#but doesn't trust his memory

[flamingpudding]

Modern (Fenton) Ghost Hunting Part 1

Ties to: Post from under 'It started with a Ouija Board' found in the Masterpost

A/N: I got a little stuck with this and there is another bigger fanfic project I started working on that has me distracted. But I wanted to post at least part of this before I might end up in radio silence for three weeks cause I am visiting family out of country and have no idea about internet access there yet 😅

Danny was in a good mood as he slurped the ecto-shake his mom had made upon his return from the Zone. It was one of the more harmless and ghost helping food inventions his parents had come up with, once the truth was out of the bag when he was more or less forced to take on his kingly duties. Though his mom's ecto-fudge special (that was also one of the few ectoplasm infused foods not coming back to life) made for only him and Ellie was even better than the shakes. It wasn't better than their special family recipes their Dad loved so much but it came a close second.

He sipped on it more as he fell back into the couch as he flicked through some TV channels. His last trip to Gotham had been a month ago and he mused that he probably would need to visit soon to update Lady Gotham on the status of the Garbage Disposal Leaks. It was a pain to deal with but hey at least he, for once, got to be the mean guy to yell at the observants how they could have left these alone for over a hundred of years.

Seriously? If he could, he would stick Sam and one of her righteous rants onto them too.

So yea Danny was in a good mood he had gotten rid of another leak which only left a couple more to take care of and then put the observants into their place with another petty with hidden insults filled and Sam inspired as well as co-authored lecture.

He would give Lady Gotham a present for giving him such a great opportunity with this problem, even if that wasn't her intention. There was also a rumor in the GZ that Box Ghost and Walker had gotten beat up by Lady Gotham several times while he was busy, he would like to hear what that was about.

In all this Danny completely forgot about his encounter with the vigilantes and that his parents told him about a new business partner that was interested in their Fenton Ghost Tech that wasn't weaponry but focused on co-existence, like the Fenton (blob-)ghost feeder.

So when the doorbell rang and Danny went to open the door, thinking it might be one of his friends. He nearly choked on his ecto-shake as he came face to face with a person he only knew from paparazzi shots or Tucker's endless rants about their technology.

"Hello, I am Tim Drake-Wayne! I believe I have an appointment with the Drs Fentons? I am not too early am I?"

-------

Red Robin was on his wits end. After the first success he had used various more 'modern' summonings in hopes of getting their ghost to show up again. But most of them ended with the same white ghost or only one other ghost claiming their name as Box Ghost to appear. Strangely when they did appear, after about a minute after their appearance an invisible force started to attack them to which these ghosts instantly turned tail and 'unsummoned' themselves. They didn't even give Red Robin the chance to ask anything.

In the end after the third time of summoning that white ghost called Walker, the ghost peeked out from that portal once and the moment they spotted him sunk back into it. Not even bothering to tell him about any rules RR might have broken. Since then none of his summons appeared to work anymore.

Though the vigilante at least concluded that whatever had attacked their teenage ghost most likely was also the driving force behind Walker or any other ghost refusing to answer his summonings. He had suspicions that might have something to do with Lady Gotham, the teenage ghost mentioned and had been unable to summon at all.

Of course Red Robin couldn't leave it like that so he dug deeper into the whole ghost cult thing and came across published research papers. Apparently the ghost cult wasn't just an occult but also a science, that he highly doubted was real. The deeper he dug the more concerned he became, for one that ectoplasm they mentioned looked awfully a lot like Lazarus Water, and second the research from the Drs Fenton he found was awfully a lot biased until a year or so ago when they suddenly invalidated all their previous research and published a nearly completely different thesis.

Though the teenage vigilante had to admit everything they offered on their website looked a whole lot more modern and right out of a SyFy movie than any of the tools he had already purchased, from a ghost Wikipedia (which surprisingly included information about Walker and that Box Ghost), to protective gear, to feeders and ectoplasm infusers.

