#knowing the concept from what their mother had told them growing up

[mystic-writings]

ink on skin | daryl dixon

PAIRING — daryl dixon x fem!soulmate!reader

REQUEST — anon — hello! could you do an angsty story with daryl dixon? fem reader please <3 

SUMMARY — daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long ago, even with the words marked on his wrist. and then he found you.

WARNINGS — canon-typical scenarios, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soulmate au

WORD COUNT — 3,573

NOTES — this was supposed to be part of a really long collection of prompt drabbles from years ago but i found it in my docs and turned it into something a lot longer <3 it’s not the best (i couldn't for the life of me work out a good ending), but i think this might be one of my faves i’ve written bc of how poetic the first few paragraphs are 

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long before the world ended. He gave up on it when he was just a boy, when his mother died and his father stopped showing love. When he was told by his peers, his brother, his father, that no one would ever want him to stay with them, because he just wouldn’t be wanted by anyone. 

He grew to loathe the words on his wrist from a very young age. He did everything he could to cover them — makeup he stole from his aunt, long-sleeved shirts, bracelets, you name it. He’d even gotten used to not glancing at the ink scribed on his left wrist, making sure that no matter what, his eyes never fell on them. 

But even when he hated the words that sat there, waiting to be spoken by someone who cared, someone who wanted him, he couldn’t deny the countless nights he spent awake, tracing each letter and imagining what his soulmate’s voice sounded like. How would they say those three little words? What would they look like? When would he meet them? 

Daryl missed the feeling of being wanted. He only ever felt it when he was with his mother, when he was a young boy who didn’t know anything but that the sky was blue and soulmates were real and his father was mean. He hasn’t felt wanted — truly wanted — for a long, long time, not even when he found the group. 

Over time, with the loathing came the forgetting of the words marked on his wrist. By the time the world ended, Daryl had almost completely abandoned the reality of having a soulmate, and he rarely ever thought about it. In fact, he felt some relief in the fact that the world had ended. The chances of him finding ‘the one’ had lowered significantly now that most of the population was undead, and he had no reason to worry about being better for someone just to make it seem like he was worth loving anymore. 

For almost three years, he lived with the relief of likely not having a soulmate anymore. 

Today was an ordinary day, especially for the Alexandrians. At least, it seemed like an ordinary day. The sun was shining, people were milling around, crops were growing. But underneath the surface was something that no one wanted to address. Fear. 

Negan was beginning his wrath on the community that could barely keep itself alive. He demanded supplies, and he demanded a lot of them. So, half of Daryl’s people had gone out on runs to look for stuff. Food, clothes, medicine, whatever they could bring back. Daryl was among that group, taking a car as opposed to his motorbike and going to a high school with Carol.

At first, he volunteered to go alone, but she reasoned with him. It was too big of an area for him to cover on his own, she said. He could get hurt, or worse. And it was Carol, how could he deny her? She was his best friend, after all. So, Daryl drove in silence, Carol in the passenger seat, staring curiously at him. 

The feeling of her eyes on his annoyed him to no end, and eventually, the archer caved. 

“There somethin’ on my face or wha’?”

“Nothing,” Carol chirped. “Just… thinking.” 

“‘Bout wha’?” Daryl asked, sparing a glance at the woman. 

Carol shrugged, eyeing her friend. “About those words, on your arm.” 

Daryl tensed, shifting his posture to hopefully hide them from Carol’s view. “And?”

“Well, they’re not gone, for one.” She stated, a lilt in her voice. “And they’re… interesting first words for a soulmate, don’t you think?”

“How am I supposed ta know? I ain’t never seen anyone else’s tattoos. And it ain’t like I got a good chance of meetin’ ‘em, with all this shit goin’ on.” Daryl grumbled, watching Carol shrug and avert her gaze, looking ahead at the road. 

“Just saying… I wouldn’t give up hope, Daryl.” 

How would Carol know whether or not he should give up hope? Sure, she’d been the person closest to him aside from Rick, but even she knew nothing about his soulmate. Hell, he was still trying to figure out how she knew exactly what words marked his wrist. Still, he shook the thoughts from his head and continued the drive in silence, as though nothing had been spoken between the pair. 

Somehow, the high school Daryl and Carol had arrived at seemed to be completely abandoned. 

There were no walkers roaming around outside the grounds, most of the windows were intact, and the parking lot was practically void of cars. It was a small town, but from what Daryl could remember of the high schools they’d driven past or looted during their time at the prison, he figured most high schools in small towns — like this one, in particular — would’ve been turned into aid camps for refugees. 

Even with no signs of life, Carol and Daryl kept their weapons up as they entered through the main doors. 

Flashlight beams swept over every inch of the school, and it became clear as to why there were no walkers. Rotting bodies littered the linoleum floors, dried blood splattered over tile and wall and metal lockers. A stench that the pair had, unfortunately, gotten used to, permeated the air, filling their guts with a permanent feeling of nausea. 

The first place they’d found was the nurse’s office, and while there wasn’t much in the way of medicines, there were supplies that Alexandria was lacking. Gauze, tension wraps, bandaids, generic over the counter medicines like ibuprofen and Gravol. Whatever was left, Carol loaded into the backpack she’d brought, filling it to the brim with what they found. 

“Cafeteria should be this way,” she nodded down the hall, flashlight sweeping across the path before they exited. 

Passing by empty classroom after empty classroom, Daryl said, “Migh’ need some of this stuff for later, when the kids get older, ya know? Be good for ‘em to learn.” 

“Yeah, it would be,” