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faintvibes · 1 year

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Historical Hetalia Week Day One: Heirlooms

Day One: 10000 BCE - 5000 BCE // Heirlooms @historical-hetalia-week

(Unfortunately, I don't have much for such a long time ago!!)

The heirloom part may not be immediately clear...essentially I was wondering if culture (especially culture and traditions inherited by predecessor civilisations) might be 'heirlooms' to Nations. So, this piece is based on the sharing of cultures and 'creation' of heirlooms. Further explanation below the cut!

My main inspiration for this piece was the book 'Dressed: Fashionable History in Aotearoa [New Zealand] 1840 to 1910' by Claire Regnault. (A book I'd highly recommend, by the way, if you're curious about early colonial NZ history.) While it primarily focuses on the lives of the settlers, especially regarding their fashion, the earlier chapters provide fascinating insights into the interactions between the first settlers and the Māori people pre-dating them.

Pronunciations (there will be a few of these scattered where they are relevant):

Aotearoa- Ow-teh-ah-rowuh (like rower) [aɔˈtɛaɾɔa]

Māori- Mow-ree [ˈmaːɔɾi]

While there were, of course, a variety of reactions (ranging from incredibly racist to surprisingly sympathetic) on the European side, the predominant Māori reaction is what most drew my interest. Presumably because British settlers assumed themselves to be entirely superior to the natives of Aotearoa, they would look condescendingly onto the Māori people and their practices- but the Māori people largely did not hold the same view. As such, Māori who traded with the early Europeans were entirely willing to incorporate aspects of European culture and tradition into their own existing norms.

(**Fair warning for some quotes of racist thinking: Hilariously, to the modern eye, in one European attempt to 'civilise' the Māori women and to instil "moral and industrious Habits" (to quote the Reverend Samuel Marsden), Marianne Williams (née Coldham, 1793-1879) began to teach Māori women how to sew, dress themselves, and generally behave in the European way, horrified by their 'lack of womanliness'. Her sister-in-law would join her three years later. At the time, the Church Missionary Society, who were largely in charge of their endeavour, far preferred married couples to join them in 'educating' the natives, for they feared that single men were "likely to fall into the traps which are continually put in his road by native females". And while men were certainly not involved in the teaching of sewing to Māori women, Marianne and her sister-in-law were not without their own... struggles in this aspect. To quote Marianne: "The tall muscular forms of the Newzealanders flitted before my mind's eye whenever I endeavoured to sleep." I had to laugh when I read that. Oh, the irony. **)

**I'd like to quickly note who, exactly, I'm portraying in my piece. This will better contextualise my illustration. On the right is England (as might be obvious), though the left is a bit more complicated. I personally do not agree with the canon depiction of New Zealand in Hetalia (which, of course, is my own perspective, and I welcome other opinions as well), and so I've created my own oc NZ character. However, she is not in this image. In creating her I had to wonder about her origins- and where she stands considering the great racial divide in her country. My perspective is that, prior to European arrival, there was a representative of the Māori culture as opposed to individual iwi. The colony of New Zealand (and later the country) is both her younger sister and the younger sister of England, stuck in the middle. On the left in this image is the Māori representative (who likely goes by Aotearoa in modern time, at least as one among many names, but who at this point I can only see her calling herself Tangata Whenua)- there will be more explanation on her to convey why all of this is as it is in my mind.

Tangata whenua- Tah-nga-ta fen-oo-a [ˈtaŋata ˈfɛnʉ.a]

In particular (and as is depicted here) the Māori people became enamoured with blankets. This is likely because they could be wrapped around the shoulders and look remarkably like kākahu (picture below) cloaks, which were a way to show social status in Māori culture. Eventually, the Māori traders became so proficient at judging the quality of the blankets Europeans would trade to them, that they were far better judges than the European traders attempting to sell them.

Kākahu- kaah-ka-hoo (couldn't find an IPA for this)

(Taken from Academic Dress Hire. Kākahu is the general word used to refer to Māori cloaks, though there are many individual types with their own names. This depicts one type.)

Another key point of interest is how Māori incorportated European sewing, etc techniques into their own garment creation. Red (whero- pronounced ferroh or ferraw) is a very important colour in Māori tradition, representing high status. Your historic Gucci watch, if you will. So Māori traders were likely ecstatic to see red wool among the many goods offered to them by European traders- both for its presumed price and abundance, and the prior context. This can be seen through kākahu cloaks produced following European contact, many of which incorporated red wool. Below are two examples (both taken from Dressed- apologies for any issues):

(Second image originally from George French Angus' book 'The New Zealanders Illustrated', published 1847)

This mixture of techniques is something I have attempted to depict in this illustration- however I am no expert in kākahu creation, and am not here to pretend that I didn't get something (or multiple things) quite wrong in that aspect. I'm no expert!

This illustration is set vaguely around the 1840s - 50s, though leaning more towards the early 40s. Arthur's outfit is mainly inspired by the following two illustrations from Panorama's 'A History of Fashion: From Loinclothes to Lycra' by Jacqueline Morely, David Salariya, etc, which date to 1828 and 1847 respectively, so take that how you will.

In the illustration, Tangata Whenua and England appear to be working together to construct this kākahu which combines both of their cultural practices into one garment. However, upon further observation, inequalities in this exchange of culture can be observed. For example, Tangata Whenua is entirely clothed in European garments. While she wears the blanket as a cloak substitute (making it a distinctly Māori appropriation), and undoubtedly hasn't bothered herself with the layering of undergarments, etc under her dress, and her hat depicts pohutukawa (paw-hoo-too-kawa) flowers as an added accessory, the point stands that she's made an effort. England, meanwhile, dresses himself in only the European style. Tangata Whenua is the one explaining the process to him and grasping the weaving. While he is curious, it is implied that he's done none of the work. This is meant to draw comparison to relations between Māori and Europeans at this time and onwards. The Māori held respect towards the European way of life, and tried to meet it on equal grounds. Europeans looked condescendingly down onto the Māori way of life, and, while initially intrigued, over time and with more concentrated governance, this would be forgotten, and te Ao (teh ow) Māori would be steamrolled over. For now, Māori remain friendly- but as the wrongs begin to add up, this will change.

(Let's just say New Zealand's early years will be spend embroiled in civil war.)

If you've just read this far for explanation of the post, you've reached your conclusion. From here, I'm gonna talk about my oc and the inspirations behind her :)

Tangata Whenua draws inspiration from two Māori women depicted in Dressed- one in personality, one just had a stunning hat. I've not quite figured out a human name for her yet, but I'm fond of the given name Māra (Maahra). However, Māori traditionally changed their names often, and so this is likely only one of the many names she is known by. Mara (without the ā- pronounced exactly as it looks) is both a term of address to someone close to you in the north, and a word meaning piece/scrap/rag. Māra can mean a garden/cultivation, and related to Māra Tautāne (toe-taahne)- a ceremonial garden where the plants grown within are offered to Rongo (rawngaw) (god of cultivated plants). I feel she got this name when someone (aware or unaware of her nature) addressed her by mara, and she realised its second meaning, as well as its connections to gardens (which I can see as a metaphor for societies, etc, and their growth/cultivation) and thought it quite fitting.

As for her hat, that is inspired by this painting, also by George Angas:

This depicts Toenga (taw-enga) of Ngāti Maru (ngaah-tee Maroo) in a quite fashionable hat. I quite like it, and adapted it (though replaced its flowers with pohutukawas) for Tangata Whenua. I also enjoy the energy Toenga appears to give off- it feels very suitable for Tangata Whenua's personality. However, her primary personality influence is...

Rangi Topeora (Rangi Taw-peh-awhra) of Ngāti Toa (taw-uh) and Ngāti Raukawa (roe-kawa) was a female chief of Ngāti Toa (or so my research seems to imply- sources are frustratingly vague on this) and composer. While there is little information on her- I can find nothing on her birth date, and the range given for death dates is nearly a decade wide- what there is sparks much joy. In Dressed, her relationship with European trader Mayhew (one of many she took) is the main focus where she is mentioned. She admits to being a woman "notorious for following her 'hearts desires'", and I believe that if I had to summarise Tangata Whenua into one short phrase, this is what I would use. Māra is a woman of emotion and desire- that is what motivates her above all else. Another move of hers that I adore is, upon her baptism, Rangi would accept no name except 'te Kuini' (teh koo-ee-nee), which translates to 'the Queen'. She would also at some point adopt the name Wikitōria (wee-kee-taaw-ree-ah), which is the Māori equivalent of Victoria, and one of her husbands was given the name Arapeta (as it looks), which means Albert. She became commonly known as 'the Queen of the South'. Here's a portrait of her from circa 1863, painted by Gottfried Lidauer:

In regards to other notable points of Tangata Whenua visible in this illustration:

I debated with myself over and over again about what I should do regarding her moko kauae (mawkaw k-oh-ay)- the tattoo on her chin, lower lip, and around her upper lip. These are incredibly personal to each individual, and I am no expert in them. Anything I give her will be incorrect, but not giving her anything even more so. Eventually, I settled on referencing a historic tā moko (taah mawkaw- the general name for traditional Māori tattoos)- one which is depicted small and vague enough that surely nothing I interpret from it can be exactly accurate to the original. In that sense, at least, I am hopefully not stealing anyone's identity. If someone happens across this who is more knowledgeable in tā moko than I, I would welcome your opinion on this matter. My intention is absolutely not to appropriate something so personal, but I find myself conflicted on what action to take in this situation. Here is Rakapa Ngawai (rakapa nga-why) with her sons Eru and William, whose moko kauae I have referenced:

This illustration was made by Joseph Merrett in 1852.

Finally, though it is practically impossible to spot unless you zoom in REAAALLLLY close... I shall mention Tangata Whenua's necklace. It is made of pounamu (poe-nah-moo)- a type of jade only present in New Zealand's South Island, on the west coast. Tradtionally, necklaces (and other jewellery, though necklaces are most commonly known) made of carved pounamu were family heirlooms passed down from generation to generation. They come in a variety of general shapes, each with their own symbolism. For Māra, I've decided on a Hei Matau (hey mah-toe) (fish hook) shaped pounamu necklace. It is said to grant good luck, strength, and safe travel. It also draws from the traditional tale that New Zealand's North Island was a huge fish raised from the ocean when Māui (yes, just like in Moana) caught it on his fish hook- which is said to be made from his grandmother's jawbone. The ocean, in addition, is deeply important in both Māori and pākehā (paah-keh-haah- a word initially intended to denote European New Zealanders by Māori, but which can generally refer to non-Māori New Zealanders) cultural traditions. As such, fish hooks were quite important back in the day, to the point that people would always keep one on their being. Upon European contact, this constant wearing of fish hooks was taken as a sort of ornament- and gradually it evolved to be such. I imagine Tangata Whenua has only gotten her pounamu Hei Matau in recent years upon this illustration, replacing her fish hook tool. When New Zealand reaches adulthood, Tangata Whenua will pass this necklace down to her.

Here are some different styles of pounamu Hei Matau- the latter two incorportating two other styles as well. Tangata Whenua's necklace is most similar to the curved design, though they're not identical.

So that's my long ass explanation finished! If you read this far, reblog/comment with a cookie so I can be surprised people listen to me speak!!

Edit: I forgot to talk about Tangata Whenua's inordinately long hair!!! Here's the gist (from Day 3's post):

In Māori culture, the head (and thus hair) is considered very tapu (sacred). Long hair often indicates high status. In fact, in traditional Māori culture, one's hair may only be attended to by one of more mana (generally refers to reputation/status/legacy- doesn't have a close English concept unfortunately, but for now think of it like rank or status). As the personification of the Māori culture, Tangata Whenua was probably viewed as quite an important atua (god, sometimes translated as spirit), meaning no mortal could have more mana than her. As a result, unless any other atua decide to stop by for a chat, there is no one who can style her hair, or cut it. (I imagine she still brushed it, at least because unkempt hair was a sign of mourning.)

Apologies for any confusion that may have caused!!

#hws new zealand #hws england #hhw day 1 #prompt: heirlooms #period typical racism cw #long ass rambles #historical hetalia #hetalia fanart

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sisterdivinium · 1 month

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It’s tempting to think of Jillian as an atheist given her connexion to science, her confrontation with the church in s1 and simply as a counterpoint to all the religious characters around her. I’ve used the word for her myself in fic before, but I did it fully knowing that Jillian is perhaps the character who most wants to believe.

There’s an implication that she speaks from experience when she tells Kristian one doesn’t ever really leave the church…

… And her firm principle of proving faith and science can coexist shows she has no intention of dismantling faith in itself or the value people find in spirituality.

When Luther supposedly nailed his objections to that fateful church door, he didn't intend to shake the core of what faith actually is—quite the contrary, one could argue.

Neither is Jillian trying to destabilise faith in itself... The difference is that she just decided to build her own door instead.

The church might stand in her way, yes, but one could could make a case about how it is more due to their keeping of divinium than to the criticism she directs at Vincent on the subject of Hell and the subjugation of women. She might well believe it—or any part of her performance during most of season one, really—but her conflict with the institution lies less in the way of ideology than in matters of practical consequences.

Were it not so, wouldn’t she have been a little more resistant to her son’s visions of an angel? Why believe in a child’s prophetic drawings otherwise? Even if she by any chance didn’t consider the giver of those visions an angel, the very fact of taking a vision seriously would suggest some degree of fidelity to the very idea of there being something more, something else than the life we know in this plane of existence.

If she doesn’t admit the existence of a god outright, she at least lends credence to the idea that there is something. We might not be able to take her fully at her word in the scenes where she’s playing her part as a seeker of knowledge maligned by the Vatican, but there is some amount of truth to what she says. She might not have truly found Heaven, she might not be able to prove her portal actually leads there...

… But she most certainly wants to be right. For Michael’s sake, there must be something else, even if not precisely what has been foreseen by scripture.

And, even so, she finds worth in that very scripture she doubts.

Perhaps she’s being honest when she tells Vincent she likes the stories—there’s a lot of knowledge to be found in even the simplest of them to she who knows how to seek it.

Perhaps there’s an underlying attachment of hers to the Bible, a past she cannot really abandon. It’s not all that common for people with absolutely no ties to Catholicism to have something like the image of a saint as decoration hanging in the background.

Sure, there are other religious elements scattered in her workplace including a Buddha, but it’s a man who used to be an archivist at the Vatican she hires, not a defected monk or rabbi.

Yes, she will work with anyone who is equally willing to work with her. It’s not from the goodness of her heart as there is a component of selfishness in such cooperation—one to which she admits herself—but her attitude is also a testament to the openness she has concerning the results she might obtain. Maybe the OCS is right, maybe there’s a God and saints and Heaven and Hell…

It doesn’t really matter as long as there is something, something to work towards, something to seek.

Or it didn’t matter—while Michael was alive.

She has had her proof of there being more... And she has paid a high price for learning of it.

It’s a pity we don’t know what she would have done with this information. How do we react when what we believe is confirmed to be true but not in the way we expected or desired?

Whatever shock the nuns have experienced to their faith in this business with Adriel, the perversion of the power of prayer and all else they've survived during season two, Jillian is likely to have felt the very same blow right alongside them.

#warrior nun #jillian salvius #exercises in observation #i don't recall what prompted this actually. the fic i'm writing i guess?#i never write anything directly on the computer and this was a little exception so sorry for that as it tends to weaken my texts #me cackling as i DO have saints decorating my house despite believing in fuck all. they're family heirlooms okay?#actually it's saints AND buddhas AND other little images of god knows what lol

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cassielsunstone · 14 days

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Washed Ashore 🦈🌊

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coffeeangelinabox · 1 month

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Whumpril Day 18: Broken Glass

Rosie stares at the glittering shards, then she crouches and gently scoops them together in her palms. The fragments mix with dust and blood as her skin inevitably splits, turning what is left of the glass from silver crystal to scarlet. She doesn’t even notice, just keeps gathering them together.

She doesn’t think she’s crying, doesn’t feel quite part of her body, as though this is all happening to someone else, as though she’s outside of herself.

She hears her pulse in her left ear, a steady whump, whump of sound, so her heart isn’t broken. Just the figurine.

“I’m sorry,” Darrow says gruffly.

She waits for him to continue, to remind her that she’d been told to batten down anything fragile in case of turbulence, that they’d had to get the spybug before it returned to the Domain with whatever information it had gleaned, that she’d gotten in his way and tripped him.

He doesn’t and when she looks up he’s gone.

Rosie gathers the handful of red-stained broken glass and grit and cups it in her hand and then stops. She has no where to put it, no where to keep it. And why bother? It’s nothing but knife sharp granules, the delicate angel ground beneath Darrow’s boot.

He pushes back into her room and holds something out to her. He doesn’t smile commiseratingly, doesn’t say anything. His austere features are as blank as always…but he is holding a small jar of the type they get their protein paste in. It’s empty and clean.

He pulls it back as she looks at it blankly and unscrews the top for her, and then guides her wrist to pour the remnants inside.

Rosie watches as it trickles through her fingers, unsalvageable, irreparably broken. Gone forever. A larger blade of the glass scores another red wound across her hand.

Darrow tilts her hand until the last grains fall, and then brushes his own thumb carefully over her skin, shaking loose any fragments welded to her with blood. He doesn’t flinch at the red mess she makes of his hand.

“Your mother loved that thing,” he says quietly.

Rosie can only nod. The angel has stood beside her bed since the night her mother went out and never came home. How will she sleep without it?

There’s a long silence and Darrow stays, holding her hand. Then he sighs, lets go of her and carefully screws the lid tightly over the jar. “You should get your hand seen to.”

#my writing #whump #whump prompts #whumpril2024 #coffeeangelinabox's space opera ocs #tragedy #destroyed heirloom #bleeding #whumprilday18 #broken glass

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silhouettecrow · 6 months

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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 331

Adjective: Old-Fashioned

Noun: Posy

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Old-Fashioned: in or according to styles or types no longer current or common, or not modern; (of a person or their views) favoring traditional and usually restrictive styles, ideas, or customs

Posy: a small bunch of flowers; (archaic) a short motto or line of verse inscribed inside a ring

#hello yes i am late again #i would have been earlier (not on time but earlier) but i lay down on the couch a bit ago and fell asleep on accident #just like i did last night #(except that was in bed that time)#my day wasnt too busy or anything but i did sort a lot of our new and old magic cards #i also worked on an art piece and looked at some jobs #(im still waiting to hear back about a few but i dont want to risk ending up not getting a job with one of them if i just keep waiting)#my girlfriend and i also watched more orphan black #i suspect we will finish this season within a week (especially since we only have six episodes left atm)#im excited to see what my girlfriend think about the following episodes #anyway this is another rather straightforward prompt #but like (i think) ive said before sometimes those are the most fun to work with #also i had no idea about the archaic definition of 'posy' and i love archaic definitions especially this one #so i think i may look at that one for my poem #however im planning on taking 'old-fashioned' in a antique or heirloom type of direction regardless of how i interpret 'posy'#im interested in and excited about exploring all of that #thanks for reading #writing #writer #creative writing #writing prompt #writeblr #trying to be a writeblr at least #*thinks

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thegreenleavesofspring · 6 months

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Kenneth reads to his son.

#Comfortember 2023 #Comfortember2023 #Day 17 #Prompt: Heirloom #Sons of the Star #Kenneth Way #Max Way #Baby Max

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griffinverified · 2 years

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Swordtember babyyyyy! I love these drawings and thank you to @faithschaffer for making this prompt list

#my art #digital art #swordtember #swordtember 2022 #prompt list #character design #fantasy art #witch #candles #family heirloom

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f1 · 2 years

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#For anyone that parked in the christaylor lot for the Circuit of the Americas race this weekend #I misplaced/lost my wedding ring that is a family heirloom and am offering a reward with no questions asked for its prompt return. Attached #f1 #formula 1

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sunflowerpirateart · 2 years

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Swordtember Day 18 / 19: Glass / Family Heirloom

#swordtember #swordtember 2022 #sword #glass #family heirloom #prop #prop art #digital art #ipad art #sunflowerpirateart #art prompt

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flamingpudding · 11 months

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DPxDC Family Week June 24 (Day 7)

Prompts: Distant Relatives | Engrave

A/N: This is what I believe some would call straight up crack :D

AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

How do you tell your great great great great great (how many greats do you add when the child is the x-generation after about… how many years again? Danny had lost count) grand nephew that the ghost king, he just summoned, with an old family heirloom is his granduncle of many generations?

"Batman. Why does the pendant you gave me summon the fucking Ghost King?" Danny heard a familiar man in a trench coat say next to his nephew (he decided he needed to keep it simple there were too many greats to count)

The batman grunted glaring at the man, Danny blinked finally recognising the guy.

"Aren't you the guy who sold like a tenth of your soul to Ellie's spouse? I am sure I also heard Lucifer complaining that Mammon got more parts of your soul than he has." Danny mused as he looked down at them in his eldritch form. Noting how his nephew tensed as he got past that pathetic wall of protection.

Honestly all the protective engravings he had gifted his nephew and nieces through out generations were a hundred times better. How else would a place like Gotham survive on only Lady Gotham as spiritual protection from ghosts of the Ghost Zone and his former rogues that still liked to mess with his children, nephews and nieces? At least Jazz's branch of the family was safe from them this way. He had baby proofed the entire town or better every town a part of his branch family lived in.

"So, trading game, why did you summon me?" He would have liked to stay hidden, you know? The branch family had long forgotten their relation to the Ghost King and Danny had easily accepted that. His own child of chaos had not so much and preferred to play with the earth family branch but that's besides the point. They had used the pendant to summon him, with his own personal engraving. Did that mean they remembered or did his son let something slip to his cousin?

