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asimplearchivist · 2 days

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓮𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍, 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ] [ AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST ] summary ✨ ⤏ eliana wonders if getting her memories back does more harm than good. pairing(s) ✨ [tba] word count ✨ 3.7k a/n ✨ [header credit] | [divider credit] ⤏ this is mostly exposition, and for that I apologize, but I promise that it will pick up from here! now I've got a couple of chapters pre-written, so maybe I can stay ahead! :) ✨ MASTERPOST ✨ ✨ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ✨ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER [TBA] ✨

Whatever Eliana may have expected in her idle postulations about dispelling her amnesia in the long, troubled years she spent without them, she could never have anticipated the conflict that the reality of it, in actuality, brought her. She wouldn’t have expected it all to come back at once, and she’d even had her doubts about how her wish might be answered by Jirachi on her and Lu’s journey home, but she supposed it only made sense that the ability which so mysteriously bound her to Lu and to Grovyle was the very thing that restored her mind to rights. It was…a lot to take in, admittedly, despite it all having already occurred—it was almost like experiencing her life all over again, fresh and new and painful.

To start: her recollections of life as a human in the world from which she was sent. That was an entire can of partially opened worms that she was not entirely keen on revisiting.

The precious time spent with Grovyle—who, upon their introduction, was a Treecko—was far preferable despite the melancholic connotations surrounding the memories that they’d made together, unflinchingly traveling the frozen planet’s unforgiving terrain with purpose whilst learning to trust one another and—in so doing—built an unshakable bond. With it came an unavoidable toll—Eliana was forced to grieve the loss of her most trusted partner all over again, recalling everything from their first meeting to the split-second decision made to push him away from Darkrai’s malicious ranged attack in the midst of careening through the Passage of Time, with startling clarity. Her being thrown from the Passage, free-falling into a stormy sky, crashing into the churning sea below, bashing her transforming head into a rock to start the entire chain of events that led to her present state…all while Grovyle had been pitched halfway across the continent into the very forest from which he had originated in the dark future, alone and terrified of what became of her.

With that came everything else, too. Precious allies and dangerous enemies made while resolving themselves to a life spent on the run under constant pursual in effort to bring about a peaceful, whole, and better world at the cost of their own lives as well as those around them. Walking miles upon miles to confirm the original locations of the deteriorated Time Gears, painstakingly determining the extent of her inexplicable ability, all while trying to constantly outrun and outsmart their hunters. Wounds incurred for each other’s sake, tense naps taken with rotating shifts (for which the rester usually was never awakened), conversations exchanged that conveyed their deepest thoughts and feelings. Eliana had never had anyone closer to her than Grovyle by the time they were preparing for their journey back in time. Losing him—not once, but twice—in spite of her best efforts to prevent it was the hardest thing she thought she had ever endured in her life.

It also added that much more weight to the recent chapters of her experiences. She mourned the fact that she had failed to recognize him in Quicksand Cave and at Crystal Crossing, regretted ever hurting him due to the lies that had been orchestrated to demonize him and his motivations. She wondered at the fact that Celebi had recognized her instantly, but Eliana hadn’t had an inkling of who she was. She wished that she would have listened to her gut feelings to trust Grovyle sooner—it would have given them more time. It would have spared them some of the heartbreak they endured in the end. (And, if she had trusted her instincts to start with, she would not have been deceived at all.)

But, even still, Eliana recognized that the path she’d traveled had its purpose. She would never have met Lu if things had gone according to plan, after all—and she wouldn’t trade her second partner for anything for all the good that he had done for her (just like Grovyle had, but in different areas—Lu’s innocence and unflinching hope had juxtaposed Grovyle’s timidity and constant hesitation, but both had afforded her room to heal the fractured parts of herself that needed others’ influence).

It took several days for Eliana to readjust. Lu chose some lighter job requests for them to do that would help to keep her busy without any true danger because he had long since learned that she was able to think best while moving and working. He gave her ample space and didn’t verbally press her, but he always stayed within the reach of her voice. She found it difficult to talk much, nearly constantly bombarded by the impressions of her past life as they reemerged from the depths of her psyche while interacting with those from her new one. If the other Guild members had noticed her apprehensive, halfhearted greetings, they hadn’t said anything to her directly about it. She spent a lot of time taking in the brunt of the tide, per se, balancing the influx of emotions that accompanied each wave between acceptance and longing.

If Lu thought anything of her curling up in his bed at night to help fight the additional nightmares that cropped up, as well, he—mercifully—did not voice it.

Eliana thought that she would get used to it. She allowed herself those days to sit back somewhat and let her mind reconcile with the recovered pieces of herself that had been buried. She was grateful to realize that it had not changed her personality in any way, at the very least—now she remembered stories of people acting like complete strangers—but there was something in her that was simply unable to settle. She no longer felt like herself, to an extent, she mused. She had rebuilt an entirely different life here in the past with Lu and the rest of Treasure Town’s citizens, but she no longer felt as intense of a connection to them—as though a barrier had been raised since the full realization that she didn’t truly belong here had struck her. She was never meant to stay here—that a higher power (likely the one that had brought her to this world, she suspected) would grant her the mercy of returning per Lu’s fervent wish was a mercy unrepayable, but it felt…almost wrong in a way she could not articulate no matter how hard she tried. She felt like an intruder, a foreigner occupying space not intended for her. Even though she was supposed to feel complete with the recovery of her whole identity, she only felt even more fragmented than before.

Lu gave her time to broach the subject, as patient and as understanding as he’d always been. He also knew that she didn’t like to discuss things until she was fully prepared to do so, having ironed out her reasoning and line of thought prior. She began to relay some of her memories from the paralyzed, first—the tender ones, the lighthearted ones, and the dire ones that had defined her initial resolve to save the world. She spoke fondly of Grovyle and Celebi, relieved by the assurance that she could share vital information about their histories and personalities with Lu since he’d only known as much as she had. She shared the details that she had desperately yearned to recall for so long, and he listened attentively without interruption—only offering gentle words of encouragement when she’d get a bit overwhelmed—all while preparing their supper.

Once she was done, he began to ask questions: what it was like having to defend herself as a human (especially in mystery dungeons), what life was like in the paralyzed future, what remarkable events she witnessed and things she saw. These she answered easily—it was as if he knew how to avoid the topics that would bother her most, carefully skirting the more harrowing memories that had her jerking awake in the middle of the night and burrowing into his side for comfort in breathing in his scent to settle her racing heart. She would rather not think about getting chased by Primal Dialga and the relentless henchmen that followed her and Grovyle all over the continent.

She only felt brave enough to give him her confession once the fire had burned itself to embers and they were curled up in the dark. Restless and gazing out across the sea, Eliana had stretched her foreleg off the edge of their shared mound of hay (since made larger once Lu had figured out that she would need his direct presence if she would get any sleep for longer than a couple of nights) and traced her claws across the wind-swept stone floor.

“…Do you think it’s normal to feel like a stranger in my own skin now?” she asked quietly, barely audible under the susurration of the wind drifting through the open bluff.

Although she had her back turned to him, she felt Lu shift—likely to look at her. She wondered if her aura appeared as much of a mess as she felt. “…I wouldn’t know,” he admitted after a moment, and his paw rested between her shoulder blades. “But it doesn’t surprise me. You have two different halves of yourself that you’re having to stitch back together. It definitely won’t be easy in the long run.”

She’d figured that out quickly. Eliana sighed and curled her tail over Lu’s waist in gratitude. “Do I seem different?”

“Not really. You’ve been a little quiet, but I’m sure that’s a lot to take in.”

“I…suppose.” She swallowed. “Do I look different?”

“Ah. In that respect, yes.”

Eliana frowned and rolled over, studying Lu’s expression in the dim, ambient moonlight eking through the bluff’s gaping maw. “‘Yes’ in a bad way or ‘yes’ in a good way?”

“Neither. Auras are not inherently good nor bad,” he explained, “they simply are.”

He had explained to her it before in passing—or had tried to, since he’d been younger and without near as much knowledge as he had now. Eliana rested her cheek on the hay and gazed up at him with an expectant, inquisitive hum.

“Every Pokémon has a different aura, but it oscillates depending on their moods—that’s influenced by their thoughts or motivations. Yours has always been dark green, but…it was matte, almost. Now it has more depth, like everyone else’s does—so I think your amnesia stifled your aura until your memories returned.” He tilted his head slightly, his ears flopping over the edge of the bed. “I don’t know if that’s direct correlation or causation, but…that’s just what I’ve noticed. I’m sorry you don’t feel well.” He paused. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Eliana sighed. “I guess I’ve just got to…get used to it. It’s a lot.”

Lu offered her a thin-lipped smile. “I’d say.”

Foregoing a response, she closed her eyes and hunkered in, burying her nose into the soft fur of his torso.

Lu draped his forearm over her back and tucked his muzzle behind her ear with a sleepy snuffle. “I don’t see you differently, if that makes you feel better,” he murmured over the crash of the surf against the cliffs far below. “You’re still my best friend.”

“Even with the additional trauma?” she posed wryly.

“Of course. I just hate that it’s causing you pain a second time over.”

“Maybe that just comes with the territory.”

“Perhaps.” Lu yawned. “Nevertheless, sleep if you can.”

“I’ll try. I’m sorry if I end up waking you again.”

“Don’t. I’m here for you. It doesn’t bother me.”

Eliana had her doubts, but then again she’d always had a hard time trusting that people would sincerely choose to stay with her and had kept most at arm’s length for years. Grovyle had been the first exception to that rule in a very long time. She’d really had no choice but to trust Lu, but fortunate had favored her that day by giving her someone who would protect her when she needed it most.

“Goodnight, Lu,” she mumbled, lulled by the muffled thump of his heart near her ear.

“Goodnight, Eliana,” he returned quietly, pulling her a little closer.

She did manage to sleep—dreamlessly at that, to her immense relief. Lu roused her when he got up, and they went about their morning routine together. She felt lighter than she had in days, finally having released the pressure of her internal turmoil. She even offered to handle their daily Guild errands while Lu prepared for their missions, whereas before she’d clung closely to his side so he could handle the brunt of their social interactions while she found her footing again.

She called down a greeting to Diglett and Loudred as she passed over the security grate, picked her way down the winding staircase, and emerged onto the second floor. A couple of teams were already there conducting their business, and she glanced at both bulletin boards to see if there were any jobs she could add their pending queue.

None. Eliana’s mouth thinned as she tilted her head. She and Lu had opted to take the missions for dungeons most teams didn’t dare enter in order to help those in need, but there was a notable absence of them today. She supposed it didn’t matter. While they had been clearing their chest for the most part, she knew that it had been a trend for influxes of jobs to come in at different times. They had at least a week’s worth left over to do.

Eliana left the Guild to meet Lu at the crossroads, but he was nowhere to be found. She frowned as she stood in the center, squinting up the road that lead into town, then turning and staring down the road that branched off into the wilderness. He wouldn’t have gone into Spinda’s, so that left only one option.

Eliana trotted down the embankment that wound down the side of the plateau towards the beach and wound through the encroaching underbrush that had burgeoned under the summer sun. Team Razorwind usually trimmed the trails around Treasure Town, but she figured they might have been busy lately. Rock crumbled into sand before she emerged onto the beach proper, finally spotting her partner standing ankle-deep in the surf speaking to Lapras, whom they hadn’t seen in several months.

As Eliana approached, the transport Pokémon turned his head to greet her warmly. “Good day to you, Eliana.”

“Hello,” she returned with a smile. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“Well. Conducting Master Dialga’s business is time-consuming, but never tedious.” Lapras tilted his head to look at Lu. “I thank you for your expediency.”

Eliana bumped her flank into his hip. “I wondered where you wandered off to.”

“I asked one of the Krabby to fetch the pair of you for me, and he found Lu firs,” Lapras explained. “I bring news from the Hidden Land.”

Eliana stilled and sucked in a breath. The sand seemed to waver under her feet. She looked up at Lu apprehensively.

“The temporal and spatial anomaly surrounding me has finally dissipated completely,” he explained carefully. She couldn’t read his expression for once, and it made her heart beat faster. “But yours hasn’t.”

“As I am certain you are well aware,” Lapras continued, “you did not originate here. Master Dialga is toiling to repair the damages dealt to his realm, just as Master Palkia is his own, but they both have encountered some…hiccups, so to speak.”

“I thought all that was solved since we were able to evolve a long time ago,” Eliana pointed out hesitantly.

