#but like at least this time around she's functionally immortal and wants to never be around people again so it's a fitting job for her

[pillars-of-salt]

when she dropped out of high school aki assumed she would end up working on a satellite mining colony somewhere (always hiring, notoriously shitty working conditions, low entry barriers, basically any menial labor job but in space). then postcanon aki saint becomes a long-haul supply trucker for the martian satellite mining colonies so she was kind of right.

[theaceace]

In the same way that Morpheus creates dreams and nightmares to assist in his function, as life continues to flourish throughout the worlds, Death creates reapers to help her in her function

One of those reapers is Hob Gadling, former human, now technically dead but also kind of immortal while he's got this job, and honestly that's good enough for him. It's not bad work, if you can get it, yknow? He gets to travel! He meets all kinds of interesting people! He's already seen the horrors of plague and battlefields so not much really shocks him (or so he thinks, at first. He's wrong)

So he's still new to the job, he's getting the hang of it he thinks, but then the next soul he goes to help isn't anywhere he's been before. He knows it's the Dreaming - turns out you know a lot of things you didn't expect, once you're dead - but that's never happened to him before

Weird, but oh well. He's got a job to do, and he's going to do it

Death, meanwhile, has a twofold agenda. The first is that she's in a snit with Dream, and doesn't want to see him until they're both ready to, if not apologise, then at least move on from whatever is grinding both of their gears

The second is she wants Hob and Dream to meet, because it will either be catastrophic or the best thing to ever, but either way she will enjoy it very much

Of course, Dream is also in a proper mood with Death, so when this absurdly cheerful new Reaper shows up in the Dreaming to collect a soul, he has to turn up and make the poor guy's (after)life miserable. Hob, who is not a man predisposed to being made miserable (especially not by this beautiful being who may or may not be a concept of the universe personified and also his boss's brother, hard to be sure considering Dream tells him absolutely Nothing), is bright and breezy and the soul in question is much happier going with him than staying in the Dreaming with the very grumpy looking guy in black

Hob is, obviously, enamoured. He takes one look at Dream and is absolutely gone. If he didn't have a soul to guide right there he'd have been on his knees there and then, and he'd worry about the consequences never later. As it is he flirts a bit, grins a lot, and inadvertently insults both Dream and Dream's favourite sister

Dream is obsessed fuming. He isn't going to stop this upstart little reaper from doing his job - he respects Death and her purpose far too much for that - but he is going to turn up and make Hob's job very difficult every time he arrives in the Dreaming

(this is so much better than Death could have ever imagined)

They get into this habit for the next 600 or so years, Hob arrives to find Dream already lurking ominously with the soul, they talk a bit, Hob charms the soul and off they pop to the Sunless Lands - that is, until Hob dares to insinuate that maybe he knows Dream, and maybe Dream even sort of likes coming to see him. Maybe Hob could even come and visit the Dreaming when he hasn't been called there for work!

Honestly, after the tantrum Dream threw about that, Hob's very surprised to be sent to the Dreaming again. Death had been handling the souls there for quite a while now - but there's a world war on, Hob supposes. She probably too busy to go around scooping up the souls that die in the Dreaming

But when Hob arrives, the Dreaming is cold. Quiet. There's no sign of its contrary monarch, and it seems that the colours are all a little dull. Drained, somehow, and lacking vitality

Well, the world has been dreaming of war and pain and death for years, he reasons. That'd be enough to make anyplace a bit less pleasant. And Dream is probably busy, or just miserable with everything that's going on. No problem. Hob will just have to try to mend this bridge next time

Next time comes and next time goes, and still no Dream, and the Dreaming looks even worse. And again, and again, until Hob actually starts to get worried. It isn't until Lucienne - who he has never met, but knows a little bit by reputation - finds him and tells him that no one has seen Dream for years that he realises something may be very, very wrong

He goes to Death to ask her about it, but she only grimaces and says she's not allowed to interfere unless her brother calls for her. Hob thinks that's ridiculous, first of all, but also he isn't bound by these rules! Surely if she just gave him a hint, he could interfere with whatever is going on!

Death doesn't appear to agree, at the time - but then Hob is sent to collect a soul from the Waking for the first time since 1916. He arrives in the basement of Fawney Rig to find the raging soul of Roderick Burgess, a magic circle he can't cross, and Dream of the Endless watching him from a glass prison

The boss wouldn't have sent Hob here if she didn't want him to do something, he's pretty sure. Even if it means abandoning his duties, forcing his way into the Dreaming, leading a charge of dreams and nightmares and dead souls on Fawney Rig

(or maybe Death doesn't send him for Burgess - maybe he remains, in the crumbling realm of dreams, guiding souls and never quite managing to shake the fear that the next hand he will have to take is that of the Dream king himself)

Either way. Reaper Hob, who is still mostly indistinguishable from Human Hob. Who loves (the after)life. Who loves his friend, who just so happens to be the grumpy younger brother of his boss. Who, when the Dreaming is finally restored, simply can't stop himself from flinging himself at Dream

Reaper Hob

[disturbnot]

COMMON KNOWLEDGE - pretty much anyone who knows of ash likely knows at least one of the following:

currently thirty-seven years old. he was born on the 22nd of May 1986.

is on and off world champion for one of the few global leagues.

is half kantonian, half anahuan. he has dual citizenship for both the kanto and kalia regions.

long thought himself bisexual, but later came out again as gay at the age of 35 (celadon pride was jumping that year i tell you hwat).

has had many ace pokémon in his time - including charizard, sceptile, infernape, krookodile, etc. - but is hardly ever seen without raichu, his one true right-paw man.

has saved the world several times (although the deep extent of which is not broadly known - some events have been covered up entirely).

is also reasonably well-known for often being tangled up in scraps with team rocket, incidents both frivolous and deeply grave.

was alola's first champion back in the day.

"holy shit it's the omnicorp life insurance guy" .

is aura sensitive - this one is slightly lesser known, but the basic fact isn't really kept secret. the true extent of his aura-based gifts, however ... that's when people get tight-lipped.

is broadly considered to be a pokémon master, but ash himself doesn't claim this, has often stated his journey will never be over.

despite this, and all of these towering feats, in recent times he has bizarrely chosen to take up a regular job at pallet house, under his mother delia. he hasn't been particularly chatty to any reporters about why this is.

ash is related to the anahua region's equivalent of a champion, zaniyah. she is his paternal grandmother.

has a crappy twitch stream from time to time that betrays how utterly awful he is at most video games.

he didn't cope well with fame / the overwhelming burden of responsibility in his 20s. tabloid readers probably remember this fondly. ash does not.

probably has a lot of old flings from this aforementioned period of personal upheaval.

ash can communicate with pokémon pretty well. he claims this isn't by strictly translating or reading a pokémon's mind, but that he is somehow able to intuit meaning and feelings all the same. raichu goes 'chu chu chu' and in his head, ash hears everything his buddy is trying to say.

"of course i'm a functioning alcoholic, it came free with me being born a millennial".

tiktoks either unhinged or adorable shots of his pokémon.

DUBIOUS KNOWLEDGE / "CONSPIRACY THEORIES" - somewhat recognised knowledge, but may be misunderstood, covered up, or relegated to the realm of a conspiracy theory/parody:

ash is immortal / ash has super powers / ash has crazy aura powers / i heard that ash ketchum has an 8 pack that ash ketchum was shredded / chuck norris jokes just got a whole lot more annoying / etc.

he worked with professor larch of the sabiri region; a scientist broadly considered to be criminally insane after a lab accident decades ago that caused plural deaths. the man refuses to talk about it.

there is a theory that ash caused the 'kholoss disaster' - this was a 2014 calamity (in-universe time runs parallel to us, everything is kind of in real time) during which a supposed megaseismo/volcanic event occurred on mount kholoss, in the sabiri region. this event caused a domino effect of disasters around the world, many of which some regions are still recovering from.

ash's dad is missing, and i don't think he's ever used the word 'dead' to describe him. i don't think ash wants to believe it. even after all this time. presently, ash's dad is known in some circles as one of many infamous unsolved and unexplained disappearances.

ash can summon lugia by whistling for it. his mileage varies in landlocked areas.

ash has often claimed not to believe in any one divine pokémon, but his attitude about arceus in particular seems bristled. in truth, this is because he once sought out the "original one" on his path to rediscover his purpose. ash sensed confusion in it, fear, even anger. for reasons ash couldn't understand then, arceus began behaving destructively towards him and the general environment, and although it was eventually calmed, ash has held no particular reverence for the thing since. (in more metaphorical terms, arceus sensed a great 'glitch' within ash and attempted to give the universe a hard reset).

professor larch is an old colleague of professor oak's. back in the 80s, they worked as a duo to work on the first properly computerised pokédex.

HIDDEN KNOWLEDGE - only ash himself knows these things, or those incredibly close to him might know these things:

ash has made one (1) attempt on his own life before. told no one. pretends it never happened. everyone has their moments of madness, even shiny immortal golden boys.

ash has only ever had Feelings(tm) for well-known scientist gary oak. although his fandom may well have picked up on this. rpf is a pox on every universe.

ash was literally dead when pikachu evolved into raichu. desperate times, desperate measures.

in a well covered up altercation with some rockets, ash may or may not be guilty of murder.

actually, there are probably a good few cover-ups for various things that have happened to ash as well. i imagine his interpol file is something unwieldy, the sight of it brings their admin staff despair.

has both encountered missingno and visited glitch city. has not only somehow made it through each incident alive, but has survived unharmed.

META KNOWLEDGE - things about ash's world he doesn't know (yet), but i do:

ash was 'chosen' by enevaxis during his first death. being turned to stone by mew and mewtwo sent him hurtling into the same void that enevollath had condemned enevaxis to, eons and eons ago. upon ash's resurrection, by the power of aura in the tears of pokémon, he came back irreparably altered by the encounter. not only that, he came back with a simple favour to fulfil. he would remember none of it though, no thanks to mewtwo. this was his nexus point. the origin of all that ails him. just wait until he finds out that all of his nightmarish life has been because he wanted to stop two stupid cats from fighting.

ash's dad, tonalli/'tony', is certainly dead. and his disappearance was no accident. rockets: a thorn in the ketchum family's side for three generations and counting!

ash's maternal grandfather is bruno. delia never knew her father, and according to her mother, he was a great trainer who had descended from the mountain one day to recharge and refuel at pallet house, and sweep the old landlady off her feet for the night before retreating to the mountains again. unfortunately, knowledge of who delia's father is died with her mother in delia's teens. and with it, any chance of ash knowing his ties with the legendary fighting master.

grandma zaniyah is probably a straight up fucking serial killer. i'm sorry ash.

literally all ash needs to do to end this absurd chosen one struggle is climb up a super freaky mountain and let enevaxis out of its cage. that's it. he'll have to get past zaniyah when he realises this, though, that's the kicker.

[kayzero]

So I had an anxiety attack came up with a theory that if I put forth energy on January 1 then I will sow similar energy throughout the new year—for example, if I don’t sleep at all from midnight to midnight then surely this year I will have more energy in general. (My anxiety takes pleasure in consorting with my insomnia.)

In that spirit, because I want to actually write more Zero Win Game and just write more in general this year (there was an impressively small amount of words written by me overall in 2023), here’s…

A random fucking monologue by Akane that popped into my head while I was waiting for FF7R to download. It has now been an hour and a half since I started that download, and it gave me an estimate of about ten minutes.

…I’m pretty sure I can’t fit this into the Fragment where it originated from. “We have sixty minutes to escape or we all die but I guess we can indulge little miss Reversed Moon Arcana in one of her deranged fucking monologues.” I dunno. If you find yourself reading this aloud can you time how long it takes you?

Actually you know what, fuck it, I’ll shoehorn it in. It’ll be my own little Ice-9 lecture.

(Time yourself anyway I’m curious.)

“Akane, can you tell me what you remember from today?”

…

I remember…

Isn’t that funny? I remember. They said I wouldn’t, but I do, they said they’d be muddled, but they’re clear, I can see them so clearly.

They said they wouldn’t inject me, but they lied. They said it would make me forget—I guess they lied. They must have lied. I didn’t forget, I remember. I can see…

No. I can’t see them. I can’t see it.

I was looking at you.

But I can feel it. I feel it straining, fighting against me, getting stuck—it won’t turn, the wheel has to turn, the wheel always turns, the wheel can’t get stuck, it can’t stop, except when it does. Sometimes it does stop. The wheel stopped. And I had to push it to get it to turn again, WHY AM I ALWAYS THE ONE WHO HAS TO PUSH?!

I feel the moment that I push too far, but it’s not too far, it’s exactly far enough, I had to push you this, far, or else people would’ve just been hurt with nothing to show for it. I know it hurts, but I can’t just stop when it hurts, or else other people get hurt, everybody else gets hurt—so isn’t it better that I hurt just a few people, isn’t it better that I push you not too far, it’s never too far, it’s just far enough to change you forever, shatter your fragile humanity and make you something…

Less. A pile of ash that used to be a scared little sister. Then more. A functionally immortal being that can see and speak into the future, into the past, into a different present where someone was shot instead of spared, a proto-god that can see everything everywhere and everywhen… that used to be a scared little sister.

…Was she scared, do you think?

Her blood was warm when it hit my back, warm like an embrace, like the final embrace she’d ever give to anyone ever again in this timeline, and she gave it to me instead of her soon-to-be-grieving brother.

It didn’t dry. I would’ve felt it if it did. They must’ve cleaned me up. How considerate of our kidnappers, to respect proper hygiene as they force us to kill each other. Don’t share needles! Don’t injest mysterious substances! Don’t walk around covered in the blood of your victims!

God, I can smell it. It’s weird that I can smell it, it’s weird that it’s so overpowering, ‘cause isn’t blood supposed to be odourless? It’s not the blood that’s so overbearing, not really, it’s the iron in the hemoglobin trying to do its duty of carrying oxygen throughout the bloodstream, and it’s the iron that reacts to the oxygen in the air, and there was so much hemoglobin, there was so, much, iron. But it isn’t completely overwhelming, blood is supposed to be odourless, after all, and there’s only so much iron, it only takes up so much of the blood that’s spilled.

You’d wish it was completely overwhelming. I wish it was, at least. Because then it would mask the other scents, the worse scents. The scents of human waste being released upon death—because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you die. When you’re alive, you’re so tense, you’re so clenched, you keep everything inside, you just hold it deep inside, and you never let it out, you can’t let it out, you keep it bottled up forever, no matter what, no matter who—but when you die, the part of your brain telling everything to tense up dies first, and every other part of you forcibly relaxes, and everything comes rushing out, and everyone will know what was hiding inside this whole time.

Assumably. It’s never really happened to me, relaxing is for other people to do once I’m done, not that I’m ever done, ‘cause I always have to push. I don’t get to relax, not even in death.

…I can hear it.

Pulling. Screaming. Tearing. Splashing.

Ends are always so loud.

A quiet death would be nice, I think. I’ve never experienced one before. It’s always loud. Useless pounding and roaring jets, futile arguments and falling axes, reminiscence and splashing water

Yeah… When I’m finally done… When it’s my turn to relax…

I just want everything…

To be…

……

I’m sorry, what were we talking about?

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

WIP Wednesday

I got tagged by @materassassino and why the hell not, I have so many WIPs right now.

From the King-Ohger thing I started today:

“Good!” Jeramie finally lets go of his waist and gives him a pat on the shoulder. “Then let’s go find Gira, normally around this time he’s in the library—he’s been doing his very best to learn about, you know, economics and civil infrastructure and so on, ‘king things’ as he calls them, but he really needs a dictionary to be convenient while he’s reading.” He heads down the hall, reaching over as he does to take Yanma’s hand like they’re gross teenagers on a date. “He’s very much enjoying having access to Himeno’s library, as a matter of fact, she also has an excellent drama collection. I’ve been timing him, we’re trying to see if he can make one of his villainous king extempores last a full ten minutes.”

Towed along slightly behind him, Yanma stares, distracted from the warm feeling now pervading his entire body by his own bafflement. “You two really made for each other, weren’t you.”

“Mm. I try not to give too much credence to the idea of fate, but it is very convenient that we mesh so well, isn’t it?”

“So what’s with this, then? What do you want me for?”

“Well, we’ve both got a minimum of two functioning eyes, don’t we?” Jeramie glanced back at him with a sunny smile. “Matters of theoretical fate or narrative determinacy aside, one of the ways in which we mesh well is that we’ve both got excellent taste.”

“You–I–do you always talk like this?”

“Like what?”

From an extremely silly SVSSS thing that's mostly back-burnered at the moment but which I think about a lot:

Shen Qingqiu awoke one morning with his face rather awkwardly smushed into his husband's armpit and discovered, to his intense displeasure, that he was being narrated.

Initially, of course, he was simply displeased to be awake, and assumed that the voice he heard was someone speaking in the near distance. It was only when he was standing in front of the bronze mirror in the bathroom, cleaning his teeth, that he fully processed what was happening.

"What the fuck," he said to the mirror.

Once his teeth were actually clean, his hair was at least out of the way, and he'd put on clothing that didn't have any Binghe-induced rips, he sat down to figure out what the hell was going on. He certainly wasn't hearing the dry, computer-cheerful tones of the System, which hadn't actually spoken to him in some time. Nor did it sound like anyone he knew or knew of in the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way. (Not that he would have particularly appreciated being narrated by Sha Hualing or Tianlang-jun or someone, but it would have given him somewhere to start.) As far as he could tell the voice belonged to a woman, who was probably an adult and definitely slightly congested. She wasn't a very deep voice, or a very high one–sort of mid-range, whatever that was called. She was also speaking English, with what he thought was an American accent of some kind, which seemed like it was probably important. Shen Qingqiu's English had never been very strong, but it was good enough to understand what she was saying most of the time, at least, and if this kept up his fluency would probably improve. Score one for skills with extremely limited application in this world.

Did Proud Immortal Demon Way even have an English translation?

"Binghe," he said, when Binghe came into the room with breakfast, "you can't hear a woman speaking right now, can you?"

Binghe blinked at him. "No, shizun. Which woman was it? Should I talk to her?"

And last, from one of the ghost story interlude shorts:

“Huaisang, you’ve got to stop throwing things at the electricians.”

Too...many...WIPs...

Anyway! I will tag @giraffeter @plushie-sentai and @timetoddddavis!

[guideoftime]

sage of shadows.

   Sheik’s decision to become the Sage of Shadows was entirely linked to Princess Zelda and Link and his emotional / mental place with them. Initially, right after waking back up ten years old, Sheik had struggled immensely. Overwhelmed with the memories, his body not responding how he needed it to, it led him to be reckless. His tiny body was unable to handle the adult emotions crushing through him and it led to him lashing out. He picked fights, primarily with the guards, took his anger out on training and breaking things in Impa’s house. He blamed her, he blamed Zelda, it was easier to blame everyone around him until that anger eventually focused inward on himself. 

   Eventually, when the anger settled and he was left with only his thoughts and memories that anger turned to guilt and self-hatred. His problems with how he handled the journey with Link, his problems with being unable to help Zelda now, all of it piled up inside him and he felt a bit like it was crushing him. He tried though, he did try to live a normal life. Because that was what they had fought for, it’s what Link sacrificed for, and to immediately give up felt like an insult to all of that. So he tried to stand beside Zelda, to be the Queensguard and a Sheikah Warrior. 

   But it really wasn’t meant for him. Sheik is a restless person, he constantly is on edge, looking over his shoulder and worrying. He’s reckless with his own life, overconfident in fighting, he willingly gives too much of himself for his duty to the Royal Family and that isn’t something he can just turn off. Even when Zelda needed him to, even when she needs more of a person than she does a soldier at her side. Sheik could tell she missed Impa, if she didn’t outright say it the way she looked at him expecting someone else did. 

   He went to the Kokiri Forest before he went to the Temple, wanting to see the Hero at least once, and there the Great Deku Tree informed him that Link went to Termina. Link leaving Hyrule entirely, as if he was trying to escape everything, all of them, was a bit of the breaking point. Every connection he had was shattered, every person he knew eventually left, the last thing he could do at the very least to fix any of it was to give Zelda back Impa. So that the Princess could finally have her heart settled and the person that mattered to her most. So that Impa could be free and try to rebuild their Tribe. So that there was some sort of balance to all of this. 

   To Sheik, in the grand scheme of things, his life was far less valuable than the rest of it all and he really had nothing left to live for. 

   So he went to the Shadow Temple, he trekked his way to the Sanctum and he sat there and prayed with the Goddess Harp until someone listened to him. Until he was finally allowed into the Sacred Realm and the Goddesses granted him the chance to change places with Impa. It’s not a decision he regrets, it’s not one he’ll ever regret. He can’t let himself, because there is no taking it back. It’s never something he’ll be able to undo. But more than that, he genuinely believes it was the right decision. The choice that he had to make and should have been from the very beginning. 

   I do believe that once inside the Temples the Sages can’t leave unless they’re replaced (at least in Ocarina of Time) since it seems they become higher beings in some regard. Spirits, at the least, immortal deities on other levels. That seems reflected in most (?) of the games, BOTW/TOTK is the first (that I know) where they seem to function outside the Temples. In (WW) Medli and Makar even say they have to stay there to pray to the Master Sword. So that’s where I go off of that. 

Related HC's: Sheik on Zelda, The Shadow Temple, Sheik & The Sages, Link.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Blood - Chapter 5

-> Chapter 4

Ah, a bit of background info...on the rivalry.

@mismaeve @heilith here we go! Thank you for reading :)

Words: 1,7 k

Warnings: Vampires, blood, sordid details

Chapter 5: Thranduil

Aggie stirred in the lightless eternity of Thranduil’s bed-chamber; her limbs were cold and stiff but she was alive. Periodically – much too often for his own comfort – he had pressed his fingers to her pale brow to check whether warmth and colour were slowly returning to her skin.

Even, or especially amongst the undead monsters, a promise was binding and breaking his word would have distressed and destroyed him more than all the threats of rivalling covens; he had sworn that he’d not taint the blooming life within her and – as he looked upon her serene face – he had to confess that it would have dismayed him terribly if he had failed in that endeavour.

“Thranduil?” Aggie’s eyes opened haltingly as if her lids were weighed down with all the years he might well have robbed her of in his demented frenzy. “What did you mean when you said you’d keep me?”

“We’ve touched on the subject,” he said softly as he held out another goblet, filled with refreshing, cool water, to her patiently. “How many of the distasteful lordlings do you know?”

Aggie took a deep drink and let her eyes wander around the persistent gloom of the chamber as she tried to pull together her scattered thoughts. “The tall red-haired one and the humming, smirking one; they both strike me as agreeable enough.”

Thranduil made a face but didn’t interrupt her.

“The one who came to call me to the mansion, oh and the silver shadow of the trees,” Aggie went on counting the progeny of the elusive master of the town on her fingers like a child.

“There are three more,” Thranduil let her know with a sharp, disdainful smile, “inconsequential but dangerous.”

“Are they…are they what you are?” Aggie asked, looking up at his renewed pallor with shrewd curiosity.

“They are.” He made a choked, gurgling sound at the back of his throat.

“What do they want with me then?”

For a long while, she thought that he would not answer her question as he merely stared at her with unblinking, unfathomable eyes from which the light was draining in invisible tears of dust and ash; it was a heart-wrenching sight and Aggie yearned to reach out to him to cradle his cold, stony cheek in her moist palm.

“Have you ever seen her? The one they call mother?”

Aggie shook her head; she had only ever caught a single glimpse of Lord Fëanor and that had been so long ago that she hardly remembered what he had looked like anymore. Nevertheless, she was sure that she had never seen his wife.

“She is their mother, she has carried and birthed them,” Thranduil ground out almost reluctantly. “Nerdanel is a legend.” He placed his icy hand on Aggie’s and smiled sadly when she flinched under his glacial touch.

“You have seen the change your blood has provoked in me, we both have,” he went on resolutely, “and it is believed that, if one was to keep up this rhythm of feeding on fresh, human blood – given willingly – for long enough, other functions might return. It has only been done a few times.” He paused, his eyes widening dramatically as he made an artful pause for effect.

“Nerdanel has managed it 6 times; the last of her progeny – the twins – almost killed her though, and she had to be changed in the nick of time. In hindsight, nobody can truly comprehend how Fëanor – the most impulsive and least rational of us – has achieved this, but he and his wife have 7 perfect hybrid children.”

Aggie’s mouth fell open in aphasic shock; it was one thing to learn that the elusive gentry in whose shadow she had grown up was made up of immortal beings and another to accept that they were even more than that. A living mystery, a puzzling contradiction, a ghastly perversion of life itself…

“I never put much stock in these stories; blood was a means to sustain my endless life and not much beyond,” he went on sombrely, not meeting her inquisitive gaze. “Now that I have felt the difference a willing sacrifice can make, I’ll have to rethink my whole stance on the matter.”

“And do they…what…how does that make them different?” she stammered.

“What do they eat, you mean? Can they eat human food?” Thranduil stroked his chin pensively, his eyes roving hungrily over the nervous blush on Aggie’s face. “They could. If they satisfy their father’s heritage thoroughly so to say, they get close enough to what their mother once was to feast and even go out at dusk.”

Envy burned in the depths of his glassy eyes as he felt a leaden paralysis engulf his limbs, progressing quickly now; his body and mind struggled against the age-old shackles though and he felt a sense of primal panic he had not experienced for many long years.

“So you are all prisoners of your curse?” Aggie inquired softly, stretching out her arm invitingly at the sight of his vain struggle. She had seen the ferocious blossoms of happiness when he had drunk deep from her veins, and she could understand that he’d crave another taste – no matter how fleeting – of the echo of life.

Thranduil grasped her slender hand tenderly and merely breathed a kiss onto the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, revelling in the discreet drumming of her pulse just underneath it before tearing himself away from that seductive source purposefully.

“So, they want me as cattle? An incubator? A concubine?”

“Yes,” Thranduil acquiesced, “and – loath as I am to admit it – they were right in choosing you. Look at you, Agnes, already sitting up and offering your blood once more. You’re stronger than you look and enchantingly discerning. They tirelessly lure, seduce, and compel innocent mortals into doing their bidding in megalomaniac, egotistical hopes of recreating the miracle of their own birth.”

“You hate them, don’t you?” There was no judgment in Aggie’s voice, only detached curiosity; after what had transpired only mere hours ago, she felt comfortably numbed when it came to the grotesque extent of the nightmare fairy tale she had stumbled into. “Enough to pilfer me?”

Thranduil shrugged uncomfortably before admitting in a low, vibrating tone that Fëanor’s sons could see the sun. “You don’t understand how long it has been since last I’ve truly seen it and breathed the warm air vibrating with its golden rays. Sure, it is weak still or already dimming when they behold it, but – to an extent – they can stand in the sun’s glow and yes, I envy and hate them for it. I’d gladly deny them the strength your virginal blood would have conferred them.”

He paused and then smiled softly. “That was before I learned how delightful you are, of course, and now, they’ll have to win you back by killing me for I enjoy your presence – your light, your life, your resilience – too much to give it up. At the end of the day, I guess I am a monster after all.”

Shivering, Aggie drew the luscious furs tighter around herself; she knew nearly nothing about this creature in front of her but the idea of seeing him torn apart by the young men she had seen from afar a thousand times filled her with reluctance and dread. She didn’t want any of them to come to harm and she wondered if her mind had been addled by the wine or the poison dissolving slowly in her system for her to care thus for murderers and abominations, but she couldn’t help disliking the notion of them getting hurt despite her better knowledge.

Morality, she knew, was nothing like the straight, virtuous path the preachers described and much more like the treacherous swamp it led through.

Thranduil had been good to her and – even as she mused about this – he was calling for a repast and some more water on her behalf; surely, it was only natural to feel a smidgen of loyalty to the first soul – dead or alive – that had shown any kind of true interest in her well-being since her mother’s passing.

As she ate, Aggie felt new strength invigorate her body and her resolve hardened further.

“Am I your prisoner then?” she then asked in a matter-of-fact tone after putting aside her plate; Thranduil had watched her dig into the offered dried meat and fresh berries his servants had retrieved from the storehouse for her with such riveted fascination that he didn’t seem to notice her shifting mood.

It was – so he had informed her almost defensively – common to entertain some reserves to feed emaciated prey; Aggie could not help but chuckle at the idea that poverty and misery sent ripples of deprivation even into the darkest and most impenetrable of shadow realms.

At her sudden inquiry, he flinched minimally as if moving his body was becoming increasingly difficult as the seconds ticked by.

“No,” he answered after a long moment of quiet contemplation, “you may leave this place whenever you choose. I will not keep you against your will.”

This proclamation surprised her, and she cocked her head, motioning with a strip of salted rabbit, still clasped between her twitching fingers, for him to go on.

“There are enough hapless fools getting lost in the forest,” Thranduil smiled apologetically. “We all have our legends and covers. I would not starve, and I admire you too much to do what I said I’d protect you from.”

“The Lord who came to my house invited me,” Aggie corrected him gently. “He did not take me by force and – when my mother begged him to let me stay with her until she passed away – he agreed readily enough. I wouldn’t want to see any of you hurt! I won’t watch either one of you die because of me! I won’t!”

Her voice rang like unsheathed steel now and her eyes shone, hard and resolved.

Thranduil’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “You are decided to find forgiveness and excuses for the most wretched creatures under the moon, I see,” he then murmured pensively. “You truly are a marvel!”

Before he could say more though, an armoured guard entered briskly and exchanged a few whispered sentences with Thranduil.

“Stay with her,” the king barked and waved another slew of unnaturally pale warriors to Aggie’s side. “We’ve got a visitor,” he then informed her, “and he’s brought a dead horse.”

Aggie opened her mouth to protest and offer her own blood to strengthen her host, but he had swept out of the room before she could even find the words.

Worried beyond what was recommendable or even warranted, she turned her attention back to the feast she had impatiently discarded and silently decided to do whatever was necessary to ensure the survival of everyone involved, herself included.

They would have nothing to fight about if she was gone, did they? Thranduil had said that she was not held here, so – in the name of misplaced but inescapable compassion – she’d slip away. All she had to do was to get rid of her guards now!

As promised, here's the next chapter!!!!

Lots of love!!

-> Chapter 6

[lewis-winters]

I know we've talked abt our OCs in The Old Guard AU before but honestly I can't stop thinking about Natalie only finding out she's a newbie immortal during the war and how that would affect her, affect her relationship with Tab, and most of all with Nix. Her and Nix's relationship being not just him struggling with being a pseudo big brother but also having to guide her through this change, teach her what it means to be one of them. The responsibility, the guilt, the pain. - Nathan

GASP ok but I made an OC that basically functions as a Lykon-figure for Winnix in the TOG AU and it's basically a girl they meet in the early 1200s or so, who they keep with them for about 30 years before she suddenly has her last death all in the same century. I'm willing to bet it's Lewis who takes that hard, since his whole existence he struggles primarily with having only Dick, and being unable to cope with that (because Dick craves war, needs a cause, has to fight for something, lest he waste away, and Lewis always seems to catch the brunt of those decisions) + the guilt of never being able to cope with that, no matter how much they love each other. And they've spent so many centuries after alone, moving from place to place. To suddenly start dreaming of a new immortal after such a drought must feel like a miracle to Lewis. And maybe also a curse to Dick, who since WWI has been struggling with keeping Lewis, already feeling like this war just might be the last straw for them, that they'll part ways again-- they've done it before, of course they have, but I don't think Dick wants to risk Lew having his last death away from him this time around. For some reason, he's feeling extra fragile about losing Lew permanently after the prolonged healing period they had to take after WWI.

It adds layers too, if Nat doesn't WANT to believe that she is immortal, that she is one of them. While also having that cognitive dissonance going on, where she repeatedly throws herself into danger knowing that she'll make it out alive, anyway. Add to that Nat's appearance making Dick believe (at least in the back of his head) that maybe Nix is on his last legs... coupled with Nix's accumulating scars and selective, delayed healing......... and then Nat learning that and feeling guilty... thinking she's the reason...... when in reality NONE of them know how this works and it's all guess work.

They're a fucking mess.

[patchesproblem]

HI3 but Honkai doesn't exist and it's just little gay people running around Part 1 / ???

I was finishing the anti entropy visual novel yesterday and got to thinking about how everything would've turned out if honkai hadn't existed, so here we are. This will be broken up into several parts because there's a lot I want to say.

This first part will be focusing on Tesla / Einstein, and then I will be moving on to the others soon. Kiana, Mei, and Bronya might be my next victims, it's tbd.

Starting off with the most destructive scientist known to man kind, Frederica Nikola Tesla.

Important notes:

Still goes by Nikola / Tesla / Tes (that's restricted to Einstein only though)

Ace Lesbian

Still will beat the shit out of any man in sight just for funsies

Very destructive, but it's okay she's made break throughs in technology

Literally doesn't know of Nancy Edisons existence. She's free

Not an alcoholic anymore because Edison never existed so she's less traumatized (let me cope)

Still an ADHD depressed mess but it's okay she's trying her hardest to be a functional member of society

Still has social issues, and has her fear of abandonment still.

Still quick to anger and frustration

People actually take her concern and emotions seriously. She's justified a majority of the time she's mad why do people ignore this.

Actually gets her doctorate degree!!! She deserves it.

Loves writing her manga, and has published several entries and is a famous writer under her pen name.

Cat person. She has several pet cats

Still commits crimes

Personality stays the same for the most part

For the most part her story stays the same, only exception being Edison was never in the picture. If you can not tell I hate Edison with a burning passion. I will not elaborate further.

Her and Eins are still immortal, but it was due to a lab incident caused by some ones negligence (not Teslas or Einsteins, it was some random fuck because I need a reason for them to be immortal lesbian queens.)

Her relationship with others has slightly changed, but not by much

Einstein:

She still meets her through Planck and they are still together causing an immense amount of trouble. For the most part their relationship is still the same. They're still lab partners and married, and they still relentlessly tease each other. Tesla is still protective of her and will fist fight anyone who tries to hurt her. Einsla will thrive.

For the most part my relationship headcannons are still the same, nothing really changed other than the depressing parts since honkai never existed. They have their own lab now, and they're still over Anti Entropy. It's just taken a new form, which I'll explain later.

More about their relationship further down in Einsteins section.

Planck:

Still becomes her student and meets Eins through her. She is relentlessly teased by her constantly because she is well aware of what Tesla is. She's the living embodiment of the homophobic dog just staring at her saying "I know what you are." Sometimes Tes wants to fight her but she can't fight her wifes parental figure.

There is admiration there. Despite not always getting along, she respects her knowledge in the field and admires her for it. Eventually they probably form a friendship but weren't really all that close. At a few points she might've asked her for advice or vented to her, but that's about as far as it went.

Carl:

She was introduced to him through Eins and they're probably besties. Both of them relentlessly tease and bully him together. He questions why he agreed to teach them sometimes.

He has her admiration, and she respects his knowledge like Planck. Prefers learning from him whenever he's around since he won't bully her relentlessly (at least not as much as Planck. He still lightly teases her.) She does actually like him.

Schrodinger:

Doesn't hate her but doesn't like her either. "She's so quiet and refuses to speak unless it's to make me look stupid."

Joachim:

Her and Eins basically became his mother / sister figures. They would play with him in their lab and let him try out their latest experiments (the ones that didn't blow up.) She loved playing with him because he had the same sense of mischief as her.

Welt Joyce:

Bullies him relentlessly. "I can't believe your cousins this pathetic of a man." "I can't believe it either Dr. Tesla." "W-WAIT WHO ARE YOU CALLING PATHETIC?" Also constantly makes fun of him for dressing like he's about to go to antartica.

She was his #1 bully as soon as he landed in her sights. They act like siblings and Tesla is constantly bickering with him. Her assault counter is very high. Higher than the visual novel probably. Despite all this she does care for him though, and has gone off on people who have tried to hurt him and beat them up with zero mercy.

The Finn:

Idk she finds him annoying sometimes. That's all. Acknowledges how smart he is but he's also just an annoying man.

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

Now it's time to discuss the less destructive of the two, the child genius Lieserl Albert Einstein.

Important notes

Still goes by Lieserl / Einstein / Eins / Mophead (Tes only)

Ace Lesbian

Dropped out of school as a child, got her doctorate at 17

Carl is her teacher, and gave her to Planck to help her continue her education.

Views Planck as a mother figure / sister figure

Carl is like an uncle to her

ADHD mess but not as big of a mess as Tesla

Insane scientist and a menace to society

Loves teasing people and has no mercy.

Casually watches her wife beat her cousin up. Just family things

Loves writing and journaling

Made several scientifical breakthroughs

Helps Tesla with her manga

Personality is the same for the most part

Her backstories the same for the most part, only difference being that Welt was involved somewhat but not much since he lives in Berlin and was still in school at the time.

Her little family all stays alive. She's just a happy little scientist with zero trauma. Just trust me. As mentioned before both her and Tes are immortal still, just through a freak lab accident instead of yanno.

Relationships

Tesla:

Meets her through Planck and they immediately hit it off becoming close extremely quick. She found it enjoyable to relentlessly tease her and watch her get so flustered her brain had a 404 error. She pretended that she disapproved of Teslas 'interesting' tactics, but she secretly enjoyed her nonsense and tom foolery. They both began becoming menaces and they were the token eccentric scientists of the bunch.

Similar to the my normal headcanons they get together in the same way, and everyone acts so surprised like "oh wow!! We never would've guessed!!" Joyce clowns on her for awhile instead of Joachim for the way it all happened. Loves her and her nonsense.

Planck:

Extremely close with her. She's her mother figure and she trusts her with anything. Planck teases her often, but she doesn't mind it to much. She looks up to her and respects her heavily, and appreciates everything she's done to help her.

During the times she struggled Planck was always there for her. Even when she would get frustrated as a kid she would help calm her down. Probably was aware of her and Teslas 'close' relationship and would tease her all the time over it. After her and Tesla transferred to Lab 42 she would often send Einstein little gifts and snacks.

Carl:

Loves him a lot and views him as her uncle. Admires his willingness to teach her despite her young age, and enjoyed playing and learning with him. He taught her how to play the piano and whenever he comes to visit she'll play for him.

Her time spent under him is one of the few things she remembers from her childhood and holds the memories close to her. He cared about her and would make an effort to come visit her often to see how she was doing with her studies. Along with this he would bring her back new books, candy, and pictures from his travels. He often would create worksheets to mail to her so she could continue learning while he was away, and would continue this after she was being taught by Planck. When he heard that her and Tes were being transferred he was excited for them and took time off just to see them off and congratulate them.

Schrodinger:

Appreciates her way of thinking and respects her. They're those two friends that don't speak but they're somehow close and can communicate telepathically. Tesla is not amused and is jealous.

Joachim:

Loves him to death, and like said above is his mother / sister figure. Her and Tes would let him run around and play with them in their lab (after she made sure nothing would blow up), and she'd get harassed by his and Tes' shenanigans. "Why did I agree to have two of you here (affectionate)" Probably helped him with his math work often, and tried to teach him math but it did not go well.

Welt Joyce:

Bullies him relentlessly. They're cousins, though they didn't see each other much while growing up due to living in different areas. Despite her being eccentric, he enjoys her company whenever she comes to visit. They would talk about astrology and on a few occassions she attempts to teach him math, but it does not end well. "You're such a pathetic man, how do you not know what the answer to *insert extremely complex math equation here* is?"