"Trading game." Someone snorted and for the first time since he got summoned Danny noticed the audience around him. His eldritch form did the equivalent to stunt blinking as he straightened up and took count of the children of his nephew. Baby Ghost, Baby Menace, Baby Stalker and Baby Stabby were there.

A gasp left his lips. A Baby Ghost was sick! In a puff of greenish smoke his eldritch form was dismissed and he changed to his favorite 20 years old Phantom form, rushing past his nephew and trading game.

"You poor baby! I didn't realize you were this sick! If I had known I would have done something way sooner!" He fretted as he inspected one of his nephew's babies, hovering around the boy poking and prodding the little guy, well little to him anyway.

"Who are you calling a baby?! Get your fucking hands of me!" Danny only hummed, patting the baby's head, only a little sad that he couldn't look at his face as Baby Ghost was wearing his favorite red explosive helmet and was on duty.

But on second thought seeing their cute little uniforms live was way better than when he had watched them through his ice mirrors. "Don't worry little Red Hood. You will be feeling a whole lot better soon. Your Uncle Danny will make sure of it."

"The fuck?" The sick baby probably looked at Danny like he had gone insane and the ghost king could only laugh. Good had it been long since he interacted with the earth branch family let alone humans. Maybe he should start accompanying his youngest to his visits to earth.

"Constantine! I thought the sigils were supposed to contain him!" He heard his nephew grunt and Danny grinned over his shoulder at them.

"My little nephew. I granted you way better engravings than this pathetic wall of protection." As if to prove a point he flew around the babies, stopping by the youngest and pulling his sword from him. There were gasps of shock as well as complaints and he couldn't help the laugh as little Baby Stabby tried to lunge at him but got held back by the eldest Baby Menace. He just held the sword towards his nephew and trading game as he held his palm against it and let his power flow. Soon the sigils he had placed on the sword as a homecoming present to the youngest baby, when he started living with his nephew, started to appear, glowing and shining.

"You… you engraved your sigils on things the bats own?!" Disbelieve clearly coloring the trench coats' voice as the man paled. His nephew appeared to be close to start brooding like he had seen him do a couple of times through the ice mirrors. Danny returned the sword, huffing amused how little Robin instantly inspected the sword again, the engravings no longer visible.

"Of course I did. I promised my sister a long time ago that I would always protect her children. Though the engravings were certainly hard to hide from one of your babies."

"Sister? Babies?" Baby Stalker aka Red Robin aka little Tim asked and Danny coed. This baby always reminded him of his best friend Tucker and he was glad to have a technology adept child in the family again.

"Yes your great great great uh…" he stopped thinking how many greats he needed to add and ended up sighing compromising with: "...your grandmother many generations ago."

"How many of our things did you engrave?" His nephew finally grunted out, trench coat guy definitely looking like he was having an aneurysm by now.

"Don't remember, decorations, jewelry, toys, weapons, I think I even engraved your belt buckle." The ghost king shrugged, he honestly didn't. Ellie liked to joke that he was way too protective of the earth branch with the amount of protective engravings and sigils he had put up for them without them even knowing. She was still a little cross with them when they started forgetting about their ghostly part of the family after Jazz died.

There was a distinctive frustrated sigh and for a second Danny did feel bad for his nephew. Maybe he should not have just simply spewed everything but he couldn't hold himself back when he saw the sick baby. He was protective of his family, sue him. At least he hadn't given any of his nephews potential mates a shovel talk yet, not like he had with Ellie's spouse anyway. Jazz had banned him from using Fright Knight's Soul Shredder on humans after he had mentally scared and traumatized her first boyfriend with it. Apparently the guy had been too weak to handle it and lay sick in bed for a while after his return from the nightmare realm.

That reminded him! Turning around he flew up to the sick baby again who flinched back from his touch. He ignored that and only made a calming thrilling noise, calling out to the baby's sick core.

"Get the fuck away-"

Poor baby must be suffering badly from uncontrolled anger and ghostly intermittent explosive disorder. No wonder he hadn't developed any of his powers yet. That Disorder tended to be violent, especially the ghostly kind. Carefully letting his power wash over the baby, Danny coaxed out the little underdeveloped core. Usually he would make sure to do these kinds of things for any of his children, nieces and nephews in a safe environment but this was an exception. It was a sick baby core that would receive long lasting damage if not treated.

Gasp resounded as the tiny core came out of the baby's chest, not wasting any time Danny refresh the ectoplasm in it and removed the corrupted one. He then sent the core back into the baby's chest patting him where it sunk back into the body.

"There you go! Should be all good now!" A second after he said it Danny blinked at all the weapons that were pointed at him. He flinched a little as Baby Menace let electricity spark near him.

"WAIT THAT IS THE GHOST KING YOU IDIOTS!" Trading game screamed, apparently finally waking up from whatever stupor he had been in.

"So? He did something to Todd. Who knows what that was." Danny cooed, he knew Baby Stabby cared, his own youngest was similar in that way, just more chaotic in his display of affection, which also earned him his title. Little Damian was also the most intune with ghostly etiquette next to Baby Ghost, considering the reason for the nickname Danny gave him.

"And he can destroy entire dimensions! Do you guys want to doom us all?!" Trench coat countered very much insistent that the babies pull back their weapons.

Danny in return only huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. Like he would destroy the home of the earth branch. That man was talking rather rudely to them and he was also stopping him from bonding with his nephews' babies. "Buzz of trading game. This is a family matter and if the babies want to bond then we will bond."

After a moment of consideration he added. "Also don't talk to them like that. They are royalty and I will not have you disrespect them."

