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fnaf-a-palooza · 3 years

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Hi!! Could I please have soft!yandere headcanons for mike Schmidt, Jeremy Fitzgerald, phone guy, and fritz smith

plz and thank you!!

Little note, since we aren't really given much personality for these guys, this is just my interpretation of them. Also, I don’t really think these were soft but hey :) Hope you enjoy!

★Yandere Headcanons★ — Mike Schmidt, Jeremy Fitzgerald, Phone Guy (Samson) and Fritz Smith

Warning(s): Yandere Themes

Mike Schmidt

Mike is a very possessive yandere and does not take lightly towards people always vying for your attention and time. Sure, it can get busy at the pizzeria now and again. Though if he was being honest, Mike would say that him working the night shift while you work during the day was probably the worst thing he figured out. He’s a little pissed at himself for being such a recluse to wanting the job to avoid others, but the option of coming around in the day makes him feel a little better. It’s something he is not willing to do, but it’s worth it when sees your face.

As a bonus, he gets to scan around for anyone who might get a little too friendly with you. Some might find that silly of him: the whole place is just full of kids and parents. Wrong. Mike has visited this place enough times in his childhood and preteen years to know who comes around. Family friends, older siblings of the kids, older relatives. All of them single is the fact Mike focuses on. So yeah, he’s keeping a watchful eye on you.

Out of the four, Mike is for sure the one who would take extreme measures to ensure no one takes you from him.Life hasn’t treated him nicely, so why should he do so back? He deems you the light of his life and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you out of his grasp or heck, let anyone stop him for that matter. Mike may seem rough around the edges, but with you, he feels like a better person. He feels safe to be vulnerable with you. That’s something he can’t risk losing.

Jeremy Fitzgerald

This man is the type of yandere who would be incapable of bringing harm towards others. Jeremy is a very hesitant and jumpy man, normally wanting to find better solutions to his problems that involve less confrontation. It just drives him in a state of anxiety when he's put on the spot, but you make everything better. His obsession started when you showed genuine kindness towards him and that's the thing; any form of kindness you would have shown would've gotten him hooked. Jeremy couldn't just let a person like you get away. It's somewhat rare to find people like you, so he wants to make sure you're by his side.

He's pretty content with a friendship with you in the beginning, but then his insecurities start to take a toll. The thought of you ever finding a significant other and making more time for them sends him in a frenzy. Jeremy would want to be happy for you, but his emotional health won't be able to take it. So his goal was to pursue a relationship with you. It wouldn't be that hard; he knows almost everything about you.

It was pretty easy and admittedly he became relieved when you accepted his proposal to be your boyfriend, but of course Jeremy was filled with joy. Now no one will stand between the two of you! It sounds selfish, but…he really wants to be selfish if it means he can have you. Life is tough on your own, Jeremy knows that, but getting through it is better when you have someone. You’re his means of mental stability, so rejecting him in any sense breaks him bit by bit. So it’s better to be careful around him. Jeremy is not cruel, he just cares a little too much.

Phone Guy (Samson)

The most obsessive out of everyone here... And delusion. Samson always uses his time off to talk to you; it's all he ever does as well. Every conversation he has with you, he learns something new to take note of. It's almost like he's known you all his life despite only meeting you about four weeks ago. Samson tries not to be creepy about it, but there are moments when he gets giddy and wants to let you know how far his knowledge goes. It can be when he somehow knows what your favorite flavor of ice cream is. Coincidence, probably. The nervous habit you have? It's been shown during shifts, he probably took notice. The color of the socks you put on today? Now... That seems a little odd.

When I say Samson is delusional, it's because he is fully convincing himself you're in love with him just as he does for you. You just haven’t gotten the courage to tell him yourself. There is no use denying it; he’s seen all the signs and he is very sure that this assumption is correct. Why else would you continue to stay and chat with him? Comfort him when rumors about the pizzeria had started, breaking his heart at the possibility of such heinous crimes being committed here. What a wonderful person you are. He’s so lucky to have a significant other such as yourself.

In terms of rivals…what rivals? You’re in love with him after all, so why should Samson worry over things such as close friends or overly friendly people conversing with you? Preposterous. You’d never do such a thing to him, breaking his trust. If anything, it would be those people coming onto you too strongly and that means it’s his job as your lovely boyfriend to make sure they are aware you are taken. Everything will be fine. He will take care of it.

Fritz Smith

Fritz is an odd case here. Not much is known about him or what he’s done before working at the pizzeria as a mechanic; only the manager would know. He seems to keep to himself and refrain from interacting too much with the other employees, but at a closer glance he does look to be enjoying what he does. That is despite what he’s heard from the rumors. Heck, some suspect he came here because of that. But what does any of that have to do with you? Well, Fritz always believed he wouldn’t get attached. Boy was he wrong. He can’t really explain it, but you fascinate him a lot. That normally doesn’t happen so there must be something special about you that caught his interest.

He’s in denial for a bit that what he is feeling is romantic. It does not seem so, but how would he know? Fritz never really took the opportunity to strike up any relationships nor did he even try to make connections that intimate. He will just have to keep pondering on it, but hey, you’re good company that’s for sure. Fritz will claim he is not a picky person when it comes to people, but it does help to be cautious of those you share details about yourself to. Though that’s the thing, he can’t seem to stop himself from sharing about himself when it comes to you. Everything just gets out of hand beyond that.

He’s kind of controlling; if you see him examining your schedule and making sure you are aware that some of your coworkers are not as good as they seem so you wouldn’t talk to them anymore as such. He just likes to make sure he has every bit of information he needs so there will be no surprises. Call him paranoid, Fritz does not care. He fully believes everything he is doing is completely okay and right. Isn’t it nice to know you have a reliable person such as himself looking after you? Don’t you feel more secure? No one else can do this much for you, so he is the better option. Fritz will always be.

#fnaf imagines #fnaf x reader #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf imagines #yandere fnaf x reader #yandere mike schmidt #yandere jeremy fitzgerald #yandere phone guy #yandere fritz smith #yandere imagines #yandere x reader

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

When the Pain Ends // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Breaking up with your boyfriend ends with your broken hand, a broken heart and a trip to Canada. Getting out of Oklahoma for comfort of your younger brother Owen brings you into contact with a sweet Canadian.

Warnings: Swearing, hospital, cheating boyfriend, angst and bit of fluff

Words: 3.1k

Requested: No.

A/N: Tidbit of info is that I am a university student. I had last week off and I’m six minutes into my History Zoom Lecture. Here’s a little fic.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The scowl glued on your face as you waited in the ER for the results from the x-ray you had gotten back from minutes ago. A bag of ice on the swollen knuckles of your right hand still splattered in drops of blood. The same blood as the small drops on your shirt as well. If that didn’t put a scowl on your face, it was the next issue.

The reason for your visit to the ER was in bed next over complaining as a nurse checked his face. His eyes meeting yours in a blend of guilt, regret and fear almost. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to meet his eyes.

Let’s backtrack a little for a short history.

The summer after graduation, you had met a guy on the beach playing volleyball in need of another player. You joined, and then you fell for the guy just as he did for you. For the last three years, you were now twenty-one years old. Parker had been a really good guy. Until yesterday.

“Babe!” Parker sounded congested with the bandages held up his nose. He had been fighting the nurse to come to your side.

“Don’t call me that!” You hissed glaring at the tall boy with the auburn hair colour that had once been your favourite colour.

“C’mon it was a mistake-Ow!” Parker whined at the nurse applied more pressure as she cast a sympathetic glance at you. A small smile of thanks passed to the nurse who had maybe pressed a little no hard on Parker’s nose.

Your eyes rolled at the drama that was Parker when it came to injuries that had been his entire fault, to be frank. Your fist meeting his face? His fault for cheating. What did he expect? A congratulations? Screw that.

“Say anything else I swear I’ll hit the other ball.” You glared at the boy sending him to a fit, shaking fear of stupidity.

The beach was filled up with teens and adults with children on the nice weekend day out of the loud city. Originally you hadn’t been able to join Parker with your mutual friends, but something else had spurred you there. Instead of having the weekly movie night via FaceTime with your younger brother, you had other plans. A particular video sent by Parker’s best friend and his cousin too had brought you here. Livvy had grown close in the three-year relationship you had with her cousin.

Your fury filled gaze flickered around the beach and the grass in the large opening area of the waterfront. Finally, your eyes found Parker sitting with Livvy on the blanket on the grass with Steve. Livvy was the first to see with marching through the people spreading like a curtain from the angry girl.

“Hey, Parker!” You shouted at your boyfriend in a conversation with your other two friends. Parker’s smile grew just before it falters at your expression.

“Hey, Babe,” Parker spoke, climbing to his full five-foot-ten stature. Livvy’s smile pulled up in an amused smirk while Steve looked more confused.

“How was your weekend at your sick Granny’s house?” You came to a stop a foot away from him. Arms crossed just under your chest his thick eyebrows furrowed together.

“Uh…it was okay. She’s feeling better.” Parker nodded to himself tilting his head to the side, “It was-“

“I hope she better. Her treatment must have been incredible.” You replied, unfurling your arms to grab the phone from your back pocket.

Parker grew more confused, “What?”

“The doctor sure knew what he was doing. The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The whistle you made after your statement sounded, but you grew more satisfied with the circle of people behind you.

“Oh.” Steve choked, raising one fist to press against his mouth. By now Livvy had started recording on her phone.

Livvy and Parker may be cousins, but she loathed cheaters when it was the cause of her parents’ divorce. Parker’s lips parted as he paled. The click of the glass screen brought up a video of Parker and a brunette in a hot tub.

“Ba-“

“Fucking look at your actions.” You hissed stepping even closer, “Was it worth it? Jeopardizing a relationship with someone you share years of memories with? Years of love and trust? All for thirty seconds of fun? We both know you tend to…get too excited.”

“Oh shit,” Steve spoke, shifting his gaze between you and Parker like he was a bobblehead of Einstein. The very bobblehead that you had laughed giving Steve with his obsession over the legendary scientist.

“It just happened. I still love you. I just needed a- “Parker stumbled back bringing his hands to his face, “OW! You broke my nose!”

“Ouch.” You hissed shaking your aching hand coated in some blood that splattered your shirt from shaking the hand.

“What the hell! You bit…holy fuck!” Parker screamed as your foot came up between his spread legs, nailing his left nut. He collapsed onto the grass, struggling to hold his bleeding broke nose and his nuts.

“That’s what you get asshole.” You shouted, turning to Livvy, “Can you take me to the hospital?”

“Parker drove, I’ll drive you both there. Steve can keep you two from fighting.” Livvy spoke, ending the video to shove everything in the oversized beach bag.

Now it was hours later as per usual in most hospitals elongating the time you were forced to spend with your now ex-boyfriend. Livvy and Steve had gone home a while back. Parker continued trying to fix the unrepairable damage he had done.

“Y-“

“That’s it!” You exclaimed jumping down from the bed to storm over to Parker. You made a few steps before arms encircled your waist.

“Okay, Slugger.” The gritty voice of your father spoke tugging you as far away from your ex-boyfriend as possible, “As much I want to kill him, I think you broke his pretty-boy face enough.”

The anger drained from your body as you slumped against your dad anguish set in with a tsunami of hurt. Time melted as you broke in your father’s arm; missing the doctor giving information. Your hand was fitted with a cast, and next thing you were aware of it was in the car.

“You bruised hits nuts. Broke his nose.” Dad nonchalantly spoke, turning the steering wheel as he exited the hospital parking lot. He didn’t bother making small talk as he let you be quiet on the drive home.

You didn’t know what hurt more, the heartache or your broken hand stabilized in the brace. The clearing of a throat had your attention is drawn to the house you had grown up no doubt holding your upset mother.

“She’s not that mad.” Dad quietly spoke, handing your phone that had died during the time in the ER. You shot him a look at the inaccuracy of his statement because you both know she was angry.

“Her daughter just spent hours in a hospital with a dead phone. We both know she probably thought I was dead in a ditch.” You deadpanned as you both walked up to the door of the home in Norman, Oklahoma.

The door opened before you could reach for it, and a flurry of blonde hair attacked you in a hug. Your mother hugged then leaned away to scan your features. Catching the dried tear stains paired with the red-rimmed eyes.

“Sweetheart.” Dinah spoke, raising her hands to wipe the tears from your face only causing more to fall, “What’s wrong?”

“Parker cheated on me.” You mumbled melting into her arms in another round of tears, breaking your parents’ hearts.

Meanwhile in Vancouver, Canada

Owen loved his job and the people he had met, but he missed the weekly movie nights with his older sister. The Joyner siblings had gotten down pat a system of sync to have the same movie playing at the same time on FaceTime. Imagine his surprise when he got a text apologizing.

Virtual movie night postponed. It put him in a slump that greatly concerned his roommate at the decrease of excitement. Even the next day, he was sad like a kicked puppy.

“Bro? You good?” Charlie asked from his place in the kitchen, scanning his emails on his computer. Owen barely made his eyes, “Wasn’t movie night with your sister yesterday?”

Owen nodded, “Yeah she-“

As Owen had gone to explain his phone had dinged with a concerning message from his mother.

Mom: Have you heard from Y/N? She hasn’t come home.

Owen swiped out of the conversation to the most used one with you shared with him to send a mass of messages. All not even coming up as read by you. It was his stipulation that you had it one for his safe of mind.

“C’mon you little shit,” Owen grumbled, pressing your contact to call. It didn’t even ring, “Dead cell.”

Charlie’s full attention shifted to the younger guy sitting on their couch in the apartment they used during filming. As Owen started pacing, Charlie was over quick as a bunny to offer comfort to him. The boys had grown so close, with Jeremy too, that they knew how to help the other.

“Owen, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Charlie soothed the blonde with his eyes pleading with the teenager.

“My parents haven’t talked to my sister. She didn’t go home.” Owen admitted scratching at his chest when his chest tightened. The other immediately finding his pulse on his neck to ensure he still had a pulse.

“Oh shit.” Charlie retorted, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor trying to find the right words to help his friend.

For the next hour, the boys kept in contact with Owen’s family and checking your social media in shifts as they filmed. It was a slow day when Owen’s phone finally rang with his mother’s contact once more.

“Mom, did you find her?” Owen asked, picking at the skin on his lips pacing as he had all day. The level of anxiety had been perfect for the scene he had filmed as Alex.

“Yeah. Look, Owen, she needs to get out of Oklahoma. Do you have room for her?” Dinah asked her son periodically glancing in the living room at the lifeless young woman.

“Yeah. We have an extra room.” Owen supplied squeezing the phone in his grip, “How is she? What happened?”

“I’m letting her settle before I ask any questions, but her flight is in a bit. It was either you take her in, or we pay for a hotel room. Oh! I got this lego-“

“I have to get back to filming. I’ll call you tonight.” Owen told his mother as his thumb hit the record circle on his phone. Kenny waving him over to film a scene with Booboo that would be the last before heading home.

The over the counter pain pill went down with a swig of water in the airport waiting for Owen and his roommate. Owen had messaged you that he would pick you up on the way from the set in perfect timing.

“Y/N!” Owen cheered catching sight of your form hunched forward on the bench you had miraculously found empty. Your blank eyes seeing the blue of your younger brother.

Owen’s eyes widened in shock, “What the hell happened to your hand?”

Noncommittal, the girl walked by her brother with her luggage in the mission to get to the car. All you wanted was to burst into years under your blankets until the world turned again, when birds sang, and the word wasn’t painted in dull colours.

Just as it had during the ride from the hospital to the house, it was dead silent in the car with the barest sound of music. Owen and Charlie had been having a conversation with expressions with the tension in the backseat stifling.

“This is our place.” Charlie spoke, opening the apartment door with a flourish for the girl and her luggage. Your eyes scanned the modest apartment with minimal mess compared to the tornado devastation of Owen’s Oklahoma room.

“Okay.” You replied, watching as Owen rolled the luggage to the room you would use for the few weeks you would be here.

Once showered, dressed and settled, you retreated to the couch to watch a film with the two boys. Your mind fluttered between Beca’s blow out with her father and Jesse to the city of Norman. As if thinking of Parker manifested something your phone buzzed with notifications.