So after a small recon with his siblings and listening to their disagreement and another rant from their youngest about Pit Demons, Red Robin made the decision to check these Drs Fenton out undercover. And who better to do that than Tim Drake-Wayne, CoCEO of Wayne Enterprise who got interested in their ectoplasm-powered gadgets designed for co-existing. After all Gotham might just be as hunted if not more with the crime rate they had.

His siblings were not happy, he knew that but he took the earliest chance he had, to take a private plane to Amity Park and made an appointment with the Fentons on a saturday afternoon.

He made sure to smile pleasantly as the son of the Drs Fentons opened the door and took his time staring. Before finally inviting him in after a shout from the Drs. resounded somewhere behind him in the house. Tim of course eyed the glowing green shake the other teenager was drinking, already forming plans on getting a sample of it the first chance he got.

"Mr. Drake! Such a pleasure to have you here! You have already met my little boy Danny, my husband will join us later he got hold up by my daughters. But we do have a couple of inventions prepared for showcasing, we could also go over some of the theories first if you prefer until my husband can join us.." A woman came up shaking his hand and the teenager, Danny, stepped away from them retreating further away but staying in earshot, Tim noted.

"Dr. Fenton, thank you for having me. I am looking forward to learning about this ecto-energy and your Fenton-inventions, I believe one was called an Ecto-Infuser?" Did he imagine it or did that boy cringe? Also the boy was clearly watching him, he tried to appear nonchalant but the way the other teen's eyes followed Tims every move as well as the guarded look in his eyes was making it obvious.

"The Ecto-Dejecto, originally designed to weaken ghosts but is now one of the many medical tools that can help a ghost survive if they do not have a steady supply of ectoplasm." Dr. Fenton easily explained while leading him over to the seating area.

"Danny be a dear and bring our guest something to drink. Coffee or Tea?"

"Coffee would be fine." Not like he would actually drink it. As much as he and his siblings made fun of Bruce's paranoia, he was not about to drink coffee offered by people who research ghosts. Besides, looking around, he wasn't sure how well they followed OSHA and he wasn't about to potentially drink a coffee infused with Lazarus Water. If that ectoplasm was Lazarus water. But he would take it with him as one of many samples.

"Sure things mom. Should I bring out the fudge too?"

Tim's ear twitched and he turned ever so slightly in the direction of the son. No it couldn't be, could it?

"Oh please be so kind."

"Will be right back."

Now Tim wished he had forced at least one of his siblings along. Because if his ears didn't betray him then this teenager had the same voice like the ghost kid. Though his memory could be slightly impaired because of the time frame since he had last heard it. He would need to get a voice recording now too and play it to his siblings.

[pyramus-the-poet]

A favorite trope of mine is when characters just trauma dump in the middle of mundane conversations. And I’ve seen quite a few people characterize Jason this way, where he’d hide the fact that he was in the League or All-Caste from the other Bats because either: 

1. He’s a really private person and doesn’t want to open up to anyone, especially the Bats

2. He compartmentalizes a lot of it, so he genuinely forgets it even happened

3. He keeps it in his back pocket until the perfect time to bring it up to do the most damage to whoever he’s talking to

And although I enjoy all three of these, I’ve always had sort of a different view on things so hear me out for a moment.

Jason Todd a boy that would tell his Mom everything. He’d tell her about the characters in a new book he’d read that day at the library, or he’d complain about how much of the gross cologne Mr. Davis wore, hell, he’d tell her about a brick he saw on his way to school laying on the sidewalk that was kinda shaped funny.

Little Jason Todd could ramble on for hours and hours about everything or absolutely nothing. He was a natural conversationalist (which he used very much to his advantage when he was hungry, on the streets, haggling the store clerk for a bag of chips). He could strike up a conversation with the introverted 90-year-old widow down the block or the excited 8-year-old he met at the library who only spoke in broken English. 

He would tell everyone he spoke to out in Crime Alley little anecdotes about himself that would later be the only crumbs of his life that would be remembered when he moved into Bristol to live with Bruce Wayne. (And would be the only proof of his existence when his death in Ethiopia was covered up)

But Jason hardened from losing his Dad cause of a stupid job gone wrong, slowly over the course of a year, having to watch and accept that he was losing his Ma too, and then being left alone to fend for himself.

He wasn’t used to talking anymore. 

He missed talking to someone who would listen so badly.

But then he was living with Bruce Wayne, the aloof, billionaire, playboy by day and the savage, fearless caped crusader by night.

When Jason finally got comfortable, he did ramble. 

He told Bruce all about school and homework and the new book he found in the Manor.

He told Batman about the new move he learned watching Selina and the guy who was so drunk he thought he was The Batman and tried to help Robin out during patrol.

But that was all he’d let himself talk about.

He would never let himself waver from safe subjects. Whenever he felt like Bruce was trying to (awkwardly) start an emotional, heartfelt conversation, or Batman was trying to pry more information about Robin to update his file, he’d subtly steer the conversation to safer topics.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to talk about the heavy stuff but because he couldn’t.

Bruce didn’t hide how unsure he was with taking Jason in as well as he thought he did. Sure, he had raised Dick just fine but Dick was also a much easier kid to deal with and Bruce related to the pain Dick had lived through in a way he couldn’t with Jason. The Todds weren’t some picturesque family that lived in the spotlight and were torn apart in a flash. Willis Todd was a petty criminal who was desperate to put food on the table and was in over his head. Catherine Todd died slowly; her arms and legs were failing her, and the under-the-counter pills she took from a friend of a friend to help ease the pain were dragging her to an early grave. 

Batman didn’t hide how unsure he was as well as he thought he did, either. The second Robin wasn’t raised doing flips through the air and freeing himself from ropes under a timer in the circus. He needed more training and more time and more money put into him. Batman made his distrust clear every time he’d bark at Robin to be more careful while dealing with crooks on patrol when the sidekick had hardly managed to get a punch in.

Bruce Wayne needed a son who he could show off at galas and captivate a crowd with his good looks and award-winning smile. (Not Jason, whose hair was so poorly cared for for years that it still sat half-dead and frizzy. The boy that knocked his tooth out cleaning out Ms. Coleman's gutters and it grew back in crooked.)

Batman needed a Robin he could rely on to watch his back, a Robin that was unafraid, a Robin that he didn’t need to baby and rush into battle to save all the time.

If Jason told Bruce what he’d gone through living on the streets, he’d realize how broken Jason was and send him off to one of those foster homes for troubled kids.

If Robin told Batman that he was still afraid of the dark or about the time he pushed Auntie Sofia’s abusive drunk boyfriend down the stairs, he wouldn’t want him anymore.

And now years later, after waking up in his grave and coming back wrong—coming back broken—it’s instinctual not to open up to Bruce.

Especially when Bruce still sits in that damn cave in front of that fucking memorial case and mourns the son and sidekick he’d lost. The son who is standing right infront of him and is only a phone call away. The sidekick who still patrols the streets of Gotham only five minutes away from Batman’s usual patrol route.

But Jason knows why he mourns that fifteen year old version of himself because some days—on those really bad days—Jason mourns him too. 

Jason mourns the kid he could’ve been, the kid he was supposed to be, and he mourns the father he’ll never have again.

Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne will never talk about it.

And neither do Red Hood and Batman.

[loumandforyou]

okay but Armand's "She wanted to say yes... but she didn't trust you. You hadn't given her a reason to" and Assad Zaman's "(Armand) is flawed in his need and desire for love. Does he know what love is? Does he know how to receive it? Would he recognize it, if he received love?"

do you see what I see

[keen-eye]

fallen idols is so disheartening because it could've been the turning point for sam and dean's relationship. it's right after the end where 2014 dean tells 2009 dean to do things differently because he drove sam away and everything went to shit. and then in fallen idols, the very next episode, dean continues to treat sam the same way (to bobby about the apocalypse: "yeah well we all know whose fault that is"), although sam does tell dean that they have to do things differently because "before" is why things went wrong between them in the first place. dean still doesn't get it but he eventually comes around and admits that he also had a part to play in starting the apocalypse and that he should let sam grow up so that they can be equal partners. but the problem is that you could remove this episode entirely because the rest of the season isn't affected by it at all, except the last episode. and it's because dean couldn't let sammy go. dean deeply loved sam, but his love and concern were laced with mistrust and disrespect because he blamed sam for taking sammy away from him all those times while dean wasn't watching over him. and dean's conditional love is evident throughout the entire series.

if all of this + the fact that it's the 'paris hilton/gandhi beats up sam' episode doesn't sum up supernatural then i don't know what does

[gingermintpepper]

hi I love your tags so so much! they were so sweet and so interesting and creative and the whole Aphrodite type of beauty thing sounds really interesting do you have any articles and recommendations to read further into it??

-hogoflight

Hello my fine feathered (I am assuming possession of feathers if you are, indeed, capable of flight) @hogoflight! I'm always always happy to hear that people appreciate my frenzied rambling in the tags :D! I have a lot of articles and recommendations :D!! Ancient Greek notions of beauty and representations of it in their art and sculptures is a pretty well studied topic! There isn't any way for us now to know definitively what the beauty standard was (it varied widely from region to region and culture to culture after all) but here are a couple of my favourite reads about Aphrodite and what her representations tell us about idealised beauty!

Probably the most empirically extensive one I can list is Krönström's thesis which compares statues of Aphrodite and literary text referring to both the goddess and mortal women to determine physical ideals for women in five specific eras of Grecian antiquity. Including measurements of the statues there are many descriptions of Aphrodite as 'curvy' with a 'voluptuous figure' and with 'ample buttocks and bosom'.

"When the beauty traits are described in the texts, they are never extreme or anything that could not be found in normal people just that they are more beautiful in every aspect. Furthermore, the sculptures’ physical forms look healthy, they are tall and have distinct curves. Great examples of this are the Knida sculpture and de Milo (the Melian) sculpture."

Of course, these images are still idealised, and there was still a concept such as 'too fat' or 'too skinny' found in written records (and this thesis even includes analysis of pornographic writings and descriptions of the fashion and stylings of pubic hair of women from different regions!!) but from an interpretational standpoint? There is absolutely no reason why these can't refer to a fuller figure. Height was also a very important factor after all and over the course of many eras, it seems like being well proportioned in addition to the length and appearance of one's hair were the most important factors (and, like Apollo, greater beauty was given to those with curlier hair)

Mireille M. Lee's 'Other Ways of Seeing' essay which talks about the forgotten female viewers of Knidian Aphrodite which is also extremely illuminating on how Aphroditic sexuality and sensuality was perceived totally differently from the well documented male voyeuristic gaze (which was overly preoccupied with the statue's nakedness and therefore over-sensationalised the statue's physical appearance) vs women's perspective on the statue which is more centered on the beauty of simplicity in Aphrodite's garment and decoration and in her power and ability to captivate both in her finery and without it. I think it's especially useful in exploring the importance of finery, jewellry and adornment in representations of Aphroditic beauty.

"Some of the small-scale copies are heavily jeweled, especially those from the eastern Mediterranean, for example the Hellenistic gilded terracotta statuette in the Çanakkale Museum (Fig. 5) in which the goddess wears, in addition to the armband on her (right) arm, the following: a necklace with multiple pendants; cross-bands extending over both shoulders and hips, with a cascading pendant in the center; a coiled snake armband on the left arm and another snake on her left thigh, and a twisted anklet on her right leg. (The left leg has been restored, and might also have featured an anklet.)"

"Jewelry is especially associated with Aphrodite in Greek literature. As seen above, in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, the goddess adorns herself with gold jewelry, dress-pins, and earrings in the shape of flowers (162–3)..."