With a wave of his hand a green portal opened below the man swallowing him. Being nice Danny decided to drop the man off in his own home. He was the one that taught his nephew how to use the pendant again after all. But he wanted to be left alone with his family. Before his nephew or the babies could panic he smiled brightly and said. "Don't worry I sent him home to his house of mysteries or whatever he calls it. So we can have some family time! Besides, my In-law wouldn't be happy if I harmed his contract even if his soul is a trading game among the demons…"

They all shared a look and seemed to take the ghost king's words for it. Especially as litte Jason finally got out of his shock, patting at his own chest and mentioning that he indeed did feel better. Saying that there was no Pit Madness in his mind anymore, huh so that's what the Disorder got called on earth.

They instantly questioned Danny of what he did to which their ghostly uncle only smiled at the once sick baby without answering. He would have Frostbite to take a second look soon though, just to be safe.

"You mentioned us to be royalty?" The gruff voice his nephew put on when on duty resounded and a warm smile spread across the ghost kings face to the wonder of the bat-clan present.

"I thought that information got passed down through all the generations like the summoning pendant." The ghost king tilted his head. "You do know your part of the Infinite Realms Royalty right?"

"We… are royalty? For real?" One of the babies slowly asked and Danny grinned at them.

"Of course you are. In fact, the little Baby Ghost here-" He flew up to Jason, the once sick baby and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Is the fifth in line should neither my children, nore Ellie or her children want to take over the throne when I don't want it anymore and don't feel like bothering on waiting for someone to beat me in a succession battle."

"Red Hood is? Shouldn't it be like Batman or Robin?" Little Tim asked and Danny sadly shook his head.

"By earth standards, sure. Not by Ghost Zone standards though. They don't have a core, it would be different if they develop a core after death but right now? It's baby Hood here who is in line."

"So… to sum it up." The oldest baby started packing his weapons away and Danny felt just a little bit disappointed but the youngest had his sword out. So maybe a bit of bonding would still happen now that the earth branche knew about their relationship again.

"B is a descendant of your sister which makes him royalty and in turn all his children, blood and adopted equally? And Red Hood is even in line for the throne of another dimension because he has, what you call a core?"

"Yup." Danny popped the 'p', he was about to explain more considering his nephew had adopted quite the stoic look and the babies did appear to become slowly a little too overwhelmed. When a red portal opened and his own son decided to join the family reunion.

"Dad! What is taking you so long? Aunt Ellie is sending me to fetch you cause she thinks you're skipping your meeting with the observants again!"

"KLARION?!" Baby Stalker shouted and Danny blinked. Oh right, his own baby boy liked to bond with his cousin's babies. When was the last time his baby boy visited earth? Oh the babies were taking on fighting stances. How sweet of them! Even his nephew was tensing up and looked ready to fight.

"Baby Spook, are you here to bond with your cousin's again?" Sue him, he couldn't help the excitement. His little chaos was the most interested in playing with his earth branch family compared to everyone else in the ghost branch, including Ellie's children. They liked to mess with entire dimensions though and nearly caused at least three wars in the last ten years. They had also inherited Ellie's ire in regards to the earth branch forgetting their existence. That's why his youngest son had taken it upon himself to teach and bond with the little ones here.

"Bond?" Little Tim questioned while his son sighed.

"Beings of the Infinite Realms bond via fighting. How else are we going to teach babies how to protect themselves and become stronger?" The Lord of Chaos explained in exasperation like he was talking to a toddler. Considering their age differences he kind of was, Danny mused.

"Hold on, does that mean all the times you spent attacking was…?"

"Me bonding with you babies, yes. My siblings as well as older cousins aren't interested so of course that leaves me, the heir and superior cousin, to take care of our earth bound family."

"Even when you messed with the watchtower?"

Klarion arched an eyebrow at Batman. "Just because you are the oldest among the earthly doesn't mean you're any less of a toddler."

"Klarion." Danny warned, his cousins might be babies by ghost terms but that didn't mean he could act all arrogantly with them. Danny might have spoiled the boy since he was his youngest child but he surely had raised him better than that.

"No bonding today, Dad, you do have a meeting scheduled." A sigh left his lips, he guessed it was time to return. The disappointment must have been written all over the ghost king's face as his son huffed in amusement. "Maybe next time, Dad. You can come alone… if you get away from the observants."

"Alright, alright." Agreeing, Danny flew over to the summoning cycle and picked up the pentant before floating to his nephew.

The boy took a step back from him but Danny just smiled and continued forward, placing the pendant around Batman's neck. "My calling card, little nephew. We don't exactly have phones in the Infinite Realms. So use that to call me any time, though now that you guys got reminded about your relation to me I will make sure to come visit more often and not just watch and protect you from the other side."

"See you later Amadillos"

"Bye Bye Baby Bats!"

With that he didn't leave his nephew and the babies time to respond as he opened a portal and he and his son returned to the Infinite Realms, where an angry Ellie was waiting for him. Oh boy…

Meanwhile the bat clan exchanged looks slowly digesting the information dump that had just happened. They had just wanted to have Constantine check on the engraving they had on a family heirloom that happened to be similar to one that was found on an ancient egyptian summon plate and had caused some rather dangerous events.

Who would have thought that the Ghost King himself would tell them that they were apparently related and royalty in another dimension?

"I am so going to rub it in Roy's face that I am Royalty." Red Hood broke the silence.

"I always knew I was of royal descent." Robin added holding himself even prouder than before.

"Am i the only one losing my shit here that B and Robin are apparently blood related to Klarion? Also… just a warning I am going to start digging into the Family tree now." Red Robin informed with a glint in his eyes hidden behind his mask. He was definitely not asking for permission to do so.