@/livvyjo: Go, girl! [video]

@/malia134: Parker goes down like the bitch he is!!!

@/notsteverogers: I got a front-row seat to the fight.

Those three comments on Livvy’s video had more support than hate plus the video itself was hilarious. It caught the entire confrontation from greeting the cheater to being pulled away to spend the ten minutes in the same car. The car you had hooked up in the backseat of in the years you dated him.

“-The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The pure anger on your expression amused you.

“What are you watching?” Owen inquired from the couch he watched the movie from. It made up for the lack of a film last night.

“A girl punching her bag of shit ex-boyfriend. She almost ripped his face off in the hospital.” You softly replied with your thumb double-tapping Livvy’s post.

Charlie’s attention shifted from the pool mashup with the Barden Bellas to the pride evident in your tone. It was the first time he had heard you laugh during the few hours he had been in your presence.

“What movie?”

“Oh, you know Parker’s Dicked Down Adventures. Filmed free with an iPhone.” You spoke sliding down to sit flush to Charlie to show the video you refreshed.

Owen’s mouth opened, “He cheated on you? How stupid is he??”

“You have a mean right hook.” Charlie supplied replaying the video for the third time with a weird feeling in his gut. The confidence stirred a body warming heat in the Canadian actor unlike anything else he had felt before.

“Dad taught me.” You replied, slouching down in the plush couch with a tiny smiling, “The nurse heard what happened. She put excessive pressure for his actions. I overheard his diagnosis; nasty bruised testicle and a broken nose.”

Both boys winced at the description. Owen ditching Charlie’s side to sit beside you, leaving you in the middle of the boys.

“I almost attacked him before Dad dragged me out of the room.” You recounted snuggling into your younger brother’s side.

“Where are my keys?” Owen questioned his roommate, “We need them to drive to the airport. I need to kill the ass that hurt my sister.”

Your deft fingers grasped Owen’s wrist when he went to get up because, in all honesty, he probably would book a flight. He wouldn’t go through with the plan to physically hurt Parker, but Owen had a wicked tongue for insults.

You spent one month in Vancouver with your brother and his castmates from helping Maddie with her homework. Movie nights with Owen changed to include Charlie too. Shopping trips with Sav and Tori. Baking with Jadah. You became family with them.

All good things come to an end. You had settled back in Norman with brighter plans that didn’t involve relying on men. Movie nights still happened with the boys, but things got hectic. Virtual movie nights shifted to texting Charlie and calls.

“Hey dork.” Charlie spoke walking down the street in Vancouver to the restaurant he was meeting the cast at. His lips pulled back in a massive grin, hearing your voice.

“Hey Char!” You enthusiastically spoke, walking out of the building with more pep in your step at the voice of the man, “What’s up?”

“On my way for food with everyone. How are you feeling?” Charlie asked, rubbing his fingertips on the dark denim pants. The sound of your voice brightening up his day more than he thought possible.

“Ooh. I should let you go, huh?” You questioned shifting to hold the phone between your shoulder and chin. Fingers unlocked the new car you had bought with the money you had saved.

A nice change of money from selling the jewellery, clothes and other miscellaneous gifts Parker had given you. The necklace he gave you that once belonged to his grandmother had been given back to him. Other than that you had no interaction with the ass.

“I’d rather talk to you.” Charlie admitted biting his lip in concentration, “I have a question.”

“Okay. What’s your question?” You questioned as your phone connected to your car—Charlie’s voice coming through the car speakers.

“Filming is almost over. Do you have plans for New Years? I’d like you to see you again.”

His words set a flutter of butterflies moving in your stomach at his nervous confidence striking the new information. The change in your friendship had been felt on his side as well and while you usually would think one-month post cheating wasn’t long enough. Something about Charlie felt comfortable as if everything had been preparing to fall for him.

“I could fly-“

“I’d like to see where you grew up. Your favourite places and where you went to school. I want to know the little things that made you who you are.” Charlie spoke coming to a stop outside the restaurant, waiting for your answer.

Owen’s eyes pulled from his debate with Sacha and Jeremy to the nervous Canadian biting his lip outside the window. By the expression on his face, Owen couldn’t guess who he was talking about. It was the smile that had been appearing on Charlie’s face for the last two weeks you had been staying with them.

Charlie had fallen for Owen’s big sister, and he couldn’t think of anyone better. The bond between you and Charlie had been natural and magical to watch. It was kinda gross seeing his best friend and sister having heart eyes with each other. Yet, Owen had never liked Parker, but he loved the idea of having Charlie as a brother.

“Y-yeah. Of course, you can Char.” The flattering blush heated up your skin at the turn in the convo—a grin splitting on the two individuals with more than three thousand kilometres between them.

“Cool. I should join the cast. I’ll text you later.”

“Bye, Charlie.” You whispered to the boy looking out the window noticing something she had been oblivious to.

The world had regained the colour, the birds sang again, and the world turned once more. All because a boy helped her heal.

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #luke patterson imagines #jatp fanfic #charlie gillespie #caitsy and ash productions

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mariaiscrafting · 3 years

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ahhhh ty ty ty <3

ok, so I think that what makes Dream act this way (iykyk) is how dreamwastaken became so big so quickly. and by quick I mean fucking lightning speed.

he didn't have enough time to learn enough about cc etiquette, especially in these three aspects: influence, boundaries and fanbase/stans/whatever you call it. I'll try to explain it:

• Influence: Does he know the influence he has? Like, when he hears that he is the myct with the largest fanbase, does he really process that? I remember he talked about not being able to control all of his fanbase and there's bad apples everywhere -- which is true, and that only like 1% of his fanbase breaks his boundaries (that include sending hate for him, harassing, doxing, etc. yk, basic twitter culture lol) but, honey, with your big ass fanbase, 1% is still a lot of people. As a content creator you *have* to be aware of that.

let's take the hbomb situation. First off, as a streamer, it's you that set the mood of the stream. Even if he was only messing around with his pals, even if they did say to do not send hate to hbomb, dt dunking on him created a toxic environment, which caused his fans being toxic towards hbomb and you know what happens next. Hell, when this happened, I was watching Tapl and he was watching them and he was crying laughing over them screaming bc they were just. so loud and so aggressive that it was kinda ??? Sirs, this is literally a Minecraft Stream lmaooo

my point is, that was not the road that dreamwastaken, 21M fans, should've taken. he don't condone his fans actions but he knows his fans are diehard and will always be on his side, he should be more careful before stating negative opinions, especially if its towards another person.

• Boundaries and Fanbase: He posted a list of his boundaries a while ago, idk if you know or seen it (btw please george copy your bestie for the love of god <3) but I'm not talking about those boundaries, I'm talking about the basic boundaries between cc and viewer. boundaries that, in my opinion, should exist between cc and viewer. I get that Dream is an open person, an oversharing type of open person if I may add, but I think he should take a step back regardless. When I heard that he was taking a time from twitter, I genuinely got so glad, not because he couldn't start any drama then, but because it would do so so good for his mental health. I'm not even that fond of him, it's just that for me, any cc taking a break or outright leaving twitter is a win for me. I know how RSD is hard to deal and honestly letting shit out it's better but dream you have dt you have bbh so please don't make things worse online 😭 I know how good can be to feel validation from millions of people but. it's not a good idea, especially in the state that his fanbase is on rn (this topic is kinda sensitive to talk abt for me bc people be outright ableist and hide it as criticism like. say that shit's not helping his reputation and whatever without acting like he's fucking. manipulating his fanbase for being affected by his rsd💀 or, on the other hand, don't say that hes just being adhd🤪 when he's just being an asshole like damn that's a Him thing bro lol)

(omg it's so big I'm so sorry and theres a part two I'm so sorry tumblr user messed-up-gal ToT) - morango 1/2

pt. 2:

Dream is the proof that the people who loves you can be your downfall. istg. Have you noticed that every drama that Dream enters, people usually get more mad abt how his fanbase reacts (85% they'll react in a bad way) than Dream himself? it's not always, but its definitely more likely. I'm not saying Dream is saint, he Is petty and his ego does him dirty and made him choke multiple times before,, But! i dont think hes a bad guy. he's literally just a dude. ok, he's a 21yr old white gamer man that has a trumpie past (maybe?? idk. I think hes cured now ig lol) so he's bound to do some shitty things but he still tries to get better and hopefully he'll mature. 21 is old enough but it's still so young, yk? I kind of lost my mind during the end and my eyes are literally begging to be closed so tl;dr: Its gonna be hard for him to become a better cc bc his fans don't let him be criticized (by infantilizing his adhd symptoms or the mob mentality as soon as someone says anything abt him), the honest criticism get lost between lies from antis that don't know shit, he still has a lot of growing up to do and overall he became famous too fast and he needs to learn things even faster bc as soon as there's not a single one dream hater on sight they'll turn their back and attack him instead lmao I hate twitter i definitely have more to say but I'm tired and my memory is shit. just-- hate dream if you want, love dream if you want, nobody is obligated to have an opinion but I wanted to express mine. have a lovely day! -morango 2/2

Aight, there's a lot to unpack here, so Imma try to only go into the points I have something to add to (here's what I talk about in each paragraph, if you want to jump to a specific point):

Speed of Dream's rise to fame

The "bad apples" in the Dream fanbase

Post-MCC HBomb stream

Not condoning versus actually condemning his fans

Manipulation & RSD

Criticism of Dream, his fanbase, and his brand

The “just a dude” argument, flipped

First, I agree that one of the many factors that has resulted in the current image Dream has set up for himself, the way his fanbase functions, the ways people hate on him, and the way the Dream brand functions, is the speed of his rise to fame. It's unique, and there are probably a hundred social/psychological angles that could be used to examine the exact effects of that speed upon all of these facets of the Dream Name; did rapid fame beget the rapid rise of unrighteous hatred, did those waves of hatred then instigate the rise of a surprisingly overdefensive fanbase, did that rapid fame get to his head and/or result in an inability to appropriately handle all the after-effects of rapid fame, etc.? That point you bring up, about how the speed of his rise to fame requires him to learn even more quickly, is so interesting to me. I think that maybe Dream expected to get pretty famous pretty quickly, hence the preparedness in regards to some mechanics of influencer fame- merchandise, business-building, networking, knowing how to manage his fanbase to best benefit him. But I don't think he expected to get this famous this quickly. This is all speculation of course, as are this entire post and your ask, but I think that he just couldn't anticipate having to learn how to handle enmasse controversy, waves of antis, or every Youtuber speculating/knowing about him; and yeah, that results in him having to learn all of these things very quickly, lest he allow his whole brand and fandom to fall apart.

Second, I disagree with the frequent argument that Dream's fanbase is only marginally toxic. Personally, I think that the circumstances of Dream's fame, his personality and management of his fanbase, and his brand of content have resulted in the very specific kind of stan that Dream stans are. I don't think this is simply a case of "all fandoms have a small percentage of assholes who take it too far;" rather, the nature of the community itself breeds the kind of mentality of "an asshole who takes it too far." I only even know this because I was a Dream fan (kinda a stan, I'm ngl). At one time, I watched every single Dreamwastaken & Dream Team video multiple times; I listened to the Manhunts on repeat, as though they were podcasts; I followed mostly smiletwt and dttwt accounts on mcyttwt; I had upwards of 10 tabs for AO3 DNF fics open on my phone at a time; I watched DNF and Dream Team Being A Family-esque compilations on repeat; I watched every George and Sapnap alt stream I possibly could; I went out of my way to defend Dream against Redditors and Twitter antis regarding the cheating scandal. For the latter half of 2020, and a couple months of 2021, I lived and breathed this part of the fandom; so when I say that Dream stans are a whole other breed than any other kind of mcyttwt stan, I say that because I used to be like that, too. I usually use parasocial very loosely or ironically, but Dream stans are genuinely one of the most parasocial fanbases I have ever seen or been a part of. The level of investment Dream stans have in this man's life, the lengths they will go to to defend him, the amount of psychonalysis and digging they do on his life and character, the amount of emotion he can evoke in them- it's taken to another level, man. This isn't just characteristic of a fraction of his fanbase; this is what the fanbase is like as a whole.

Third, I partially disagree with your take on the HBomb thing, but not in the way one might think? I actually empathize with the way they reacted much more than I thought I would, simply because I suspect I have RSD (also suspect I have ADHD, have for several months now) and I can see myself getting insanely frustrated because of something like that. Like yeah, it was "just a MC stream" or "just an MC game," but that's kinda disregarding the fact that something that might seem like "just a [insert inconsequential thing]" to a rational mind might have a major emotional consequence/take a major emotional toll on someone with RSD, or really anyone who gets easily impatient/angry about video games (Sapnap reminds me of many of my friends, in that way). The issues I, personally, had with the way they handled the HBomb situation is that these are simply explanations and reasons for my empathy; they are not excuses. I have no excuse when I get irrationally angry about something inconsequential in my own life, for a couple of reasons. One, because I am an adult and I need to learn how to handle my reactions and manage my own anger. Two, because as someone with many mental problems, it is my responsibility to learn coping mechanisms to ensure my own emotional stability and livelihood; this includes learning whatever I need to handle RSD- whether that be isolating myself from others when I know I will become violently/passionately angry about something, creating and sustaining a support system that can get me through bouts of extreme emotion, finding healthy emotional outlets for my negative emotions that won't harm myself or others, or a combination thereof. I don't think what they said about HBomb post-MCC was an irreversibly horrible thing, or anything. I think there were errors committed by two men who should be fully capable of foreseeing and preventing those errors, but I don't unconditionally hate Dream or Sapnap for the post-MCC stream or comments. I just wish they had made amends quickly, publicly, and sufficiently, because the greatest consequences from the whole thing weren't even from those two criticizing HBomb themselves; they were from the waves of backlash because of their immense influence on the MCYT fandom, which could've been prevented, if they had acted maturedly and responsibly after the stream.

Fourth, you’re right, that he doesn’t seem to condone his fans’ behavior. I detest the frequent anti argument that one of the reasons Dream should be criticized is because he explicitly uses his fanbase to attack others, or something of the sort. Personally, I think he created his fanbase in a very specific way and interacts with them in such a way so as to benefit him as much as possible, yes, but he never actually tells his fanbase to go and yell at or harrass anyone. Still, there is a significant difference between not condoning something and condemning something. It might seem unfair, and it might be annoying of me to say this, but I truly think that someone with this large a fanbase, especially one as overzealous as Dream’s, needs to be condemned every single time it goes on some kind of rampage/harrassment campaign. Either that, or Dream needs to make a definitive, permanent statement against any kind of harrassment of others on his behalf. I know he’ll occassionally make the odd tweet or serious stream addressing something his fanbase did, but one of the many reasons his fanbase keeps doing the same damn thing is because he’s so lukewarm and spotty about this condemnation. A fanbase like his needs to be given explicit guidance and boundaries for the numerous things they do in his defense- harrassing/doxing antis, harrassing people who criticize him who aren’t antis (respectful criticism, other CCs, other MCYT stans, etc.), harrassing the people he critcizes (i.e., HBomb), speculating about his personal life (his relationship with his gf, his mental health/ADHD, his romantic life, his childhood, etc.), and speculating about his relationships with his friends and colleagues. My personal ideology is that, if you have significant influence over someone or a group of people, you are at least somewhat responsible for the things those people do or don’t do, if it at all relates back to you. I’m so fucking tired of the argument that CCs aren’t responsible for what their fans do. Obviously they aren’t responsible for every single one of their fans, and obviously they can’t fully control their fans at the end of the day. But I think there are certain things that reach such a level of extremity that does make those CCs responsible. This can be measured by either scale or intensity; that is to say, if a CC’s fanbase does things on an extremely large scale, or one person from/a fraction of the fanbase does something really extreme, then the CC is made all the more responsible. Another CC I’ve always had trouble discussing with other people on this subject is Pewdiepie, in particular, about the extremists in his fanbase. Because the things a small handful of his fans have done in reference to him and/or in his name were so fucking extreme, I thought Pewdiepie had to take at least some responsibilty. Along a similar vein, because the things Dream’s general fanbase does are so widespread and on such a massive scale, Dream has to take at least some responsibility.