“That is true, to an extent,” Lapras agreed. “But Master Dialga has informed me that, in order to continue his efforts to mend the fabric of reality, certain obstacles must be removed.”

Eliana stiffened as the fur along her spine bristled. The last time she’d heard something like that…

Lapras dipped his head in apology, noticing her distress. “Forgive me, I worded that poorly. I only meant that you should be returned to your time, Eliana. Master Dialga instructed that you be brought to the Passage of Time in Hidden Land in order for you to be sent safely back, as the Dimensional Holes—while able to be summoned most anywhere—are far weaker and more prone to accidents.”

“You can go home, Eliana,” Lu added softly. When Eliana returned her attention to him, she realized that he was intentionally steeling his demeanor to hide his inner tumult—he hadn’t done that since he’d finally earned his confidence through their myriad misadventures, least of all towards her. “This is your chance.”

“I…this is kind of sudden,” she offered quietly, looking between them as she sat heavily on the damp sand and curled her tail around her legs.

“I understand,” Lapras said, “and Master Dialga instructed me to tell you that it is not necessary at this moment—he only wanted to prepare you for the inevitable. You will eventually have to return in order for time to be completely reconstructed. Your influence here will continue to cause repercussions into the continuum, which will hinder his efforts more and more. You pose the risk of causing irreparable alterations to the timeline.”

“That was the whole point of me being here, though,” Eliana responded through clenched teeth. “I was returned here after…after the future was healed. I don’t understand.”

“He does not expect you to, as it is an extremely complex subject to mortals. I myself do cannot comprehend it all. Time is by no means linear, and although your interactions with the past have—to present—been beneficial, it could cause deviations in the folding that has occurred. It is a critical, tenuous balance that cannot endure much more tampering.”

“I don’t have a choice,” she surmised lamely.

Lapras tilted his head. “Master Dialga anticipated that you would want to return to your time. Was his assumption incorrect?”

“I…no,” she admitted, “I just didn’t expect it to be motivated by something like this.”

“At least it hasn’t caused anything catastrophic,” Lu told her, somewhat wryly. He placed a reassuring paw between her shoulder blades. “Lapras said we can have a day to think it over. Do you still want to go out today?”

“Yeah. We can…talk about it on the way.” Eliana swallowed. “Thank you, Lapras. You’ll stay nearby, then?”

“Yes. You can give me your decision in the morning. As I said, you needn’t depart now, but…Master Dialga heavily encourages it.”

“Of course.” Eliana allowed Lu to steer her off the beach, taking a shortcut towards the coastal forest that would branch off into the surrounding areas.

“I suppose Jirachi really came through, huh?” Lu mused after a long duration of silence.

“I just didn’t think it would involve such high stakes,” Eliana sighed. “Again.”

“It saves us from the deliberation, if nothing else,” he supposed. “I was worried that it would be the sort of decision we might cower away from.”

Eliana frowned, throat tightening. “I didn’t want…” She swallowed roughly. “…we don’t know how far into the future it is. What if—what if you’re not there?”

Lu stopped. Eliana dropped her head, but he kneeled next to her and drew her into a hug. She sank into him with some relief, squeezing her stinging eyes shut. “I will go with you all the way to the Passage,” he assured her, “but there’s no guarantee I’ll be on the other side. That’s just the nature of time.”

“I don’t want to trade you for that,” she whispered tightly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, even if I’m not there, but...something tells me we can’t be parted for very long. Perhaps that’s silly, but…you’ve taught me how to trust my gut.” He pulled back enough to gaze fondly down at her. “I’ve had the privilege of calling you my partner for this long. I could ask for nothing else.”

Eliana wanted to protest. She had found safety here in the past, with Lu, and she had no idea what lay in wait across the Passage. All she knew is that it would be different, but…

“Consider it another exploration,” Lu said, distracting her from the spiral she was in danger of descending into. “I don’t think Dialga would be sending you back if it were dangerous—he owes you too much for that. You’re the most capable person I know, and if anyone could handle it, I know you can. And if I’m able, I will continue to be there for you.”

She drew in a deep, shaky breath. She wanted so badly to find Grovyle again, but she didn’t want to exchange him for Lu. There was so much uncertainty surrounding the sudden reality of her being intended to return, but…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She would just have to deal with any problems that might arise when she got there.

“We would need to tell Wigglytuff and the others,” she said.

“I’m sure they will understand,” he replied. “Although Chatot may not be happy about it.”

“Are you sure you’d be okay by yourself?” she asked softly. “What about our team?”

“I’ve got the Guild,” he pointed out, “and I’m sure you’ve noticed that our types of jobs have been getting fewer and farther between, so maybe I could start looking into doing something else. I don’t know yet. I can handle myself most of the time, but if I needed help I could ask one of the apprentices.”

“…I would miss you,” she murmured.

“I will miss you, too,” he returned, “dearly. But I think this is for the best.”

“I know.” She reached up and squeezed him as best as she was able. “Thank you, Lu. For everything.”

“Save the goodbyes for later,” he chuckled, although she noticed that his voice had thickened with emotion he was concealing for her sake. “…But time is a funny thing. Maybe we should just say, ‘see you later’ instead.”

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #pokemon #pmd #pmd 2 #pmd2 #pmd explorers #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon explorers #pokemon mystery dungeon explorers of sky #explorers of sky #ao3: in the morning light #leafeon #lucario #lapras

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a-wumper-on-the-internet · 3 months

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I actually know nothing about whump terminology tbh, so: is this a trope?

I've been calling it the Mutual Caretakers. Two characters have both been whumped, either by each other or by a third party or one by the other and the other by someone else. Whatever the case, both are in pain and generally experiencing new, fucked up emotions the likes of which would make baffle any phycologist.

And then they have to caretake each other. Maybe no one else is around who can do it. Maybe it's just a situation where there is no one else but the two of them. Maybe there's a more competent caretaker available but these two just have a special bond of Trauma And Piss Poor Coping Skills that no one else can really touch.

It could be messy and bad for both of them, and make everyone involved significantly worse, or maybe it can actually help and become mutual understanding or some sort of weird-ass friendship. Or maybe they just self destruct. Who knows!

The trope pairs well with: Whumper redemption, whumpee corruption, complex/grey whumpers and whumpees, and general line-blurring between roles.

I realize now that every one of my ocs (there are more coming, I swear) all eventually end up like this. The whumper and whumpee equivalent of a get-along shirt. I need something to call it.

#this is NOT whumper turned caretaker OR whumpee turned caretaker btw #because this should specifically scratch an itch that these two are too broad to cover #it must be two characters who have been whumpees at some point (bonus points if either/both of them were also whumpers)#and who must caretake each other #with no caretaker present #with extra bonus points if neither of them know what the fuck they're doing #it's the healing. it's the breaking out of toxic cycles of violence #it's the learning how to heal past abuse and how to understand that you abused people and what the hell you do #it's the hurting and the hurting others and learning to live in spite of it anyway #whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #whumpee #whumper #whump prompts #whump tropes #whumpblr

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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DCxDP Fanfic idea: Wrong Number

Bruce prides himself in keeping all of his networks secured. If he didn't make it himself, he had the funds and connections to get him the best working on his systems.

He had backup plans in case the systems were ever hacked, of course, but he had yet to encounter a cyber attack that wasn't beaten away by his firewalls or his team.

Babs and Tim were far more feral when booting out unwanted guests. The level of protection was also transferred to his other systems that weren't Batman-related, just to make sure the connection between Bruce and Batman was never made.

That's why he never really checks his personal phone's caller ID, not the one he gave out as Brucie Wayne, but the one Bruce used for his real life without any masks- civilian or vigilante. The only ones who had the number- and the access- were his children and Alfred.

Not even the Justice League- those who were aware of his identity- knew of this number.

Bruce is in the middle of typing up a report for the next Wayne Board meeting when his personal phone rings. He figures it's Dick giving him a call to update him on his drive home or maybe Jason, as his son was planning on going to college.

"Go for Papa Bruce," He says, knowing his kids hate his phone greeting and doing it deliberately to spite them.

There is a long pause where he can't help but smirk thinking his child is either rolling their eyes or cringing too hard to properly speak. Eventually, a voice cracks over the speaker.

"Hello. I'm selling cookies to raise money for my own star. Would like to buy a box from me?" says a boy, not one he has taken in. The voice is young maybe not even double digits yet. Bruce is alarmed.

"Who are you?! How did you get this number?" He demands, yanking his phone to his face and seeing, with a chill, a phone number out of state.

His system had been compromised. By a child. By accident.

"My name is Danny!" The boy chirps. "I sell cookies. Like the Girl Scouts, but I'm a boy, and I don't scout."

"That's rather fantastic, lad. What kind of cookies are you selling?" Bruce asks to keep the boy on the line while sending an email blast to the others. It's a string of numbers that are code for compromise so they all know to close any communication channel until it's safe to get back on.

"Chocolate chip. Mint Slim. Oatmeal and peanut butter. I made them myself!"

Right. Bruce hooks up his phone, tracing the call. The signal bounces off the call, swinging up to a salute and falling back down to earth. In seconds he has the boy's location. It pings in a small town right outside of Star City.

He sends Barry a private message. His friend is already on the way to the location. He'll get the boy in a few seconds.

"How much for a box of chocolate chips? Those are my favorite." Bruce tells the boy, voice whimsical as his Brucie persona demands.

In an unsure tone, the boy pauses, then whispers, "I don't know. No one ever let me get this far."

"How about twenty for a box of dozen? I'll buy five boxes for each of my kids that live at him," Bruce tells him, and the boy gasps.

"That could buy me one whole night in a hotel!"

Bruce's insides freeze. What did he mean-

"Hey! No! Let go!" Danny suddenly screams. Bruce's heart launches- he hates it when kids get hurt, especially those that sound like Danny- until Barry's voice comes over the speaker.

"I got him, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for alerting the Justice League Hotline." That's code for This is not a threat to you Batman and Bruce allows himself to relax just a little.

"Narc!" The boy shouts, outraged, before the call drops. Barry is likely taking over the situation, which means Bruce can leave it in his capable hands.

After reassuring his kids that he is fine and that they are all safe, he suits up and meets the Flash in the Watch Tower. There, he learns that Danny is only seven years old and has been living on the streets for a while.

The boy had been surviving by baking some cookies to sell on the side of the street- where did he bake them? The boy would not say- until he got the bright idea to try to sell through phone calls like he had seen on TV.

He punched in random numbers at the community center phone and gave his pitch about a star, thinking people would be more willing to buy from him if he had an excellent reason.

Barry had left him with CPS, but he looked devastated about that. It turned out that Danny was a meta and had likely been kicked out of his home once it was found out based on what he said of his parents.

Bruce felt he should assure Barry that Danny was fine and look into his placement to help settle his more sensitive teammate's nerves.

He was unhappy that Danny was not in a good placement; there were far too many reports from a concerned neighbor to make him think it was a safe place. Given the fact that placement had a lot of meta kids that "fell through the cracks," Bruce worried he had just stumbled across a trafficking ring.

He would sick Barry and Jason on them. Just to ensure they wouldn't see the light of day again.

Still, that did not fix his mistake with Danny, the little cookie seller.

Bruce hacked into the system to move Danny. He thought about where he would move the young child but ultimately had him in Wayne Manor.

Just until he could confirm that he would be safe. He certainly didn't think about the adorable little boy who called him with his heart in his hand and got sent to a terrible place for three weeks because of Bruce.

Danny arrived at Wayne Manor with a happy little bounce and a chipper outlook on life than Bruce was expecting. "If it isn't Mr. Narc!"

God, he going to adopt the boy, isn't he?

(Danny has been thrown into a different universe, aged down to a child. He survived by overshadowing people into letting him spend the night baking cookies.

He was thrown into a somewhat typical home, but the nosy neighbor down the street took far too much notice of his overshadowing, and now he was being moved again.

Maybe he can terrorize Mr. Narc now instead? )

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny de-age #Dimension travel #Crack #Basically He overshaowed people and everyone lost their minds about it #Barry will fight Bruce for Danny #Danny will make it his life goal to be Bruce's life hell

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purple-babygirl · 2 months

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don't call me daddy V

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 4,660

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: crying, age regression, fluff, a little angst

A/N: i would like to give credits for this part and its idea to🦊nonnie because without her ask there might've not been a fifth part to this story. Having said that, i'm thinking this should be the last part of the story because i am out of scenario your girl is empty. but anyway, please enjoy this one and have a tight hug xx💜💜

When they arrived back at her house, she was asleep in the passenger's seat.

Bucky didn’t want to wake her up. He knew she barely got any sleep last night because of the mean cough she was suffering from and so he carefully carried her inside without a word.

His heart kept speeding up every time he would remember what she called him after taking her shot as he slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks and tucked her in her bed.

He frankly had no idea what he would do if she was to wake up little and if he was ready to be a good daddy to her. What if he messed up again? He seemed to be a pro at that.

Luckily, when she woke up later that night, she was her big self again and didn’t seem to have any recollection of calling Bucky daddy, or if she did, she didn’t mention it.

Bucky gave her her cough syrup and the rest of the meds, helping her go back to sleep as he presumed his place on the floor by her bed.

In a way he couldn’t explain, even her coughs were more comfort than the silence at his house, and definitely more comfort than his nightmares.

It was 12 days of little sleep, a lot of crying, meds, movies and sleepovers until she was fully cured again, and even though Bucky hated that she was sick, those seemed to have been some of the best days he’s ever gotten to live since he’s come back to himself.

He got to laugh with someone, care for someone, comfort someone and enjoy the company of someone. And not just anyone; it was her.

But something was missing still.

Bucky wanted her to call him daddy. More than anything and from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to deserve that name, that role.

What Bucky had noticed in the days he’d stayed at her place was that she had no family pictures at all.

She had framed pictures of friends, of herself, of Corgi, but none of family members.

It didn’t come as a surprise because she’d mentioned it to him before, and he just knew that if he wanted to be her caregiver, her daddy, Bucky had to prove to her that he was nothing like those who’d hurt her. He had to prove himself worthy of taking care of her; set himself apart from them.

And to do that, he had to know more.

“I see no family pictures anywhere,” Bucky spoke as he helped her plant the new tulips she had in place.

“Yeah, we’re not close.” She shrugged, hand stuttering just the tiniest bit in their movements.

“Can I ask why?”

She sighed, “why?”

“I’m trying to learn from the mistakes of others.”

She laughed, “really?”

“Really.”

Oh, this wasn’t a joke?

“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” She couldn’t understand why he would want to try again when the report was handed and he was let off the hook.

“I want to. I really want to.” Bucky wished his gloved hands weren’t muddy as they were so he could touch her face.

He found himself craving physical contact around her more often than not.

“You finally believe in the power of the program?” She teased, keeping her focus on the flowers she was rooting.

“No, I couldn’t care less about the institution and its programs.”

“Not even Mrs. Morrison?” She joked again.

“I’m serious, doll.”

“Why then?” She dropped the bulbs, deciding to face Bucky.

“I want it because it’s you I’ll be daddy to.”

“They never loved me for who I was.” She answered his previous question and Bucky felt a pang at his chest.

He had made her feel the same way.

He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her in fear that she might stop.

“I always had to be a certain way, say certain things, act a certain way. Do what we say and then we’ll see if we can love you.”

Bucky might’ve been speechless, but his eyes spoke a million words, begging hers for forgiveness for his ignorant mistakes.

“That’s why it hurt so much when you showed me you didn’t accept the little version of me.”

“I’m so sorry-”

She shook her head, stopping him.

“I’ve been rejected for too long, Bucky, too many times. It took me a good while to finally believe that I was worth loving despite my quirks, ugly parts and possible mistakes. Took too long to teach myself that it didn’t matter if I cried all the time, was too clingy or too talkative; I was still lovable.” She pointed to her chest as she finished her words.

Bucky took his gloves off, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop himself anymore. He had no words, only anger and remorse raging inside his chest.

“It takes you a while to unlearn stuff you’ve been taught your whole life by the people who were supposed to love you the most.” She whispered into his shirt.

“Doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back.

“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, “I appreciate you, Bucky, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to lose everything I’ve built inside me if you decide in the middle of it that you weren’t fully ready to take on such a responsibility. I forgive you. I promise. But I don’t trust you enough to give up full control of myself and my life to you again. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Bucky the option to walk away.

“Don’t be. I understand.” He remained in place.

“Are you gonna disappear now?” She wondered with a sad smile.

“No, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Bucky returned the smile, putting his gloves back on.

She smiled gratefully, “I don’t wanna lose you either. You’re such a great friend. And I owe you forever for taking care of me those past few days.”

“What if I prove myself to you though?” Bucky asked, dipping a tulip bulb in the soil.

“What?” She tilted her head in confusion.

“What if I show you how serious I am about this and prove myself worthy of you?”

“Bucky, you don’t have to do that. I know you have a life, responsibilities-”

“I want to do it. There’s nothing more important to me right now than this. And you.”

“If you’re doing this just because you can’t accept that you failed the program-”

“I swear on my ma’s soul, I want to do this. Because of you, doll. For you and with you.”

The words died on her tongue as she watched his sincere eyes implore hers.

“Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? Please?”

“Okay, Bucky.” She swallowed, “one chance.”

“That’s all I need.” Bucky smiled.

She was not sick anymore and he didn’t have a reason to stick around. He also didn’t want to push her on the matter of regressing, so, respectful of her boundaries, he left.

After their conversation in the garden, Bucky had to go home.

His heart was heavy when he entered his empty apartment to nothing and no one. Being alone in here wasn’t something he enjoyed anymore.

It has been 2 days of intense research that Bucky has conducted on age regression and partners in little space when she texted him that night.

“Mr. Barnes, can you please come over?”

He wasn’t particularly happy about the fact that he was Mr. Barnes again, but he certainly was happy that she thought to text him when little. This was an improvement and it counted to Bucky.

“Will be right there, doll.” He texted back, running to his motorcycle.

Bucky took in a deep breath before knocking at her door, ready to prove himself a suitable daddy.

She opened with teary eyes, making Bucky’s heart sink.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped inside.

“I can’t open the pickle jar and now my hands hurt,” she cried, showing him the insides of her palms and how red they were from trying so hard to twist the cap on the glass jar.

She was indeed a little worried that Bucky might find this stupid, that he might yell at her or get upset because she was crying over something minimal in his eyes.

But that wasn’t the case at all. The man was just thankful that she was alright.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed in relief, glad that she wasn’t actually hurt.

Until he remembered that this was a big deal to her. Her hands hurt and she was frustrated because the cap wouldn’t budge.

Moments like these definitely required a daddy.

“I thought Mr. Barnes could help,” she sniffled, her hand wiping under her nose, “metal arm.” She touched his gloved hand.

Bucky chuckled, taking the pickle jar out of her hand, “what if I can do it without the metal arm? What would you give me in return?”

“The biggest pickle?” She offered, wiping her tears away from her eyes, her crying stopping at once.

Bucky laughed at her innocence, “no, I want something else, doll.”

She tilted her head expectantly.

What could Mr. Barnes possibly want? Did he want the whole jar? Would he at least leave her one pickle? She was craving pickles-

“I want you to start calling me Bucky again. No more Mr. Barnes. Can you do that for me, doll?”

Oh, that was something she could do.

“Only if you can open the jar with your not metal hand,” she challenged, her little mind amazed by the idea because look at her hand! It had red marks all over when she tried opening that jar.

“You got it,” Bucky said, easily twisting the cap on the jar open, making her mouth open with it.

“Woah,” she whispered as Bucky handed her the jar with a laugh.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiled, watching her chew on a crunchy pickle.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She smiled back, offering him a big pickle.

Bucky’s nerves tingled, knowing he was one step closer to her and his desired title.

Moving forward, Bucky learned to distinguish between her big self and little self through texts.

Her little self would always talk about him and herself in third person.

Plus, her big self always needed help with bigger things like needing Bucky to fix her sink or look at her car, knowing he might burn down the city if she went back to asking Adam for help with those things.

Her little self, on the other hand, would need help with the lighter things, the sweeter things. She would call asking for help with Corgi, something too high on a shelf or even just wanting Bucky’s company.

Tonight was one of those nights.

It was thundering more than usual and Bucky had wanted to go and be with her, but he didn’t want to invade her privacy.

But then she called and her scared voice saying his name had Bucky moving even before she uttered the words.

He was proud that she now knew that he was just only one call away; that he would come running whenever she needed. She could finally count on him to be there for her and he couldn’t be more contented.

He knew that consistency was important in relationships, especially one where she was little.

“Hey, doll, it’s okay. It’s just a little thunder,” Bucky cooed, rubbing her back as she let him inside.

“I’m not scared anymore now that Bucky is here.” She smiled, her breathing visibly slowing down.

“Well, I’m staying the night so you have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, following her to the bedroom.

“Bucky covered his motorcycle?” she asked, worried his vehicle would get ruined.

“Leave that for now, we’ll hose it down together tomorrow when it’s sunny.”

“Corgi loves the hose,” she spoke out the first thought that came to her mind and Bucky loved it, laughing heartily at her comment.

The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name, jumping at Bucky’s feet as soon as he entered the bedroom, waiting for his share of pets.

He bent down to give the dog some love when he heard her sigh.

“Corgi loves Bucky too.” She smiled shyly, internally wishing her name was Corgi.

“Bucky loves Corgi right back,” Bucky whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

She only smiled bigger, running to her bed and getting under the covers.

When Bucky got down to sleep on the floor that night, however, she slipped off her bed and right next to him.

“Doll, the floor is too cold for you. Sleep on your bed, come on.” Bucky sat up, wanting to help her up on the bed again but she wouldn’t move.

“Wanna be next to Bucky,” she said with a pout.

“But-”

“I know Bucky can’t sleep on beds. It’s okay. Doll will sleep here,” she told him, squeezing Wolfie in her arms.

Bucky’s heart fluttered and it made his mind light up with an idea only a true daddy would have.

“Do you wanna build a fort?” He suggested and her face instantly beamed with a smile as she nodded.

Of course she did!

That night as Bucky gathered all of her soft blankets to make her a floor mattress inside a fort full of fluffy pillows, he knew he was smitten.

This girl had him head over heels for her and there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do just to see her smile.

“Can Bucky please tell me a story?”

“Sure, doll. Do you have any books I can read to you from?”

“I have books that big me likes but I don’t want those.”

“What would you like then?”

“I want a story that is Bucky’s. Tell me a story you didn’t tell anyone at the institution.”

Oh, she was jealous. The thought made Bucky smile as he pulled the covers up to her neck to make sure she was warm down on the floor.

“Okay, you ready?” Bucky asked, dimming the lights in her room.

She made herself comfortable under the covers, big eyes watching Bucky’s handsome grin as the cozy atmosphere he’s created comforted her through the storm, “ready.”

“Once upon a time, there was a small idiot who picked up fights with boys much bigger than himself. His name was Steve…”

Bucky fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair, watching her soft breaths leave her chest that night without abruptly waking up in the middle of it for the first time in forever.

Bucky didn’t know what it was like to be her, but he was going to do his best to put himself in her shoes like she’d previously tried.

She deserved to be fully and entirely understood.

He witnessed a glimpse of her feelings towards the concept of family a couple of times when they would watch movies like The Lion King or Lilo and Stitch.

She didn’t seem to be affected by the death of Mufasa even though he knew her to be a very sensitive little. She was sad for Simba, of course, but not for Mufasa’s demise. Similarly with Lilo and Stitch, she didn’t care much about the concept of the family.

There was an actual barrier separating her from experiencing any positive feelings that came with the idea of family. Because she had none to associate with hers.

With some more research, Bucky managed to find a few animated movies that didn’t seem to revolve around the idea of family love and how family was everything and whatnot.

One of those movies was The Willoughbys. The movie depicted how neglecting some parents can be and that 2 people loving each other and getting married didn’t necessarily mean they would love their children too.

It was a very unique movie and Bucky was actually happy they could make such movies nowadays.

When the song I Choose You started playing in the movie, Bucky felt her small hand squeezing into a fist.

He silently wrapped his hand around hers, offering quiet comfort and support.

“Bucky chooses you, doll. Wholeheartedly.” Bucky reassured, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

He looked down to see tears in her innocent eyes as she showed her feelings for the first time during one of their movie nights.

“Bucky chooses me?” she croaked, lip trembling as she cried.

“I choose Bucky, too.” She pulled him down by one cheek to leave a kiss on the other.

Bucky froze.

It was the first time she’s kissed him since he applied that cream on her burnt hand back at his house. She did it on her own, too.

“And I choose Corgi,” she said, running her fingers through the hair of the puppy sleeping soundly on her lap.