Finally, and to me, the most important one in the argument for an interpretation of Hyacinthus as fat, beautiful and fundamentally Aphroditic comes from Brilmayer's brilliant brilliant thesis done on Aphrodite's work and influence in Archaic Greek Poetry which does away with all of that masculine preoccupation with physical proportion, measurement and bodily ideals for a focus on a Sapphic Aphroditic ideal centered in clothing, ornamentation and, most importantly cunning as symbols of Aphrodite and ultimately a feminine idealised form of beauty. This paper also discusses Pandora and Helen in these terms and it is just kind of a wonderful read tbh.

"Combining Homeric and Hesiodic elements with her own ideas, she [Sappho] alters the way female beauty is viewed. For example, the Homeric war chariot – a symbol of male, military prowess - comes to symbolise the totality of Aphrodite’s power uniting in itself male and female qualities. Having addressed the concept of beauty directly, Sappho then concludes that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. With the help of Helen of Troy and her beloved Anaktoria, Sappho sets out to reinvent the concept of female beauty as a godlike, subjective quality that may be expressed in many ways, yet remains inspired by Aphrodite."

The conclusion to all of this of course is that Aphroditic ideal beauty is much more fluid compared to its stricter Apolline masculine standard. The nuances and understandings of both are of course, constantly being studied, analysed and scrutinised but really, if Dionysus who was both bearded and clean shorn, effeminate, birthed and rebirthed (and twice gestated!) and strongly associated with vegetation can be popularly portrayed as fat and handsome, why can't Hyacinthus?!

[collectorcookie]

hello i offer you romarriche princess carrying merold. have a good day.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hemisi hugged herself worriedly as her parents approached her. Ganondorf wasn't entirely sure what was bothering his daughter - things had been tense since the attack, but he had just ensured peace by swearing fealty to Rauru. This was supposed to be a moment of reprieve, a time for his family to not worry as he prepared for the future.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Nabooru asked before he could.

"I haven't found Link," Hemisi said, her voice anxious. "I've been looking everywhere for him. The guards won't really tell me much."

Ganondorf fel this ire rise. The guards likely were trying to protect Link, but they had no right to refuse information to the princess of the Gerudo. Such a slight would not be ignored. Not to mention he too wanted to know where the boy was.

"Leave this to me," he said crisply, walking away.

It didn't take much time (or threatening glares) to get what he needed. Link, apparently, was on a place called Thunderhead Island, one of the Zonai lands in the sky.

"Thunderhead Island?" Nabooru repeated after Ganondorf reported back. "We'd need a construct to get us up there, right?"

"Yeah," Hemisi answered. "Link's told me about the islands lots of times. Not many are allowed on them - it's usually just the royal family and the Sheikah."

"They'll allow me," Ganondorf rumbled, crossing his arms. "I am a king."

"Yes, but that island is also fairly volatile," Nabooru argued. "I'm better with lightning magic. I should go."

Personally, Ganondorf was far more inclined to go retrieve the boy himself, but he didn't contest the matter. Nabooru seemed rather set on the issue, and some things weren't worth arguing with her. As much as he admired her determination, he also knew she would fight him for so long that Hemisi would probably just sneak off to do the deed herself, and neither parent wanted that. The girl's abilities with lightning were formidable, but she would likely cause trouble if she went alone.

"Very well," he conceded. "We'll be waiting down here."

Nodding, Nabooru grabbed a cloak and headed towards the nearest construct. At activated at her approach, acknowledging in a mechanically musical chime, "May I help you?"

"I need to get to Thunderhead Island," Nabooru said.

The construct's reply was quick as ever. "That place is restricted."

"I am the queen of the Gerudo," Nabooru replied. "I have special access."

The construct paused a moment, processing, before noting, "I will need authorization for you to go there."

"This is an emergency," Nabooru argued. "You can speak to King Rauru about it afterwards if you please, I don't care, but one of my family is up there and I need to find him."