Fifth, okay. Hmmm. I want to tackle this point you made about the ableism he faces in some criticism of him carefully and with empathy, but not coddling. One, I do think a lot of the criticism he receives for the ways he handles criticism (post-cheating Tweets, reactions to John Swan, post-MCC HBomb stream, etc.), disregard his RSD and can be oftentimes ableist. I’ve actually encountered people irl who criticize this aspect of Dream’s character, and have had to explain to them their disregard for how ADHD/RSD affect neurodivergent people’s reactions to criticism. But - and this is a big, and very controversial but - I think mentally ill/disordered people can 100% leverage their mental illness/disorders for the sake of manipulation. This is actually something I’ve learned from a psychiatrist, regarding the ways people I know and I handle our anxiety and depression. This manipulation can be unwitting or intentional, but it is entirely possible, and the possibility shouldn’t be entirely dismissed as ableist. Living with a mental illness or disorder that others know about/that you are very public about puts you in an interesting position to receive frequent sympathy, empathy, and/or pity. I’m not saying that empathy for Dream having ADHD/RSD is entirely unjustified; on the contrary, I have frequently expressed how I can relate to his ADHD symptoms and have defended him for expressing those symptoms, both on mcytblr and in real life. I am saying that Dream fans tend to use his ADHD as a kind of shield for a lot of criticism levied against him, including the supposition that he could be manipulating his fanbase to defend him because of his public expressions of RSD. So yes, my theory is that Dream knows how to levy every aspect of his life for his personal gain and for the growth of his brand, and that includes his ADHD. I think he has courage for his openess about his ADHD, I think his openness has contributed to the rise in awareness of mental health and empathy for neurodivergent people within Gen Z, and I think at least some of his expressions of RSD publicly/online weren’t intentionally made public. All that being said, I also think he has to know just how much his fanbase cares about defending him for his ADHD, and I think he has to know that some of the things he does related to his neurodivergence endear him to his audience, in a coddling, baby-ing, mildly ableist sorta way. Maybe this is all incredibly presumptuous of me. Of course, I can never know the real intentions behind any Dream video, Tweet, or stream. Maybe I’m just projecting, because I can see myself doing just this, if I had the maturity I had circa 2018-2019. Idfk know, man.

Sixth, I actually agree with you here, people probably do get more mad at his fanbase than him. Dream puts out content pretty seldomly, considering the frequency of content output for other Youtubers/streamers in his field/at his brand size. And yet, he has received masses of criticism. Considering that the things Dream himself does/says do not entirely correlate with the amount of criticism he receives, I think it’s a logical assumption that a lot of that criticism actually goes back to the size of his presence online, rather than the man himself. That is to say, because of the massive community he’s amassed, the exponential growth of his fanbase, their presence on every single social media site and in virtually every single Internet space/fandom, and the size of his metaphysical presence in his fields, Dream is much bigger than the man himself, so the criticism he receives will, at least in part, be a direct or indirect result of all these other aspects of the Dream brand. Something I don’t think many Dream fans/stans, or even most MCYT fans in general, understand, is that Dream isn’t just “one guy” in the eyes of the Internet- at least, not anymore. He hasn’t been for nearly a year. Like Pewdiepie, Mr. Beast, and other CCs who have amassed similar levels of fame and wealth via Internet content creation, Dream is a brand now, and most people will treat him as such. He isn’t just some uwu soft boy playing Minecraft anymore. He is on a whole other level from any other MCYT in his friend circle or colleague interaction bubble. His words will never again live in a vaccum or private bubble, his friend circle will never again be under anything less than intense scrutiny, his past actions will never again be simple mistakes or silly errors, his words will never again be casual tweets or streams for laughs among a couple thousand followers. Dream’s name represents something much bigger than just the one man. As such, all aspects of his brand, including his fanbase, will tie back to him and, ultimately, to any general criticism of him.

I’m not saying I like any of this, and I actually think the evolution of influencers from people to a marketable brand with similar mechanisms, responsibilities, and liabilities as a corporation is some kind of late capitalism nightmare fuel; I’m just stating my own observations and theories as to why so much anti-Dream criticism seems to be directed at his fanbase, rather than him.

Seventh, he’s just a guy, you’re right, but I think a lot of the antis on Tumblr understand this more than you know. As I’ve seen it, the sentiment among much of the “DSMP stans DNI” crowd seems to be that of “Dream/other MCYTs are such ‘bad’ people, so why do their fans stick to these mediocre, racist men, when there are so many better people to watch/better content to consume?” We know this argument is flawed for many of the obvious reasons - the conflation of all MCYTs’ actions regardless of individual identity, the equating of a CC’s fanbase’s morality to that of the CC they enjoy watching, the exxageration of any error MCYT CCs have committed as bigotry/racism, the fundamental misunderstanding and misinformation that led antis to believe this exxageration of the facts, etc. But I want to focus on the general, underlying sentiment of, “why not watch someone better, when your creator is problematic?” Sometimes, I ask this of Dream stans. Yes, being mildly ignorant, getting involved in the scandals Dream has, and being a right-leaning/libertarian centrist in the recent past all seem like harmless things, all things considered. One could say Dream isn’t nearly as bad as many antis who are misinformed seem to believe, and that there are much worse CCs Dream stans could be watching and creating fan content for. But I think what Tumblr antis wonder is, aren’t there also much better MCYTs/CCs people could be watching and stanning? Because he’s just some guy, right? Is his content truly so exceptional or is he really so exceptional a person, that people have to stick by him, despite the things that spike up regarding his current or past actions? I think that’s what made me finally decide to stop watching Dream. I realized he was just Some Guy. The Dream Team was a comforting dynamic to indulge in, DNF was a cute ship to read and speculate about, and Manhunts were fun videos to watch; however, once the Reddit posts came out and I read them in-depth, the cost-benefit analysis tipped over to the “not worth it” side for me. I realized Dream’s content, while fun and comforting, was not entirely unique, and wasn’t worth sticking around for, given what I then knew about his past political leanings. If he is just Some Guy, then there are a hundred more like him out there. There a hundred more ships, a hundred more found family dynamics, a hundred more entertaining and skilled Minecraft players. So while I agree with you on the point of people being allowed to love him regardless because he is just a guy, at the end of the day, I think that, if we are to believe that sentiment or use that argument in such a manner, we should also understand the flip side- that, if he is just some guy, why is it worth sticking around? To that I say, maybe because people just enjoy the simple things they enjoy.

Anyways, I wholly agree with your tl;dr. Thanks for that insanely long ask, this was a fun thing to keep me occupied while I’ve been at work, facilitating Zoom sessions this whole morning.

#ive been writing this on and off since 830 am est SHEESH #dreamwastaken #dream critical #eh i think im relatively lenient of him here given my past posts ab him #but still just in case the blacklist tags for yalls convenience:#discourse #/neg #asks #long post #long posts #this a LONG one bois #morango

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twstdreams · 4 years

Note

The Draught of Sleeping Death ask was so interesting (and kinda angsty but in a good way!)! Could I please request a part 2 for when their crush actually wakes up after? Thank you! (btw i reread the request and you kinda forgot Jack so if you could plz add both of his reactions to when they drink it and when they wake up i’d appreciate it!)

Please reach out to your local crisis line if you experience any suicidal ideation like wanting to put yourself into a coma!

Here is the previous part! I decided to make scenarios that ended being a bit more difficult than I expected, but I’m pretty happy with it. I hope no one is out of character. Here is some more bittersweet moments and angst!

Warning: Suicidal and suicidal-esque ideation, attempted comatose state via potion, poor mental health, long post

Ruggie Bucchi

He waits and waits. Your chest continues to rise and fall as any person would. Each moment is excruciating. Even if you had amnesia and forgot all about him, that would be okay as long as you opened your eyes. Suddenly, you sneeze. Ruggie throws his arms around you. He almost wants to laugh. Of course, you wake up sneezing, not fluttering eyes or a gentle smile but a sneeze.

“Ruggie?” you call out his name gently, surprised to find yourself in his fierce embrace with him clinging onto you so tightly. You ask what’s wrong and he explains your predicament.

“What?!” you shriek, wide-eyed and jaw open. You must have messed up your potion or drank the one wrong because all you wanted was something to give you restful sleep, not a permanent coma.

“Tch, I can’t believe you drank something so dangerous!” Ruggie chides you for being so careless, making a mental note to take care of you to ensure something like this never happened again. He gently pokes your cheek as if to punish you, but the way you respond with a pout fills him with more relief than he cares to admit. Only the conscious can react after all.

“Wait, does... doesn’t that mean you’re my true love?” you murmur. Soon enough both of your cheeks are painted a blush to rival sunsets in the Afterglow Savannah but a smile worms its way onto your face.

“I’m glad it’s you.” You both share the same sentiment. You pepper his face with butterfly kisses while teasing him about being your knight in shining armour. Each peck helps soothe his heart and reaffirm that you are indeed alive and well.

Leona Kingscholar

His tail waves back and forth as he impatiently waits for any signs of consciousness. It feels like the universe is getting back at him, telling Leona that it’s his turn to wait. The more time passes, the more he wants to curse at the world. It gave him nothing. Not the crown, not the understanding of his family, not the adoration of his people, and now it wouldn’t even let him have you. He stares at the window, unable to bear looking at your body any longer. Almost as if he looked away, he wouldn’t have to accept the possibility that you would remain in an eternal slumber.

“Leona?” your voice croaks and he whips around so fast you’re surprised his neck doesn’t hurt.

“It’s you? You love me?” you ask but you’re met with a grimace from Leona. He knows you know. And since you know that true love’s kiss is the only way to break the spell, it meant you purposefully drank the potion.

“Why?” It’s not a roar. It’s not a demand. It’s barely a question. It’s a whisper to the wind but requires an answer nonetheless.

“I just...I just wanted the pain to end,” you reply, voice cracking halfway through, “It was so much. Too much.” Tears begin welling in your eyes. Just remembering your desolate state when you drank the potion out of sheer desperation threatens to spiral your fragile stability.

“Do I look weak? Dumb?” Leona murmurs. You think it’s supposed to come out as annoyed but his words are too thick with emotion to disguise his sadness.

“No? That’s not what I... What?” You can’t understand what he’s saying and the tears begin to fall down freely from your face.

“Then, you should share it with me,” he says firmly while sitting down beside you on the bed.

“It?” you repeat while sniffling.

“Anything, everything,” Leona pauses as if carefully considering his words. He suddenly pulls you into a hug, placing your head against his chest. To your surprise, his heart is hammering and you know you’re the cause.

“Your pain, your struggles,” the words are lodged in his throat and Leona struggles not to clam up. He hates being vulnerable, he despises leaving his heart out in the open, practically begging to be stabbed. But he knows that’s what contributed to this mess in the first place. And it hurts. Your eyes are brimming with tears that he caused. So he forges on even if his words are gruff, “You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” He kisses your forehead to affirm his answer. And then you hold him tightly and cry freely. Your burdens are still heavy and there are some battles you know Leona cannot fight for you. However, you find comfort in his embrace and in the knowledge that he will hold your hand through all the trials.

Kalim Al Asim

“Hey, hey are you awake?” he asks desperately. You have to wake up. How else are you supposed to go on magic carpet rides with him? Didn’t you say you were excited for Bean day? Weren’t you excited to try out that new cake from the café downtown?

He calls out your name again and again while giving your shoulder a little shake. When your eyes begin to open, Kalim throws himself at you. Tears fall freely from his eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re awake!” It’s a mess as he alternates between sobs and exclamations of happiness. You barely have time to react and pat him on the back.

“Yeah, thanks to you,” you reassure softly. It’s not exactly ideal to have Kalim crying but you’re happy to know he cares so much.

“You know, I’m your true love, right?” he asks, staring you into your eyes with his ruby ones. The bold declaration makes you blush but you nod anyway, “So depend on me okay? I’m here for whatever you need! Anytime! Anywhere! If you’re ever worried, we can sing and dance our troubles away!”

“And if singing and dancing aren’t enough?” Your question doesn’t come from a place of malice but Kalim is silent for a moment while digesting your words.

“Then we can eat, or go on a magic carpet ride!” he responds with confidence, “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else! I won’t give up until you smile!” Tears streak his cheeks, his outfit is a mess, yet you believe him anyway. He brings a shaky grin to your lips.

“Okay.” You give your tear-stained lover a soft kiss. “We’re in this together.”

A couple days pass and yet Kalim asks nothing about the incidence. He simply reminds you that he is here whenever you need and that he adores you. You keep waiting for the inevitable interrogation but it never comes.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about what happened?” you inquire one day while on a carpet ride, knowing that your words will only reach Kalim’s ears and no one else’s.

“I want to.” He answers so quickly that you’re caught off guard, but his next words steal your breath away. “I was going to ask, but I didn’t want to make you sad. I know that... that you were really sad and suffering. And that every time someone brings it up, your smile goes away.”

He hums out loud while trying to parse together a sentence to express his feelings. Kalim doesn’t want to be oblivious to your feelings and risk destroying this relationship. He wants to do better this time. He wants to be better.

“I ... I don’t know how to ask without hurting you. So, you can just tell me when you’re ready and I’ll listen!” You feel so much relief. You embrace him in a tight hug and murmur words of thanks.

Jamil Viper

There’s a war in Jamil’s heart. Hope dangerously swells within it, wishing that you would wake up. Doubt creeps on the edges, whispering about how his flimsy feelings wouldn’t shake you from the coma’s grasp. He doesn’t know which half is right and the wait is antagonizing.

Your fingers twitch and he calls out your name softly. He wants you to wake up so badly, he can’t even deny it. The amount of emotion eating away at him is unbearable yet it would all be worth it if you only opened your eyes. You who listened. You who understood. You who offered a hand when asked. You who respected his space. You who lit up with a smile whenever he offered you a dish. You who always insisted on cleaning the dishes as payment. You who would drop by with a thermos of tea or a cup of water to make sure he was taking care of himself too. You, whose name is etched in his heart, even if he has trouble admitting it aloud.

Your hand lightly squeezes his own and he intertwines his fingers with yours. He’s never found hand-holding so comforting until now. You’re tired but you try to bring a feeble grin to your face for his sake.

Jamil has so many questions but he starts with the most important one, “How are you feeling?” Your lips press tightly together and you tear your eyes away from his gaze. He squeezes your hand a little but says nothing else.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice wobbles but your words are sincere. His thumb traces circles in the back of your palm, allowing you the decision to continue or not.

“I...” Words are so hard, but you want him to know. Jamil came to your side, didn’t he? He is your true love, isn’t he? You gulp a bit and allow yourself some time to gather courage.

“I, I wanted control. I hate feeling like I can’t control anything. Like this is the only way I can decide for myself, and ...” But words fail you as tears begin falling from your eyes. It’s too much. You can’t decide if you hate yourself or the world more.

Your words cause his chest to feel tight. Oh he knows, he knows. The desperation, the fear, the anger, the hatred, all emotions that are familiar to him. There is nothing more soul-crushing than to lose control over your own life.

Jamil stays silent, unwilling to offer up empty promises and words laced with pity. Instead, he kisses your tears away. It’s unusually tender, but rather than risk the wrong words, Jamil decides to let actions speak for themselves. He lets each soft peck convey his love, his presence, his commitment. And slowly but surely, your waterfall of tears decreases to a trickle and then nothing at all.

Jack Howl

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!

It’s the only thing he can think of as he stares at your resting form. Jack has never felt so powerless before. No matter how much he trains, it won’t amount to anything because it’s not a magical skill that will bring you back. It’s true love. True love’s kiss. The one thing he doubts he can give you. The one thing no one has managed to give you.

His eyes widen as he hears your breathing begin to increase. Your slow steady pace starts to quicken and his own heart is hammering in his chest. Are you waking up? Jack kneels beside your bed and watches expectantly. Your eyes open to meet your golden ones. Your arms reach out to him tentatively, wondering if he’s merely an illusion. To your surprise, strong arms embrace your body and his hair tickles your skin.