“That’s right, and Corgi chooses you. Family doesn’t have to be the ones you were born with, doll,” Bucky told her as he wiped her tears away, “you can choose the family you want for yourself”.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him tight, afraid he might not be real and that this moment is all made up.

“You’re welcome, doll.” Bucky kissed the side of her head as they pulled away.

“Can I choose Adam, too?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper as she gauged Bucky’s reaction.

She could actually hear his chest rumble with a low “argh” before he nodded despite himself, making her giggle.

“Don’t worry. I only have one Bucky.” She reassured, slinging her arm around Bucky’s metal one.

One daddy, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She was still scared.

Bucky knew that she needed her own independent time alone sometimes even when little, and he would allow her just that, texting throughout the day just to make sure she was okay, reminding her to drink water and take care of herself.

But there was one particularly hard weekend when she felt real down about some of her plants dying as the storm took them out of the ground.

When she opened the door she was clearly disheveled, hair all messy and looking like it hadn’t been brushed all week.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky spoke gently as he closed the door behind him.

She quickly ran into his arms, needing the comfort more than anything, “my plants are dead and Corgi peed on my new carpet and my hair doesn’t smell like shampoo anymore and I’m-”

Damn. She was spiraling. She just slipped out of his hug and on the floor. Oh no.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here now and I got you, okay?” Bucky tried his best to reassure her, getting on his knees before her to look into her eyes.

“Okay,” she hiccupped, nodding even though she wasn’t fully convinced.

“What happened to the plants?” Bucky wanted to handle her concerns one at a time.

“My apple trees were pulled out of place because of the storm,” she started sobbing again as she remembered what had happened to her hard word.

“Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll put them back in place, okay?”

“Really?” She sniffed.

“Really.” Bucky smiled kindly.

“Okay.” She nodded, trying to control her breathing.

“And we’ll throw the new carpet in the washing machine, and keep Corgi in his playpen with pee pads,” Bucky gave her the steps of how the day was going to go, leading her by the hand to where Corgi was.

“Okay.” She nodded again, her tears ceasing.

“And while the carpet is being washed, I’ll help you wash your hair. Does that sound okay?” Bucky asked her permission, wanting to make sure she was completely comfortable.

“Yes.” She was finally smiling again as well.

“Okay, let’s get you in here,” Bucky told the puppy before placing him inside his playpen.

He spread a few sheets on which the dog could pee if needed before collecting the affected mat.

“Let’s take this to the washing machine,” Bucky voiced his movements, wanting to put her at ease as he kept her hand in his and walked with her to the bathroom.

“In you go.” Bucky threw the rug inside the washing machine along with some detergent.

“Now what do we do?” He asked her, wanting to keep her out of her head.

“Wash doll’s hair?” She asked with half a smile.

“That’s right, get in there.” Bucky tilted his head towards the bathtub with a smile.

And for some reason, it was different this time. He didn’t feel all weird seeing her naked. Maybe it was because he knew her better this time and was familiar with her in more ways than one that such intimacy didn’t startle him.

He wasn’t sure, but Bucky wasn’t complaining, only grateful as she closed her sweet eyes and trusted him to wash her hair for her.

“Alright, show me how it’s done,” Bucky encouraged, instructing her to whip her hair to the front so he could wrap the towel around it.

She did as told with a giggle, dangling her hair before her and letting Bucky wrap it up the best he could.

“Off to the couch.” Bucky chuckled as he watched her skip in her cashmere bathrobe to her couch.

Later after Bucky has brushed her hair for her, he helped her get dressed and they went outside together to replant the fallen apple saplings the wind had knocked down just like he'd promised.

The smile on her face was new and unmatched as she watched Bucky handle her plants with care.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him close, hardly wanting to let go as they stood in the middle of her garden.

Bucky was now rooted in her heart just like the plants in her garden were in their soil.

She didn’t think she could be away from him anymore. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whispered timidly as they started walking back to the house.

“What do you want on your piz- what did you say?” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“I’m hungry.” She bit her lip and looked away quickly, hesitant now that his eyes were on her.

“Before that, doll.” Bucky brought her eyes back to his by her chin.

“D-daddy?”

Bucky smiled a smile that reached his eyes as they lit up with gratitude. He couldn’t believe he was finally hearing that word.

“Daddy’s thinking pizza, doll. Sound okay?”

Her face glowed up with her own smile as she witnessed Bucky, with full commitment, refer to himself as daddy.

She nodded, knowing this was going to be the most delicious pizza she was ever going to eat.

“What is daddy thinking?” She asked when she noticed his eyes on her, slipping a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.

“Just thinking about all the things you make me feel, doll.” He smiled, turning his face to kiss her hand before it left his face.

Her face started heating up as she retracted her hand, tingles spreading all over her, “things like what?”

“You make me feel like there’s still good in this world. Like I’m worth patience and kindness and maybe even… love,” Bucky voiced his feelings, eyes dreamy as they watched her pretend to be focused on organizing her stuffies’ seats on the floor.

“You are, daddy,” she replied sincerely, hurting inside that Bucky might doubt this even a little.

“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you, doll.” Bucky’s sigh came out hot from his chest, holding so much regret.

“That’s in the past, daddy. Doll doesn’t think about it no more.” She smiled, her littler hand covering his own lovingly before giving a soothing squeeze.

“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Bucky held her hand up and gave the back of it a noisy kiss.

She laughed, face heating up more at the sweet attention, “no body’s perfect, remember?”

Bucky tried to continue laughing with her but he was still kicking himself for what he did to her during her visit to his house.

“How did you even tolerate me back then, doll? I was the worst.” Bucky covered his face with his hands as he threw his head back, laying on his back on the floor full of shame.

“That’s not true. You just misunderstood me and that happens!” She was quick to defend him, refusing the idea that he would even criticize himself, “daddy is the best.”

“I know, but it still gave me no right to treat you the way I did.” Bucky’s eyes teared up at the memories of his very mean words and actions, “I made you cry a lot.” He struggled to forgive himself for that one.

“Daddy, I forgave you, I swear,” she promised, her hands cradling his full cheeks.

She felt like her heart might stop from sadness if Bucky was to cry right now.

“I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were sincere, holding so much emotion in them that she felt her own begin to fill up with tears.

“Daddy, you don’t need to apologize no more,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back tears.

“You have made me the luckiest man on earth by accepting me as your caregiver, your daddy, and you’ve taught me so much, doll.” Bucky actually started crying, a lot of held-inside feelings coming out at once.

“Daddy.” Her thumb wiped under his eyes gently as she felt her own tears roll down, “don’t say stuff like that”.

“But I need to. Because you did. You taught me unconditional love and acceptance. You taught me what it means to live again. Doll, your patience with my terribleness has taught me that maybe I’m not a hopeless case after all, and that this shell of a man with a metal arm might be capable of things he thought have been wiped from his memory long ago.”

“Daddy, please stop crying,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his chin as her attempts at wiping his tears away have proven to be futile.

“I love you so much, doll. I love you with every old bit of me and if you’ll have me…”

“Daddy?” she raised her head, eyes on Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression.

Could Bucky really be asking what she thought he was asking?

“Doll, I want you to be my baby for more than just a few days. Would you give me that honor? Would you let me be your daddy for real?”

“Daddy, are you sure?” she nervously bit her lip.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything before.” Bucky promised.

She nodded frantically, afraid the offer might disappear if she took too long to respond, “yes.”

“Thank you, doll.” Bucky breathed as he pulled her to him, strong arms engulfing her in a protective hug.

“Daddy will not regret it later?” her eyes watched him, a small hint of doubt still tainting her trust.

“Do you like the moon, doll?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head, not understanding the relation between her question and Bucky’s answer.

“You know how our sky only has one moon?”

She nodded.

“My heart is just like that. It can only have one doll no matter how much time passes.”

“Oh.” She sniffled, trying to hold the tears in.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky gave her hair a long kiss.

“I love you, daddy.” She kissed his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him as best as she could, never wanting to be away from him again.

And she wasn’t going to be. Bucky was an idiot who let her go once; never again was he going to make that mistake.

He was blessed with her now and he was going to spend every day of his life proving he was worthy of this blessing.

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513 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 5 months

Text

What your favorite batfam member says about your New Year's resolution

Dick: your goals are health or fitness-related but you're gonna cave the second you see your favorite snack (nothing wrong with treating yourself)

Jason: you're gonna try to read more books and become more intellectual except you get distracted by Tumblr brainrot (*insert that one post about the gutters looking up at the stars too*)

Tim: you want to prioritize your mental health but unfortunately the rest of the world doesn't agree (heal just to spite them)

Damian: you're gonna try to make friends and you're gonna look like a complete freak while doing so (embrace it and the right people will too)

Duke: the planet is on fire and you're having too big of an existential crisis to know what you want (just breathe, you're not the only one)

Cullen: you want to live your truth but something is pushing you back into the closet (the right pace is your own)

Stephanie: you're scattered all over the place and you wish you could just pull yourself together (it's okay to set things down)

Cassandra: you're trying to catch up on a milestone that everyone expected you to have already passed (it's all a construct)

Barbara: you're hesitant to make a resolution because your goals are too lofty (sometimes it's the little efforts that count)

Harper: you have something or someone you're trying to look after (just don't forget yourself along the way)

Carrie: you have an impossible fantasy like building a spaceship to Pluto or riding a unicorn across the rainbow (don't ever change)

Kate: you're working to quit something that's been hurting you (even if you fall off, it's always worth another try)

Helena: you're in a transition period of your life and you hope the next big step goes off without a hitch (but don't forget to live in the present)

Luke: you're finally gonna complete that unfinished project you've been working on the past three years (even if you don't, the fun is in the process)

Bette: you want to learn something new and interesting that doesn't have any immediately useful applications (do it anyway, capitalist notions of utility are bullshit)

Alfred: you're trying to change how others see you (you can only do so much, their imagination is not your responsibility)

Selina: you have a major problem that you want to turn that around but you don't know how (it's okay to get a second opinion)

Bruce: you have some relationships that need to be examined and you want to figure out what's worth salvaging and what to cut out of your life (trust yourself, you got this)

451 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 6 months

Text

Grandma's Visit.

Warnings: Drama, mild angst, Strained Relationships. Comfort towards the end. No proofread

Summary: Conchata wants to meet Benji.

A/N: There might not be updates, but have this little piece as an offer :')

Hey

Gabriel's leg bounced as the main door was closed, a bit of a slam on it. His hands immediately fetched his phone.

Migue

Busy right now.

Drop that shit and listen

?? ¿Qué pasó? (What's wrong?)

Mamá va para allá, cabrón.

The fuck you mean she's on her way? Did you tell her where do I live?

Miguel, it's mom we're talking about.

The eldest O'Hara sighed and raked a hand over his hair. He was definitely not prepared for what laid ahead.

She wants to meet Benjamin.

Miguel's body tensed as his muscles flexed so tightly, one would think he'd break. And it wasn't far from the truth.

Conchata. Or Connie for her friends, was the ever annoying stone on his shoes. Miguel had refused to have her in his wedding. Not out of spite, rather for the notion he had of his beloved progenitor. He knew that trouble followed her everywhere and if it wasn't following her like an overly attached stalker, is cause she was the problem itself.

Conchata was anything but easy to be around. And things had gone even more acrid after the wedding. Miguel never told you about the fourty five minute call she made him just to say how much of a bad son he was for not inviting her over.

But Miguel knew better, if he'd had her, she'd either complain about everything, ruining the mood for everyone. Or she'd start making snide comments on you and he'd get pissed, some drama would ensue causing an even bigger and jagged rift between them and his wedding would be ruined.

"Hey"

Your gentle and soft touch grounded him, anchored his mind back to his body, as his attention snapped back at you.

"You ok?"

His eyes felt tired and heavy. Unable to meet your gaze completely.

"I'll be."

You cradled him in your arms and kissed the top of his forehead. The touch alone melted him. His own arms embracing your shorter form, that somehow did the perfect work of comforting him and ease his thoughts. But when it came to his mother, little good things came out from it.

"My... eh-" He cleared his throat, "My mother is coming for a visit"

Oh...

"What she could possibly want after so many years?"

"Meet Benjamin."

Even though his words seemed simple, the clenching of his fists until his knuckles turned white, only dictated it was far from being that. Miguel didn't fear his mother, but feared and hated the words that could possibly escape her mouth when things weren't her way.

His wellbeing would be the sacrifice for the visit, cause he'd do anything possible to avoid you or his children get hurt.

"I swear, if she says or does something stupid-"

"Mi reina, let me handle her, ok?"