"Want to meet my girlfriend" "Sure, what's she like." Tesla walks in and immediately starts bullying him while Einstein just shrugs.

The Finn:

Doesn't mind him much. They're friends to a certain extent, and she ropes him into her nonsense sometimes. Respects his knowledge heavily and has asked him to help her and Tes on a few occassions.

Combined History:

Tesla and Einstein both still created Anti Entropy together, and they are still the ones running it to this day. Instead of focusing on defeating Honkai they focus on helping the world become a better place. Their methods are a bit strange, but sometimes you do what you gotta do.

They left Schicksal at their own free volition after discussing it with Theresa, and the two organizations still work together on occasion and have good relations. Along with being scientists they also work as professors. Mainly focusing in the realm of physics, they lecture to college students who are unable to afford to go to university. This was at the Request of Tesla, of course.

They got married in the spring, around March 4th. They began dating in the winter on December 12th.

[shepsfavoriteblogonthecitadel]

Operator Notes (Incomplete)

Concerning my Tenno, Mallory Rathopport, because all I care about in this space ninja game is the characters! Even the ones I made up. I’ll update this post whenever it comes to mind, but I wanted to get it out!

Her wings are functional, and possibly a gift from a certain void entity- she can’t remember exactly when or where she got them, other than that she didn’t have them when she awoke. She isn’t especially graceful with them yet, but, after insulting Umbra until he threw her off a waterfall to force herself to learn, she can use them relatively comfortably to get around, even if it isn’t useful in a combat situation.

Overview

Mallory is a female Tenno who’s biologically 16, at least insofar as Tenno have human biology. She’s obsessed with science and discovery, and the Void in particular. She has some fairly extreme social issues, even for a Tenno, and is often ostracized due to being... morally questionable at times. She forms very close relationships, but has a very difficult time empathizing with people she doesn’t know, which can lead to problems.

Motives/Bonds

Mallory is near-fanatically loyal to the Lotus (or Natah, as she’s called in the universe where she’s the main character). Because she presents so assertively most of the time, she tends to gravitate towards mother figures. And the New War and the Ballas situation only made the bond stronger. It’s potentially unhealthy, but then, what about being a traumatized void demon isn’t?

Secondly- and she’ll never admit this directly, because it’s tantamount to Tenno treason- she genuinely misses the Orokin empire. She has a very idealized view of them that managed to persist through their terrible treatment of her and her former friends. She misses the stability of the Origin system, the easy social structures that didn’t force her to think about injustice, the prevalence of science and the ease with which you could fund a massive new project, the food, the golden decor schemes, the comfortable beds, the hope of the Tau system, all of it. She has an incredibly difficult time forming bonds with other Tenno because she subconsciously associates them with the downfall of everything that made her life stable. She harbors a massive amount of implicit and explicit bias against an enormous amount of people and groups because of this, and her inability to recognize systemic flaws- and her difficulty in caring about them- is her greatest flaw.

And, most importantly, science! The one thing about the Orokin Mallory will acknowledge she misses consciously is the work of the Archimedians. Now, science is a resource to be horded and pursued with absolutely no coordination with other scientists (of course, it was that way before the Old War too, but the Tenno tended to be in the center of things, so she wasn’t really privy to its failings and biases). Mallory desperately wishes she could just talk to Tyl Regor, or Alad V, or Ballas (before the New War, that is) without being on opposing sides, since it seems like such a waste, even for an immortal.

Besides Natah, there are a few others she’s close to, but none quite that close. I’ll ramble about them in a relationships subheading.

Gameplay-esque Stuff

Mallory tends to most readily volunteer for extermination and spy missions. She considers herself a bit of a stealth prodigy (she is, but no one is going to make her ego any bigger than it already is). However, she also has a bit of a sadistic streak, and her spy missions leave the infiltrated bases notoriously empty upon completion.

She vastly prefers bows over firearms, finding the act of drawing and shooting them much more viscerally satisfying than pulling a trigger. 

Relationships

Natah: The only person Mallory would readily die for (were she capable and it necessary). Natah is her one connection to life a thousand years ago before the Orokin empire completely collapsed, and, more than that, she loves unconditionally. They’re alike in that respect- if Natah cares about someone, she doesn’t care about their flaws, or their antisociality, or their thinly-veiled racism against a certain race of clones. Mallory adores the stability, even if she won’t admit it. Natah is, frankly, a tad concerned about this, but she usually has greater concerns, so she just tries to be there when she’s needed.

The Etrati: The group Mallory is probably closest to, Sentient adoptive mothers aside. She’s spent hours upon hours interrogating each of them for what little they remember about the first discoveries of the Void, and Albrecht himself- that, and the Infestation, which Mallory is determined to somehow communicate with. She’s also spent enough time just awkwardly hanging around Mother (I can never keep track of her actual name) that the latter managed to contact the Lotus, and was advised that it was probably best to not dissuade or encourage her too much either way. 

Mallory also has a not-so-secret crush on both of the Entrati children, which everyone but said children is aware of. It’s a subject of frequent joking between the Entrati and everyone else who visits the Necralisk. 

Solaris: The Solaris are notable for being the catalyst for Mallory to stop being so much of an elitist dick. Helping Fortuna was the first time she was forced to confront the day-to-day lives of the people incredibly unjust power structures hurt, and it shook her more than she’d admit. While the Solaris hold a healthy skepticism of her (not just for their standard reasons, but because they’re good judges of character), they’re warming slowly as she does them favors, motivated by guilt. It’s not clear how much her views on systems of power have actually changed, but she’d be delighted to strangle Nef if she ever got the chance. 

She gets along particularly well with the Business, and has made it her mission to discover as much about his past as possible. He hasn’t cracked yet.

Baro Ki’Teer: A bit of an unlikely alliance, this. One of Mallory’s hobbies is sitting wistfully in abandoned Orokin ships; ergo, it was inevitable she’d run into Baro on one of his expeditions eventually. I actually intend to write a short fic about their first meeting, so I’ll just say they’ve gotten used to running into each other. 

Not that Baro would ever give her a discount, no matter how many times she clears out a nest of Corrupted for him. 

Every Grineer: Her attitude and lack of sympathy towards the Grineer is probably Mallory’s biggest flaw. The Grineer in the Orokin era were near-mindless slaves- after a thousand years, they’ve become more violent, uglier, and more threatening. The attitude of disdain has stuck, unfortunately, and it’s only been exacerbated by Mallory’s slight newfound sympathy for the downtrodden, which has only made her avoid ever interacting with the Grineer. Suffice to say, Ms. Rathopport is a rare sight in Cetus. The Kuva Fortress is quite possibly her least favorite place in the system, and that includes the Zariman.

The Man in the Wall: Mallory is a bit of a weirdo here. She’s absolutely fascinated by her eldritch doppelganger, and wishes nothing more than that they’d stick around for her to ask them questions. Because of her unhealthily antisocial behaviors, the Indifference is essentially the only visitor to her orbiter (or the Drifter’s camp, whichever is the case at the time). She’ll talk with them idly and often, regardless of their lack of responses, and be secretly very disappointed whenever they leave. They never give her any information, though, and barely ever acknowledge her ramblings and questions, but Mallory likes to think they’re at least a little interested.

Also, she’s written self-insert fanfiction about herself and the Man in the Wall, which the latter party has absolutely read (omniscience is handy that way), but which neither person will ever acknowledge exists. 

[pea-shooter-brain]

{{ !!! Hi! So on my sideblog I reblogged your post about "women in STEM" and initially I mentioned The Locked Tomb, as did… many other people apparently. But you said it's actually about your OC! So I went to see if you have information pages, and your ask button is titled to please ask you about your OCs anyways!

So please consider this asking about your OCs. Especially Cordelia. How did SHE perform a lobotomy on herself? Anything you can share about why? And did she INTEND to tamper with things that are an affront to God, did she MEAN to make herself immortal?

I love hearing about peoples' OCs. Please tell me about Cordelia. And anyone else relevant to the post and Cordelia's motivations or reasons for doing those things, if you want!

Oh my god I am losing my mind and so happy, this might be a long one, so here we go. The plot of the specific segment of my universe that she’s in is about the reigning deity system, the immortals, starting to collapse. It starts with Cordelia, or cordy, and her sister cascade. This universe has a system where there are twenty four deities at any given time. They are divided into order or chaos, and then again into elder magics and vivid elementals. Immortals come in generations, and Cordelia is the fifth or sixth generation of the immortal of Undeath. Some generations swap out more or less frequently than others, with Undeath having the second fewest generations of any immortal line. Cordy’s sister, cascade is not meant to become an immortal. This is where the shenanigans start, because out of anger, she (cascade) tries to sabotage the process of regular humans becoming immortals and accidentally becomes an immortal herself, prevents someone else from becoming an immortal, and causes someone else to get the wrong alignment.

Now that that’s all out of the way, explaining the post.

Self performed lobotomies: not technically on herself, but on the body of her “past self”. Being an immortal has lots of side effects, reincarnation being one of them. Once an immortals body decomposes after they surrender their power, they get reincarnated. Only problem was, this immortal isn’t technically dead. And her body never decomposed because of a curse placed on it by an earlier immortal of Undeath. The immortal the body was from is actually walking around partially incorporeal as the personification of chaos, and Cordelia removes the brain from the body of her past self so her current self can use it as a bargaining chip to get answers from chaos and order.

Tampering with the natural order of things: as explained by the earlier paragraph, following the rules, cordy shouldn’t exist. Not only that but she thinks the system for selecting immortals is flawed, and that dividing immortals into chaos and order is order in and of itself, and therefore defeats the entire purpose of the system. She’s trying to get other people on her side to remove chaos and order from the system all together.

Experiments that are an affront to god: after failing to get answers from chaos, she attempts to perform a surgery to replace her brain with the brain she got from her past selfs body. Because she’s an immortal, and of Undeath specifically, this is not particularly dangerous, or at least it shouldn’t be. Best case scenario, she’ll get the answers she needs, and potentially even gain access to her old selfs powers. While this does work, it also discovers a dangerous ability. She can temporarily shut off her brain and bodily functions, turning into a zombie that doesn’t need food, water, or sleep. It can survive underwater and doesn’t feel pain or remorse. The only problem is that she can’t get out of this zombie state on her own, and needs either the immortal of storms or the immortal of psych to jumpstart her brain, and if she cannot get out of this state on her own before her brain runs out of oxygen, she could be stuck like that forever.

Making themselves immortal: I feel like there’s at least one thing in every other paragraph that falls under this umbrella, and this is already way to long and convoluted as it is.

I didn’t go too in depth on her personality here, because you mostly asked about how she related to the post, but if you want to learn more about her as a character and how she looks ill be happy to share.

Thanks so so so much for the ask -your local houseplant

[polybiusplayer]

OKAY!!! uhh ill be sending these in as i think of em :] STARTING OFF:

whats nine and ten's relationship like there?? like we've seen juice interacting with both but as far as im aware, no nine n ten interactions which has me very curious. ID IMAGINE theres. obviously a bit of protectiveness there but asides from that i have NO CLUE what you have in mind for these guys and i am staring abnormally. Whats Their Deal

FINALLY after starting to write this response out like 3 times and getting distracted or busy I can sit down and do this. Tehe. Beware of long incoming rant as I take this opportunity to explain a bunch of other stuff along the way.

I am so sorry. I talk a lot. Here we go.

Ten and nines relationship throughout the au goes through a lot of changes.

They’ve always been very close, since before the moment and well after. They both learnt how to cope with the nature of humanity and immortality, and how to come to terms with purposelessness. That is until Nine found out about the mission NASA was working on. that mission being sending a crew to deep space to go “where no human, robot, or satellite had been before.” It was a big deal to them, they still longed for a meaning in life like this. That was before everyone figured out there wasn’t much out there, and that life should be centred around what we already have. This was when people were RUSHING to create and to drive humanity further and further, in these early stages progress was all that mattered, and Nine wanted to be a part of it.

So Nine and Ten, and their friend Juice, they went through the training program together, and they formed the crew that would eventually go into space to hopefully discover the unknown.

Nine and Ten were always close, they supported each other, they are siblings after all. They both tried to make sense of the new world presented to them.

Now I’m not sure if my sort of, summery, really explained this well. I looked at my old posts and they really don’t have much. But the plan was always for 9 10 and J to be put into a deep sleep for a couple thousand years to get to deep space, the idea was that it would essentially function as a time skip for them so that they wouldn’t go CRAZY trying to get far away from earth. So for a while they all slept and then 10 and J woke up right on schedule. (Not in the year 17776, because that’s around when Nine wakes up) I sort of intended for this au to at least sort of parallel the story beats of the original.

But when Nine didn’t wake up and what was left of NASA basically told Ten “I unno man.” She tried for such a long time to wake them up, there was something fucked up with the system and nothing was working. Nine was out, alive and well, but not awake.

Ten never really knew if they were going to wake up, and after long enough she tried to focus herself on her mission (finding anything interesting in space) and on Juice, hes a bit of a screwball as we know. She never gave up on them though, no matter how hopeless it seemed there was always something in her mind basically pleading for Nine to wake up. but she unintentionally started almost, grieving, the loss of Nine. Years and years passed when Nine was always right there, but never really There. It was weird for her to live out the life Nine so desperately wanted without them around. And for her to experience everything without them, something she had never had to do in her life up to that point. It was hard.