“Jack,” you call out softly and the twitch of his tail lets you know he heard you. However, he says nothing. You expect a couple swift and blunt statements about your idiotic actions but they never come. Instead, with your bodies pressed together, you can feel him tremble. It’s faint, but he’s more shaken than you’ve ever seen Jack. Angry, indignant, confident, embarrassed, and righteous were all emotions you’d seen Jack wear but this was the first time you’d seen him so unsure about someone else.

“Thank you,” you add, unsure what other sentiments you should share. You worry declarations of any feeling deeper than gratitude will end the moment and Jack will shirk away at such strong emotions. You tighten your grip, hoping at least you can relish in this hug and the comfort it brings.

Jack loosens his hold so he can look straight into your eyes. His gaze is so intense that you want to avert your own yet find yourself unable to do anything but look back. Your name leaves his lips, soft but firm and undeniable. You nod slightly and wait for him to continue.

“I ... you ... that is,” Jack clenches his jaw but pushes forward past his uncertainties and lingering cowardice, “You ... You give me purpose.” You let out a gasp. Jack knows it’s dangerous to attach purpose to someone else, to give them so much power over himself. He’s always wanted to be a man with a true core purpose and your slumber made him realize that it was you. When you were under that spell, he fell apart and that’s why he’s so sure.

The weight of his words is not lost on you. It’s nothing short of a confession of love that makes your eyes shine with unshed tears. You’re amazed at the depth of his feelings and how far you two have come.

“I love you.” Your words are simple and clear, delivered with a sincere smile. Even though Jack knows this, you are his true love after all, it still manages to make him blush. You let out a small laugh but before Jack can retort, you seal his lips with a kiss.

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

Hauntober prompt Cauldron

Nalu requested by @rougescribe

Lucy never knew the life of a witch could be so... busy. People came from far and wide to her for potions to fix everything from illnesses to money, a more prosperous garden, or finding true love hence the latest mix of ingredients bubbling in her cauldron. It was a never ending stream of people willing to pay top dollar for quick fixes and the love potions are a number one seller. And why not? Everyone wants to find love.

The fall season brought an influx of buyers tired of spending another cold winter alone. Lucy couldn’t begrudge them for it because it was very lonesome, hold up or snowed in with only fur blankets and a fire to warm you up. Imagine, a nice hot body to cuddle up with and pass away the long dreary hours... She sighs, stirring the brew as those longing emotions interrupt her concentration.

It’s been awhile since she’d had a boyfriend. A flirty warlock when life was free and settling down was the furthest thing from her mind. Loke was a lot of fun, but now Lucy wanted more than just a relationship built on sex. Someone to come home to, maybe have a family together, and grow old with. But to use your own potions on yourself broke spiritual laws, for such a selfish act was bound to backfire.

Sigh, “I wish I had time to find love...”

But there wasn’t time right now and Lucy needed to get this potion finished and bottled to restock her supplies. She adds the final stabilizing agent and utters an activation spell.

Brew thine hearts entwined

Of love that lasts for all of time

Reveal to bearer a match to be

A soul that is meant for thee.

The bubbling liquid began to glow, signaling to Lucy that the potion was being activated. She turns away momentarily to grab her ladle, when a loud boom and flash of red light catches her off guard, propelling her to the ground. “Oh, no!” Had she messed up the spell?!

When she looks up, a vision was poised in the cloud of reddish smoke hovering above the cauldron. It was of a man with pink hair and a bright smile wearing the clothing of a typical farmer in the area. Who was this male? Lucy doesn’t remember ever seeing him before. Perhaps her heart had triggered the spell... for her?

No, she shakes her head at the thought. It couldn’t be. That was merely the spell to activate the love potion not trigger it. All her thoughts of love and longing were playing tricks with her mind. Or maybe even a cruel tease. Yeah, that’s it, it was taunting her. She would never knowingly violate sacred rules. Lucy puts it out of her mind and goes back to dolling out her potion into vials for would be buyers, letting the whole incident slip away like a melting frost.

A week later, the witch ventures out of her home on a chilly but sunny morning, ready to purchase goods and supplies. The local market square was bustling because of the break in the weather, which was nice to see so many people taking advantage of it. Magnolia really was a quaint trading town and she was glad to have chosen it to settle down in.

Lucy picks up a few loaves of bread at a bakery, along with vegetables not found in her own garden from a couple of the stalls. She chats with the vendors briefly, always one to make conversation and keep up a friendly air about her to ensure a later customer base. Her patronage was also reciprocal when they’d send new customers her way. Being a trading town, passerby’s were welcomed and through word of mouth is how her potion business flourished.

The last stop is to a meat merchant which tended to be less stable because it depended on their hunting or fishing yields. One never knew what they might find day to day at such stalls, but Lucy hoped for a nice dry-aged meat like venison or even salted hare. There was a crowd of giggling women around the stall. No surprise there, brawny hunters always attracted the ladies.

While she waits her turn, Lucy sees a friend named Cana and starts up a conversation. The barfly worked at her fathers tavern in town which serviced many of the sailors that came to port. She dabbled in the psychic end of magic, giving out fortune telling and card reading by request. Cana was also great for passing along new customers in the market for potions with a hey I see love in your life, check out my friend for a love potion.

“Solstice is almost here, so I need to prepare...” Lucy’s words die away the moment her eyes land on the meat merchant. She stares forward in disbelief, glued to the man. “It can’t be!” She whispers.

Cana waves a hand in front of Lucy’s face. “Stop drooling. You didn’t know? He’s the new guy in town.”

“No... I-I haven’t been here in a week.” Pink hair and dashingly bright smile. The man was even more handsome in person. Lucy couldn’t believe her eyes. “I saw him in a vision.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were practicing precognition.”

“I’m not, it happened when I was brewing the love potion.”

“Well in that case, go say hi!” Cana shoves the woman forward, giving Lucy a go get ‘em wink before walking away.

“Hello,” the man smiles at Lucy. “What can I interest you in today?”

‘You...’ “I um, do you have any venison?”

“Darn,” he taps his chin, “not here, but I do have some at home that should be done curing.”

“Oh, so tomorrow?”

“Well, if you’d like I could deliver some this evening after I close my stall for the day.”

Lucy blinks in surprise. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

The man smiles causing her breathing to falter. “Yeah, it’d be no problem.” He sticks out his hand. “My name’s Natsu by the way. Just moved in a couple weeks ago with my brother Zeref.”

She smiles back, her heart racing with an excitement she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. “Lucy, it’s nice to meet you.”

#hauntober #nalu #prompt cauldron #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu au #nalu drabble #nalu fan fic #fairy tail

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years

Text

TMNT 2014/2016 Raphael x Reader - (Short Story) Chapter 4

When you got outside it was just you and Raph. There was a point where the water had risen, you stopped trying to search for the dry area you passed when you entered. Raph must have noticed.

"Here." Without warning he lifted you up, bridal style and you squeaked. You grabbed unto his chest for stability. "Sorry." he obviously meant for startling you.

"N-No it's okay. Thank you." you didn't have to walk through the water, so you couldn't complain. He kept walking, eyes focused forward. And you were fighting the urge to stare at him. It was hard not to when he was so close to you. He made it to a staircase, the one you used to climb down when you came in.

You thought he would put you down so you could walk, but he held you with one hand and climbed up the stairs with the other. When he moved the metal cover, he exited. The flashing lights of New York shining above. This particular entrance was in an alley, so luckily no one would accidentally walk upon you. When he was fully out, he still held you.

"Are you...going to take me all the way home?"

"Of course. It's late. Wouldn't do you any good walking the streets alone." How sweet. He really couldn't help himself.

"Thank you Raph."

He just swiped his thumb along his nose. "Yeah don't mention it. " He really did have the whole tough guy thing down. He was moving easily up and over buildings even with you in tow. When you got to a particularly higher building, you closed your eyes, clutching unto him a little bit tighter than before. Raph noticed, stopping. "Hey, you okay." you nodded, eyes still shut.

"(Y/N), open your eyes, trust me. It's not as scary as you think." you were a bit reluctant, but you obeyed, peeking an eye open. When you saw the view, your eyes widened. You stared in shock.

"Woah...." It was beautiful. The buildings were almost glowing with flashing lights. You could see everything. The skyline was incredible.

"I know. Most of the people in this city just rush by. They don't enjoy how good they have it. This city, it's amazing. "

He spoke so fondly of it, and you knew just how much he cared about the place. It's why they all risked their lives, their safety daily to ensure that peace remained.

"You're amazing.." His eyes drifted from the view, over to you. And at that very moment, you almost stopped breathing. His attention was completely on you.

"Don't look at me like that.." you were confused by his statement.

"I know how you feel about Leo, you don't have to try so hard to make sure we don't fight."

Wait a second...did he think you were saying this to ensure he and Leo didn't fight. Raph looked away a bit dejectedly. Even though he tried to hide it, you could see the it, the hurt, fear, maybe even rejection. Why the hell did he seem to have such a low view of himself when he was easily one of the greatest people you knew.

"I guess from your point of view it must seem that way. Leo was...he was a lot easier to talk to. That's why I always gravitated to him. I do care about him."

Raph's jaw clenched at that. "But not in the way you think." you added.

"I confided in Leo because he's like my family. I don't have siblings and I guess to me, he's the older brother I always wish I had. Mikey and Donnie are pretty much the same. And you..."

You swallowed, because you just had to say it. You couldn't let him continue to think you felt nothing for him. Especially since you spent so many months practically avoiding him.

"Raph, I'm in love with you." you confessed.

Your heart was pounding crazily. Raph didn't say a word. He just stared at you, for who knows how long.

"You're kidding..." he muttered. You smiled, because Leo had a similar reaction when he realized.

"Is it so crazy to believe that I would be in love with you." That fact that you repeated it made him shift. You could tell it was from embarrassment. He really had no idea how you felt. All this time.

"W-Why the hell would you fall for me! You could date a regular guy." he sounded a bit defensive, and scolding.

"I don't want a regular guy, I want you."

"Damn it you're not listening to me I can't-"

You leaned forward before he could say anymore. Your hand reached up to his cheek and you kissed him. You were done with being scared. He obviously needed further convincing of how you felt.

Raph didn't dare breathe, too afraid that he was imagining the feel of your lips against his. Your eyes were closed, and you seemed so content. After a couple seconds, you opened your eyes, pulling away slowly. Raph's lips were still slightly puckered. It was such a cute sight.

"If you don't feel the same just tell me, but don't ask me to pretend I don't care about you Raphael. "

You needed him to know. You weren't just going to fold because he told you to. The ball was in his court. He could push you away, or he could just stop being a coward and admit what he was clearly feeling for you. He must have felt at least a little.

"Do you..really feel nothing for me?" if he truly didn't see you that way, you would probably be crushed, but at least you would know. Raph sighed, eyes straying to your lips. The look he gave you indicated that maybe he wanted another. The realization brought butterflies to your stomach.

"Of course I care about you. Why else would I get so pissed. Every time I saw you grinning at Leo."

"I already told you that I-"

"I know that now, but then I thought...I thought you were afraid of me. Especially after I almost crushed you with that cupboard. "

"That wasn't your fault!" you defended. It kind of was. He did hit Leo, who in turn knocked over the furniture, but you knew Raph, and he'd never cause you any kind of harm.

"Anyway, you already apologized." you were sick of hearing him blame himself for an accident. Raph's eyes settled on you, still holding you safely in his arms. His eyes always seem to draw you in, take your breath away. Your hands raised slowly, and you brushed the sides of his cheek, your thumb lingered on the prominent scar on his face.

"I wanna kiss you again." you admitted. It was embarrassing, but it was the truth. It's what you'd long for. Raph looked as though he wanted the same thing. "What's stopping you." you smiled, licking your lips and closing the gap. When your lips connected this time, Raph responded, and your stomach did flips.

Your hands slid around his broad muscled shoulders, pressing yourself to him as you deepened the kiss. You opened your mouth, urging him to do the same. When your tongues touched your body quivered. It was shocking, you'd never kissed anyone before, and you were pretty sure it was the same for Raph. Yet the both of you were french kissing like there was no tomorrow. You never wanted to leave this spot. You felt like you couldn't get close enough. A moan threatened to escape at how skillful Raph was with his tongue. He just had to be good at everything.

When you disconnected, the both of you were breathless. Raph's eyes were closed, and his head was leaning on your shoulder. You supposed he was trying to wrap his head around what just happened. Because even you couldn't really believe it.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that.." you asked softly.

"No idea.." he responded, still clearly out of breath. His head lifted, and instinctively you reached out to him, thumb tracing his lips. "So soft..." you purred. Raph swallowed, because the way you looked at him, it was unlike anything he could have hoped for. He knew not many could get past the fact that he was a mutant. It was hard being different. Your finger trailed up higher and you poked his nose.

"Cute." Raph rolled his eyes, taking your hand. "I'm not cute." he muttered.

"Adorable?" you asked with a smile. He just shook his head with a laugh.

"I think I should get you home."

"Aww, come on. One more kiss, then we can leave."

"You and I both know that if we kiss again.." he leaned closer, and you were already closing your eyes.

"We won't be stopping anytime soon. " His tone was a lot lower now. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on.

He just gave you a quick peck, taking off to start the journey back to your house. You just rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

"I really do love you Raphael."

Maybe someday you'd be brave enough to say those particular words.

#raph x reader #raphael #leonardo #michelangelo #donatello #splinter #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #fights #newyork #scaredoflove #rudimental #love #teenage #mutant #ninja #turtles

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darks-ink · 4 years

Text

Reanimation - Ectoberweek 2020

A family can be a bunch of ghost hunters and 1 (half) ghost child.

[first part]

Rating: Teen Warnings: Implied character death, implied child abuse Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Words: 2,439 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - canon divergence, Sequel, Families of choice/Found family

[AO3] [FFN]

---

Agent O looked up from the report he was working on, trying to surreptitiously glance at the ghost in the van. One of the other agents had put a blanket on her—why did they have blankets in their ghost hunting van?—and she looked… cozy, for lack of a better word. Curled up even smaller than she already was, with the cape wrapped tight around her body, holding it tightly with her small fists, like she was afraid they might take it away from her otherwise.

Knowing what they had seen, where she had come from… O wouldn’t be surprised if it was a fear formed from experience.

She seemed stable enough for now, as long as she wasn’t using any of her powers. Which was good, because O wasn’t sure how they were supposed to stabilize her. When he’d promised to help her, he’d assumed that the scientists back at the base would know.

Hell, he hoped they knew. He’d promised, and knowing what she’d gone through, he would feel terrible going back on that promise now.

Looking down at the report again, he frowned. Turned back to the ghost. Cleared his throat to draw her attention. “Do you… have a name?” Was there any way to find out who these ghosts had been in life? To find out whether Masters had taken children and killed them, turned them into ghosts?

Were there parents, somewhere out there, whose child was gone and left behind the shade sitting opposite of O?

“Danielle,” she muttered, so quiet that O almost missed it. She repeated, a little more determinedly, “Danielle Phantom.”

And there it was again. Not only did she looked like Phantom, she used his name as a last name as well. How odd.

“Any relation to Phantom from Amity Park?” he asked. Had Masters somehow modeled her after Phantom? And if he had, would he have told her?

“Yeah, um.” She glanced away, eyes on her fidgeting hands. “He’s my… cousin.”

“Did Masters tell you that?” Agent L asked before O could work out an answer. “Or did you know that yourself?”

“I…” Danielle paused, clearly working through her answer. “I knew we were related,” she finally settled on. “But Daddy told me to call him my cousin.”

“And your brother?” O prodded, glaring at L over his glasses to get him to back off. “Did you know he was your brother for sure, or did Masters tell you that, too?”

Because it was undeniable that Danielle resembled Phantom more than just a little. Far more than what O would consider normal for humans. For ghosts, who could look like just about anything? It seemed suspect.

Was Phantom the first attempt? An escapee who wouldn’t listen to Masters? If he wanted another ghost just like Phantom, of course he would’ve prioritized her brother over her.

God, if only they had seen the other ghost before he’d destabilized. If he really had looked just like Phantom…

Well, it certainly had implications, didn’t it?

“No, I…” She frowned, then shook her head. “It’s different. We were all siblings, me and my brothers. Bones, Mo, Pixie… So of course he was, too, even if he never got to leave the incubator.”

