

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nylaaaaa · 4 years

Text

Little Secret

Chapter 1. Your Secret Is Safe With Me

Name and Surname: Natalie Fleur Estelle

Sex: Female

Date of Birth: 19th August 1692

Place ( Registration

of < District Cynthell

Birth ( Sub-District

_________________________________________

"Here's the birth certificate. It has nothing about her parents on it as you suggested." I gave the man standing beside me, who had grown to be a brother to me, a quick, but satisfied, grunt of approval.

"Thank you. Keep this between us and I'll keep up my end of the deal." Quintin gave me a questioning side glance. I knew he didn't appreciate me bringing up the past but I needed him to keep this between us.

"I don't see why you won't be honest to her. For all we know she might be like you..." I knew what he was suggesting, but I refused to listen. She won't be like me. She can't be like me. I waved him away, annoyance clear as day across my face. He will be annoyed too. We both have secrets. I just don't know whose is worth more.

_________________________________________

Today....

Today is possibly the worst day I'll have in my life. I'm honestly not sure.

Today I officially turn 18 which, unluckily for me, means I have to add another thing to my job description.

Isaieth adopted me when I was born because my father died and it caused my mum to become a drunk. I don't exactly blame her for leaving and forgetting her troubles with a drink. But I also can't say I'm fond of it. I love Isaieth with all my heart, he feels like an actual father to me. But I sometimes wish I had an actual mother to help me grow as well.

When I was born my father died. No one told me how, I just know it was traumatic enough to make my mother a drunk. Isaieth adopted me when I was 2 after he had an accident that caused him to be deaf and partially blind. He wasn't fit for work anymore so the second I turned an age where I can go to the toilet by myself he taught me how to tend his farm. He makes a business by selling wheat that he grows and whatever we can get from the few animals we own. When I was 16 I found an abandoned lamb who we later discovered was a merino sheep. Merino sheep are, in my opinion, the best sheep you can get. Their carcasses are smaller than the average sheep so they aren't used for meat but rather for the wool that they grow. The average amount of wool the sheep grows is 11kg which is enough for about 11 sweaters. Aswell as the sheep we have 2 chickens, both of which are female. They were actually, in some ways, a gift from the king. The king and Isaieth are best friends almost from birth. They both grew up in royalty but only the king kept it that way. Isaieth was the son of a knight, and so in turn, Isaieth was also a knight. The king was born a prince and then was assigned a knight who happened to be Isaieth. One of the times when Isaieth was protecting the king he ended up getting seriously injured and the king fired him for his own safety. The king doesn't exactly care for the knight's wellbeing but because they were friends he decided a knight was too dangerous for Isaieth. After the event the king offered him a plot of land on the outskirts of the city that was run down and abandoned but had potential for a farm. Isaieth's dream as a boy was to grow old and have his own farm, so like any friend the king got him his own farm. Because of the friendship and countless times Isaieth saved his life our rent was greatly reduced and we were offered a permanent job to make sure we always had the money to pay rent. The job included selling off our produce from the animals. The eggs given to Isaieth was originally just starter food but Isaieth decided to keep them and let them hatch instead. When they grew to be quite old he kept a few of the last eggs they would hatch and did the same thing. The hens we have now are 1 years old, or will be in a few days. We don't get much from our farm but because of the discount on rent sometimes we have enough money to spare to get nice things. The average price of rent can go up to 100 gold.

(100 gold is like 1k, the money in this story is, bronze= pence or cents or whatever is the lowest in your country, silver= pounds or dollars etc and gold= the hundreds +. In simpler terms, but in GBP ((Great British Pounds)) terms, 1 bronze= 1 pence, 1 silver= 1 pound and 1 gold= 100 pound.)

Ours however got put down to 45 gold. It's still a lot that we just about make each month but we're still thankful that he even gave us this place to begin with. He didn't actually have to.