Then Nine wakes up. First it’s relief, because godamned she missed them, so fucking much. But then it’s concerned.

I guess my twist with this au is that being asleep for that long fucked with Nines memory, they can’t really remember Ten, they can FEEL their love and trust for her, but have a lack of memories to link that back to. They also can’t remember the moment, immorality, anything.

You’re right, Ten is protective!! She’s determined to never let anything hurt them like this again, but she’s also confused too, and a bit hurt. She’s not going to portray that to Nine, because she knows that’s not what they need right now. But she just got them back and they don’t even know who she is.

She cares about them so much, and Nine trusts her so so much and doesn’t even know why.

It’s like in the opening chapter of 17776 when Ten talks to them for the first time and she says “i love you” and Nine says it back without any hesitation. They don’t know who she is, or what any of this is or what it means or even who they are, but they know they love Ten.

Their relationship is strained as first because of this, Nine feels like they can’t be who Ten remembers because Nine doesn’t even remember themself. But things ease out, because even without the memories, they’re still Nine, and she can see it in the way they talk and get passionate about things and their inquisitive nature.

Jesus how long have I been typing does this even answer the question I DONT KNOW IM SO SORRY if you read this all I’m actually so impressed. It’s 4:30 am so if there’s typos just ignore them

[ravenstakeflight]

I posted 92 times in 2022

That's 92 more posts than 2021!

51 posts created (55%)

41 posts reblogged (45%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@binch-i-might-be

@ashleybenlove

@ford-ye-fiji

@aiyasbs

@dragonnnfly

I tagged 90 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#raven quills: fanfiction - 31 posts

#reblog - 29 posts

#my writing - 24 posts

#raven quills: prose - 24 posts

#ray <3 - 13 posts

#also on ao3 - 12 posts

#writing - 11 posts

#rtf.asks - 10 posts

#to write - 10 posts

#writing ideas - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#bad parent talia al ghulfluffminor angstbruce wayne is a good parentattempt at humoryoung dick graysonyoung jason toddyoung damian wayneyou

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

respect our humanity (for we were once that which we shall never be again)

AO3

for @phicphight

humanity. such a funny thing, don't you think? four little syllables. one small thought. hum-an-i-ty. the condition - or the quality - of being human.

A sigh escaped Danny, taking air colder than ice with it. This felt like Ember, maybe; the taste of electricity probably meant a team-up with Skulker again.

"I'll take your pelt for my wall, you whelp!" Yup. There it was. Skulker crashed through the wall, screaming his trademark. Danny sighd, standing and let white rings envelop him until he was comfortable in his skin [jumpsuit?] again.

"Skulker," Danny greeted. "Do you really wanna do this right now? I have math homework due!"

"Wait." Skuler paused mid-punch. "You still do math homework?"

"Uh, yeah, dude!" Danny exclaimed. He shook off the hold of gravity and floated up to meet Skulker's eyes. "I really don't have time for fighting you right now, but I don't really think you care, do yo- oof!" He pushed tangibility off of him at the last second. Getting punched into a ceiling (or a door, or another person, or walls, or one memorable time straight through Dash) was not on his list of things to do before he kicked the bucket again. (Considering that he was functionally immortal... Yeah, it was a good thing that his bucket list was so long.) "Wow, rude!" He said. "You know, this really isn't product- Ember!"

Ember blasted him from behind, guitar letting off waves of ghostly supersonic force.

"Oh, come on!" Danny said, wincing after she let up. "Really, Ember?"

"Okay, look, babybop, I didn't really wanna do this, but then Skulky over here-" she gestured to Skulker, who frowned at her nickname "-said that you were free and didn't have anythin' to do, so we thought we might as well drop in!" She tried to slam her guitar into him. Danny rolled his eyes and shot an ectoblast straight at it, deflecting it (because no one wanted to deal with a guitar-less Ember McClain. Ever.)

"Oh Ancients, did you guys really have to team up right now?" Danny said, screeching indignantly when they chased him through the rooftops (and definitely through at least one apartment, and maybe a couple people. Danny saw far too much of his townspeople). He dodged one of Skulker's ectobeams, weaving around one of Ember's screams and shooting ecto-rays right back at them. "I have a bunch of stuff due in a couple days!"

"Can't-cha come on an' stretch your legs for a bit, bop-pops?"

"No, I can't!"

"Why not, whelp-?" Skulker cut himself off, staring at Danny. "What is it?"

"Shush, Skulker." Danny said. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown of Fire appeared over his head, the Ring of Sorrow glowing into existence on his left hand. His jumpsuit flickered into a tunic and breeches, a cape settling for a second over their shoulders. Their being flicked in and out of existence, glow stuttering as they pulled power from the Infinite Realms. "I do believe we have a... situation." They floated forward. Skulker quieted, thankfully. Danny's being flooded with power, their eyes shimmering an otherworldly green. He looked around, looking into the Realms, then turned toward the park.

Ember and Skulker followed quietly, respectfully. Danny swooped down in Amity Park's gardens. They looked down at the soul, the Form newly created, and felt some pity rise in their Core. They floated over to the poor soul quietly, settling next to them when they looked up.

Phantom? The soul, unfettered to a body and still mostly ambient ectoplasm, has a small gatehring around them. Phantom's presence next to them helps their formation go a little faster, though, and soon their body has solidified into an actually body-shaped puddle of ectoplasm, and Skulker and Ember quiet even further as Danny begins speaking to the newly-formed ghost in low, melodius tones. Neither has been witness to a Coming in far, far too long; Pariah's reign had been dark and desolate and most souls had decided to go on, journey through the paths to the After.

Phantom looks up at the two ghosts, and thinks that maybe they will be good Guides.

They beckon over to the two, and Skulker and Ember float up to the poor, new Form.

"Hunter Skulker, Ember McClain," Oh, they will be true Guides. "I present to you this Form. I trust you will find them a Lair suitable to them?" Both Skulker and Ember nod, quickly, and the Form is sent through a portal that Phantom creates with a wave of their hand and a smile. Before Ember and Skulker follow, tough, both ghosts hug Phantom to them.

When they get back from the Form's - Carna's - new lair in the Far Frozen, it's to a desolate Danny Phantom floating on his back, looking up at the clouds. They meet him up there, and pull him gently into gravity's hold in the park. [Ember, Skulker, and Danny all ignore the curious townspeople in the garden; this isn't about them, it's about Danny.]

He looks up at their faces, soft and caring, and knows that no matter what happens when they are fighting, when he needs them there - Paraiah Dark, Nocturne - when he really needs them to be there they'll be there at his side, with quips and snark galore, but there nonetheless. It's the same reason he knows that he can break.

He lets out a sob, then another and Skulker presses him into Ember. Her clothes are softer than he'd expected them to be, and she hugs him close. Skulker's metallic body is close behind him, caging Danny in, and he feels so so safe, because that was his first Coming and he hadn't expected it to be so hard, reliving a part of his accident and his death, because that's aparently what happens when you're welcoming a new ghost into your care.

Because Danny Fenton is fourteen and holds the responsibility of the balance of the Infinite Realms.

Because Phantom, Danny Phantom, hasn't even had five death days pass him by.

58 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

#4

hey so who's gonna write the abandonment issues alex claremont-diaz fic??

63 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

#3

draconic boy

AO3

Hiccup and Toothless are inseparable.

Hiccup may be small and physically weak, but he bites.

Seriously, what do they feed the Norsemen over there?!

His teeth are sharp.

Neither of them will die.

Ever. We're pretty sure they've made some kind of deal with the Norns, because what the fuck they've survived being set on fire at least four times and amputations and nearly freezing to death but they're still alive

Berkians in general are... completely insane?

They were willing - and happy - to fight the dragons that hurt them instead of just... leaving.

One of them literally popped the head of a Monstrous Nightmare off of its body when he was a baby.

For Berkians Specifically: When your chief-heir is visiting other villages - with or without other people or his father or his riders - please make sure that he doesn't speak to his dragon too much.

It freaks many of us out.

How did he teach himself how to speak to dragons like that I don't think human voice boxes are supposed to be able to do that????

But if he must, at least refrain from swearing in Dragonese around our children?

Please let Chief-heir Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III know that while he can apparently eat fish raw, it's really fucking gross to watch him do so when in the Halls.

Many Norse settlements are willing to build him a seperate hut-space for his dragon if he needs it, they don't need to live in the trees and sleep upside down.

Seriously, if Hiccup Haddock human or just- not??

Please for the love of Thor have some kind of fire safety that isn't just "make a bigger fire that cancels out the first one"

Same for waves, minor dragons, and the fucking Thorston Twins.

66 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

#2

dibs

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37873396

"No." Bruce said, frowning down at the social worker. She had a hesitant smile on her face, one that quickly disappeared at his refusal.

"Mr Wayne, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to keep this child-" A frown directed up at the kid, who hid behind Bruce's uncomfortably-uncowled-but-still-reluctantly-existing bulk. "With you! He belongs with his family, in the circus!" And Bruce doesn't miss the way she looks at him, the way she says circus and the way she shies against actually looking at Dickie, and the way his kid is small and doesn't know the ramifications of having not-white not-pale skin in the United States.

"I'm sorry, Miss-" except for the way he obviously isn't. "-But I've called dibs on young Richard Grayson, over here, and unless he really wants to" -have to emphasize that it's Dick's choice, not Ms Parrish's, whether he ever leaves Wayne Manor while under Bruce's care, and after he grows up too- "he will be staying here." Bruce watches Dick's blueblueblue eyes widen, meeting his eyes and baring his intentions out in front of him, because for a kid with the experience of all of nine years, Dick is surprisingly perceptive, and Bruce already loves him, even a week into having the kid at his home. Ms Parrish concedes with a huff and a condescending flip of her hair.

As she flounces out, Dick loudly asks Bruce - probably just to anger her - about what just happened.

"Oh, nothing, chum." Bruce will happily go along with his son's - his son, he has a kid now - fun if it pisses off the rude lady now walking out the front door. She stops. Bruce thinks her eyebrow might twitch a little bit. "Just a littl- Ms Parrish." He looks at her back, which is shaking in rage. His smile grows a little. "If you are having trouble finding the door, please look a few steps ahead of you to the large cast iron and wooden doors."

"Can we ge-"

"I have chocolate and cookies-n-cream ice cream," Bruce says. Dick's smile grows, wide and missing a tooth. "Let's go!" Dick jumps onto Bruce's back. Bruce automatically curls his hands around Dick's tiny little feet, holy sh- crap, and then they're off.

"IVY!" Dick calls, running toward the green-skinned woman. She's looking down at a small red bundle, a boy. It's a hoodie that Robin knows really, really well, it's Jason's hoodie. Jason who's dad is a Joker goon and in jail or dead, Jason who's mom overdosed three years ago, Jason who's finally bulked up a little after months of carefully-hidden feeding and care. Jason who is- "That's my little brother, Ivy, you CAN'T TAKE HIM FROM ME!" He rolls to a stop in front of her. "Besides." Dick feels a shaodw lands just behind him, feels a cold hand on his shoulder and knows that his dad - Bruce - doesn't know what's going on or why Dick's so scared-confused-annoyed, but trusts his Robin. "I called dibs!"

The bundle shifts, and then black hair and blue eyes peek out of red fabric. Dick can tell that Jason's mouth is turned up, and he softens. Ivy can probably feel Jason's body trying to push itself toward Dick, because she puts him down, and blinks as he scurries to Dick's side. The thirteen-year-old nudges him behind him, into a midnight cloak and turns to face Ivy.

Ivy, slowly, miraculously, tentatively, smiles.

"Well, then." She says. Her plants are withdrawing now, crawling up her body and disappearing. "I can't argue with dibs, now can I?" Before she turns, she looks to Batman. "Oh, don't worry, Batman, I'll stay on the DL for a few months. Gotta let you adjust to the newbie, after all." And with one last grin and a flick of glitter in Robin's direction, she's gone.

DIck sighs in relief, melting onto Jason. Jason clutches at him too, and they can feel Batman's - Bruce's, those are Bruce's not Batman's - arms encirlcle them and lift them both into the air.

Well. Guess he has a brother now, one in law and not just in their hearts.

Jason jumps his weight a little higher, grappling down very slowly. Wouldn't do to drop a child from a six-story building and not be able to catch him because Jason's legs froze off. Thankfully he'd been able to fight for skin-color leggings to be added to the suit ("As much as i love you, Dickhead, I don't want to freeze my butt off when winter comes around!"  --  "Aweee, you love me, Little Wing?") and a slightly warmer cape so that he could finally jump off the fire escape, disengage his grapple, and then wrap the kid - and that stupid fucking camera - in the cloak. Taking the cape off means sending B a ping - because first the cape then their armor then their masks -  so soon the Batmobile comes rolling up with a terrified Bat in the front seat. As soon as B realizes he's not in danger, he tucks Jason and Stalker Kid into the passenger seat and Jason can finally, finally go bonelessly relaxed.

Bruce is here, Dad is here.

He'll handle it.

He'll keep them safe.

He always has, and Jason thinks he always will.

When they get home, it turns out the kid is Timothy Jackson Drake, the son of Jack and Janet Drake. The archeologists.

Who work in digs around the world, and a half-hour's worth of digging reveals that they've only ever bought two tickets.