“I see…” Bones, Mo, Pixie… those must’ve been the other ghosts near the mansion. Bones likely the skeletal ghost and Mo the muscular ghost, which meant that Pixie might’ve been the small one. “Your name seems a little strange, compared to theirs. How come?”

She shrugged, tugging the blankets further up, trying to curl away into it. “I… I was the only one who Daddy named. Bones, Mo, Pixie, we all picked their names. But Daddy called me Danielle…”

Her face crumpled, suddenly, somewhere between sad and outraged. “He didn’t even care about any of them! He only pretended to care about me! I— I—” The glow around her body brightened, the light visible through the blanket. Green coalesced around her clenched fists.

“Shh, shh, calm down,” O hushed, hands out and paused before putting them on her. “Danielle, you’re going to destabilize if you keep this up. Just calm down.”

“No!” she shouted back, her bright eyes snapping up to meet O’s eyes. “They’re all gone already! Nobody is going to care if I go to! Maybe—” The fire in her cut out as sudden as it had come. She sniffled, tears in her eyes. “Maybe we’ll get to reunite someplace else, someplace better.”

“Hey, shh, don’t talk like that.” O finally finished the motion he’d started, placing one hand on her shoulder. Damn this entire squad for being emotionally constipated. “Don’t look at it like that. Just think of it this way. You still remember your brothers, right, even though they’re gone? So as long as you still live, still remember them, they won’t be entirely gone.”

“Besides,” K cut in, finally. “This way, you can help us ensure that Masters gets punished properly, so he won’t ever be able to do what he did to you and your brothers. Don’t you want to help us with that?”

Her glow settled down, finally, as her expression grew determined. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I would like to do that.”

O drew back, then threw a glance at the report he’d abandoned to the floor. Shook his head as he picked it up, then put it away properly, instead taking out a voice recorder. “Alright, how about we start with this then. You tell us everything you know. We can record it, and you won’t have to talk about any of it again if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She nodded, shifting her shoulders underneath the blanket like she was bracing herself. “Tell me where to start, please?”

---

“Danielle,” O said, disapprovingly, frowning at her. “You know the rules.”

“K said it was fine!” she immediately retorted, gesturing at her plate. Which was, of course, loaded with all kinds of sweets. Sometimes she maybe it rather easy to remember that her apparent age and her mental age didn’t quite line up right.

“Did he now?” O asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “So if I go over there right now and ask him…”

“No, don’t!” She grabbed onto the plate, holding it away from him. “L said I should, not K! But—”

Why was it always L? O made a mental note to speak to the man later, and then to talk to L’s partner M as well, just to be safe.

“Danielle,” he said, more patiently now. “I know you like the sweet things, but you need to eat properly, okay? You need to stay healthy.”

“But the ectoplasmic stuff is yucky.” She made a face, then jerked away when he stepped closer. “You can’t stop me from eating this!”

“Danielle,” O said, again, feeling his patience rapidly deplete. “You can have it after you’ve eaten all your regular food, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly considering it. Finally she heaved a deep sigh and put the plate back down onto the table. “Fine.”

“I’ll go and grab some from the kitchen, then.” He stepped past her, ruffling her hair on the way. “Behave yourself, or I’ll have P and Q watch over you next time.”

“Noooo,” she whined, sprawling over the table. “I’ll behave, I promise!”

O hummed thoughtfully. “You’d better, little lady.” And with a last wink to her, he left the room.

Time would tell whether she would actually listen or not. O wasn’t sure if it was proper parenting behavior but, to be fair, none of them were proper parents anyway.

Besides, what kind of parenting advice would apply to a young ghost, anyway? Danielle appeared to be about twelve, but her behavior often seemed to fit a child much younger, and she couldn’t remember a life before being a ghost, either.

At least they had managed to stabilize her. It took quite a bit of work to convince the scientists to help stabilize her, rather than experiment on her, but they had managed it. After all, Danielle had been one of their few captures, and her behavior was so complicated that it clearly required further research. Not to mention her similarities to Phantom. Subjecting her to regular research would’ve a waste, no?

O scoffed to himself. A waste, definitely, but not for any of those reasons.

Now all they needed to keep her stable was a steady diet of ectoplasmic contaminated food. And also some regular food, because Danielle burned through quite a bit of energy just by existing.

And boy, was she intent on doing more than just existing. They needed all Agents on base just to keep her safe and occupied sometimes. Over time it had just… somehow become standard fare for all of them. They were all living on base anyway, so why not help take care of the little ghost?

O shook his head to try and dislodge the thoughts and focus on what he was doing. With a resigned sigh he opened the designated Danielle fridge, peering over its contents to find something lunch-worthy. Ah! Sliced ham. Perfect.

Quickly, he set about making some sandwiches, letting his thoughts stray once more. Yes, somehow Danielle had become the base’s shared child. No one present among the Guys in White would dare to harm her anymore. The few scientists that had let their curiosity stray a little too far had been corrected and, when they refused to learn, got fired entirely.

Or, well. They weren’t around anymore, at least. O might be in charge of his team, but he wasn’t that high up. He assumed they must’ve gotten fired, but who knew with government organizations like theirs.

Either way, Danielle was safe among them. She was cared for, protected, and okay. They hadn’t gotten Masters locked away yet, building a perfect foolproof plan first, but he was under constant supervision. No other children would suffer, no other ghosts would be made by his hand.

And, soon enough, he would pay for what he had done.

O finished the sandwiches, cleaning up the supplies and carefully picking up the plate. Now, time to see if Danielle had behaved herself.

He stepped through the doorway, back into the room where he’d left Danielle. Quietly, he inched closer to the table, then put down the plate with sandwiches right between her hand and the plate with sweets.

“Busted,” she murmured, withdrawing her hand.

“Busted,” O echoed with a grin, drawing away the other plate. “Lunch first, Danielle.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed wearily, like it was a huge task, and pulled the sandwiches closer to herself. “But sweets after?”

“Eat all your lunch first, then we’ll see if you have space left.” He sat down opposite of her, the plate with sweets in front of him. “Who’s watching you after?”

“Agent K is,” she said around a bite of food. “Why?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to get sick while she’s watching you, would we?” O smiled down at her. If it had been L, he might’ve considered it. It would’ve been a good lesson for both Danielle and L, who had encouraged her. But K? She was a good Agent, and she took good care of Danielle.

O watched Danielle tuck a strand of black hair behind her ear, feeling… satisfied. Yes, they were taking pretty good care of her, all things considered. She’d stabilized, and her core had grown mature enough for her to develop her own unique powers. She was a fully grown ghost now, even if her mind remained young.

Still, he was curious to see if she would grow in body, too. One of the first unique powers she had developed was a minor shapeshifting ability, after all, allowing her to look perfectly human. Which made sense, according to the Agents on base, since Danielle was so human, and spent so much time around humans as well. Of course she would develop powers related to that.

It was perfectly possible that she would continue to develop her shapeshifting ability to allow her to look older as time passed. O would be curious to see it. To see what she would look like, fully grown.

And, yes. Sometimes he wondered if this was what Danielle had looked like before she’d died. If somewhere out there, there were parents who could look at her and know this was their child. But they didn’t know how long Masters had her, or any of the other ghosts. Didn’t know what happened to their parents.

For all they knew, Masters had taken only orphans, or had killed the parents and made them orphans. It was better not to worry about it, when there was nothing to be done about it anymore.

Danielle finished her sandwiches, then turned big, watery, blue eyes onto O. “Please?”

He sighed, then slid the plate with sweets back over to her. “If you get sick, it’ll be your own fault. And L’s.”

“Yes!” she cheered, taking the plate from him. “I’ll be careful, promise!”

“Uh huh,” he said, dry and unconvinced.

She started munching away on the sweets, scattering crumbs all over the table as well as her clothes. Mentally, O made a note to have someone clean the room later.

“Hey,” Danielle said, suddenly, lowering the piece of chocolate she’d been about to bite into. “O? Is there… any chance you guys might take me to Amity Park someday?”

Amity Park? Why?

Apparently he’d taken a moment too long to respond, because she quickly added, “Y’know, to meet my cousin?”

“I… I’ll talk to the others about it, see if we can manage something.” Right. Her cousin. Who they were hunting down for haunting Amity Park. Who might be another one of Masters’ victims, and who might be just as human as Danielle.

That Phantom.

Danielle grinned at him, bright and cheerful. “Thank you!”

O sighed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Don’t thank me just yet. I can’t promise anything, just that I’ll try.”

“So? I can thank you for trying, can’t I?” She patted his hand, then suddenly jumped out of her chair. “Oh! I’d better get going before K gets worried.”

“Go, then,” O said, waving her away. “And Danielle? Stay out of trouble.”

“Like K will let me get in trouble,” she answered, blowing a raspberry at him. “Bye, O!” she called back before rushing out of the room, running down one of the hallways.

He listened to her rapidly decreasing footsteps, then heaved a sigh.

Right. Time to look into Phantom and Amity Park once more.

#danny phantom #ectoberweek2020 #ectoberweek 2020 #dp fanfic #phanfic #danielle phantom #guys in white #dark writes #i can't believe i'm going to need to write a third part to this series just to fit in the meeting with Danny

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theunredeemable · 4 years

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“Aaaaaaand…..there!” Ruby finished affixing the last of the lights to the roof, gently tugging to ensure they were secured tightly and wouldn’t fall off during the night, or get blown away in the wind. “Turn them on, hun!” She was answered with silence, the only sound being a soft winter breeze drifting around her, sending some loose snow to shift before settling again. She frowned momentarily, preparing to shout again, louder this time, before the lights turned on, bathing her in several different colours.

“Did they work?”

“Yes! They look beautiful. I’m going to come down now!”

“Wait!” Ruby paused, having already shifted on the roof and having one foot reaching out for the ladder. Listening carefully, she heard the sound of her fiancée trying to rush through the house. “I’m not having you fall off the roof again!”

“Psssssssht!” She shook her head, looking down at the ladder to double check its location. “That’s only happened twice.”

“This year!”

“Well….yes, technically! The number would be higher if you include other years, but I’ve turned out OK! And the snow would catch me!”

Her foot finally connected with the ladder’s top rung, a smug smile spreading over her face as she shifted her weight onto it. Her smile quickly faded as she felt the ladder wobble slightly beneath her, until it was stabilized by a pair of strong hands. “I’m not having the love of my life break a limb. Especially on Christmas.”

“I wasn’t going to break a limb.... Probably.” Ruby smiled sheepishly as she climbed down the ladder, hopping off when she reached the lower rungs. Her smile grew triumphant as she looked up at her fiancée, who merely shook her head with a loving sigh and leaned down to gently kiss her lips.

“I didn’t want to take the risk, my love. Besides…” Pyrrha’s eyes darted past Ruby’s shoulder for a second as a smirk grew on her features. “I don’t think your nieces and nephew would be too happy watching you fall off a roof.” Ruby tilted her head, opening her mouth to ask what she was talking about, but instead shrieked in surprise as she was tackled from behind by three laughing individuals. "By the way my dear… Your sister and family have arrived early."

The pile of bodies laughed happily, Ruby wrapping up her nieces and nephew into a giant hug as they rolled around in the snow. A little further away Yang was making her way up the path, waving as she walked." Kids, try not to crush your Auntie too bad.” There was a giant smile as she came closer, waving to Pyrrha. “Hey, Pyr.”

“Good afternoon, Yang. We weren’t expecting you for another few hours.”

“Yeah, about that…” She rubbed the back of her head, smile turning sheepish as she beamed at Pyrrha. “We actually arrived at 6:45 yesterday. We booked a hotel room ‘cause the kids wanted to surprise Rubles.”

Standing up from the snow, still laughing heavily, the teenaged Zephyr wiped a few tears from her eyes. “Did we surprise you, Aunt Ruby?”

“Yeah, did we!” Her siblings asked in chorus, helping their aunt stand back up.

“You little rascals certainly did. I’ve taught you well.” She ruffled their hair before dusting the snow off of her clothes, looking around the group curiously. “Where’s your Mother?”

Zackary was busy trying to fix his blonde hair, tongue sticking out of his mouth in a way reminiscent of the way Yang’s tongue did the same when focusing on something. His older sister just grinned, leaving her hair ruffled as she undid her brother’s work by ruffling it again. “Mother is getting some last minute shopping done, then she’ll be here.”

“Zise! Leave my hair alone!”

“No!” Zise stuck her tongue out, taunting her brother and prompting him to tackle her back into the snow, both shrieking with laughter as they wrestled on the ground. Zephyr, who had regained her composure, tried to keep her face still, looking very much like a younger version of Winter, before a grin broke across her face again as she cheered her siblings on. Yang watched the fight, opening her mouth to chide them, but Pyrrha clapped her hands together before she could, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“How about instead of fighting out in the cold, we go inside and I’ll make everyone a nice mug of hot cocoa?” She was met with a chorus of cheers from both Ruby and the kids. Grabbing the youngest two’s hands, she led them into the house, with Zephyr following soon after. Yang came to stand next to Pyrrha, chuckling with a soft smile as she watched her family.

“Look at you, keeping the peace.”

“It’s an acquired talent. How old are they all now again?”

“Zephyr’s sixteen, Zise fourteen, and Zackary turned eleven last month.” She paused, looking at her kids with pride as they entered the house, making their way to the kitchen. “They’re good kids.”

“They are... How are the two of you handling the fact that Zephyr will be heading out to an Academy next year, if that’s what she still wants?”

Yang sighed, nodding her head as she slipped her hands into her pockets, leaning against a counter. “She’s still planning on going. Winter and I are of course very proud of her, and know she’ll do great. But we’re also a little sad and are going to miss having her around.”

“Do you know- oh, excuse me a second.” She shooed Yang away from her leaning spot, opening a lower cupboard to pull out a small saucepan, placing it on the stove as she gathered the ingredients for the drinks. “Do you know which Academy she wants to go to?”

Yang shook her head, returning to her spot and watching Pyrrha work. “Not yet. I don’t think she’ll go to Atlas, not after the horror stories she’s heard from Winter about how much of a jackass Ironwood turned out to be.” Pyrrha hummed in response, both shivering at remembering the disgraced General. “I’m kinda hoping she’ll take after me and go to Beacon, but Winter reckons that she’ll try for Haven.”

“Well, if she does go for Beacon, I promise I’ll keep an eye on her...and embarrass her now and again in front of any crushes.” She winked, causing both of them to laugh as Pyrrha whisked together the hot cocoa. “Could you grab me some mugs?”

“Hmmm!” Yang nodded, opening up the higher cupboard where they stored the cups and mugs, pulling down six mugs and placing them on the counter. “How is the teaching gig at Beacon going? Missing your kids from Patch?”

“It’s going quite well! And though I do miss teaching the younger kids, I still get to help coach and guide the new generation. Besides, their faces when they realise that ‘The Pride of Mistral’ will be teaching them combat is always hilarious.”

Yang nodded, a smile spreading across her face. “How many dumb teenage crushes?”

“Oh, Ruby reckons the entirety of the first and second years. I, of course, think she’s over-exaggerating as usual.” She paused, glancing at the questioning glare Yang was sending her way before smirking. “I think that at least half the second year has moved on to each other by that point.” Both of them shared a laugh as the drinks were poured, each of them taking three mugs and moving into the living room. “I have cocoa!”

A series of cheers filled the room. Ruby had started up a log fire in the fireplace, and now she and Zackary were sitting on the hearth, tending to the flame. Both took their mugs from Pyrrha with a smile, the taller woman leaning down to share a kiss with her Fiance. Zise meanwhile had been playing with a much older and very tired Zwei, and let him sleep on her lap as she sipped from her mug. Zephyr had found herself a spot to nestle against the window, reading through different brochures for the four academies, though the one for Atlas was pushed further away. Taking her mug from Yang with a smile, she looked out the window, squinting against the snowfall. “Hey, Mom? I think I see Mother’s car coming up the path.”

Yang squinted her eyes as well, a giant smile growing on her face. “I think you’re right, hun. I’m going to go out and meet her, help bring the presents in. Keep my mug warm.”