Your lips pursed and your brows deepened in a soft furrow.

"I won't hesitate-"

"I know. But please. Just, let me, ok?"

Both of you knew that things weren't going to be easy, his distress was obvious, he knew you'd step in if necessary, but he had to face her, it was more like a closure for him than anything. His baby boy wouldn't suffer the dooming and cursing words she gave him so many years ago. Words he learned to loathe as he grew up.

"Alright."

----

Maybe Gabriel's heads up was a false alarm, because nearly a week had gone by. A week of pent up stress and anxiety from both sides. And you could tell from Miguel's demeanor changing.

Even though being loving and a great father remained on the top list, you knew better than that. He'd been found asleep in his office after dinner, or would shut out himself for some little minutes. You'd give him space, and when he needed you, he'd always know where to find you.

He didn't even required to say 'I need you' cause you knew. His body language over the years had been a great subject of study, specially when it came to anxiety and other negatives that always switched on whenever his mother popped up in a conversation, or when something didn't sit right in his gut.

He'd pace, pick at the skin around his nails hard enough to draw blood, chew at the insides of his cheek, drink alot of more coffee to keep himself awake, grumpier than usual, irritated, short replies for everything outside his beloved family.

With you he'd be clingier than usual, he'd spoil Gabi over to avoid thinking too much. He'd pour himself into being that amazing and loving parent he never had, but at night, he'd just hold you until he fell asleep. He'd clutch onto you so tightly that sometimes you'd have little bruises, barely visible ones, in the places he'd hold.

Your comfort skills poured into his preferred love language. Physical touch. You'd play with his hair until he fell asleep, a little purr coming from him before giving into sleep, you'd caress his back in soothing circles, letting the steady beating of your heart lull him to calm.

You'd kiss his face, showering him in affection, as if with every kiss a bit of his worries would go away.

The knock on the main door however interrupted his train of thoughts. You had gone to the supermarket to get some stuff you had forgotten for dinner. Relief washing over him as you now we're home, or so he innocently had thought. All air was caught in his throat upon seeing none other than Conchata on the front door.

Even for her age, Conchata had some beauty reserved. Her skin tone same as Miguel's, soft curls that lingered above her shoulders, deep brown eyes that if one looked close enough, would see the deep red in them. Tall and seizing him with a look he also learned to master.

A scowl disguised as a smile.

"Miguel. "

"Mamá."

A too common and long pleasantries shared between the both.

She hasn't aged much.

Miguel's mind chanted.

"You're gonna let me in to meet my grandson, or what?"

A bushy brow of his quirked, blasé and bored, but he stepped aside. His whole frame had curbed her for long enough.

Here we go

Her scrutinizing gaze was unstoppable against the nakedness of his home. Her eyes raked in every little detail out of place, loading her verbal ammo with it.

"Where is the baby?"

"Asleep."

Monotone and monosyllabic answers that matched his expression was all she could pry from him. It was ridiculous the amount of pictures you seemed to have about Gabriella. She saw her when she was two, then six. Staying in Miguel’s life wasn't something she actually liked to partake on. Too busy with her own demons and new boyfriends to care.

Why would she? He was already a grown ass man.

A man that refused to have her at his own wedding. A past resentment that has lasted over the years and her own mind had been feeding the fester inside her heart. It didn't help you had one of the wedding pictures scattered around the living room.

The few proofs she needed to see, to know she wasn't welcome, but knowing her son had his own now, was another excuse to see what kind of man and father Miguel had turned out to be.

His arms crossed on his chest as she sat down in one of the seats in the couch.

"Come."

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"I'm trying to be civil. The least you can do is obey your mother for once."

"Why you came?"

"I told you. I need to see my grandson."

"Whatever for?"

Her eyes hardened at his words, but a sigh escaped her lips.

"God, you're so like your father. Always mistrusting people."

"You need to leave."

Hearing her say such curse, made his heart beat even faster. Hands clenched tightly at his sides. Eyes away from her, like if the mere sight of her brought back so many unpleasantness he had fought hard to work them through.

"I won't leave until your... woman shows up and throws me away."

"She will."

"Of course she will. You're not man enough. Just look at this place. A mess."

"And?"

Miguel knew that paying and baiting into her games, would only hinder so. many years of progress he had done on his own. But would also mean to give her the attention she desperately seeked, even if it meant to do it the wrong way.

"What do you mean, and?! What does she does around all day?" Conchata huffed, " In my times the wife was the one that kept everything in check. I've seen nothing but a mess so far."

"Sorry for that."

Your tired and irked voice echoed from the kitchen's door. Miguel gave you a little smirk.

"Have been busy being a real mother this whole time. Miguel, mi amor can you defrost some vegetables, please?"

"Sure do. Found everything?"

You both were purposely ignoring her. A silent yet powerful statement.

You have no power here.

Conchata's eyes set like stone into you. How dared a tiny flea like yourself to speak to her in such way?. And even worse, how could his son be lenient in allowing you to be disrespectful towards her?

You had entered quietly, the heavy and draining aura could be felt even from outside. You had told Gabi to wait outside and rearrange the groceries in the meantime.

" Oh, I didn't know you had returned."

Your name rolling off her tongue felt wrong.

" It's my house too."

"Ah, of course. You didn't do a pre-nup. Te va a dejar en la calle, Miguel." (She'll leave you bare)

Conchata's gaze never left you, it only turned even more intense as her pupils followed you every step.

"I came here to meet my grandson. Where is Gabriella? "

Said precious child helped you to get the bags from your car, while Conchata opened her arms for Gabi to cuddle her. But everything that came out was her hiding behind you, while looking between you and her, as if asking permission.

"Do you want to greet grandma, baby?"

Gabi only recoiled back, hiding further from you.

"Guess not."

You shrugged and instructed Gabi to go to her room, your eldest baby ignored her grandma.

"Muy chistosa tu mujer, enseñándole a mis nietos a irrespetarme ." (Your woman is so funny by teaching my grandkids to disrespect me.)

Miguel had to roll his eyes and stare at her boringly as he pulled out the vegetables and put them to thaw while you clenched your jaw by the sudden resented babbling that came from your mother in law.

"Where is Benjamin? I came here to see him. And I'm sure you'd love to have me here again."

"He'll be up in a minute. Would you like a a glass of water?"

Miguel offered but Conchata was already set in making you as uncomfortable as possible. And when Benjamin was brought in, rubbing his sleepy and baby face, looking for you, Conchata stood and took Benji from Miguel's arms. Holding him with such disingenuous affection it made Benji to reach for Miguel instantly.

You tensed, and so did Benjamin as Conchata admired him. If it wasn't for the skin tone matching Miguel’s, one would think that Benjamin wasn't his. Benjamin had your curls. And not Miguel's soft waves. Benjamin was the splitting image of you with a bit of Miguel's DNA painted in a few selected places. Like his eyes and height.

"I'm actually surprised you managed to pop out his children. Miguel is... big. Got it from his father."

"Didn't care much about that, ma'am."

"No se parece en nada a ti, Miguel. ¿Estás seguro que es tu hijo?" (He doesn't look like you. Are you sure he's your son?)

You didn't know what infuriated you more. The fact that she hinted that Benjamin wasn't his, a shallow and not so subtle hint at Miguel's past, or the pleased smirk her mouth turned into after spilling out the venom and seeing Miguel's discomfit grow.

Some people couldn't be helped. And Conchata truly couldn't help but love hurting her son. But you weren't having it. Not when Miguel's eyes turned away from her, not in hurt but in such anger that even you knew things wouldn't end up good for neither. And still, he regarded her with uninterested eyes.

His lack of engagement at her taunts, made her even more lashing. Like a little child that refused to have her whims met.

Even worse when Benjamin started to fuss and reach for him with a nervous cry. Even he felt odd and icky around her. You took Benjamin from her, cooing and soothing him, but he wanted Miguel. Who gladly took his precious baby, away from Connie. Inspecting him for any damage to finally kiss the top of his forehead, reassuringly.

You're safe.

"Si ya terminó de incomodarnos, creo que se puede ir, señora." (If you're done making us uncomfortable, you may go, ma'am.)

Her eyes widened at your spanish. It was clear that you had understood everything she had said, but were wise enough to not lose your temper, yet you fought back.

"Remind me to never visit you again, please."

"As if you ever do that. And no, it's not an invitation."

"Escúchame bien, chamaco ingrato-" (Listen to me you ungrateful brat)

"Ma'am."

You weren't one for yelling, but your voice was firm enough to have three pair of eyes set on you, Benjamin's fussing stopped. Conchata's lips turned into a scowl at your words.

"Thanks for your visit."

"You know, you could've settled for something better-"

"Así estoy bien, gracias. Now, if you excuse us, We've got dinner to make. The door is right there." (Im just fine. Thanks)

She left with a slam that had Benjamin cry out of the jumpscare.

Miguel hushed and rubbed his baby's back in little circles to keep him calm before giving his pacifier.

" You ok? "

Your hand squeezed Miguel's for a moment while he kissed your temple gratefully.

" Yeah. She's gone. That's why exactly I didn't invite her to the wedding or meeting you."

"It's alright. God... she's-"

"Annoying. I know. Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Nah. I'm glad you taught me cause, damn... Her face upon hearing me speaking it, was priceless. And just for you to know, I was about to explain how we almost made Benji on the car."

Miguel snorted and nodded, knowing you would. You had each other's back and that wasn't up for discussion.

" Te amo."

You mumbled in his ear before stealing a kiss from his lips.

" También te amo."

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#gabi o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #conchata o'hara #benjamin o'hara #mama o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #x reader #astv fanfic

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thethiefandtheairbender · 3 months

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as a lifelong ATLA fan who narrowly had ATLA dethroned as my top show by The Dragon Prince steadily over the past 5 years, the similarities between the two have very little to do with the surface level parallels that get regularly drawn between them.

Like ATLA, TDP has Books for seasons and chapters for episodes, but unlike ATLA, which only touched on storytelling sparingly as a theme, TDP is obsessed with interrogating storytelling and history and the presence of unreliable, biased narrators throughout many of its episodes (most notably 2x05, 2x06, 3x06, 4x04, and 4x07 among them). Half of what you learn in the 1x01 intro ends up being a lie once you reach S3, with more being steadily deciphered.

Yes, TDP has different magics with people living under those umbrella terms... for the elves. Humans are coming culturally at things from a completely different angle, and the elves' connection to their primal sources are discussed philosophically in detail, informing their practices and their culture first hand, including the way they chafe against humans, who are arcanum-less. Many animals in the world are also connected to magic, which influences both their design and which ones get hunted for humans' more 'clever' solution in dark magic, including each other.

The core issue of the Puppetmaster, down to being a coercive magic formed by someone deeply resentful of their imprisonment? Said puppetmaster is the main endgame antagonist of the entire show with all of S4 onwards being exploring the ethics of controlling people against their will in various methods, and the entire show itself being a thematic battleground of fate (imprisonment) vs free will for virtually every single character.

Where ATLA mostly concerns itself timeline wise with ending the war, very little thought is shown by any of the characters as to what they'll do after the war. This isn't a problem (as it reflects the sheer domineering scope of the conflict) but even Zuko being firelord is only ever really addressed with 2.5 episodes left till the finale. TDP, meanwhile, ends its 'war' in s3 and s4 opens up with dealing with the old wounds festering between people with centuries of history, the struggles that come when people aren't able to let go and believe they're safe or mourn in a healthy manner, and the religious/cultural clashes that may occur when trying to integrate different groups of people.

TDP also has an evil father with a devoted daughter and a brother who eventually defects, but it explores the reality of an abusive parent who loves/will sacrifice for you and your right to leave regardless, even if that means leaving the sibling you truly deeply love and who loves you in turn. Which means that when you and your sibling are on opposite sides of a deep ideological conflict, it actually really fucking hurts bc we've seen first hand just how much they love each other and also how and why everything fell apart not in spite of that love necessarily, but also because of it.

Is this to say that TDP is a 1:1 with ATLA or that it's better? No, not at all, and the latter is subjective. I prefer TDP, but I think they're about on equal ground when you look at each show currently as a whole (although TDP has two seasons left to go).

But TDP takes a lot of what ATLA was doing thematically with some of its most interesting beats and then builds or expands upon them further. It talks further and more consistently about the cycles of violence; in many ways, Jack De Sena's character, Callum, begins the series largely where Sokka had ended (and he's not the most like Sokka anyway; very much his own thing); we get Faustian bargains and centuries' long grief and fucked up people who are trying both succeeding and failing at not doing fucked up things. There are antagonists, but it is very hard to actually label anyone at this point a straight up villain. Moral greyness is where the show starts, and it just continues from there.