Tim has been left behind.

Every single time.

Jason, Dick, Alfred, and Bruce look at each other. A single unspoken line of communication occurs.

DIBS!

(It works out. Gotham runs on its own laws, its own life, and dibs count as a valid fucking reason to have guardianship transferred to Brucie Wayne.)

Tim shakes with rage.

He looks down at Damian.

Damian who is thirteen, Damian who should be able to go on a walk in his own fucking city without having to be worried about fucking ninjas attacking him out of nowhere. Damian who is Tim's little brother, Damian who has been kidnapped by ninjas. Fortunately Tim had the forethought to put his own tracker in Damian, or nothing good would've come. Nothing good ever comes from ninjas in Gotham.

See the full post

69 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

For the “Dibs” would Batman be trying to be like “Dibs” on Billy Batson”? If you don’t mind me asking

yes yes yes

man would be on billy so fast??? here:

Bruce sniffed. There was a child somewhere in the building. He could smell the perspiration. He looked around at his fellow Leaguers.

When his eyes met Captain Marvel's, his eyes widened imperceptibly behind his domino.

There.

As soon as the meeting was over, he melted into the shadows and then to the Captain's side.

"Marvel, come with me," Oops. The growl should not have been that deep. The child looked frightened. "It's okay, you're not in trouble. I just wanted to ask you something?"

"Of course, Batman, go right ahead." The Captain looked nervous. Bruce couldn't imagine why.

"Can- Has anyone called dibs on you yet?"

"What?!"

"Can. I. Take. You?"

"I'm sorry, Batman, I'm not sure what you mean?"

"You're a child, Captain, can I call dibs on you?"

"What?!"

This... would be a long process.

Thankfully, Bruce was prepared.

125 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[codename-adler]

Death of Heroes

Because not even Neil can outrun the ephemerality of men.

Renee is the first one to go. 

Nearing sixty but never reaching it, she is outlived by Abby and Wymack. At least Stephanie Walker is waiting for her at the gates of Heaven, but for the rest of her Foxes, the loss is heavy.

It’s cancer. Leukemia.

It started with the bruises from her sparring matches with Andrew not healing very well. Then not at all. After decades of maintaining these monthly meetings, of keeping her body healthy, Renee finally has to give it up. She knows something is wrong, and she knows that these sessions won’t be of any help, now.

Then the extreme fatigue starts. Still, Renee doesn’t do a thing about it. Or at least, she lets life go its own course. She looses weight, which she already doesn’t have much of. But then the nosebleeds begin, and it’s no use telling Allison to stop worrying. The diagnosis is unsurprising, yet still shattering. And it’s not a good prognosis either, but it’s still not bad enough for the doctor to give up the Five-Year survival plan.

Renee has to speak up. Ally, I don’t want to do this. She has to put her foot down. Allison, my love, it’ll be okay. I won’t get better, you and I both know that. But it can be okay. It can still be good.

Renee doesn’t get treatment. Renee doesn’t tell anybody, except Andrew. Because Andrew knows, somehow, that she made a terrible, irreversible choice. Because Andrew only deals in truths. Because Andrew is Andrew, and just as he needed her all those years ago, she needs him now.

A little more than six months pass, with less and less outings from Renee and more and more excuses from Allison, and Renee gets sick. Really sick. It starts like a regular cold. Then it looks more like the flu. And suddenly it’s pneumonia, and respiratory difficulties, and lung failure. She’s in that hospital bed, wearing that gown, breathing in that mask. Renee finally nods to Allison, giving her consent.

Ally makes the call.

Only Andrew and Dan make it in time.

Renee Walker goes out like a light.

The Foxes, who had once upon a time been used to murders, life-threatening schemes and acts of extreme violence, had never really known Death itself. The simple, yet inevitable fate of human lives. Of going quietly into the night. It’s all so quiet. So anticlimactic. It’s so quiet, too quiet, too heavy with silence. This time, there is no one to blame, no one to punish, no one to take responsibility.

It’s just life. It’s just death.

Wymack and Abby can’t believe that one of their Foxes, on of their kids, left before them. Renee’s Korean roots made her look barely a day over forty, which made it all so much worse. Renee’s death takes a toll on every single one of them. Because it’s Renee, the best of them. Because all her papers are in orders, her will to date, her wishes known; just as when she was alive, she leaves no chaos behind her.

There is nothing and no one to be mad at, except life.

In the cemetery where Stephanie Walker is buried, Andrew buys a large lot of land. (Large enough to one day welcome all the Foxes) The tomb is moved over there, and Renee’s name is added. A tree is planted above her scattered ashes. It’s very small, very fragile, but with the years, it grows strong.

For the first time, the Foxes realize that, despite going through Hell and back in their youth, they are not immortal. There is nothing to be done about that, but it hurts. It hurts to lose their angel this way, so soon, so suddenly. It hurts to lose, period. It feels like a failure, like giving up. They lost her. They lost.

But somehow, they gained something else they might never know about. Renee might have been the only religious one among them, but that didn’t stop her from becoming their Guardian Angel. Because somehow, from then on, the Foxes were spared.

Let me show you.

Just as Bee had a few years before Renee, Abby, then Wymack, simply die in their sleep, no fight, no agony. None of them have to see another Fox go before them. They don’t have to go through that indescribable ordeal ever again. They are spared the pain.

Then decades pass, enough for the remaining Foxes to grow very old, and live very long. Not infinitely, but long enough.

Matt is the next one to go.

Matt has worked hard all his life, both mentally and physically. It comes to no surprise, then, that arthritis chose to invade his body. For the first few years living with the diagnosis, natural medicine and osteopathy are enough to keep the pain at bay. It doesn’t stop Matt from doing anything. He babysits his 9 grandchildren with Dan every week; he goes on roadtrips with Dan every summer; he goes on a light jog with Dan every day.

It’s just that one day, it’s not enough anymore. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the pain becomes too much for Matt to do his day-to-day activities. And really, the pain, he could take; it was an old friend, a familiar feeling, almost like a sixth sense.

It was the mental toll of it all that he couldn’t take. To have to say no to seeing his grandchildren. No to driving around endlessly and aimlessly for hours. No to waking up in sync with Dan every morning, and no to their routine, and no, and no, and just- not living.

For the first time in a long time, Matt doesn’t want to do this anymore.

But he does, still. He smiles, and he lies, and he tries to will away the pain.

It all comes down to one afternoon, when he takes his painful walk of the day around the neighborhood. There are three little kids playing Exy in their driveway, when suddenly a ball escapes their racquets and rolls down in the street. The smallest kid runs after it, runs and runs and runs, without looking. Kind of like Neil, Matt thinks to himself before his body acts of his own. The kid doesn’t see the car, and the car doesn’t see the kid. Matt sees both.

The BMW is going way over the limit, its sleek black sides reflecting the sun too brightly. Despite his pain, despite his age, despite his now slow reflexes, Matt leaps. He screams at the kid to stop and turn around, to let the ball roll away, but to no avail. 

Matt pushes the kid away in time for the car to hit him instead, and only him.

The rest becomes a blur, but the final verdict is as such: broken hip, shattered leg, probably won’t walk ever again, even with surgery. The doctors and surgeons warn Matt that with his age, his pre-existing condition, and his drug history, surgery might kill him. But Matt refuses to be bedridden for the rest of his already miserable life. Dan knows that. She knows that he has to try. Knows that he might not pull through. She also knows that Matt wants to go, has wanted to for a while now. 

She calls Neil. She calls Allison. From there, all the Foxes are bound to get the news. Matt promises to wait until their arrival before going into surgery. In the meantime, the nurses start a morphine line, after warning the couple very strongly about the side effects and the risks. But Matt is in pain, terrible pain, and it’s a compromise to wait for his Foxes. It takes about a week for all of them to come to his bedside, with Nicky being last, coming all the way from Germany. Neil and Allison barely leave his room; Dan doesn’t at all. The others take turns, leaving as much space for Matt’s kids and grandkids as their hearts can allow.

The open spot for Matt’s surgery is on a Friday.

Matt Boyd does not make it to Friday. 

The morphine is too heavy on his heart. It was a possible outcome, not as alarming as the upcoming surgery, but... Matt had secretely wished to go ever since and- maybe, up there in Heaven, someone heard him... 

Dan and Matt had had a mutual understanding, that it was okay, but it doesn’t make it any more easy to let go. 

Two months into Matt’s departure, Allison moves in with Dan. She walks her through every stage of grief. She grieves all over again herself, too. But they make it.

Same goes for Andrew with Neil. Neil doesn’t know loss like this. Death like this.

And yet. And yet. Deep, deep down, Neil is scared. That after all his years of running, and fighting, and lying, he won’t get that peaceful ending Matt was granted.

But Neil lives.

And Nicky leaves.

A few months after Matt, he and Erik simply stay in the States. They say it’s because they want to be close, because they don’t want to miss anything, because they don’t want to risk a Fox leaving without a chance at saying goodbye. Because Nicky misses his Aaron and his Andrew.

Which are all valid and true motives. It’s just not the whole truth.

Nicky has dementia. Alzheimer’s, to be precise. Diagnosed about a year ago. It’s not bad yet, but- It’s the endless back-and-forth between the house and “der Supermarkt” because Nicky forgot what he drove there for in the first place. It’s forgetting words in all the languages Nicky speaks. It’s freaking out at all the Germans speaking German, because Nicky sometimes believe he is still living in America. It’s not finding the Columbia house and panicking when Nicky can’t get a hold of Andrew or Aaron.

It’s hard, it’s heartbreaking, it’s terrifying, but it’s manageable.

Once Nicky and Erik settle back down in North Carolina, they both wonder how long it’ll take before the twins figure it out, because there is no way Nicky is telling them, but he also knows nothing can get past his twins.

And he’s right. Between Aaron’s acute knowledge of Medicine and Andrew’s reknown lie-detector skills, it takes about 14 days for them to take Nicky hostage and demand the truth. 

As the year comes to an end, Nicky’s dementia doesn’t seem to progress that much. He seems to escape the worst. He doesn’t forget anyone. He doesn’t become aggressive, doesn’t go missing, doesn’t lose any function of his body. Without looking too closely, Nicky is simply getting old. 

The twin girls he and Erik adopted get to move back in for a little while, having lived in the U.S. all their lives and seeing their parents fly to Germany after their retirement. They know, too, and try to make the most of it. They are lucky. They are so lucky. Nicky is a miracle patient.

In the end, though, it’s Nicky’s body rather than his mind that gives out. Once you reach a certain point in time living with the disease, but without the general complications of it, eventually the brain has trouble managing all the organs of the body. So instead of forgetting to eat, or forgetting names and faces, sometimes your brain doesn’t remember how to make your heart beat. Or how to make make your lungs breathe.

Nicky Hemmick stops breathing in the middle of the night, after having wished his twin daughters goodnight, texted his other set of twins goodnight, and kissed his husband goodnight. Nicky had thought, then, that it was indeed, a good night.

Just as he had remembered his Foxes until the end, he was remembered by them as the big-hearted lover that Heaven had just gained as its new angel.

Too soon after him, though, it’s Allison’s turn. 

It’s not that she’d simply been waiting around for the day she could be reunited with Renee. She just didn’t understand why her Foxes kept leaving, and why she was still stuck here without her other half. 

She didn’t just wait, though. She helps Dan out with the grandkids, and sometimes the grown-up kids too. She volunteers a lot. She gives back to the Columbia community, and all around the world. She travels to places she’s never been, places that remind her of Renee, but are void of painful memories. She empties their bucket list, and much more. The last thing Allison has yet to do, the only thing left to do, is mending her relationship with her parents. Or parent. Singular. In spite of everything, including the death of her husband, Francesca Reynolds was still standing strong at the head of the Reynolds empire. 100 years old was nothing when you lived in spite. 

In a twisted way, Allison believed that maybe her mother was the last piece she needed to mend before she was allowed to go. That despite being gone for years, Renee was still there somewhere, looking out for her and making sure she didn’t have any regrets. 

So Allison accomplished the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the impossible. For the first time in decades, she flew back to the Reynolds estate and spoke to her mother. In person. 

It was not the emotional reunion Renee might have hoped for, but it was a reunion still. That was more than enough for Allison. They didn’t talk about the big things. The important things. But they talked. They talked. And they scheduled another talk. 

Back home with Dan, Allison embraced her friend and let the tears fall. She was grateful for her friend, but both of them knew that these were not the arms Allison wished to be held in. She went to rest a bit before dinner, and she tried to imagine how it would feel like to have Renee hold her again.

For someone as loud, as present and as strong as she was, Allison Walker slipped quietly from time. 

When Dan found her, she could only smile tearfully. She played with her hair one last time as she called her Foxes.

Allison left Dan in charge of her finances, and so she took over her charity duties and went above and beyond to honor her friend’s memory. Her sister.

Dan thought she would be next. She wished, she hoped, she prayed to be next.

She wasn’t.

Kevin was.

He might have been the biggest and hardest loss to weather. It wasn’t a feeling that could be explained. As painful as it had been to lose Renee, and Matt, and Nicky, and Allison, losing Kevin was... the great and terrible 10, as they’d say.