"The Ghost King kept calling us babies though." Nightwing sounded amused, watching at how his brothers were taking the news and wondered how the rest of the family would react.

While Batman on the other hand was brooding and appeared to be severely constipated, probably thinking of all the worst case scenarios and most likely trying to figure if he needed a contingency plan for their newly discovered interdimensional family or not.

John Constantine on the other hand awoke back in his home and let out a long and suffering groan with the new knowledge he gained. Apparently the ghost king's in-law had a contract with him and now he also couldn't even be rude to the bats anymore because they were royalty and he would be screwed and potentially risk his entire existence should the Ghost King take offense. He was fucked the next time he had to deal with the bat-clan again.

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ikuhisa-yi09 · 4 months

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Georges Bataille, Visions of Excess / Salman Rushdie, East, West / Sleeping at Last - Heirloom // Lidia Yuknavitch, Letter to My Rage: An Evolution / Elizabeth Miki Brina, Speak, Okinawa: A Memoir / Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous // Louise Bourgeois, He Disappeared into Complete Silence / Yiyun Li, “What Gardening Offered After a Son’s Death” / Heidi Priebe, “As Long As There Is Love, There Will Be Grief” / Eden Robinson, “Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted”

#true detective night country #liz danvers #evangeline navarro #peter prior #family #trauma

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hbyrde36 · 2 months

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STWG Daily Prompt 3/9/24

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild

Prompt: Bite

Rating: G | WC: 867

Emotional hurt/comfort, Steve Harrington's parents being the worst, the best uncle Wayne Munson, supportive boyfriend Eddie Munson, the party loves Steve Harrington

Steve had given up on his dad long ago, he was never going to be the kind of man Richard Harrington had always wanted his sons to grow up and be, but he’d held out hope for his mom—hope that someday she would learn to love him the way she loved his brother.

More than ten years between them, and the fact that the Harrington’s had moved to Hawkins only after Christopher had graduated high school and gone off to college, meant no one really knew Steve had a sibling.

The party, Robin, Eddie—especially Eddie because how could they have been dating for over a year now and him somehow still not know about this—were all stunned to learn of the existence of another young Harrington.

He hadn’t meant to tell them at all, but then Christopher and their parents made a surprise visit home so that his brother could take possession of their grandmother’s ring and pop the question to his girlfriend of a whopping 9 months. Less time than he and Eddie had been seeing each other and didn’t that get under Steve's skin to know he’d never get to propose to his boyfriend with a family heirloom, not only because gay marriage wasn’t legal, but because his parents would never dream of handing down a piece of jewelry to their least favorite son.

Steve wound up having to make the rounds, letting everyone know movie night was canceled because his brother was in town. Naturally they all wanted explanations for why this was the first they were learning of this mysterious person, and by the time he got to Eddie’s place, Steve was a mess.

Years of mistreatment and neglect bubbled to the surface, and not just the big things but the little sniping comments, the small injustices—inequities between the way Mr. and Mrs. Harrington spoke of their older son vs their younger—hurt feelings that he’d pushed all the way down in order to function, in order to put a fucking smile on his face and hide the fact that he was damaged goods who not even a mother could love.

It all came spilling out of him on Eddie’s bedroom floor as his boyfriend held him, rocked him, was his rock, tethering him to the earth.

When it was all over and Steve was calm, Eddie asked him why he still spoke to them, why he still lived in their house when he and Wayne had both–on separate occasions–invited him to live with them instead.

“They’re my family.” Steve said, shrugging. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you do, Stevie. You always have a choice. If you were to decide right here and now that you never wanted to see or speak to them again, you are allowed to do that. You hold all the power here. I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but I have to say in my humble opinion, they never deserved you.”

Steve took the night to think about it, though in the instant Eddie had said the words, given Steve the power to take control of his own life, he’d known what he was going to do. It was his life, he could do with it as he wished. He was already doing that with almost every other part of it, so why was he still letting his mom and dad hold any power over him? Why did he subject himself to their passive aggressive comments and disappointed glares?

In the end he never went back, not even to get his stuff. Wayne and Eddie did it for him, leaving behind his keys and his beloved car.

A small price to pay for freedom.

He called the next day and left a final message on the answering machine.

“Please leave your message after the beep.”

“Hey mom. You’re the hardest one to say goodbye to, the last member of this family I held out hope for so you’ll have to forgive me for not doing this in person. My car keys are on the table by the front door. I know the BMW is in dad’s name and I know he wouldn’t want me keeping it under the circumstances.”

“I am no longer a Harrington. I’m sure you won’t mind because you barely thought of me as one to begin with but it’s official now. I’m moving on, and moving in with my boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend, because I am nothing if not a consistent disappointment.”

“It took me longer to see it with you because I've witnessed the way you care for the people around you, most of them anyway, and what you’ve done for this community.”

“You are a good person, except when you’re not. And you were a great mom, just not to me.”

There was no bite in his words, just a sad truth finally spoken aloud.

Steve hung up the phone feeling lighter than he ever had in his whole life, and sat down to dinner with the people who really loved him. His found family, who’d all dropped whatever they were doing at a moments notice to throw him an impromptu moving-in party at his new home with Eddie and Wayne.