Zephyr took the second mug from her mother, a confused look on her face as she looked to the others. “How am I meant to do that, put it in the fire?” The others looked back, before shrugging and resuming what they were doing. Sighing, she sipped from her mug again and looked out the window again. Watching as her Mom waved down the car, helping guide it closer to the house, she couldn’t help but smile. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but it wasn’t long until the engine was turned off and the driver’s door opened, Winter stepping out to swoop Yang into a loving embrace. She made a mocking grossed out sound as they kissed, though it was only to herself. What was a surprise to her though was when the passenger doors opened up, causing her to sit up straighter, and gasp. “By the Maidens!”

“What’s that’s Zeph?” Zise looked up at her older sister, but she was already rushing out the house, brochures and mug left behind. The others looked at each other confused, Pyrrha moving to look outside the window, smile growing.

“Well, looks like it’s a night of surprises.” She laughed, drinking her cocoa as she watched Zephyr sprint across the snow, tackling her Aunt Weiss into the snow piles, ignoring the Schnee scion’s screeching. “Kids, your Aunt Weiss and Blake are here too.” Both of them gasped, getting up from their seats, much to Zwei’s annoyance, and rushed out. Blake had just managed to help Weiss and Zephyr back onto their feet before all three were tackled back into the snow again. Yang provided no assistance, doubled over laughing, while Winter just shook her head and moved to open the trunk of the car, though the tell-tale smirk on her face could not be hidden.

#rwby #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #ruby x pyrrha #milk and cookies #Blake Belladonna #weiss schnee #monochrome #yang xiao long #winter schnee #elderburn #winter/yang #elderburn babies

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #335

“on my forehead, a birthmark / remove it with the kiss of a knife / even if it causes me to die”

Do you recover well from surgery? Judging by the two surgeries I've had, oh yeah. I was hyper as hell when I came home from getting tubes put in my ears as a little kid, even though the doctor said I'd be very sleepy. Then, after my cyst removal, I was put on very strong painkillers but was still warned it was going to be a painful recovery, when it totally wasn't. I literally only took painkillers the first day. What addictions have you had? Caffeine, technology. Would you change your name if you became famous? Nah. If Cupid were real, would you hire him to make someone love you? No. I don't want somebody forced to love me. Ever been to an auction? No. Which word(s) do you generally use to describe someone attractive? (e.g. “fit”, “sexy”) It kinda varies with gender. Women I tend to call "beautiful" or "gorgeous," sometimes "hot" or "cute," while men I usually refer to as "handsome" or "hot"/"sexy." The last person you kissed - are they older or younger than you? She's a bit younger. When was the last time someone wanted you to do something, and you refused? Hm. I dunno. I have a hard time saying "no," so. When was the last time you had Pop Tarts? What flavour were they? Many months ago; I kinda stopped eating them because they're truly not filling and just a load of sugar that veils itself as an actual breakfast choice. But anyway, I liked the chocolate sundae ones. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. Did you ever play Spyro? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those games were my CHILDHOOD, and it's half the reason I'm dying for a PS4 to play the remastered trilogy. Speaking of which, it'd be awesome if they remade the The Legend of Spyro trilogy as well. I might just like those games more than the originals, but that's a bold statement I'm unsure about. Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? I dated a Hispanic guy for less than a day. Have you ever read any of your idols’ books/autobiographies? Ozzy Osbourne's, yes. I'm just fucking waiting for Mark to write one, but he's always said he has so little interest in writing about his life. DO IT, YOU FUCK. Do you own any succulents? No. I think they're pretty, though. Do you have a drone? No. What’s your favorite Netflix series? *shrug* What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Summertime. The heat, the humidity (at least here), the sunburn from just standing outside for ten minutes... I hate all of it. The ONLY two things I enjoy about summer is swimming and then flowers, though spring is the more floral season here anyway. Do you have revenge fantasies that you never actually play out? They've... happened. Did your first real significant other change you at all? Pretty sure forever. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Once upon a time, that was the plan. Now, nah. I'd just want to be in a healthy, stable, and long-term relationship. What do you think about divorce? It's sad, but necessary for some people in order to be happy, which everyone has the right to be. I used to be very firmly against divorce except in extreme cases like abuse, etc., and I'm still definitely no fan of it and think couples should do their best to work things out, but it's incredibly unfair to believe that someone should be stuck for the rest of their life with a person they just don't love anymore. Getting married can be a mistake; don't damn people forever to be chained to their bad decisions. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? What was the reason? It was probably when Dad just abandoned us. What's the worst prank someone has ever done to you? I don't think anyone's ever pulled a sick joke on me. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Yes; my little sister deadass tried to walk outside late at night. Thank God I was on the computer in the living room and stopped her. What song are you listening to right now? I just turned "Mutter" by Rammstein on. When is the last time you cursed? I'm not re-reading, but I have probably cursed fifty times in this survey already. It's so deeply ingrained into my vocabulary. Are there any words on your shirt? No; it's just a plain gray tank top. Why do you forward forwards? I never do because they annoy the fuck out of me. How many people are you interested in at the moment? Just one in a healthy and logical way. I can't be truly interested in Jason because like come on I haven't spoken to him in four whole years. My PTSD just ensures I never forget the memory of who he was, who probably no longer even exists. I mean, look how much I'VE changed in four years. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nnnnope. Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Apart from family, I have no idea. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Venus never does, but Roman can get on my nerves sometimes when I don't let him lay on me when I'm on the laptop in bed. He's a large cat (not overweight, just a big male cat) and blocks the screen big time unless he lies down properly, which he doesn't always do. He still tends to win when he tries to come over, but sometimes I'll block him with my arm, and this spoiled brat will actually slap it a few times before walking away lmao. Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Absolutely a pool. I want one badly. Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Especially lately, I don't get nearly enough. Like at the time I'm answering this question, it's 4 AM, and I've been up for almost a couple hours. I struggle with falling asleep, I will ALWAYS wake up at least once in the night, and I jerk awake from nightmares regularly still. It's a big reason why I pretty much require naps. Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We only have an attic. Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? No. I'm way too timid of a driver to get that outwardly pissy about stupid people. I'd just judge them in silence, haha. What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? Because of just how common they are, I'm going to assume this excludes birds, in which case it was probably a squirrel? Yeah, the normal brown ones are common. Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Since I was fucking stupid enough to post a suicide note on Facebook (I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about "attention seeking," I genuinely wanted to say goodbye), I almost never, ever, share things about my personal life. Even before, it was rare for me to actually share what's going on with me. All I really do now is share relatable, wholesome, or funny shit I find, as well as political things I'm in firm agreement with. What are some habits you have in common with your parents? I pace like my dad, and it drives people crazy because it apparently makes them anxious? I can't think of an obvious one I have with Mom, but I'm sure one exists. Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? I feel safest and most clean in a pool, but c'mon, swimming in the ocean is so much fun. When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? It depends on the book, it seems. Especially if someone else owns it, like in school or something. Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? My legs always hurt. I've shared enough as to why; it wasn't an actual, singular "incident." What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? OH MY FUCKING GOD. So in group therapy the other day, one of the girls had her bearded dragon out, and he was being aggressive. I think he tried to bite her aND SHE SAID WITHOUT REALIZING HER MIC WAS ON, "fucking dickhead," and everyone d i e d. She's a really cool chick, I'll miss her when I'm finished with PHP. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, surprisingly enough. I barely ever sing. Do you bite your lips a lot? Yes, especially when they're dry. .-. What part of your body would you never get pierced? Anyone who gets a piercing "down there" has a greater pain tolerance than this bitch right here. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? Juan had quite a few. I don't remember if Tyler did... but I think maybe a The Legend of Zelda-related one? Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? No; I love dogs. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Man, idk, I'm a little bitch when it comes to emotional movies. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is high up there, as is of course Johnny Got His Gun. Old Yeller, too. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Sara's gonna write a fuckin book series ok you can't convince me otherwise. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? Damn dude, what an ungrateful question. I'm just appreciative someone even thought TO give me something. Do you shave your arms? My armpits, yes, but not my arms themselves. How many people have you dated? I only count three as even remotely serious: Jason, Sara, and Girt. Have you ever performed in a play? I remember back in Sunday school as a tiny kid I played Mother Mary in one we did in class. Do you chew gum? I have been more lately since my doc upped the dosage of one of my mood stabilizers (which I think is actually helping); I mention that because apparently a side effect is dry mouth, and it's the fucking Sahara in there. He advises those who deal with it to always carry around hard candy or something like that for the sake of forcing salivation, so gum works for me. How old were you when you first started dating? I was in the 7th grade when I had my first "boyfriend," but it was total puppydog love. I started dating my first "real" bf when I was just shy of 16. Are/were your parents strict? Dad, no. Mom, only to a degree that I feel was pretty reasonable. She only ever wanted to prepare us to be functional, independent adults. Didn't work so well on me though, ha... Do you wear glasses? Yes. God, I need new ones. I'm blind as hell. What do you miss most about your childhood? Being so outgoing and happy to just be weird lil me. Do you write “To-Do” lists? Not really, no, but I do have notes on my phone about a couple things, like a bulleted list of planned monetary investments by importance, as well as a list of drawing ideas. Do you have a favorite quote? What is it? I don't, really. There's loads I like, but no one favorite. Could you survive as a vegetarian? I pretty desperately want to, but I don't know if it's realistic. I am so, SO picky, and without meat, it's very questionable as to where I'd get an adequate source of protein. I still want to try again though once I'm at my goal weight. Has anyone ever asked you for your autograph? Lol no. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah, but that was a looong time ago when I was actually some semblance of pretty. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? I used to be someone who firmly stood by nighttime showers, but now I'm all about them in the morning. It's a nice way to wake up and start the day with productivity. Could you handle living with a male roommate? I mean, I lived with my then-boyfriend once, but I'm going to assume you'd consider him more than a "roommate." We lived with our two other friends, though, also a couple, and I was totally fine with living with them. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yes. Do you like Freddy Krueger? His concept is very scary, but all the movies I've seen bits of have always been super cheesy. Which do you prefer, Naruto or One Piece? I haven't seen either and really aren't interested. What do you think of Rob Zombie? I've never really watched his movies, but I'm a fan of his music. What’s you fetish? I don't have one. Have you ever been in the “friend zone?" Well, what I'd call a "fake" one with Jason after the breakup until I was blocked on Facebook. I know now he absolutely did not want to be friends; he was trying to appease me. Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? Definitely conservative. Do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? Yeah, me. Were either of your parents baptized? I'm certain Mom was, but idk about Dad. I think so. The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? No. What was the last computer game that you played? World of Warcraft. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. Are any rooms in your house themed? No. What was the last thing that you recorded? I think Mom and I singing "happy birthday" to my late dog Teddy; we knew it would be his last. Do you like the show Futurama? Not really. Have you ever been in a choir class? I was in the elementary school chorus, as well as the choir at my childhood church. Are you ashamed of any of your family members? No, only myself. Were you a chubby child? No. Did you ever have senior photos done? No, even though I wanted them. Who is the person you dislike the most? God, this is so petty... but it's the girl Jason dated after me. I know it's childish as hell to feel like she "took" him from me, and I just feel this horrible hatred towards her that is entirely uncalled for. I just can't get myself to move past it. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, as I'm unemployed and also don't have disability, so I literally can't. How do you usually celebrate New Years? I really don't do much. Sometimes Mom will grab a pack of daiquiris, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? N/A What was the last job interview you went to? At a local grocery store to work in the deli. Got the job, lasted there for not even two hours. :^) Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Autism and mood disorders, yes. I myself may have high-functioning Asperger's (yes, I know that term doesn't technically exist anymore, it's just the umbrella term of "autism," but w/e). Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? My grandmother died of pancreatic cancer, and it's pretty much guaranteed that, unless there's some sudden accident, my mom will die of cancer, too. Hers got too bad to entirely eliminate every trace of cancer cells, so it will inevitably re-emerge at some point, just obviously some place else given that she had a total hysterectomy. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? Office. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? I enjoy all of those, but sour I think tops the list.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''mutter'' by rammstein

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Height discourse confuses me so much, because I, a 4'9 21-year-old Asian perceives anyone taller as tall. But reading international posts saying 5'6 is small makes me double-take, like, "Wut?"

LOL, ahh yes, the infamous “How Tall IS Dick Grayson Actually” discourse. I feel you. And I can definitely see how it would be bemusing as hell given your perspective, lmao.

And I mean, its definitely up there on the list of “Things I Can’t Believe There’s Actually Discourse About” buuuuuut I’m not really judging because I know damn well there’s a fuckton of shit I’ve Discoursed about on pretty much everyone else’s “Things I Can’t Believe There’s Actually Discourse About” list.

*Shrugs* But I also do get why it exists, if you scratch beneath the surface - as is often true of a lot of seemingly inane discourses. Its not really about height so much as it is about the why’s of writers specifying certain heights for him, and stereotypes associated with height.

On the one hand, you’ve got the fans who look at writers who make a point of writing Dick as particularly short, or the shortest of the Batfam once all of them are adults, and think: this is because of fandom’s fixation with writing Dick as effeminate or the least ‘manly’ of the Batfam, and thus I dislike it and do not trust this writer’s take on him.

Then on the other hand, you have the fans who look at objections like this and think: this is because of bullshit fostered by the toxic masculinity and sexism that’s so present in society, even women can be guilty of perpetuating the idea that there’s anything TO object about there, that a man being effeminate or less ‘manly’ than his brothers is some kind of insult or slight against him in the first place.

But then go back to the first hand.....

And on the one hand, of those fans, you’ve got the fans that don’t actually think there’s anything insulting about a man being effeminate or less manly themselves, but given that the bullshit fostered by the toxic masculinity and sexism in society is so everpresent, even women can be guilty of perpetuating the idea that ‘shorter = weaker’ etc, etc.......its not him being written as short that’s objectionable to them, its what they believe the writer is implying by making that distinction that they’re objecting to, like that it reads to them as though its being used as a smokescreen to create associations in readers’ minds, with the idea of him being weaker or softer or whatever the fuck compared to his brothers, without those writers actually having to SAY what they’re getting at there and spell it out. Plausible deniability kinda thing.

And then on the other hand, you have those fans who object to writing Dick as short because they actually DO buy into that bullshit and they ARE simply objecting to the idea itself because of toxic masculinity and sexism and etc etc.

But then go back to the original second hand.....

And on the one hand THERE, you have the fans whose responses to people objecting about writing Dick as short are based on exactly what they say they are......pointing out that its only objectionable if its viewed as insulting and the only reasons its viewed as insulting are toxic masculinity and sexism which they’re calling out as being perpetuated here.

And on the other hand there, you have those fans who DO buy into the associations between ‘shorter = weaker’ and actually ARE writing things that way with the intent of hoping to form that association in the minds of any readers who similarly buy into those lines of thought or are susceptible to it......and are simply using ‘arent you the REAL misogynist here for thinking shorter equals more feminine which equals weaker or frail or whatever’ arguments that are simply typical flipping the script tactics and hiding behind buzzwords they don’t actually believe in themselves but know are effective in getting people to back down, etc, etc. The plausible deniability thing.

And I’ve been out of hands here for awhile now, obviously, but you get what I mean. Round and round and round it goes, with the true point always hidden juuuuuuust beneath the surface, and more than a little tedious to have all unpacked and catalogued like here, which is a major factor in why so many people rarely dig beneath the surface of a seemingly inane discourse to get at what people are REALLY arguing about but nobody wants to ‘lose ground on’ by being the first to admit to.

As for me, again, this really isn’t a dicourse that I spend much time on because I’d rather cut straight to the point of an argument in general, and this isn’t an discourse that’s particularly amenable to people doing that, obviously.

And also, I honestly just don’t care that much. LOL. Yeah, I often read works where Dick is singled out as being distinctively shorter and feel an author is trying to ‘imply’ something and its the implications of that which are the source of any ‘Not Good, Scoob’ feelings rather than because I agree with what’s trying to be implied. But y’know......when an author IS playing that game and they actually do buy into toxic and sexist stereotypes.....I mean, there’s literally always other indications of this in their work, giving them away all over the place. So there’s honestly never really a time when his height itself is actually what that hinges upon, y’know?