That's not to say the show is nothing but dark and depressing - like ATLA, there's a steady thread of hope and humour even as the show gets steadily closer and closer to its 11th hour point - but the show is usually emotionally heavier. There's more blood and potentially disturbing imagery with body horror and on screen death. There's so much foreshadowing you basically can't go more than 5 minutes into any episode without having something that's going to come back around or be referenced again like 3-5 seasons later.

Just to be clear - TDP is like ATLA, but it's like ATLA in interesting ways beyond the more shallow surface level that usually gets attributed to it, while still very much being its own show and its own thing. And that is why I tend to recommend it to people who like ATLA.

Thank you and goodnight

(Also, the fandom doesn't have any ship wars, and the show is queer as fuck)

#tdp #atla #the dragon prince #avatar: the last airbender #mine #parallels #analysis series #also betrayal. tdp talks a lot more about betrayal #now im trying to think if there's any character in tdp who hasn't felt or been outright betrayed #i. DON'T THINK SO??#atla meta #tdp meta

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okay-babe · 2 months

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Fallen - A Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Series Preview

Synopsis: Reader is a specific type of angel called a heavenly virtue, who was created around the same time as the fallen seraphim, Lucifer Morningstar. More than friends and less than lovers, our Reader feels betrayed by the decisions that her dear friend makes that later lead to his banishment, though she finds a few hundred years later that flying might just be harder than falling after so many centuries of grief. Tags: lucifer x fem! reader, lucifer x angel! reader, friends to almost lovers to strangers to lovers??, angst, pining

It hurt to admit, of course it did, but in truth, it was impossible to deny.

He had been everything.

The two of you had come to be together, grown up at one another's side in the closest thing two angels could have ever gotten to a childhood.

Created for good, created for more, there had been so little time to become someone before you had both been thrust into being.

And for the longest time you had believed so truly that this fact was what bonded you together, what made you feel whole when in his presence.

Until of course, you learned the truth.

That being forced into being had not bound you to Lucifer, and he to you...

But rather, it had damned you both to an eternity of suffering -

One quite literal in a fiery pit called Hell,

And the other something that your God had not, and would not have ever given,

The silent and agonizing torture of longing.

But you supposed it was fitting, in a way.

Lucifer had given man free will,

And an angel of virtue an emotion that their God had never intended for her to feel -

Loss.

His final gift to you, wrapped up in the memories of agony you could not escape.

His hand in yours, unyielding,

His lips on your skin, curious and yearning,

His warmth at your back each night for eons that were never enough.

And of course,

His laughter in Eden, unending,

His lips on hers, confident and eager,

The look on his face as they served him his sentence, eyes finding yours before averting again and again, as if unknowing, as if ashamed...

And from that day forward, you had known deep down that something had been taken from you, something essential yet unnamed that lived on within every other angel.

But to think that it might have lead to your own expulsion?

Well, you supposed that idolatry was a sin, wasn't it?

And what was your Lucifer to you if not a God?

Did he not hurt you so casually as a God would?

Did he not vanish as a God would?

Did he not love you as a God would?

"It does not have to be this way,"

The booming yet gentle voice called out, that desperate edge to it the only tell that its owner knew you as well as she did,

"Remember, dear remedial one, who made you. Who gave you life and embodies through you our eighth heavenly virtue, that which tips the scale away from a balance between us and those seven deadly sins, and instead allows us to exceed their damning weight."

The Seraphim's warning was clear, speak incorrectly again and you would surely be banished, and in turn Heaven, the land you had been created for, would lose it's unspoken eighth virtue, casting things back to the original seven that had been customary before your time, none of which had ever known a world where they and sin had been equally matched.

But even still, you were not a liar, and with every passing day you felt less and less like you could step up to the very virtue you were meant to embody, your persisting grief a constant reminder of what you could not do in spite of what you had been made to represent.

In spite of what you had been made for.

"Now, let me ask you again, loved one,"

The voice spoke up, eyes seeking yours all the while as if trying to sway your answer before you could give it.

"Who do you love more than any other?"

The grand jury of lower seraphims, ophanims, cherubims, and virtues watched on silently, eagerly awaiting your answer with baited breaths they had never truly needed to take.

The answer was meant to be God, of course, and you knew it.

But you suddenly found that it wasn't true, and perhaps it never had been in the first place, for you had not felt as if you had been touched by God since your creation, and even still, it was not his divine touch that you longed for each evening, but another entirely.

One that you supposed was divine no longer to anyone who was not you, anyone who had not held the face of the seraphim before his fall.

No, he was divine to them no longer, but to you...

Well, you had already admitted long ago that he was everything,

And you could lie no longer.

"The Lightbringer."

You began, the room growing tense in an instant, the silence somehow growing more thick the very moment those words passed your lips,

"Lucifer Morningstar."

The high seraphim frowned, the weight of what she had to do to one she'd called a friend for so long acting as a burden she wished she did not have to carry.

But alas, not all angels had been made defective, so it seemed.

She did as she needed to do.

"Then today I'm afraid that Heaven loses it's eighth heavenly virtue to the pits of Hell."

You flinched at her words in spite of yourself, the knowledge of what was to come causing your heart to hammer within your chest.

Angels were meant to fly, not fall, after all.

The seraphim stepped forward, her eyes slightly clouded with a grief you knew all too well. You hoped she would not miss you as you did him.

She placed her hand upon your shoulder, bringing your full attention back to her once more,

"It is a shame that God made you as he did."

She spoke gently, each word she uttered drenched in pity.

"He does not deserve this betrayal."

You nodded solemnly in response, and bowed your head, waiting.

The high seraphim took a deep breath.

"I hereby banish you, our eighth heavenly virtue, Forgiveness, from Heaven forevermore for your treasonous acts against our holy father. May you repent forever in the fiery depths below."

And with that, your halo disintegrated completely, its golden shimmers falling all around your head as you looked around at those you had been created with one final time.

Your eyes flickered back to the seraphim, mouth opening just as the ground began to split at your feet.

"Goodbye, Sera."

You said gently, watching a stray tear fall from your dear friend's face before suddenly, all light seemed to vanish, and you found yourself hurdling into the abyss so fast that the wind almost felt as if it were burning you alive the whole way down.

And yet, all that you could think about was how ironic it was, truly,

That your Lightbringer had only ever led you into darkness.

#lucifer x reader #lucifer imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x you #hazbin x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #requests #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #.writes

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ftmtftm · 5 months

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Honestly? I really dislike "You don't owe anyone [xyz]" type mentalities. They are not as kind to yourself as they frame themselves to be in my opinion. Especially because, philosophically speaking, we do owe each other a lot.

How is anyone going to be kind to you if everyone believes they don't owe anyone kindness? Why is kindness transactional? Why are you coveting it as though it were a limited resource? If you don't owe anyone kindness, how are you genuinely kind to yourself?

I know saying "You don't owe anyone [xyz]" is angled as a form of self-protection, but is it really?

Yes, getting hurt is painful but there is no world in which getting hurt is avoidable. Getting hurt and feeling pain is part of our lives. You can either avoid it as much as possible and atrophy the skills you need to take care of yourself when it inevitably happens - or - you can embrace the fact that you will get injured, learn how to take care of yourself in response, and be kind in spite of the fact that someone may try to use it against you, because if you're confident and sure in your actions? They really can't turn it back on you in a way that is meaningful.

So like... Yes I think it's a really useful thing to learn that you don't need to self sacrifice for others. You don't need to allow others to walk over you. You are allowed to set firm and clear boundaries. But that doesn't mean you don't owe anything to anyone. We all owe each other a lot.

#original post #thinking about chidi anagonye and eleanor shellstrop this morning.........

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blorbopostingtime · 3 months

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Alr so maybeee this is a bad opinion but tbh I rlly can't keep it in anymore so imma just say it.

WE NEED MORE ANGRY BRANCH CONTENT!!!!!

Like sure in the first movie he could be classified as angry but. ITS SO MUCH MORE GRUMP AND ANNOYANCE THAN ACTUAL ANGER?!?!?!?!?!??!

I want more fics, more comics, more fanart, more everything, where Branch just flat out looses his fucking shit.

At anyone, everyone I do not have a specific thing.

Get this grump ass bitch angry at the way the village treated him for fucking years when he was grey, get him fucking angry at his brothers for leaving and abandoning both him and their grandmother, get him angry at the bergens who he lived in fear of for so so so fucking long (SINCE HE WAS BORN TILL HE WAS ATLEAST FUCKING 20. THAT IS ALL HIS FUCKING CHILDHOOD. TEENAGE YEARS, EVERYTHING. AND FOR ALL THOSE YEARS MINUS 4 IT WAS ALSO HIS BROTHERS, THE VILLAGE AND HIS GRANDMA), his grandmother for sacrificing herself to save him and leaving him grey and alone (HE WAS A CHILD. FOUR OR FIVE AND HE WATCHED HER DIE FOR HIM. DO NOT TELL ME HE DOESNT HAVE ANY SURVIVAL GUILT OR RESENTMENT AT THE FACT THAT THIS CAUSED HIM TO TURN GREY AND BE AN OUTCAST IN THE VILLAGE. I DO NOT GAF ABT HOW MUCH HE LOVES HER YOU DO NOW MOVE ON FROM SHIT LIKE THAT WITHOUT IT), his parents for never being there (whole other thing but! Still think it should be a bigger thing.): EVERYONE.

"Oh, but he got angry at his brothers in the 3rd movie!"

NOT FOR FUCKING REAL.

YOU TELLING ME THAT MOSTLY CALM ASS, SAD AND A BIT SPITEFUL SPEECH WAS PURE UNFILTERED RAGE FROM 16+ YEARS OF BEING ABANDONED, BULLIED, ALONE, AFRAID AND DEPRESSED ?!?!?!?!?!?

HUH?!?!?!?!?!??

CUZ ITS FUCKING NOT!!!!!!!!!!!

AND THATS NOT EVEN MENTIONING THE FACT THAT HE LIVED OUT IN THE WILDERNESS FOR THE FUCKING MAJORITY OF HIS LIFE TOO!!!!!

Let Branch go feral with rage, let him scream at all the ways people have failed him from the top of his normally quiet lungs, let his vision go tinted red with rage, let him fight and punch and kick and elbow and growl and bite and hurt all the people who left him, like an animal gone abandoned in the wilderness and left for dead, who manages to not only survive but fucking THRIVE as a feral beast.

Show me a Branch who screams a sound so primal the nearby birds fly from the trees, let him be louder than any other troll in the village from living in the wild surrounded by creatures that the trolls were still learning about anf befriending who may or may not havr wanted to kill him, and yet talk about how afterwards he could barely speak because after 20 years of quiet speech if that his voice still isn't used to being loud.

Show us how much Branch is ready, able and willing to to use all the weapons he makes, the rocks he collects as projectiles and bluguons, the whittled stakes and knives, the sheer everything that comes with having lived on his own in the wilderness, angry and scared and so fucking alone.

... Ahem.

Anyways, thanks for listening to my rant and

ANGRY, FERAL AND APESHIT BRANCH PLEASE!!!!!!