Kevin should have died way sooner. His liver should have given out because of all the alcohol it had endured in Kevin’s youth. His heart should have given out because of all the stress it had faced for most of Kevin’s life. All the bad things that could happen with old age should have happened to Kevin, but they didn’t. They didn’t. 

Death came knocking one day, and politely asked him if he would please follow them, and Kevin simply took it as a sign that his time was up.

That day, Kevin had felt a numbing pain in his chest all morning long. Used to little injuries here and there, he hadn’t thought anything of it. And he certainly wasn’t about to worry his doctor of a husband... 

However, as the sun reached it’s highest in the sky, Kevin couldn’t really hide his pain any longer. He had lain down on their couch for a bit, but he couldn’t seem to get back up. It was too exhausting. So he called for Aaron, as loud as he could in the state he was. 

As Aaron stumbled into the living room, Kevin tried to use his softest voice to inform his husband of the situation. Aaron immediately called an ambulance, and when the vehicle took them both away, he reached for his phone again to make, once again, a terrible call to their Foxes. But through his oxygen mask, Kevin reached out to grap his wrist and whispered, with difficulty, just Neil... just Andrew...

Because here’s the thing: Kevin loved his Foxes, and his Foxes loved him back. Immensely. 

He loved them so much he had married one, with another one of them as best man (Neil), another as his husband’s (Andrew), and yet another one as their celebrant (Renee). 

They loved him so much that it was only short of worship by a hair or two. And Kevin knew that. He loved Dan like a sister. And by extension, he loved Erik like a brother, too. And he loved all the Foxes’ children and grandchildren like his own, despite never being a parent himself. 

But Neil and Andrew... There were no words for what they were to him. He knew that he wouldn’t have to talk them through it. He knew they would be the only ones strong enough and close enough to hold Aaron up in case it all turned to shit the moment he passed the hospital doors. 

And being the History nerd he had always been, Kevin had written letters, a long time ago. To his Foxes. Most of them had left before him, and so he could never give them their letters, but Dan, and Erik for Nicky, could still have those letters. Kevin poured everything into these letters. It had taken him years, ever since Renee’s departure. He wrote, and threw away, and started again, until he got it right. Nine letters, for his nine Foxes. Andrew knew about it. He’d give Nicky’s and the upperclassmen’s to Dan and Erik, and they’d understand. Kevin didn’t want them to be there, at the very end of it all. He just wanted Aaron. And Neil. And Andrew.

Those three had letters waiting for them, too. Andrew would hand them over a month later. But he would never open his.

Andrew and Neil arrived just before 1 PM. Kevin was hooked on all sorts of IVs and still had the oxygen mask on. His heart monitor was beeping very, very slowly, erratically. He was still Kevin Day in all his gloriousness, but he was much more Kevin, their beloved Kevin.

On one side of the hospital bed, Aaron never let go of Kevin’s hand. On the other side, Kevin removed the mask and weakly motioned for Neil to take the other hand. But Neil was stunned. Frozen. So Andrew came up behind him, and held Kevin’s hand. 

It would be the first, and the last time.

Just as Neil finally sprung into action and went to put a hand on Kevin’s shoulder, feeling his wiry muscles and his fragile bones underneath the hospital gown, Kevin closed his eyes. 

The heart monitor began flatlining.

Neil looked at the monitor, then to Kevin. He looked at Andrew, then back at Kevin, and then at Aaron. His eyes couldn’t stay focused on one thing. He was still hoping. He was still refusing.

Aaron lowered his head. Kissed Kevin’s hand.

Andrew held on tighter to Kevin’s other hand. Gripped the back of Neil’s neck.

Kevin took Death’s hand, which felt a lot like Aaron’s, and Andrew’s, and Renee’s, and walked away.

Aaron unplugged the monitor. And called it.

Time of death: 13:01.

It took exaclty one month, day for day, for Aaron to leave as well. They called it the Broken Heart Syndrome. On the surface, Aaron had held it together. But Andrew knew. He saw. That he was losing him as well. 

Some could say that, by handing over Kevin’s letter, Andrew killed his brother. But those who would say that didn’t even begin to understand the complexity of the bond between twin brothers. Especially not the Minyards. 

Because what Andrew really did, with that letter, was gifting Aaron with relief.

Peace. Quiet. 

Love. 

Aaron could exhale, now. He would see Kevin soon, now.

And so in the same room, in the same bed as his husband’s, Aaron Minyard forced Death’s hand and demanded to see Kevin again.

And then there were three.

Dan lived for so long that she started to fear outliving her children. She felt old, so old. In her head and in her heart. She did not believe in a God, but she often found herself praying to someone, anyone. She did not believe in angels and demons, but she often wondered how long they would keep her from Death.

So she waited. For the days to go and the nights to pass. She barely ate anymore. She barely moved. She was only feeling okay when she slept outside, in her chair in the backyard, the sun shinning on her beautiful face. She could sleep for hours there, surrounded by her lively garden. The wind swayed her skirts, the trees whispered in her ears. It was okay.

And at the same time, it wasn’t. 

She was tired. She was lonely. Even Erik, a couple of years ago, had gone to rejoin his husband. Neil visited her at least once a week, but he still had Andrew. He couldn’t understand, nor could he stay away from him for too long. He would miss him too much.

Every year she celebrated another birthday, and every year she blew her candles wishing they were her last.

And at last, her wish came true.

Dan was expecting one of her kids to come by in the afternoon. The Carolina sun was shinning quite hard on her, so she had placed her chair in way that let the sunlight hit the back of her head, turned away completely from her house. Her daughter knew exactly where to find her when she arrived, and so she didn’t wait for a response to her presence before making her way down into the garden. She had called her mother multiple times, and had assumed she was sleeping when she hadn’t answered.

Dan was not sleeping.

Dan Wilds had left this world, the sunlight pouring down on her like the radiant goddess that she was.

Being one of the last Foxes, it took a day before Neil and Andrew got the news of her death. They don’t get involved in the funeral preparations, but they show up. And that’s enough. 

People don’t really bother them anymore, so they can bid farewell to their Captain in relative peace. They come by Dan’s house aftwerwards, too, and help her kids out with everything. Yes, even Andrew. 

Dan’s death makes them reflect the most.

About the Foxes. About each of their departures. How they all lived a good and long life. How they all died a good and quiet death. 

They think about how they were always the ones nearing death, always fighting to stay alive. About how they died a million deaths before the age of 18.

They think about how they are the last ones standing, even after everything. 

They survived. They lived. 

(They loved)

Neil and Andrew should not have gotten this far. They should not have lived this long. They shouldn’t have. But somehow, somewhere above, someone has watched over them and made sure that they didn’t get the ending they should’ve had, but the ending they deserved.

Neil and Andrew don’t really want to die. They don’t really want to live on either. But they take every day that they are given, to be with each other, to mend their hearts still, to breathe. 

They take every breath they can.

They wonder who will leave first. Who will have to say goodbye and stay behind, who will have to wait. 

It’s a fear neither of them had ever thought they’d have. Not like that.

And it’s only a matter of time before they get their answer. They are, after all, getting very old. It is both a blessing and a curse.

After decades of partnership, Neil and Andrew still go to bed the same way they did when they were eighteen. Both facing each other, their hands joined in the middle, their nose a breath apart.

After decades of peace, Neil and Andrew still wake from sleep at the slightest abnormality.

Which is why the minute Neil Josten gives out his last breath, Andrew awakes.

Neil’s hand in his is still warm and his skin is still soft. His hair, although completely white for quite some years now, still have that bronze glow to them. They’re still curly, and soft to the touch. Andrew passes a hand through them before resting it on the back of Neil’s neck. 

He looks at Neil like it’s the first time, tries to memorize every detail of his beautiful face. He rubs circle in his skin, and takes in everything that was, that is Neil. His husband. His junkie. His rabbit. His pipedream. His lover. His love.

Andrew doesn’t move from their bed. 

When he has finally spoken everything that he feels to Neil, from the safety of his mind, Andrew moves closer to him so their foreheads touch and noses align. He takes Neil’s lifeless hand again, and kisses it. He sets their hands back down, between the two of them, and looks at Neil one last time.

And slowly, Andrew Minyard closes his eyes, forever.

[writingwithcolor]

Iam wanting to write a story about a girl who has asthma, a learning disability and is considered by society to be less than average. She is also a little over weight. When she has been given immortality other immortals shun her and want her dead. To escape from this she goes to a martial arts temple in China. She is also an American. I was wondering how I could incorporate both cultures in my story?

Overweight Chinese American girl with asthma & learning disability, martial arts, & China

Disclaimer: I’ve written this response assuming that the main character herself is Chinese or Chinese-American. 

Some stuff I’d like to discuss point-by-point:

Being an Asthmatic

Asthmatics don’t exactly have the best representation in media, so I’m worried about a non-Asthmatic writing a story where the main conflict is centered around the MC’s method of coping with ableism.

Especially considering how we’re portrayed as stereotypical nerds/geeks for not being absolute athletes (haha maybe because pushing ourselves that far will literally result in an asthma attack-)

I have a feeling that in addition to the point where Chinese people are already stereotyped as nerds, having her be asthmatic as well does mean you’ll have to be more careful in how you present her. We already have the whole “model minority, East Asian = nerd” thing going for us.

Being “overweight”

America’s definition of “overweight” looks different for all kinds of people! 

Someone who’s statistically considered “overweight” by American standards might pass as being “average” (in American standards once again) and vice-versa! The existence of the word actually insinuates the existence of an ideal weight-- pretty fatphobic.

If you mean to say that she’s fat, chubby, and/or plump, then do so. Don’t dance around the term just because it’s deemed ‘undesirable’ by our Eurocentric beauty standards. 

(Additionally, being chubby is associated with the nerd trope as well. More to watch out when developing her character.)

Mod Rune mentions the specific way you’ve phrased how as a result of her being overweight and asthmatic, she’s “considered by society to be less than average” and she’s shunned/wanted dead specifically for these two reasons.

Being disabled =/= incompetency or being less than an abled person. Once again, an OwnVoices situation would make sense; However I would still worry about infantilizing Asthmatic/chubby people this way.

The plot… oof.

I’m worried that your method of combating the already-delicate conflict (that she’s looking for a way to cope with her feelings of inadequacy induced by ableism/fatphobia), is pretty insulting. You specifically word her trip to China as an “escape” which I feel could have a much better reason-- your excuse as is sounds to lead into a story of “refinding myself at the home of my birth culture” or something like that- especially with the fact that she’ll be doing this at a martial arts temple. A very cultural aspect of China.

Martial Arts?

That being said; Even though a Chinese martial artist does feel rather stereotypical, it does help with asthma (source: me and Taekwondo)

Specifically, according to this study from NCBI on the correlation between asthmatic children and Taichichuan, results have shown that “12 weeks of Tai-Chi-Chuan could improve the pulmonary function, decrease airway inflammation, and improve quality of life in children with mild asthma”.

However Northern Shaolin, Hung Ga, Wing Chun, and other Chinese forms of martial arts could work as well! Please do research on the specific techniques and differentiate between them. Appropriating Chinese martial arts on top of the fact that it’s already rather tropey- very bad.

A different plot?

Perhaps don’t send her off to China to quote, "escape from how other [immortals shun her and want her dead]". 

I think a better motivation for this change in landscape would be “She wanted to train to get stronger and improve her health with how it was negatively impacted because of her asthma.” 

The thing with a lot of disabled people is that-- we don’t want to have to “keep up” with abled people. We don’t want to need to take all these extra measures just to be able to function ‘normally’ (or at least the one defined by society). I feel that the motives in your original plot panders to that idea that she must get stronger or else she’ll never be accepted by the other immortals. A Chinese-American asthmatic myself, I’d much rather see her self-worth measured through her own growth as an individual than how well she ‘fits in’ with non-asthmatics.

Marika mentions that people also often do martial arts for culturally-relevant exercise-- so this could also be a way for her to reconnect with her birth culture.

Sophia also mentions that being overweight has little on one’s skills as a martial artist; So it shouldn’t be used as an argument as to why someone shouldn’t be taking on a certain expertise. (Seconded, as someone who did kendo: some of the better kendoka were overweight and had more precision than I did --Jess)

Incorporating TCK Culture:

Look for stuff written by actual Chinese-American third-culture kids!

Every little part of life- from the stories parents tell their kids before bed to the kind of food we eat daily- is 100% influenced by both our caregivers and the community we live in. For me personally, we’d have hotpot dinners with other Asian families during the Lunar New Year and I’d typically be sent to Chinese school on Sundays as well. 

Mods Jess and Lesya touch up on some TCK elements in this ask as well! (Wanting to Learn More About Culture Because of Chinese Name) However your MC celebrates her cultures will also depend on how assimilated into America her family is.

Like I said earlier: look for materials that Chinese-American TCKs and immigrants have written! There’s no better way to learn about certain customs than getting them from the actual source.

My ending thoughts!

These are honestly traits that I’d love to see more, as an asthmatic Chinese-American myself who has done martial arts in the past, haha.

Be extra careful when a ton of your character’s traits are found in East Asian (Chinese) caricatures! Be sure to flesh her out as a three-dimensional character as this description that you’ve given us (regarding her conflict) makes me go >.>-- I don’t like it as is.

Give her motivations for herself that aren’t purely to conform to others (per the submissive Asian girl trope). Having a bullied Asian girl does feel like it plays into this, so please don’t have her measure her worth as an individual based off of the standards set by abled people!