Although the construct was programmed to gate keep, she also knew giving a sense of urgency or danger would override its usual algorithm. Predictably, the construct questioned, "Is someone in danger?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

The Zonai machine was silent for a moment before giving an admission. "This line of logic is acceptable. I will transport you to Thunderhead Island and report the matter to King Rauru."

"You do that," she sighed. It didn't really matter of Rauru knew. Nabooru wasn't exactly keen on causing a stir within hours of Ganondorf swearing his loyalty, especially given their history, but something Hemisi's anxiety and Link's very obvious disappearance was definitely concerning. Considering the ceremony that had just happened and the celebration that had followed, Link should have been one of the first people they saw.

The construct extended its hand in front of a stone circle, and the familiar green hue of Zonai technology activated, glowing in the circle's center. Nabooru stepped forward, letting it transport her, closing her eyes as her world shifted. The air grew much colder, even more frigid than she was expecting, and she suddenly felt a little short of breath. Goddess, she'd thought the Highlands were chilly. Why was the air so much stranger here? She was shocked into opening her eyes as her cloak was immediately bombarded by a wave of rain, thunder rumbling all around her. A circular fountain of water was in front of her, surrounded by stone architecture. She walked forward, off the platform on the ground that had received her. She needed to set to work soon, already feeling a little lightheaded.

A few steps ahead it became apparent that this island wasn't just an island, but an entire chain of them. Nabooru glanced around hesitantly, looking for some kind of Zonai device to help transport her from place to place, and found none. What was Link doing here? Where was he?

Nabooru looked between pillars, on and under benches, until she'd thoroughly searched the island she was on and the few she could see. But a flash of blonde caught her attention just as she was starting to wonder if Ganondorf had been wrong, and she squinted against the rainfall to see a teenager sitting on the ground, knees tucked into his chest, wearing the attire of the palace guards combined with a headdress and Gerudo earrings gifted to him by his betrothed.

Clamping her jaw shut against the tremors that tried to make her teeth chatter, Nabooru wrapped herself more tightly in her cloak, she found a set of stairs that at least connected to this little island, moving quickly down them. Link, for whatever reason, chose to sit outside a small building, ignoring a construct nearby that was tending to a tree. The boy was soaked to the bone, red skin paint that usually adorned his exposed arm having long been washed away from his tan complexion. His red eyes were dull, hidden under platinum blonde plaits plastered to his forehead. The sparkling splendor of the Gerudo headband and earrings was dulled considerably, and his top knot was half undone in the rain.

"Link," Nabooru called a little loudly so she could be heard. "What are you doing out here?"

Link didn't seem to react all that much, or at least it wasn't apparent in this awful weather. But she heard him mutter, "You're not supposed to be here."

"Nor should you be here," Nabooru accused mildly, walking towards him. She paused short of reaching him, seeing him clam up even more. "News of our arrival has been known for at least a week. Yet on the day that Ganondorf creates peace between the Gerudo and Hyrule, you hide from us? Hemisi's been looking for you."

"Ganondorf attacked Hyrule." Link's words were sharp, dark. He was clearly still upset about the molduga assault.

Nabooru sighed. This really wasn't the place to be having this discussion - she was freezing and dizzy, and if he got any more soaked the boy would practically be a Zora. "Yes. He did. You know him, sweetheart. He likes to test his boundaries before he concedes to them. But he's conceded."

Link tucked his chin to his chest, looking away.

"Honey, the fight is over," Nabooru pressed on, stepping closer to him. "And for the first time, the Gerudo now have an alliance with Hyrule. We're a part of it - this would mean you and Hemisi don't have to hide your relationship from the public eye anymore, that there is nothing to hide anymore. This is a joyous occasion, not a reason to be moping in the rain. Come down with me so you can be with your family, love."

She finally cleared the distance between them, crouching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. Link glared moodily at the lands below, eye lashes dripping with moisture. Quietly, almost to himself, he said, "Ganondorf never concedes."