Thanks to my beloved @penny00dreadful for having a look over this 🥰

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington's parents #steddie fic #wayne munson my beloved #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #fanfic

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comfortember · 8 months

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It's that time of the year again...COMFORTEMBER 2023

Hello and welcome to our fourth year of Comfortember!!! 🍂

First and foremost, I want to give a huge thank you to @highly--distractible for hosting this last year, thank you so so much, I appreciate it more than you know. The break was much needed 💜💜💜

Thank you for your patience on this, I know it's a little late. Here are the prompts for 2023:

For anyone who is seeing this for the first time (first of all, welcome!), Comfortember takes place for the month of November and each day has a comfort-themed prompt for any art medium like writing or fan art. Comfort can mean anything you want it to, from a fun slice-of-life story to the aftermath of an action-packed scene, anything that warms your heart while sipping hot cocoa.

The alternate prompts are there as replacements for if you don't want to do a particular prompt but still want to complete a prompt for the day.

This challenge is open to anyone in any fandom, and the link to this year's collection on AO3 is here!

Please send asks for any questions, I will be online more so you'll get your answers more quickly (well, relatively speaking, I can't answer while I'm at work 😅). Here is a link to the FAQ for reference.

The link to the Comfortember Discord server is here, and please use the #comfortember tag when you post on Tumblr so all posts can be found under a single tag.

I hope you all enjoy these prompts and don't feel pressured about a deadline!! The most important part is having fun, you can complete this when it is best for you 💜 Thank you for participating!!!

*The prompts are written out for easy readability and access under the cut.*

Safe

Sweater Weather

Leaves Changing

Warmth

Treehouse

Notes

Sick/Illness

Grief/Mourning

Aftermath

Sadness

Comfort Show/Movie

Dreams

Baking

Late Night Phone Calls

Plushies

Coffee/Tea Break

Heirloom

Cuddles

Loved Ones

Shopping

Relapse

Cry

Anxiety

Blankets

Rain

Friends

Soup

Flashbacks

Sleepover

The New Normal

Alternative Prompts:

Books

Baths

Travel

Candles

Colors

#comfortember #comfortember 2023

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shares-a-vest · 4 months

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Prompt: Family Heirloom and Starry Night (Discord Drabble) Two prompts in 24hrs, the drabblers are spoiled today. It's Lex's birthday! @thefreakandthehair I'm so sorry that my Frankenstien prompt for your b'day is also Steve Sad Boy™ hours. But it has a light-hearted end!!! 🏈🏈🏈 tw: death of a grandparent (way in the past)

"Why would mom mail this to me?" Steve finally mutters from his position at the kitchen bench.

Eddie shimmies upright on the couch and rubs at his eyes, long glazed over from forcing himself to pretend to pay attention to tonight's game. He'd flipped it over a good half an hour ago as the space he had given Steve started to linger on a little too long for his liking.

He just wasn't supposed to almost fall asleep while waiting for Steve to join and watch his favourite team win all those... points? touchdowns?

It doesn't matter nearly as much as the package that was delivered late in the afternoon – one that has left Steve glued to his kitchen stool.

A heavy but small and thin box with 'FRAGILE' and 'DO NOT BEND' emblazoned all over it, the red warnings leaving just enough space for their address and the return label.

Steve has opened it, Eddie realises, looking over his partner's impossibly hunched shoulders when he reaches him.

"I don't remember ever seeing that in your house, sweetheart," he says, standing close and snaking his arms around Steve's middle.

He frowns at the small framed print of Vincent Van Gough's Starry Night painting and rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.

"Mom hated it," Steve explains, "Refused to hang it anywhere in the house after my Grandpa passed. He left it to her."

Eddie hums in the affirmative.

The gold and gaudy frame doesn't exactly scream Mrs Harrington's taste in decor...

"Should I call her?" Steve rasps, setting the print down to pinch his nose, "What if something's wrong and that's why she is sending it to me?"

Eddie can feel his lip quivering.

"Maybe we should talk first, hmm?" he suggests, giving Steve a reassuring squeeze.

"Or..." Steve continues, his tone becoming bitter, "She's sending it now to make it official. That I'm no longer..."

He cuts himself off with a shaky exhale and looks around their relatively new (but technically very old and rundown) apartment. A quiet little spot in Indy they'd scored without too much searching.

One that they soon filled with their records and clothes, Eddie's amp and guitar and Steve's old trophies. Too many knickknacks they'd thrifted with the help of Robin and a lot of second-hand furniture Wayne found.

An apartment they are still in the process of making their own as they work themselves out together.

Their place in the world. Their home.

Eddie looks over to a patch of blank wall by the phone.

A spot that could use something...

"Do you like it, the painting?" he whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve's ear.

Steve grips the frame, his knuckles quickly turning white as he tenses up. He nods his head vigorously and sniffles.

"My grandpa..."

"Starry, starry night," Eddie sings low, "Paint your palette blue and grey..."

He reaches out to place his hands over Steve's and feels them relax in his touch.

"Look out on a summer's day..." Steve continues wetly, "Yeah..."

He sighs and closes his eyes, shifting his weight back onto Eddie.

"Looks like a pretty good heirloom to me," he says, swaying them just enough to leave Steve humming contentedly without threatening his position on the rickety kitchen stool.

Eddie continues humming the song, a favourite of Wayne's that he only ever passively listened to enough to pick up on the opening line and tune.

"Wanna watch the game with me?" he asks, nodding back to the television as he finishes the song.

Steve giggles, his shoulders gradually shaking them both.

"Baby, I watched that game two Sundays ago."

"But it's your favourite," Eddie argues, jostling their conjoined form, "The Cubs!"

"Eds, that's baseball!"

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #lilys drabbles #stwgdailyprompt #steddie ficlet #steve harrington angst #tw death of a grandparent #steve harrington's parents #harrington family TM

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