It's also lucky that our farm works well with rent times. Each month you have to go to the castle and pay your rent. If you dont have enough or you skip it they go to your house and either take a child, that becomes their servent who has to work for the money you didn't pay, or they take some belongings that you don't get back unless you pay extra. Luckily we've never seen it first hand but one of my childhood friends ended up becoming a servent from it. I haven't seen her since. Our wheat takes a month to grow so we've always got that to keep our money up. Unfortunately wheat sells cheap, one wheat grain sells for 30 bronze. Every month we grow, on average, 700 wheat grains but have to keep back 350 to replant so we can get 350 the next month too. So on average every month with wheat alone we make 10 gold and 5 silver. Which by itself is almost a quarter of our rent. Replanting and harvesting wheat is one of the most tedious jobs of farming, but maintaining is by far the easiest. You only have to water the plant at most once in summer but otherwise never. All you really have to do is make sure the plant isn't dying and be on your way. The worst job I have is turning the sheeps pelt into wool. She doesn't like to be milked so doing that is an annoyance but I dread making wool the most out of all the farm jobs I have. Next to maintaining the crop the hens are the easiest too. They lay at least one egg everyday, the only thing I have to do is collect the eggs without breaking them and make sure the hens are well fed and have fresh air. With making wool you have to flatten the pelt completely and then tie the strands together to make a really long piece of wool that I have to cut and ball up. It's the worst job on the entire farm but I can't say I hate doing it. My favourite thing is balling it all up after dying it. I'm just thankful all these things take a month to do or we'd be screwed on rent every month.

(Realistically these don't actually take a month, I researched so much to make the story as legit as possible but for story sake I tweaked the timing. Hens do lay one egg a day at least, if properly cared for and also depending on breed. But wheat takes a LOT longer to grow and you can only shave a sheep once a year. I changed the timing of it all tho or I'd have to be even more creative with money and stuff and tbh I'd rather not. Coming up with these ideas for the farm was hard enough.)

On average you get 2 balls of yarn out of 1kg of wool. Luckily for us our merino sheep produces 11kg of wool giving us 22 balls of yarn. 1 ball of yarn sells for 1 gold, so for 22 balls of yarn we make 22 gold. Personally I think it's extremely expensive but it does make sense considering there aren't many sheep around, which also means clothes, blankets and shoes are harder to get. On average with the hens we get 2 eggs a day. 1 egg sells for 25 silver, meaning the 2 we make in a day gives us 50 silver. There's 28 days in a month meaning with eggs alone we make 14 gold. Altogether in one month we usually make roughly 46 gold. As good of an amount as that is, 45 of it has to go to the king, leaving us with roughly 1 gold left. Because we're human and need to eat, bathe and clothe ourselves just like everyone else, whatever's left gets spent on stuff like that. On average every month we spend about 50 silver on food. I have my own plant pots in my room that we use for our own food. There's only 2 of them but in one plant pot I grow strawberries and in the other I grow raspberries. Truth be told if I sold the strawberries and raspberries we'd probably be richer but honestly, we're both kinda used to this life and although we don't have everything we want, we have everything we need. Besides the fruits take 2 months to grow and because of my reputation people would refuse to buy them for their actual price. They just about accept the other things, if fruits were in the mix I'd probably get death glares and 1 bronze for a batch. It doesn't bother me too much though because with whatever odd bit of wheat we had spare from the 700 odd we plant and sell we use that to make bread or pastry, so every 2 months we make the fruits into a jam or crush them and make a pie. My all time favourite activity is making them into pies or bread and jam with Isaieth. It's the only thing we can properly do together. He helps me replant and harvest the wheat sometimes because there's so much of it but usually he just watches from afar. His eye sight is getting worse the older he gets so he helps less and less. It saddens me because I know he doesn't want to go fully blind, we wouldn't be able to communicate at all and what kind of life are you living if you can't see or hear anything. You might as well be dead at that point or you'd be so throughly confused.

Getting back on track. Today is a bad day because it's the first day where I have to pay for the rent. I've been a few times with Isaieth as a child but I've never gone alone. It's an adults job and should only be done by an adult. But today, aswell as being my birthday, it's also rent day. Isaieth didn't actually want me to do it but I insisted knowing that he would have severe trouble doing it himself. And what's more is that I have to go alone to sell our produce now aswell. I don't put any blame on him and I especially will never complain. But in my head I can feel bitter about the situation.

I look forward to the day.....

...

No I don't.

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