"Well, he did," Nabooru emphasized slowly. Link had not been included in the discussion of their attack on Hyrule, had been completely blindsided as Ganondorf had suggested he and Hemisi play and explore near the mines that day so they wouldn't be involved. Nabooru knew that as a member of the Sheikah tribe he would likely take it harder than most Hyrulians, but she hadn't expected quite the grudge he seemed to be holding. "Come on, love. You're freezing."

Lightning struck a small spire at the top of the building they were sitting near, making Nabooru straighten up and prepare for another strike. Thunder clapped so loudly it made her chest vibrate. Link sighed, slowly pushing to his feet. He must have been sitting for some time, swaying a little unsteadily, and Nabooru put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him inside the structure. Constructs were indoors, stoking a fire, and she approached one. "Can you take us back to the Royal Plateau?"

The little machine beeped in the affirmative, guiding them to a hover platform that sent them back to the originating island. Nabooru's hands were on Link's shoulders the entire time, feeling them tremble under her, and she pulled him close so they could share her cloak. His skin was ice cold, making her inhale sharply a little when he brushed against her exposed arms and abdomen. A headache was brewing in her forehead, and she was certainly ready to leave this dreary place.

When the pair teleported back, Ganondorf and Hemisi were there waiting for them.

"Link!" Hemisi exclaimed, rushing forward and dragging him into a hug. "You idiot, why are you soaking wet?! Where've you been?!"

"Hon, can you spare your robe?" Nabooru asked, still holding the boy to her.

Her husband complied without question, pulling off his dark outer robe and holding it out. The parents exchanged Link, one set of arms to the other, and the boy was wrapped up and held against Ganondorf quickly. He didn't argue, he didn't protest, he didn't speak as Hemisi bombarded him with questions. The king and queen exchanged a look, and the family moved towards their provided quarters in the palace.

Eventually, Link started to speak softly to his betrothed, seeming less agitated with her, and soon the two were both cuddling under Ganondorf's large garment. Nabooru moved to fetch servants so they could get him fresh clothes and some warm food, and Hemisi moved quickly to the task as well, saying she was going to grab towels.

That left Ganondorf and Link.

"So were you up there sulking the entire time since the assault?" Ganondorf finally said, getting to the point as he knelt down to the boy's eye level.

"No." Link's reply wasn't quite snappish, but it was certainly sharp, though not nearly as sharp as his eyes. Ganondorf smiled at the fire in them, the anger and force of will that refused to bow down to anything. "Just for your arrival."

"If you thought we wouldn't find you, you clearly don't know us as well as you should," Ganondorf noted with mild humor, pulling the robe over the boy's head to dry his hair. He carefully removed the pins and tie holding the top knot, tucking them into a pouch on his belt. Link didn't protest, though his gaze did drift to the floor, softening, showing the wound he'd been bearing in his heart. Ganondorf felt... more than a little exasperated, but he'd known the boy would be upset. Still... "Hold whatever grudge you wish against me, child, but do not share your ire with Hemisi. She didn't know about the attack. I suggested you two be near the mines that day for a reason."

Link sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

"The fighting is over," Ganondorf emphasized, putting weight in his voice to end this pointless adolescent moping. Then he smiled. "And now the world can know your place in our family."

The boy glanced up, hope shimmering in crimson orbs, tempered by an intelligence he often hid behind innocence and silence. "Why did you do it?"

"Why did I attack?"

"No. Why did you give up?"

"I don't give up," Ganondorf retorted a little irritatedly, pausing his ministrations.

"I know," Link immediately acknowledge firmly. "So why? You don't acknowledge defeat."

"Oh, Link," Ganondorf hummed with gentle amusement, proud of the boy's insight. He was going to make a good prince. But it would make the next months a little difficult if the king wasn't careful. "A strong warrior refuses to give up, but a wise one knows when he is defeated. I am both. It's pointless to fight a force you cannot win against."

Link still looked skeptical, confused. Ganondorf added, "How else could we build peace for you and Hemisi?"