So my big takeaway from all of this is: headcanon and write Dick as whatever damn height you feel like and if you want to imply something about him just fucking say it directly and if you want to accuse someone of something just fucking call it out directly.

*points to the above unpacking of this particular discourse and how fucking tedious and unnecessary so much of it is and all just because people won’t just say what they actually came to say or lay claim to what they actually said*

ANYWAY.

Personally, regardless of how Dick is written in a fic, I will always headcanon him as somewhere between 5′10″ and 6′1″ for reasons that are entirely irrelevant and meaningless to anyone but me, pretty much. LOL.

In my head, Dick obviously has to be that height because he’s walked a runway as a model before. That’s it. That’s the whole reason my mind automatically goes to that span when picturing him or reading something about him.

(As most people who have followed me for a bit know, I spent a number of years working in the TV industry. There were a couple years there where I did a little bit of print modeling too, nothing major at all, but enough to know that the fashion industry has a Very Definitive Thing about male runway models and height: If you are a male runway model, you are between 5′10″ and 6′1″. If you are not between 5′10″ and 6′1″, you are not a male runway model and you never will be. Its a Thing. And not one the industry is shy about.

Because of the fact that the fashion industry is mostly centered around women models with name recognition, and very few men who model have star power specifically in terms of modeling, rather than because of crossover/overlap with acting, there’s a major difference in how designers tend to approach designing for models. Most designers designing runway looks for women do so with specific models already in mind. Most designers designing runway looks for men do so without specific models in mind because there simply aren’t enough male models with the kind of branding/name recognition that does a designer any good.

So designers literally JUST design runway looks for men in that height range, and anyone outside that range would require tailoring that could feasibly throw off an entire runway look. So they just don’t do it, to the point that an agent or manager sending them someone outside that height range to consider for a job means that agent’s not getting called back, because they just gave themselves away as a clear amateur by not knowing better.

Of course, keep in mind that my experiences with modeling are based on the industry re: ten years ago, so it could be that things have changed in this regard since. But that was the status quo then.)

So yeah. Dick Grayson walked a runway for Cheyenne Freemont, thus in my mind he’s obviously between 5′10″ and 6′1″ lolol, because any up and coming designer trying to make a name for herself would absolutely know better than to send out someone shorter than that and still think anyone in the industry would take her seriously.

LOL. I told you it was inane. But in my defense, plenty of people headcanon that Dick HAS to be small because he’s a gymnast, and uh.....that is not how that works. Anyone can be an amazing gymnast, its just that smaller body types lend themselves to gymnastics better than bigger, bulkier bodies. And thus the competition oriented gymnastics SPORT heavily favors cultivating and training gymnasts on the smaller side, because coaches and endorsers are looking for literally any advantage possible.

(Being shorter means you have a lower center of gravity which is a help when balancing, or stabilizing yourself. Its easier for a shorter gymnast to keep their balance or to stick a landing. But it doesn’t become impossible just because someone’s hit six feet tall. It HELPS to be shorter. It doesn’t determine whether or not you can do a trick at all, much like being short and having a lower center of gravity by no means GUARANTEES you have good balance.)

And of course, though Dick excels at a ton of gymnastics, he is not and never has been a gymnast per se....he’s an acrobat. From a family of acrobats. Who have been doing this as a family business generationally, thus.....why would they have future height requirements when training their son in the family business? And being from a family of acrobats doesn’t ensure you’re going to be short, if your family members are not already short to begin with. Evolution does not give a fuck about future employment opportunities when selecting which gene sequences to flip on while in utero.

The correlation is ‘most gymnasts who excel at gymnastics feats are small,’ not ‘to excel at gymastic feats, you must be small.’

I am absolutely and completely just rambling now and have been for awhile so I’m gonna go beat up my insomnia until it caves and lets me go the fuck to sleep.

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reyesstrand · 4 years

Text

froze by desire

i’ve had some requests for a sequel to this prompt fill, and i couldn’t resist so here we are! thank you to everyone that’s shown some interest in seeing a continuation to this story. also available on ao3!

There’s a clap of thunder, and TK startles awake.

Images of his dream-turned-nightmare flash before his eyes, as he tries to burrow back under his covers and forget. He thinks of Carlos, in some undisclosed location, and how his subconscious keeps betraying him by making up the worst scenarios and attacking him whenever he’s asleep. He dreams of Carlos getting injured, Carlos getting ambushed, Carlos getting shot — and the worst part of it all is that TK gets extremely limited contact with him, and has no real idea about what his undercover operation entails.

TK groans into his pillow and flips to his other side, before ending up flat on his back. He tries to stay quiet, because the others are fast asleep in the bunks on either side of him, as he reaches over and grabs his phone. TK feels a little bit of comfort at the sight of his phone background — a brilliantly happy Carlos, eyes closed and laughing as Buttercup tries to lick his cheek — but his heart still falls when he finds no new messages from his boyfriend. He knows he shouldn’t expect anything, but it’s been exactly six months and a week today. He misses Carlos, and he’s trying to stay positive, but it’s still rough.

Thankfully, sleep takes over once more, and a few hours later the whole team is roughly woken up by the sirens going off. Buttercup trods behind them as they rush out of the sleeping quarters, though he eventually winds up curling up on the floor near one of the couches as they disperse to pull on their gear. Middle-of-the-night fires always bring out some tension amongst the crew, as it’s impossible to know exactly what they’re getting into, how many people they might have to evacuate — the list goes on, and Owen preps them for the possibility of rescue and medical assistance until EMS meets them at the scene.

They end up at a house fire, nothing they haven’t all experienced a hundred times, and TK and Marjan hang back to check vitals and tend to minor injuries while Judd and Paul are sent into the house after clearing it for structural stability. TK’s eyes drift to the police cruiser on scene — the same one Carlos would typically use, now occupied with his partner and her new rookie — and it sends a pang of longing through his core. Afterwards, once the flames have been distinguished and police have taken over, and once Michelle and her team gets the family properly checked over, Owen signals for them to head out as the sun lifts over the horizon.

TK just feels like he sort of floats through his days, now, and he tries not to let his worry get the best of him. But as Paul starts making his famous breakfast hash when they get back to the station, TK slips away toward the gym, where he blasts music in his ears and tries to work out his stress. He can’t hide for long, though; soon enough, Judd’s strolling in and gesturing for him to take his ear buds out.

“Judd, I’m really not in the mood, man,” TK says, a little winded as he drops down from the pull-up bar. He stares at the water bottle that the older man is holding out for him to take, until he eventually huffs a little and accepts it, taking a long swig. As he drinks, he lifts his brows at Judd.

“You need to come eat,” Judd lifts a hand when TK immediately opens his mouth to protest. “You’ve gotta take care of yourself, little bro.”

As he says the words, his muscles burn with over exertion. TK bites on the inside of his cheek. “I’m fine.”

It sounds strained and obviously false, even to his own ears. TK stares hard at the ground and Judd steps closer, clapping a hand down on his shoulder, still careful with how much pressure he uses as the gunshot scar still reminds them all of what happened almost a year ago.

“Listen, I know I don’t know the whole story, none of us do,” Judd says, reminding TK all at once that besides his dad, they hadn’t told the team really anything about Carlos’ departure — just that he’d be gone for a while for work. TK trusts them all like they’re family because they are, in more ways than one, but it’s not his place to disclose that information, and it tears him up a little everyday because letting more people in on the truth might alleviate some of the constant stress he feels twisting up in his stomach. “But we hate seeing you like this. So you’re coming down and eating breakfast even if I gotta drag you.”

TK smiles a little at Judd’s stubbornness. “Alright, I’m coming. And thank you, by the way.”

“We’re brothers, right?” Judd says, as if it’s an explanation in and of itself, and he tosses him a towel before they both head downstairs. As he comes into the dining room, he offers a quiet apology to the rest of the crew, and they all make a point of cornering him and hugging him until he can barely breathe.

* * *

They’re running drills when it happens.

It’s been another few days and Carlos has finally sent him an update, claiming that there was a light at the end of the tunnel — there had been weeks where it felt like his operation would never end, and now TK doesn’t know what to do with himself now knowing that his boyfriend will be home in a matter of hours.

He’s trying to stay occupied; he has days where he’s a little more jittery than usual, itching for something to do, and his anxiety in waiting to see Carlos again only has him constantly keeping himself busy. TK follows Mateo’s instructions to help him with his own method of deep-cleaning the rig, and he works out with Marjan, and now his dad’s got them running training drills with the hoses when a car honks from where it pulls up in front of the station. And TK knows that Camaro.

“What are you waiting for, lover boy?” Marjan asks, cocking a brow at him as she offers him a warm smile. TK proceeds to very elegantly drop the coiled hose from his shoulder so it lands with a thump on the ground, and starts moving toward the car and past his teammates as Carlos, in the flesh, starts walking toward him.

TK doesn't care about the state he's in — he just runs until he knocks into Carlos, already deciding in his mind to never let him go.

He doesn’t care about the eyes on them and the fact that he’s still in his gear. TK slings his right arm around Carlos’ neck and feels every weight that’s been holding him down for the past six and a half months float away as Carlos secures his own arms around him.

“Holy shit,” TK murmurs, and he ends up repeating himself as he speaks into Carlos’ neck. Then he pulls back, and looks his boyfriend in his eyes. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought we were meeting up at your place later.”

“I couldn't wait. I had to come see you,” Carlos admits, and TK rapidly looks over his face and sees more tiredness evident in his eyes, but otherwise he looks safe and unharmed. “I handed over my files and I was granted a week off and now I’m here.”

TK grins, not even questioning how open he is with his emotions around Carlos and how terrified that would make him a year ago, and surges forward to kiss his boyfriend. He feels a hand gently caress the back of his head and TK presses closer, trying to make up for so much time in one kiss.

He does remember that his dad isn’t too far behind him, though. So is his whole family. Carlos seems to be aware of that too because he pulls back first, though he knocks their foreheads together and takes a deep breath.

“Hi,” Carlos says, now that the initial shock has worn off, voice quiet and adorable and TK’s heart lurches.

“Hi,” is all that TK can manage to say back, finding himself completely fucking smitten. “I missed you.”

His voice cracks and Carlos pulls him back in for a hug, both of them holding each other as tight as they can. Carlos murmurs I missed you, too into his ear, voice sounding thick with emotion.

“Are you okay?” TK asks, a little unnerved now that he’s letting himself overthink all that Carlos has gone through.

“Perfectly fine,” Carlos ensures him, words mumbled right into his skin. “I mean, it was all shitty in general. But I’m good, I swear.”

TK pulls out of the hug just enough to look at the other man incredulously. Carlos smiles that brilliant smile of his and some of TK’s worry ebbs. A little.

“I’m serious, Ty, I’m okay,” Carlos whispers. “I told you I’d be coming back to you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah, you big softie,” TK smiles a little as he speaks, and he finally feels ready to step back so the rest of the team can say hi — but he keeps an arm curled around his boyfriend’s waist. Before they reach the others, TK meets Carlos' eyes again and nudges his shoulder against the other man’s. “I love you, you know.”

Carlos' eyes soften even more, if that's possible. "I love you, too."

"I should also prepare you for the shit they're about to give us but," TK pauses, pressing himself closer against his boyfriend's side. "But I feel like nothing could faze me right now."

"I was thinking the same thing," Carlos says, nodding toward where Michelle is now chatting with Owen, watching the two of them approach with a devilish smile counterbalanced with a fond gaze. "We've got each other though."

TK smiles at the words, reaching down to take Carlos' hand and thread their fingers together. As they suddenly become surrounded by their friends, it feels like an anchor that keeps him grounded — one that he doesn't ever want to let go of.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #my fic #one shot collection

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 4 years

Text

Chapter 49: Assembling and Dissembling

Becoming The Mask

Bold italics are trollish.

+=+

There were, Barbara learned, two possible meanings for the word 'troll', depending on the context.

A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore, Volume 1 of 47 sat open on the table, along with a dictionary, and a sheet of paper where Jim had written out the trollish alphabet and the phonetic equivalent of each letter's sound in English.

Blinky had offered to teach Barbara to read trollish, so they could set up a book swap. He was intrigued by her medical textbooks. She was keen to learn more about this strange magical world she had found herself tied to. Jim had volunteered to teach Barbara instead, since living together would make it easier to work lessons around Barbara's unfixed schedule.

Trolls had a mostly phonetic alphabet. They didn't seem to use capitalization, but did have accents that appeared around certain words to indicate significance. Jim and Barbara had gotten onto this tangent when she noticed 'troll' was written in two different ways.

There was 'troll' meaning 'a person, a member of the species', which was the kind of troll meant by Jim's title 'Troll-Who-Is-The-Hunter'.

And then there was 'troll', usually prefixed by a tribe name, which meant 'member of the tribe'.

"The pronunciation is the same for both," said Jim. "The second one is probably what most trolls mean when they say Changelings aren't trolls, since we've been disowned and the Gumm-Gumms don't acknowledge us as full tribe members. Up till we get a Familiar we can't exactly pass as being a different species."

"Disowned?" Barbara repeated. No one had mentioned that part when she'd asked where Changelings came from.

(It might explain what Jim had said about not having a name before getting a Familiar, though, if trollish disowning involved stripping the person of their entire name rather than just the family name.)

Jim made an uncertain noise and wiggled his hand. "Sort of disowned, sort of presumed dead. Basically, after we're taken and altered, we can't go back to our first families even if we do find out who they were."

… What?

"I'm going to need you explain all of that. Starting with the –" god, which bit to even start with? "– with the 'taken' part."

"Okay?"

Jim shrugged and turned in his chair to face her more directly.

"So, Gumm-Gumms used to raid other troll communities, and sometimes they would take babies who would then be adopted into the tribe and raised as Gumm-Gumms. That sort of thing's happened with humans, too, right? And after the Gumm-Gumms allied with Pale Lady, they started giving some of those whelps to her, and she'd turn us into Changelings and swear us back into Gumm-Gumm service."

"Who's the Pale Lady? And why babies?" What was it with trolls and stealing babies?!

"Our Creator. You don't just get Changelings naturally; you have to turn a troll into one. It's safer the younger we are but it's still really hard. She's the only one powerful enough to do it."

Jim sighed.

"She disappeared centuries ago. There probably aren't going to be anymore Changelings after my generation."

That didn't exactly sound like a bad thing, from Barbara's perspective. No more kidnapped children, magically mutated to a point where members of their own species hesitated to acknowledge them as being the same species, kidnapping and stealing the faces and lives of other children in order to blend in …

"Anyway," Jim continued, "after a raid, any parents who'd lost their kids would declare them dead, since the Gumm-Gumms were too strong to launch a rescue mission against, and 'my whelp is dead' was easier emotionally – you know, for closure – than dealing with, 'if I ever see my whelp again, it will be as an enemy'. Since we're not old enough to remember our first families clearly, we can't track them down later, and since we're enemy agents by that point, it isn't safe to try."

He hooked an arm over his chair's backrest, which was beside him with the way he was sitting.

"I mean, that doesn't stop everybody, but those stories all end badly."

Barbara felt her breathing get faster and shallower. Oh no. Oh no. Had she – she had – no wonder Jim hesitated to call her 'Mom' anymore – pushing him away like she did must've stomped right on that sense of rejection, that fear of a parent seeing him as an enemy.

"We're getting way off-topic, though," said Jim.

His tone had stayed light and casual the entire time. He turned back to the table and the book and the page of notes.

"So, when 'troll' is spelled with this accent, you can infer that the word right before it is a tribe name, but the tribe names can also appear on their own. They all seem to have this same accent by the first rune," pointing to it. "At first, I thought it translated as a Significant Capital Letter, and it probably does, but it only seems to be used in this context, so it probably means 'this is the name of a tribe'."

+=+

AAARRRGGHH tapped the wall of the tunnel leading into Vendel's workshop, a hollowed-out space just within the Heartstone.

He tried to smile reassuringly at the younglings he and Blinky escorting. Mary and Toby smiled back. Claire and Darci tried, but their smiles looked as strained as AAARRRGGHH's felt. Jim was looking the other way, keeping AAARRRGGHH and Blinky and the humans in his peripheral vision while he watched for anyone else approaching where they were.