#branch trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #trolls branch #trolls band together #trolls #trolls brozone #trolls dreamworks #angry branch #feral branch #tamed but wild branch #branch centric #trolls branchifer #branch fics #branch idea #trolls idea #if anyone gets inspired or makes shit abt this pls tag me i would absolutely love to see it

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earthlyruins · 4 months

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"beauty and the beast au where zoro's the beast and sanji's—" okay sure yeah but what about when sanji's the beast and zoro's the beaut.

zoro's good with kids and good with math. we've seen this. we've experienced it. he play fights with the kids regularly and helps out with stocks and sales of local shops

think of link twilight princess... big brother swordsman

also better than All of the knights in the village. this includes a very certain red, blue, and green haired trio. they're all very bitter about it. among other things

zoro's also the only person to ever use three swords so like. there's that. everyone thinks he has a few screws loose. he doesn't. or so he proclaims

insert kuina backstory... he makes a promise to himself to become the greatest swordsman in the world. it's just that he's, in a word, broke. and also a little sentimental but don't let nami hear him say that

judge is the head of this mini military and is very adamant on trying to recruit zoro to siege the palace on the hill. for Some Reason.

nami conspires with zoro that it's because he has some long lost enemy up there. Little Does She Know

meanwhile sanji lives alone in the castle, cursed. but not in the way you'd think. rather than a hulking beast, he's pretty much the same if not for the fact that he has a helmet on his head. thanks, dad.

thinking about the rest of the straw hats being little dancing singing objects. that was more or less an accidental side effect of the curse (sanji took off his helmet once, and it knocked luffy into a candle and ussop into a clock and well.)

he's slowly starving (hence why he tried to take the helmet off). the cook who cannot taste his food. throw in a wilting rose metaphor and when the last petal falls is when he dies

fortunately he has an old man by the name of zeff who literally won't let that happen. also all his friends that will fight death to keep sanji kicking

quite literally in some cases

so that's why when nami goes missing trying to explore the mysterious castle and zoro immediately goes to follow her, zeff practically knocks down his door to set the fear of god in him

too bad zoro doesn't believe in any god

but hey fine he won't hurt the creature in the castle. creature. period. zeff hits him over the head with a baguette

zoro finds nami and also sanji. decides in a split moment to announce he'll trade places with her. she is sitting on a couch. unharmed. she wouldn't have Been harmed. nami proceeds to call him a fucking idiot

sanji laughs at him, and zoro refuses to leave out of spite. he learns that sanji is a priss and a prince or sometimes a princess depending on the day, that he has a brilliant passion for cooking (whose skills are similar to a certain chef back in the village), and that when he laughs, zoro finds himself laughing too.

discovers sanji's dream of the all blue, and zoro finds himself telling sanji about his dream of becoming the greatest swordsman, of wado, of kuina

and eventually, Eventually, he finds out the details of sanji's curse. why he sometimes can't dredge out the energy to get out of bed (and why it's getting more and more frequent these days), and why he can't take off that helmet when the key is right there. and what the flower is all about.

proceeds to Book It when sanji tells him about judge and his brothers. except he doesn't tell sanji this, so sanji is sitting around in the castle, heartbroken and wondering Why he's heartbroken, while zoro is marching back to his village, Pissed

zeff pulls him aside though and they go and find reiju after zoro tells him that sanji's condition is worsening

zoro comes Back but this time with sanji's real dad and sister in tow and after a lot of tears and yelling (at zoro) ((and zeff)) (((then at zoro again))) they devise a plan on how to take judge down.

zoro plans on beating up ichiji niji and yonji simultaneously which sanji disagrees with. specifically because he wants to be the one to kick niji into next week

yadayadayada insert fight scene bc this is already ungodly long and judge gets exiled and imprisoned. niji gets drop kicked. the helmet comes off just as the timer runs out (thinking that the only way it could come off was to not only have someone fall For "the beast" but to have said beast love himself too. which zoro did. #love)

happily ever after. sanji eats and cooks and zoro fights and they take care of each other and find all blue. okay goodnight

#op #zosan #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #zoro x sanji #one piece #Yeah.#this got away from me help

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nyancrimew · 11 months

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fucked up sorta intoxicated long vent

cw: uuh mental health, drugs, suicide mentions, very much is just an existential crisis put into post form

this is not a suicide note or anything, im about to go cuddle up with my wife and go to sleep i just had to get my fucked up thoughts out, i might delete this tomorrow

meaning

it's so hard to find meaning in life anymore. i live for those around me, for those i love, those who love me back. yet i keep hurting them, everything keeps falling apart. i live out of spite, i cant let authority win. yet im slowly giving up my cause. i live to prove a point. ive long forgotten what point it even is anymore.

there hasnt really been any new compelling reason to keep going in over 10 years now. i honestly wonder how much it even really takes anymore to drive me to suicide. it can't be that much, im already always living on edge.

i just barely know who i even am anymore, ive largely forgotten the first 20 years of my life, and the last 3 are mostly just fog as well. forced to live in the moment, carrying all the baggage of all the previous moments i dont even have memories of anymore.

how are people just like able to keep living, regularly finding joy. how are people able to deal with bad times without immediately pondering all the ways in which they could kill themselves in?

god i need therapy so fucking bad. i keep dragging down everyone around me. how can i fix all the damage ive done, a sorry won't do. how can i fix all the damage done to me, no sorry will ever do.

why are the only options to just keep going, ignoring all the pain, or ending it all forever. where is the restart button, where can i reset, rewind, apply what ive learned to the situations where i fucked up. how do i go back and undo all the trauma. the trauma i experienced myself and the trauma i put on others.

we're all just lost children in a world not made for us. where is our world. where is the place in which we can find solace. your arms make me feel safe, and at home. but i know you feel the same way i do.

it pains me to know we're in this together, god if only i could bear your pain, if only i could bear everyone elses pain. it hurts me to know you feel this way too. no one should have to know how this feels. i wanna take on all the pain in this world so i can leave and turn the world around.

am i just failing at being a part of this society or is society failing me. i am like one bureaucratic fuck up away from dying alone on the street with no roof over my head. i cannot be self dependent, why does this society fully expect such a thing of me.

is this all worth it for the few moments of bliss, for sparing the people around me from the pain of losing me. would the pain of losing me be greater than the pain i cause every day?

i am lost. i dont know anymore. fuck i need therapy. or just anything that can fix me. the drugs certainly haven't yet, but at least i also have dependency to fight with now i guess.

yea fuck man idk

#mental health #yea idk #i was originally gonna just throw this on my blog #but while i want this to be read by people i think i want to at least somewhat control the spread of it #feel free to leave input and nice replies and stuff

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mxtxfanatic · 5 months

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I’ve been stuck in 2ha fics for a minute and have seen a few metas and posts surrounding Mo Ran’s character, but something I don’t think comes across very well from the book to fanwork and (some) discussion is that Taxian-jun doesn’t exist without the long-hatred flower.

Like, I see a lot of modern au fics, for example, that tackle the Mo Ran 1.0 to 1.5 shift by having Mo Ran be disillusioned by Chu Wanning and that being his villain origin story, but what gets lost in that remix is that in canon, while Mo Ran was hurt by being whipped by his shizun, after he thought about it for a while, he decided to apologize to Chu Wanning to reconcile rather than hold a grudge. Because Mo Ran, at his core, is someone who is naturally good and would rather die than enact vengeance on others. That’s why both the timing and the effects of the flower are particularly evil: Mo Ran is cursed because he chose reconciliation over petty grudges and the curse forces him to go against his nature by holding onto said petty grudges to “repay” them to a ridiculous degree while erasing any good memory he has, which is what had previously fueled his will to live.

With that said, Mo Ran 1.0/Taxian-jun is able to transition to 1.5 and eventually 2.0 not because he realized that Chu Wanning loved him all along (as a disciple at this point), but because the Chu Wanning from the original universe nullified the effects of the flower, allowing him to finally see that Chu Wanning loved him all along and that he actually doesn’t want revenge. And we can see that effect of the nullification immediately! Taxian-jun becomes 16-year-old Mo Ran, finds out that Shi Mei, his “first love” is actually still alive at this point, and immediately decides to prioritize keeping Shi Mei alive over enacting revenge on Chu Wanning. Because at his core he’s motivated by love! And when Hua Binan brings Taxian-jun’s reanimated corpse into the new universe, his control is tenuous because Taxian-jun isn’t being motivated purely by spite anymore because the flower isn’t in effect anymore. This isn’t to say that Mo Ran was incapable of becoming Taxian-jun, but as the narrative proves, that is a version of him that only exists under mind-breaking abuse and duress, which only happened when he lived under the Mo family’s reign of abuse for years before finally snapping and then once again under the effects of a curse that rewrote his memories to convince him that he was living under mind-breaking abuse and duress. Without those conditions, Mo Ran always chooses hope and love, and even as he looks back on those moments where he reigned terror, he wishes he could have chosen/been afforded death instead (much to Chu Wanning’s upset). So all this to say that Mo Ran isn’t saved by realizing he was living under a misunderstanding; he is saved by having the thing leeching out all of the good in him destroyed.

(Also on a smaller note, Taxian-jun isn’t uneducated because he was on the street for so long and therefore “too old” to be properly educated. Taxian-jun is uneducated because all of his memories of learning were good memories tied to Chu Wanning, thus they got erased. Mo Ran 2.0 re-educates himself in his late teens/early 20s because the problem was always the flower, not some “inherent” inferiority he was stuck with from his upbringing or an unwillingness to learn.)

#2ha #i know i said i was gonna stay out of this one until maybe i reread it #but I’ve been in the 2ha fandom reading fics #and as much as i love the angst #there’s just no way to accurately translate the story into aus #without the existence of the flower #but i also think it cheapens mo ran’s character to run with ‘he was naturally jaded until romantic love hit him’#2ha spoilers

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xzhdjsj · 2 months

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Zaros x Reader

You leave Serulla, only returning when danger threatens your kingdom

This fic is based on THIS brilliant theory by @astralbulldragon13. I simply couldn't get it out of my head and had to write about it I have to say I'm not very happy with the way this came out, but I spent too much time on it to not post it😭

Also, this is really long (almost 3.5k words) idk how it happened🤡 when I started writing it, I just couldn't stop. Plz let me know if i made any mistakes

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"There, you win. Your son is now the Eminence, but know this, if you try to rule my kingdom vicariously through your Zaros, or control his new life in any way, there is no where you could go, no hole you can hide in, that I won’t find you."

The realisation dawned on you, way before the trials began. You weren’t interested in the throne; that wasn’t where your heart lies. That position was polished and refined for your brother, but guilt has its ways of twisting one's mind and kept you fighting for a life that was stolen from him, replacing a prodigy child that was stolen from your mother.

Zaros' insults and demeaning remarks only contributed to your mindset, though that didn’t make them any less hurtful. How could they not be? Especially when coming from someone you admired and cherished. They were fuel to the fire, a constant reminder of how unfit you are.

It was hard to imagine yourself as a good ruler anyways. Sure, you were knowledgeable, but what good is education with no real experience or empathy for the struggles of your people? Not to mention being cloaked by a porcelain mask 24/7, designed and altered to meet the needs of the people around you.

Zaros, on the other hand, was different. His pernicious attitude cracked the corners of your mask, forcing raw emotions to erupt to daylight. It was a distasteful experience considering your position, but deep down you never felt more alive than when you could be yourself with him, throwing insults right back into his face. It forced the masked persona to face the real you and come to terms with what you wanted, before it was too late.

You wanted a life that was yours to live, a life where you could be yourself. Not one you are forced to live, or a person you are required to be. There were things you had to let go of and things you needed to learn.

By himself, Zaros would be a skillful leader capable of building a successful future for Serulla. He had the experience that you lacked, that alone could potentially secure Serulla a brighter future than you could ever offer. The only threat was his mother, Nira Atha’lin. She was obnoxious, quick to point out every miniscule flaw and mistake in your ways, if Zaros was unbearable, she was enough to push you to insanity. Her personality was sour and ugly, like biting into a mouldy rotting fruit. Her intentions are unclear, but it isn’t hard to see her abusing the authority of her son and the crown.

Though that didn’t matter, you trust Zaros, he would never put the wellbeing of Serulla at risk. He’s headstrong and stubborn. It’s no wonder you admire him, in some way or another he’s just like you.

He has become a decent acquaintance in your life. Looking back, he could have easily double-crossed you in the trials and spited his way to the top, but he didn’t. Every last minute of it was fair and just. Maybe that’s why you felt so strongly for him now.

Outside the hall, minutes away from a final decision, both Zaros and you stood. If you had something to do, now was the time to do it.

He reaches for the heavy gold handles of the door, but he doesn’t get to push it open.

"Zaros", you take his hand.

He ignores the door, turning to face you.

"If you are indeed the victor, which.... I have no doubt you are; I need you to promise me something."

His eyebrows perk upwards, and he steps closer, taking your hand fully in his.

"We don't know that yet. You gave me quite a challenge during the trials you know. Don't tell me you're giving up now?", signature smirk plastered to his face, though you no longer feel the need to punch it off.

“Please listen to me.”, you sigh, "I need you to promise me you'll never let Serulla suffer. I know I'm not capable of helping all the people who deserve our help, but you are. I’m certain of it, so promise me."

The seriousness in your eyes was enough to stifle his usual sarcasm.

"I... I promise." He barely mutters, no longer smiling. It’s an unusual sight, the kind that makes you feel nauseous. He's even more alarmed when you offer a pinkie to him, like you used to do years ago when you were just kids roaming the corridors and sneaking into the kitchen.