His words seemed to catch the boy off guard. For a moment, Ganondorf really wondered if Link didn't actually think they cared, despite having spent over a year being welcomed into the family. For a moment, the king wondered if the boy really was that dull, or somehow he and his wife hadn't done something right. And then Link bit his lip, shivering, and hugged himself, clearly trying to contain emotion and not quite succeeding.

Ganondorf sighed, letting the boy be vulnerable for a moment. He pulled him close, and Link sank into the embrace, curled in against his chest.

Link would be a good prince. Ganondorf knew this. He just needed to hone the boy a little more, reassure him and teach him, let him enjoy his time with Hemisi. A war was brewing soon. It was best to enjoy this time while he could.

[tea-cat-arts]

I'm willing to at least hear out most of the "xyz plot point is heavily tied to abc cultural context" brands of posts but the "wwx isn't meant to be read as morally gray" and "the western fandom made up Sizhui being wangxian's son" brands of post make me feel like my cultural ignorance is being used to gaslight me

[kandicon]

*writes the same exact headcannons in slightly different scenarios over and over again*

[t-u-i-t-c]

"All you did was waste your immortality... And the lives of your comrades."

[glacialswordsman]

[the-cookie-of-doom]

At some point this afternoon, a knife-wielding child broke into the tower. He managed to subdue several guards by the time word got back to Kinn, who was - confused would be an understatement, in terms of how he felt about Chan's report.

"Who's kid is it?" he asks.

"We don't know, sir," Chan replies.

They're on the way to the child's last known location. Apparently he holed himself up in the residential wing, not far from Kinn's own rooms. Was this some kind of bizarre assassination attempt? That didn't make any sense. None of this made any sense.

When they reached the room, Kinn found it guarded by a host of bodyguards. Apparently they'd decided on a containment measure.

"He hasn't attempted to leave," reported one of the men. "He was demanding to see Khun Kinn, but it's been quiet for the last ten minutes, now."

"Are you sure he's still in there?" Chan asks, and the guard shifts, his guilty look an answer.

Kinn sighs.

"Alright, let's see the situation, then." He gestures for the door to be opened, and lets Chan enter first.

At first Kinn doesn't notice anyone in the room. It's empty; has probably been empty for years. Still, he waits for Chan to clear the room, a gun in his hands as he roots out every darkened corner where a feral child might be hiding.

They find him in the bedroom. Curled up on the ground between the bed and the wall, clutching his knees to his chest. He can't be more than twelve or thirteen. He looks sullen, and beneath that, scared. He looks like-

"... Kim?"

[riddlesnap]

In a bid to get him to try and sleep, Eliza has made has made him a Kraven family favorite. "Edward, I have something for you." The smell of honey wafts in the air. She's made warm milk flavored with honey. It's sure to put him right to sleep.

Edward stares at the mug of honeyed milk as though Eliza just presented him with an Inland Taipan, the vivid blues of his eyes suddenly cold and suspicious. He glances up at the redhead with a frown, studying her face with vicious intensity as though trying to discern some sign of trickery or deceit hiding in her gesture. "is that warm milk with honey? I don't have indigestion, Ms. Kraven." He frowns again, not liking having to play deliberately obtuse. It's not his style but neither is it when people are doing things for him unbidden, acting like they care. It's not something he's experienced much of throughout his life; people always wanted something, and now here Eliza was, being nice. People were only nice to him when they wanted something, he'd learned, and Edward didn't know if he had whatever it was she was after. Cold blue eyes raise again to meet her ones of verdant emerald, Edward's shoulders almost trembling as he tenses up, squaring off. "You've been uncommonly nice to me for a while now, Ms. Kraven. Something I find most unusual given that my behaviour hasn't been the most accepting. Enough of these games, though. What do you want from me?"

[orphiicheartd]

Honestly I will NEVER get over how fucken PERFECT Rook as a partner for Vil is like BR U H

[ibuprofinator]

larian did not know how to fucking write the emperor

[purplecyborgnewt]