"Enter."

Darci had her arms crossed over the book the younglings had been writing, with stories about their families. AAARRRGGHH and Blinky had read it already. AAARRRGGHH didn't think it would sway Vendel on letting more humans know trolls existed, but the humans wanted to try anyway.

AAARRRGGHH was ready to physically carry all five of them back out again if they started pushing Trollmarket's Elder too hard, before Vendel could outright ban further discussion of the matter.

(They didn't have the other Changeling with them this time, so if it came to that point, AAARRRGGHH would be able to put Jim on his shoulders with the rest. Jim seemed protective of his fellow Changelings, so AAARRRGGHH had figured last time that Jim would be more comfortable being carried where he could keep an eye on – Enrique? Not Enrique? – and ensure the smaller one was being well-treated, and AAARRRGGHH didn't think he couldn't keep that strange canopied rolling chair secure on his back.)

Vendel was standing in front of his favourite chair, with a drink and a book on the armrest. Uh-oh. This might not be the best time to start asking favours.

"This is – about – what we asked before," said Mary. "About telling our families where we go, and who we see, here."

"I am still against it," said Vendel flatly.

"We hoping – we hope you will be more – more open to think about it," said Toby, "if you know more about our families. To know they can be trusted. Trusting?"

"Trusted," said Blinky. "You had it right the first time."

The humans would also have to be trusting, to accept that their whelps were safe among trolls, but AAARRRGGHH didn't think this was the right time to say, 'both work'.

"So we made a book," said Darci, holding it out, "with family stories. For you to read. To know them without meeting."

Vendel made no move to take the book.

"It's in trollish," said Claire.

There was another awkward pause.

Claire took the book from Darci and put it on Vendel's workbench.

"Will you read it?" she pressed.

"If I agree to read your book," said Vendel slowly, looking at each youngling in turn, "and once I do, I still refuse to expose trollkind to additional humans, you will accept my decision and cease to push this issue."

It was not so much an offer as a declaration.

AAARRRGGHH probably should've scouted out what Vendel was doing in advance, or something. Or maybe Blinky should've officially set up a meeting. Or AAARRRGGHH should've pulled them all out of there as soon as he realized they were intruding on Vendel's rare leisure time and so Vendel was going into the conversation already irritated.

The humans exchanged looks between themselves. He couldn't read most human expressions easily. AAARRRGGHH could recognize 'distress' from sheer exposure, and there was some of that, but there was something else mixed in as well.

"We accept your terms," said Claire and Darci, not quite overlapping. Claire continued. "If you give our reasoning full consideration and still find it lacking, we will not keep asking for permission."

Vendel picked up the book. "Then I will read it."

"So, to be clear," said Jim, after they left the Heartstone, "when he says 'no', you're just going to tell them without permission."

"Yeah," said Mary easily. Blinky spluttered.

"Just making sure we're all on the same page." Jim's jaw was tense. The lines on his armour pulsed closer to blue than silver. AAARRRGGHH wanted to reach over and pat his back, but Daylight hung there, and AAARRRGGHH had no desire to burn his hand on the magical sword.

Moving slow, so the Changeling could see him coming, AAARRRGGHH nudged Jim's side. Jim veered away.

+=+

"And Jim, stop by my office after school, please," Mr Strickler had said when class ended that morning. It was now afternoon, and Jim was dutifully reporting in.

Stricklander opened his pen to reveal the hidden key, and opened the partition between the mundane and magical sides of his office.

"How does that not mess up everything on your shelves?" Jim asked, gesturing to where the wall had slid away, to be hidden inside a hollow wall on a different story.

"It moves smoothly, and most of my curios have wide bases. I also added a few stability enchantments when I set everything up, in case of earthquakes, and those take care of the rest … Ask Dr Lake if she'd like some around the house, along with those security spells on the tunnel."

Stricklander opened the front panel of a box with an ornate, glowing crystal on the lid. He murmured while stroking the air around the crystal. Jim might have thought it was an incantation to unlock to box if he didn't recognize the crystal as an antramonstrum shell.

"I'm with Nomura," Jim said when Stricklander stopped chanting. "That seems like a risky thing to have in a school."

"It's well-behaved and well-contained," said Stricklander. "And it's not why you're here. You're here for this."

He held a blue stone, faintly glowing, with a colder light than the Amulet gave off. It was shaped like a pyramid with spikes near the point. Jim accepted the crystal and looked at the pyramid's base.

It had a pupil. Hazy, but there. Jim gasped and closed his hand around it. Stricklander did say he had access to …

"The Eye?"

"His Eye."

"It's … still living stone." Definitely not a sphere; were trolls' eyes not eyeballs or was the shape distorted from how it had been cut out of his face? "Can he still see out of it?"

"That would take very specific enchantments, which would need to be planned and cast before the eye was removed."

"… Have you ever done that?"

"No."

Jim stole a tissue from the box on Stricklander's desk to wrap the crystal, got his pencil case out of his sweatshirt's stomach pocket, and zipped Gunmar's Eye inside.

"I'm going to be out of town for a short while," said Stricklander. "The school is under the impression a distant relative of mine has passed on and I'm needed for the reading of the will and so on; nothing so time sensitive I couldn't arrange lesson plans for the substitute, but also something that might drag on unexpectedly."

To a more experienced agent, this might sound condescending, but Jim appreciated when Stricklander explained the reasoning behind his chosen cover stories. It gave Jim a better understanding of how to craft his own.

"The Janus Order will be answerable to Jennifer Smith in my absence. She'll likely continue the lockdown of the main base. I expect to return within two weeks … hopefully having acquired something else of use."

Maybe he has a lead on the Birthstone, Jim thought hopefully.

+=+

The Trollhunter came to Vendel's workroom alone the following night.

"Vendel, Elder of Trollmarket," he greeted.

Vendel braced himself; the last time the Trollhunter had used that stilted, formal tone, Vendel had been presented with a severed head, and the boy seemed honestly surprised not to be praised for such … Gumm-Gumm-ish behaviour.

Vendel had done his best to accommodate him later – it was an important victory, after all – and ensure the rest of Trollmarket would not panic over what their Trollhunter had done.

"I have the first of the Triumbric Stones, the Eye of Gunmar."

At least he had it wrapped in some kind of satchel this time, rather than flaunting the severed body part.

"Blinky said you would know what to do with it."

Vendel considered this. It was a few decades early in the Trollhunter's training, but it would be apropos. He went to a shelf and retrieved a black leather box, which he placed on his worktable.

"The Triumbric Stones, once gathered, must be cleaved. Humans cleave stones to unlock their beauty. I presume you already have some concept of cleaving stones to unlock their power."

"How you groom the Heartstone for healthy growth," said Jim. "Or the body, symbolically." He touched his own arm, indicating where one of Vendel's carvings encircled his bicep. Or did the Changeling have a carving there, too, in his troll form? "Or the body, literally, when a troll is transgender. Glug told us about King Quag. Or like when a troll is made a Changeling."

Vendel scowled at that – that obscene, blasphemous comparison to a sacred skill – but held his tongue.

"I guess that one is more like metamorphosis," Jim added, more quietly. Vendel took it as a peace offering.

"There are exponentially more elements than the humans have yet discovered. Their properties account for much of how magic works. Merlin's Amulet is a relic of unfathomable power. It is said, when he forged it, he made it malleable, so that each Trollhunter could combat dangers that even its creator could not foresee. I have, under my guardianship, a few remaining stones that Trollhunters past have used to unlock their potential."

Vendel opened the box. Jim leaned in, eyes wide and gleaming in the reflected light from the crystals.

"Stones that will grant nimbleness," the Aequati Stone, used by Araknak the Agile to traverse any obstacle;"a glimpse into your enemy's mind," the Omniscien Stone, used by Deya the Deliverer to stop Merlin from being so damned cryptic all the time, according to what she'd told Vendel's father Rundle after returning from her quest to punch the wizard in the face;"even the power to walk in daylight."

"Wait, why isn't that one in the Amulet always?" Jim asked.

"The Umbra Stone is particularly temperamental and difficult to wield. Most Trollhunters do not have time to learn it."

"Shouldn't that one be first priority?"

"The Trollhunter is rarely aboveground during the day." The current one was, but he was an outlier to the pattern in every other respect as well.

"And when they are, they die. Kanjigar might still be alive if he'd had this stone with him." Jim looked away from the stones and up at Vendel. "Give me the Umbra Stone. I will make it part of the Amulet forever. No future Trollhunter will be killed by sunlight then."

Vendel closed the box.

"You should learn to properly cleave a stone before you start altering the Amulet. You do not need the Umbra Stone. Show me the Eye."

Jim glared. For a moment Vendel thought the boy would grab the box and try to steal the Umbra Stone from it, though he'd have to guess which one it was. Instead, Jim opened the satchel he still held, and extracted the Eye of Gunmar from its soft white wrapping. Some of the wrapping tore on the crystal's sharp protrusions.

Vendel put the box away, pretending he didn't notice the Changeling obviously making mental note of where he kept it. He led Jim over to his grindstone and picked up a stone about the size of the Eye with a set of tongs.

"You should be in troll form for this. The subtleties will be easier to observe."

Nothing he had read in human books suggested they had an understanding or interest in stone shaping for purposes other than aesthetics or building construction. Also, Vendel had some idea how squishy humans were – he'd feel less unnerved by a troll standing so close to the grindstone, where chips could fly.

Jim went rigid as stone without actually transforming.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Vendel rolled his eyes. "Would you prefer to have Blinkous or Aarghaumont present as a chaperone?"

"It's not that I expect you would hurt me," though, from the way he was inching back, he obviously hadn't ruled it out either, "it's more, what if someone else comes in and sees?"

"Without your armour, there would be nothing to see. Trollmarket is highly populated and popular. I doubt you look so unusual that you stand out to a casual glance." Blending in was part of what the Changelings had been designed for, after all. "It would not be the first time I demonstrated proper cleaving techniques to a visiting student."

Jim instead closed the faceplate of his helmet and turned his head to the entrance of Vendel's workroom. The entire suit of armour flashed blue as he did, responding to its wearer's distress.

… No, Vendel realised a moment later, when Jim physically pulled the Amulet from his chest to dismiss the armour. That blue flash had been the Changeling's transformation.

He looked so young.

Too young, in fact – the Battle of Killahead had been just over 400 years ago, and the whelp standing before Vendel now couldn't be even 200 yet –

"How old are you?"

"What? Probably a bit less than 450, why?"

Jim's brow ridges crinkled adorably – a Changeling should not be cute, but whelps were without trying – and then he made a sound of realization.

"Oh – oh, the age distortion. You've never met a 'young Changeling', have you? This is how old my Familiar would be if we never swapped, not how old I am. I'll start aging like a troll again once I hit human adulthood. Or catch up to the age I would've been without the age pause. We don't exactly have ways of testing those theories."

"… This is how young your human friends are, then."

"16 for a human is about 240 for a troll if I've done the math right."

He hadn't – he looked about half that age – although maybe humans had a delayed puberty? That didn't make much sense, for creatures so short lived, but it could happen. If they hit puberty in their second century instead of it marking their first – or, the equivalent thereof – that would at least make Vendel feel better about how ridiculously young the Trollhunter looked, a child should never have been even considered by the Amulet –

"… Should I switch back?" Jim asked, in English. He was wearing a human-like style of clothing, too, Vendel noted, as he started to get over the initial shock and take in more of the boy's appearance.

"No," Vendel decided. He picked the sample stone back up, having dropped it from his tongs when he'd been startled. "This is important for your education and your duties. Watch closely."

Jim was attentive, asking intelligent questions about how Vendel decided which planes to smooth and which angles to cut. Despite the boy's illusion of youth, Vendel felt confident allowing Jim to cleave the Eye himself.

(Stones always worked best for the one who cleaved them, no matter how well they worked for anyone else.)

When the shaping was done, Jim opened the back of the Amulet to insert the new stone, and Vendel saw another stone already in it. He thought for a moment that Jim had stolen the Umbra Stone already.

"What is that?"

"Uh … Remember when you let me bring a Heartstone piece to Draal? When I got it home, I noticed this tiny piece had chipped off. I didn't think he would miss it. I read in one of Blinky's books about Trollhunters putting stones in the Amulet and wanted to try. It lets me summon a knife." Blatantly trying to distract Vendel, Jim asked, "What do you think the Eye will do?"

"It's impossible to know for sure. Properly cut gemstones work in ways one can never predict – only discover."

"There must be patterns. Mineral type? Crystal lattice structure? Colour, age … nutrition?"

"The trollish classification of stones is rather more complex than the human one," said Vendel. "Minute differences in composition or the environment in which the stone develops can result in vast differences between two crystals of the same size and overall type. It is astronomically rare for stones to be identical."

Jim turned into a human again before he summoned his armour.

"I'm going to train and unlock the potential of the Eye. I will be back for the Umbra Stone."

Vendel watched him go, and slowly opened the book the human whelps had given him.

If they were really that young, no wonder they wanted their parents.

Honestly, it was a wonder their parents hadn't wondered where their whelps were wandering off to and beaten down the market door already.

If Vendel wanted to head off a human invasion, he needed to know who he'd be dealing with.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Heartstone pieces? In the Janus Order base? It’s more likely than you think)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Various characters grapple with insecurity for various reasons)

So, how about that latest Tales of Arcadia news, eh? Wizards release date, August 7th? Exciting! I'm not expecting it to change much of what's planned for this fic, but I said that about Season 3 and about 3Below, too.

I do know some stuff expected to come up which I want to know for other stories but also plan to ignore for this one: when exactly the Battle of Killahead Bridge took place, when Deya trapped Gunmar in the Darklands.

In this fic, as Vendel says, that happened 400-odd years before the main storyline, in the late 1500s, shortly before the trolls stowed away on the Mayflower in 1620. (And after Angor Rot got his soul ripped out by Morgana in 1297, because why would he need to protect his people from Gunmar if Gunmar was already trapped in the Darklands, huh, novel spin-offs?!)

This was a number I came up with back when I thought trolls only lived 1500-1600 years, based on tweet from Guillermo del Toro; and that Blinky was around 600 years old, as opposed to just having actively studied humans for that amount of time, based on that line about the human dances he's witnessed; and that Draal, obviously younger than Blinky, was either a whelp during the Battle of Killahead Bridge or not born until afterwards (rather than fighting in the battle) and that was a factor in why Kanjigar didn't want him involved in Trollhunting, because Draal was part of the first generation to grow up 'in peace'; and likewise Bular was a whelp during that battle, which was why he was the only Gumm-Gumm not trapped in the Darklands, or he was born after and sent to the surface by Fetch because he was the only one small enough, and either way he was basically raised by the Janus Order; and that trolls had an approximate 15:1 ratio with humans for age, based on the line about bowel control.

However, I have altered troll aging rates a little, based on the idea of Blinky participating in the Battle of Killahead. If he's 600-ish in 2016, that would make him only 200-ish in the late 1500s/early 1600s – which would also, proportionately, be the same age or younger than the humans are. (16x15=240)

So, how to have Vendel be scandalized at how young Jim is when a troll that age is apparently fit for combat? Shuffle the stages of development.

I decided, in this universe, trolls reach their full size a century or so before they actually become adults. So, a mid-adolescent troll would actually be 120, translating in human terms to be about 8 years old – still a child rather than a 'young adult'.

In other lore, I made up the names for the Aequati Stone and the Umbra Stone, based on mangled Latin for 'balancing' and 'shade' respectively. The Omniscein Stone, and Deya going on a quest to punch Merlin for being cryptic, came from the spin-off comic The Felled. 'Omnisceinstone' was all one word in the comic but that doesn't fit the pattern set up by the Aspectus Stone, the only one named on-screen in the show.

#Changeling Jim #Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Becoming The Mask chapters #fanfiction #Dr Barbara Lake #Vendel #AAARRRGGHH #Mary Wang #Darci Scott #Tobias Domzalski #Claire Nuñez #Blinkous Galadrigal #Walter Strickler #My Fanfiction #Monday is fanfic day!

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