Do tons of research on Chinese martial arts! Marika mentions huge points below that I want you to consider when giving her a specific speciality-- just saying “a martial arts temple” doesn’t cut it. 

(As always, any reader feedback/additions would be appreciated!)

~ Mod Emme

These are my thoughts as someone who has practiced various styles of Chinese martial arts. 

While the quality of the instructor and the student’s efforts are crucial, I think you need to be clear on the following:

The style of martial arts your character will be doing

Their physical limitations

The type of learning disability they have. 

Different fighting styles suit the limitations of different body types in different ways

A person who is overweight may find styles with explosive movements that put weight on vulnerable joints like the knees to be painful. Styles that favor stable stances may be more feasible than those that emphasize movements with lots of air time, crouching and jumping.

A person who is inflexible will need a style that encourages them to keep limber to avoid getting hurt.

A person with diminished lung capacity will need a style that safely challenges their endurance.

Different learning disabilities might make certain styles more or less difficult to learn

ADHD may favor fast fighting styles with complex move sets and a wide variety of weapons.

Issues associated with memory retention may make styles that emphasize sparring easier than those that focus on memorizing forms

Make no mistake, the culture of a style will be as much of a consideration for your character as the Chinese and American cultural influences. Do your research, and inquire with practitioners as to what styles would work well for your characters. 

The tumblr blog How to Fight Write would likely be a good resource on the physical logistics of different styles. 

- Marika

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 7

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: This is incredibly dialogue heavy, and I actually don't feel as confident about this chapter as some of the past ones? Hopefully y'all like it, I mean at least the ending is cute (or cheesy, depending on who you ask). PS: Not sure how many chapters there will be in total, other than at least 3 more (one of which ill, in fact, get a little h*rny again. actually, h*rnier). Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy

Chapter 7: Harmony

“We need to talk, yeah?” Daniela asked, nearly stuttering, a sort of nervous that you had never seen her exhibit before. The first thing you think is that she’s really, really cute when she doesn’t know what to do. After that you actually process what she said. Relief floods your chest, followed by warmth, and you make a mental note to thank Bela the next time you see her. In the meantime, you were unable to contain your happiness. Out of instinct you move closer to Daniela, smiling softly, quietly reaching one of your hands towards hers. There’s no hesitance in her response. Instead of taking your hand she pulls you in for a hug, opting to rest her chin against your shoulder. Admittedly you’re a little surprised, but you return the motion nonetheless. “Oh, little songbird…”

Heart racing, you softly press against Daniela, turning your head so that you could place a single, brief kiss against her exposed collarbone. For a moment the two of you just stay like that, holding each other close. When you pull away, remembering that you still hadn’t said anything, you find that Daniela is blushing from the neck up. In turn, the sight makes you blush. You can’t help but reach out and run your fingers through her hair. Though you can’t see yourself, you know your eyes are filled with affection.

“I love when you look at me like this,” Daniela whispered, not entirely meaning to voice her thoughts. Then you’re blushing harder, smile small but sweet. “Mmm, you’re just darling, aren’t you?”

“Not nearly as much as yourself, my Lady. To be in your company is to be the luckiest soul in the world. I cannot even begin to describe the feelings of which you inspire in me,” you replied, trying not to stumble over your words, barely able to process any thoughts other than ‘pretty lady likes me ahh’. Thankfully, you still remembered a few tricks from language arts class. Who knew studying the classics could make you more romantic? At least one English teacher, probably. “I’ll have plenty of time to try, though… after we talk about things, that is. Is there somewhere private we can talk? I’m not terribly eager for your mother to overhear.”

“Are you sure we can’t talk about how much you like me for a while longer?” Daniela asked, faking a pout. When you perk a brow at her antics, she shifts a little, forcing herself to be a little more serious (at least for the time being). “If you insist, my sweet thing. I’d suggest my room-” she winks at you- “but I doubt we’d stay talking for long, would we? Maybe the library? Neither of my sisters tend to go there around this time of day, and I can hardly remember the last time mother went there.”

“Well, no one from the day shift is scheduled to organize things until later this week, so… sounds like a date to me,” you chimed, enjoying the way that Daniela’s face lit up in response. “There’s just one thing I have to take care of first. Wouldn’t want my roommates to think something has happened to me, now would we?” With that said you linked your arm with your partner’s, setting off towards the servants quarters.

—————————————–

“Oh thank goodness, we were starting to get worried!” Daphne exclaimed as you quietly ducked into your room. For a second you freeze in place, hoping to whatever higher powers may be that she hadn’t seen Daniela behind you. Certainly the vampire would have moved out of sight?... Despite your assumption, you do see Daphne hesitate for a moment, gazing at the now closed door. Thinking quickly, you give a little wave to draw her attention elsewhere. Seemingly it works like a charm, with her attention returning to you, and so you release an internal sigh of relief. Now you just had to think of an excuse for why you’d be staying up late.

“It’s fine- I’m fine, really. Just had to carry something for one of the Ladies,” you lied, trying not to be specific enough to possibly contradict facts you weren’t aware of. “I, uh, kinda have to go back out, though? There are some piano books I need to find before tomorrow morning. I’ve already found a few, but apparently there’s at least one that goes over some technical practice songs, and I think D-” you almost wince, but lean into it, stuttering instead- “th-think that Lady Daniela would enjoy the variety. Not sure how long it’ll take me to find the books, so don’t stay up waiting for me. I promise I’ll still get enough sleep to function tomorrow.”

“So the lessons haven’t been canceled? That’s good to hear,” Daphne said, nodding slowly. The words catch you off guard, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion. Noticing your expression, your roommate is quick to explain. “After whatever happened yesterday… we weren’t sure if we’d ever hear you play again. Not that we know what happened, just that Lady Daniela was, well, upset, and you stopped playing sooner than usual. But I suppose if the lessons were canceled completely… I doubt Lady Dimitrescu would let you go that easily, huh?”

Again, you shift awkwardly, wondering how Daniela must feel hearing all of this. But just like that Daphne shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, and gives a little shrug.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know you already promised, but we both know you’ll lose track of time if you aren’t careful. If you aren’t in bed by the time the sun reaches its peak, I swear we are gonna have words!” Both of you laugh before Daphne waves you off with a smile. Still, you wait to open the door until she (and the other maidens) has her back to you. Better safe than sorry, right?

—————————————–

Somehow the room felt different in a million ways, now that you were here with Daniela. There was something about the way she moved, freely, eyes and fingers running down the spines of familiar books. Even if you had not seen it before, it felt like the library was overflowing with magic. What I would give, you think, to see the whole world tinted in shades of her. Again you find yourself blushing as you followed Daniela towards a small sitting area. One of the chairs is practically a recliner, with plenty of space, and you realize what she has planned mere moments before she acts.

Next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer to her, practically lifted into the air. Then you’re falling back, right on top of a giggling Daniela. By the time you’ve regained your senses, you’re in her lap, held just tight enough to keep you from getting up. She’s watching your face closely, smirking with pure satisfaction.

“Are we going to be able to talk like this?” You asked, a little unsure yourself, already distracted by the soft curve of her jawline. Even as you speak you’re eying her, imagining what it would feel like to trail kisses along her skin until she was restless… Thankfully she responds before your mind gets too carried away.

“Of course we are, little songbird. Probably. If you behave,” Daniela teased, gently playing with your hair as she did. You can’t help but laugh when she suggests that you are the one who needs to control yourself. “Alright, alright, I get your point. I just… I think that it’s easier for me to, fuck, I don’t know. Relax? It’s easier for me to relax like this, holding you, getting to kiss that lovely neck of yours-” she pauses to demonstrate- “and that means I won’t freak out like last time. Or so goes my thought process, anyway.”

“In that case…” You’re sitting perpendicular to her now, still holding on tight. One hand cups her cheek, gently caressing the skin, before you lean in for a kiss. The two of you enjoy yourselves for a minute, glad to have this time together, more glad to be reassured of each other’s affection. To think that you wouldn’t even be able to meet her gaze if not for Bela’s intervention… Eventually you pull back, knowing that you did need to talk. “I care about you, firefly, and I want things between us to be real, and healthy, but I…”

The words died in your throat, a lump you couldn’t quite swallow, when memories sprung up like weeds in your brain. Communication mattered to you for a thousand reasons, and you weren’t blind to the irony of one of those reasons making you freeze up.

“I haven’t… done this before, not for real,” Daniela replied, mistaking your paues for uncertainty. “Apparently being an immortal, blood-drinking princess is only attractive in the realm of fiction. Maidens only ever seemed interested in a fleeting rush, or a fraction of a chance at an escape. They didn’t care for romance.” Now her tone gets bitter, and her eyebrows furrow. You can see her shoulders tense up, raising a little, making you try to snap out of your own thoughts for a few moments. By the time she speaks again, you’ve started to gently rub her back. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to my novels. How often does the monster actually get a happy ending?” She says the words with a hollow laugh. Still, she’s relaxed a little under your touch, even leaning into it.

“You’ve… done some bad things. Hurt a lot of people, and I can’t pretend that doesn’t scare me,” you started to say, ignoring the heartache you feel when you see Daniela’s hurt expression. “But you’re more than that. You’re soft, cute, and mischievous. More than that… I can tell that you want something beautiful. We can have that, we can make that, for ourselves, with our own hands and our own desires. But we can’t use stories as a blueprint. We can’t rely on what we’ve read, not when everything the two of us do is brand new. Not when-” you close your eyes, fighting back tears, glimpsing fragments of your last relationship- “not when I’ve already been hurt by my own misconceptions. The things we read aren’t always real, or right, or anything like what we need. What we deserve.”

“Something tells me you’re holding back a little,” Daniela murmured, barely able to get the words out. It almost looks like she’s close to crying, but her cheeks are dry, and her voice is steady. “But you’re right. What we have is better than anyone could write, anyway. You’re my little songbird, and I’m not letting you go anytime soon. Even if I have to figure out this whole ‘communication’ thing. I suppose that means I should… come clean. About a few things.” There’s a clear hesitance to her voice, like she’s embarrassed, and she’s speaking slower than usual. A blush rises to her cheeks before she takes a deep breath.

“We don’t have to talk about everything right now, if you aren’t ready. We’ve already made good progress, I think, even if half of it might be because of your sisters. Well, sister, singular. Cassandra throwing me into that wall really didn’t help anyone. Except maybe the chiropractor I will inevitably need to see,” you joked, remembering your earlier conversation with Bela.

“Hold up for a fucking second, Cassandra did what? I’m going to replace all her paint brushes with stained carpet strips, and that’s if she apologizes. Nobody fucks with my baby,” Daniela snapped, expression as serious as can be. Normally you found her anger to be terrifying. Now that she was directing it at someone else? And on your behalf?... Maybe it was a tiny bit cute. Which you tried to show, by gently bringing her in for another kiss. Of course, Daniela isn’t quite as gentle, instead kissing you hard, holding you as closely as she can. There’s a bit of possessiveness in her grip, and it makes you tense up. But as soon as you do she’s pulling back, breathing hard, eyes weighed down with concern.

“Y’know, I think she was just mad that I made you cry. And if I found out someone made you cry, I would be pretty angry. Not that I’d throw someone, partially because I don’t think I could, but still. It’s… almost cute how much your sisters care about you. Almost, just not quite,” you said, eager to draw the attention away from your reaction. Like you had told Daniela, it was okay if you weren’t ready to talk about everything. “Speaking of that, I can’t believe I haven’t apologized yet. I panicked so much, I didn’t even realize I was yelling until you picked me up. No matter how frustrated I was, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t, please,” Daniela interrupted, eyes closing for a moment. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing. I pinned you to the wall, and not for the usual reason!” There’s a bit of panic in her expression, and you get the feeling that she’s beating herself up inside about it. Which, based on what you had thought about what you had done, was understandable.

“Consider this: We both fucked up, and we’ve both acknowledged it now, so we could just… not talk about our regrets? At least for now,” you countered, glad to see Daniela relax and nod in response. Leaning in, you shift to rest your head against her shoulder, wanting to enjoy her proximity more. “Hey… if I’m your songbird, and you’re my firefly… are we, I don’t know… officially a couple now?”

“I was under the impression that we already were,” Daniela said, clearly a little confused. While you technically agreed with her… there was another part of you that wanted to have a little fun.

“You never asked, and I know I never did either, so…” Now you’re looking up at her, smile wide, heart beating faster than normal. “Lady Daniela, firefly of house Dimitrescu, lover of romance novels, player of pianos, keeper of my heart… Will you do me the honor of allowing me to court you? To be yours, officially, in the pursuit of affection and happiness like the village- nay, the world- has never before seen? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“How’s this for an answer, songbird?” Daniela cooed. Then she was lifting your chin from her shoulder, turning her head and bringing you closer. Your lips touch, as gentle as can be. It’s a short kiss, but one radiating with love, that ends with your foreheads pressed against each other. In this moment, you feel like you could stay in her arms for the rest of eternity. “Yes. Absolutely yes, obviously, a thousand times. I could never say no to you, especially not now, with your eyes so desperate for the sight of me, and your lips so begging to be kissed. Now, how about we celebrate, hmm?”

Just as Daphne had predicted, you end up staying awake far too late, but you were all the happier for it.