"Pinkie promise?" You smile.

He caught his own pinkie onto yours. "I promise, I'll do my best."

He knew what you were about to do. But he also knows how stubborn you are and there was no way he could stop you, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

After facing Nira that day, you smiled at him and whispered a gentle "Take care of yourself and my home for me". You swore that from that moment onwards, you’d never mask yourself again.

Those were your last words to him before you'd vanished, leaving behind only a letter. In which, you asked that he looked after your mother and detailed an apology as well as a segment of feelings you'd harboured for him. It was an intended goodbye before he forgets about you, lest you have a reason to return. You hoped you wouldn't.

Throughout your travels you faced many hardships, the expected reality of being a lone traveler. But you grew from those experiences. You learnt from the people around you and made friends.

You sharpened your survival skills as you traversed the lands, a melody of experiences of new cultures and flavours, from continents you'd only dreamt of, melted on your tongue. Those fleeting dreams were nothing compared to the reality you held in your own two hands. You learnt to appreciate life and how to trust.

The last place you ventured was the Northern Nation, though their reputation is scandalous, their culture is rich. What you weren’t expecting was to meet see a familiar face, a palace staff, an informant no less. Only now he worked for Nira, delivering letters to the most dangerous kingdom of all the nations and had informed you that you were banned from the home you grew up in.

After 8 years, it was time to turn back. It was time to head home.

There was a masquerade ball being held in Serulla at dawn, the perfect opportunity to tiptoe into the palace unnoticed. What was the plan? You weren’t entirely sure but one way or another you had to speak to Zaros. If you marched in like you own the place, you would be promptly kicked out a few feet upon entering the gate. It’s a good thing you knew your way around every crack and crevice like the back of your hand. It shouldn’t be too hard blending in once you’re inside. But first you needed clothes and a mask, nothing extravagant, just enough to blur into the masses.

Learning to walk silently made slipping in as easy as dreaming, before you could blink you were in the ballroom. Oh, did it feel nostalgic, you remember the times you were the main focus of these elaborate events. Now look at you, sneaking in and avoiding any attention whatsoever. You missed these walls, they look the exact same since you’ve left them, grand, luxurious and unchanged. You couldn’t help but take a minute to reminisce and admire.

“Can I ask for a dance later, mysterious stranger?” a young man snapped you out of your trance.

“I’m afraid not sir. I have prior arrangements for the evening”, you bow. “My sincerest apologies.”

What a nuisance, you thought, abruptly turning and leaving. You had to find Zaros. As King of Serulla he had to be here, his presence is of utmost importance and entirely compulsory for this kind of event. Perhaps he’d show up later in the evening, all you had to do was wait amongst the crowd. Maybe a drink would take the edge off while you do, maybe it would help you ignore the eyes you felt burning holes into your back.

Hours later the arrival of the king was finally announced, and there he was, fashionably late in all his blond glory. He’s just as captivating as you left him all those years ago, just as beautiful and refined. It was like staring at the sun, glowing so brightly it just might blind someone. Yes, you were staring, but so was everyone else. Who wouldn’t stare when graced with the presence of the King himself? His lips moved as he acknowledged his audience, but your mind was too preoccupied with gawking at him to hear a single word. You’re yanked back to reality when the crowd scatters at his dismissal, so you retreat to a space further away, where you could keep an eye on him as he conversed with guests. It would be unwise to approach him now, there’s too many eyes on him this early into the night. Once the crowd has had their fill of wine and was no longer capable of seeing any further than their nose, you’d seize the opportunity to steal him away.

Lay low, keep an eye on him. Two simple tasks to accomplish. But the fool you’d rejected earlier in the eventing, now a drunken fool, apparently doesn’t understand the meaning of two simple letters, no. You rejected him twice already but he keeps coming back.

“I’m not taking no for answer hic- you simple must dance with me”, before you could reject him again, he’s dragging you to the floor. If it weren’t for the fact that you didn’t want any attention tonight, his arm would’ve been broken on the spot.

You struggle in his grip as he swayed you, haphazardly and arrhythmic to the music, and FUCK you lost sight of Zaros. If only this imbecile would let go of you! And cease his gooselike movements!

“Unfortunately, good sir, they’re not available to dance with YOU this evening.”, you’re backed into a hard wall, a clothed wall? A familiar smelling wall. A speaking wall.

His sticky hands are gone from your body in an instant, he even backs away from you.

“You-your Majesty”, he stuttered.

“All of their dances are promised to me tonight. I’ll assume you weren’t aware and turn a blind eye just this once.”, the wall speaks again, replacing unpleasant hands with a gentle yet possessive grip. It's very obvious who this wall is.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be stealing them away now”, he doesn’t wait for a response, pulling you further onto the dance floor. You’re still facing away from him as he guides your body to the tune that swirls the room.

“Welcome back Earis” he whispers and you can just hear the smirk he’s wearing.

“A bit of a lost cause on such title now, aren’t I?” you answer. “How did you know it was me?”, he moved your body effortlessly, like it was made specially to fit beneath his palms.

“How could I not? I could feel your eyes on me all night.” Following the music, he spins you around to finally face him. “Even if death took me, I’d still remember those eyes.”

You scoff, “How charming. But everyone’s eyes are on you tonight.”

“Hmm you think so? A shame, none are as captivating as yours.”

“I need to speak to you Zaros.”

“We’re speaking right now, are we not?”

Fuck, why does he always have to be so difficult?

“Not here. I need to speak to you in private.”

There was too much attention on him for you to speak freely, it’s a surprise guards haven’t escorted you out the room yet.

“Sounds alarming. And just when I thought you came back to see me.” he fakes a frown, and let’s go of your hand as he ends the dance. You curtsy, and he leans closer to whispers for you to follow him. He leaves first and you linger around the corners before disappearing yourself.

Eventually you’re back in the abandoned hallways of the palace, walking with Zaros.

“So why are you back?”

“I’ve made a recent discovery, and I was worried. I needed to talk to you about it.”

“Worried?”

“You’re aware of the notoriety of the Northern Nation, correct?”

“Who isn’t? Their name stains chapters of history text with the blood they’ve spilt.”

“Yes, that’s why it was a surprise when I found out your mother exchanges letters with their King and his court.”

He halts, “What? What are you talking about?”

You turn to him, removing the mask from your face. “While I stayed in the city of the Northern Nation, I recognised a familiar face. A Surullian informant. I’ve seen him work for my mother for years, naturally, I was confused by his presence there.”, you sigh. “I tried to get as much information as I could from him, but he knew nothing. He had simple instructions from your mother to deliver the letters to and from the Northern Kingdom. Unfortunately for me, he had already passed on the letters, so I did not get a look. He swore to never tell a soul of our encounter to avoid any further issues, but I also found out I'm blacklisted here.”

“What are you saying? Why would she even want to converse with the Northern Kingdom? An alliance with them is like an alliance with hyenas. They bring nothing but war and bloodshed. And what on Earth do you mean ‘blacklisted’?”, he shouts in frustration. “She’s my mother, I trust her. I find it all of this hard to believe.”

“Hah of course you don't believe me." you look around frantically. "Follow me.”

He stomped after you as you made your way for the nearest set of guards.

“Wait here, and watch.”

You walked up to them, as if to inquire something, only to be quickly apprehended.

“Let go of them immediately! What do you think you're doing?”, Zaros march in their direction.

“Apologies, your Majesty. We’re only following orders!”

“Whose orders?”, he yells.

“Lady Atha’lin, you Majesty!”, the fear is evident in their voices, and you give him a knowing look.

“Fuck”, he whispers under his breathe. “You’re dismissed and inform every guard in this palace that no one is to lay a finger on them. Do you hear me?”, he says, curt and unforgiving, as they shuffle away clumsily.

“As I said, blacklisted. Do you believe me now mama’s boy?”

If looks could kill, you’d be dead in milliseconds the way he glared at you. He's angry as can be, it’s not every day the tables are turned.

“A shame, had I been kicked out at the gates, you’d be oblivious to your mommy’s devious little plans.” You push.

“Oh what do you care? You left Serulla for 8 years. You’re back to warn me once and suddenly you’re high and might?”

“Hah, I was not just here to warn you. No Zaros, my initial plan was to meet your mother directly.”, you roll your eyes.

“Allow me to refresh your memory, 8 years ago, before I left, I made a promise to Nira Atha’lin that if she threatened Serulla in any way I’d be back to drag to her to hell with me. For your sake, I wanted to meet you first. But know this Zaros, if you’re incapable of handling your mother, I am not. I have no qualms in removing her by force, with or without your permission.”

You went overboard, but it was too late to take it back. The anger in his eyes boils over, as does the internal turmoil, but he keeps silent. He paces back and forth, and it might be better if you left him alone with his thoughts for a while.

“I’ll leave you be for now, when you are ready to find me again, I’ll be in the garden.”, a vast contrast to the tone you had previously.

You leave Zaros to decipher his feelings alone, it would be better if you weren’t there. You were annoyed at him for doubting you, yet that was no way for you to speak to him, especially considering the amount of information to process in such short time. How did it even progress that quickly? Sometimes old habits are hard to kill. You needed to apologise to him later.

The garden is still as beautiful as it always was, flourishing healthily despite your mother’s absence. You had heard of it, the news circulated Serulla and its neighbouring nations with the passing wind. The Queen was no more, and her child was absolutely vile for leaving her. People will always talk.

But it looks like Zaros kept his promise to take care of your home.

The garden was silence, as you stood before the two memorial tablets mounted there. One for your brother, another for your mother. You prayed that somewhere in her heart she’d forgiven you for leaving her alone. You wipe away the tears that warmed your cheek.

“She kept speaking highly of you, to the very end.”, his voice startles you, relaxed and calmer now.

“I don’t deserve it, I left her. But there was no point in returning then, if anything it made me not want to return at all.”, you replied, kissing the top of the stone with your mother’s name carved into it.

“I’m sorry.”, he sounded sincere, the most sincere you’ve ever heard him be.

“It’s not your fault, we all have to die one day, do we not?”

“No, for not stopping you from leaving.”

“What?”, confusion thickens your voice. “What are you talking about?”

“All these years you were gone, I couldn’t help but believe it was my fault. I felt guilty, like I pushed you out of your own home. Like this was never truly my place, but yours. I’d found you again after 8 years, only for you to slips through my fingers for another 8. I really am sorry.”

“Zaros.”, you stand directly in front of him. “That was not your fault. I chose to leave. I wanted to, I had to find myself. If anything, your stupid insults helped me, although they still hurt, don't get me wrong. Besides look at how well off Serulla is! You are more of a ruler than I ever would’ve been-”

“And I missed you.” He cuts you off and silence ensues, save for the soft howls of the wind. You didn’t expect him to confess that to you so openly and easily.

“I… I missed you too.” He takes a breath and smiles, not one of his devious smirks or teasing grins. A real genuine smile that once again showed a sincerity you were unfamiliar with. You sit with him in silence for a long time, admiring the stars and flowers. and you remembered a conversation you had a long time ago. He was right watching them in the moonlight was comforting. You could only hope he feels the same way right now.

“Remember how you told me to look at the flowers in the garden at night? It was so long ago; I almost don’t remember their name. What were they called again? Bitter bell something?”, you reminisced.

“Bitter bell dureni” (sorry ik I probably butchered that idk how to spell)

“Right, yes those. I got to see them tonight. They really are beautiful.”

“I’m sorry for how I reacted.", he confessed. "I promised you I’d keep Serulla safe, and I intend to keep that promise, even if it means revoking all authorities from my mother.”

“I’d much rather not use violence too. I apologise for provoking you.”

“I suppose it was a taste of my own medicine”, he laughs and you join him. “Does this mean you’re leaving again?”

“What? Do you want me to leave that badly?”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“No, I plan on staying a while, as long as your guards keep their hands to themselves of course.”, he laughs again and you can see yourself getting addicted to it. He sounds serene.

“Then, it’s my honour to have you.”, he reaches for your hand. “Come, your old room has been vacant for 8 years. It’s about time someone used it.”

“You kept my room vacant?”

“I may have had a little hope you’d return some day. To Serulla. To me.”

It’s hard not to smile when he says such things.

You take his hand, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, and he averts his gaze, though not enough to hide the dusty pink shade of his skin.

“I have another question.”,

“Yes?”

“Did you really mean all those things you said in your letter?”

It’s silent again as you walk the familiar path to your room. You both knew the answer to that.

#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #zaros #zsakuva zaros #zaros x reader

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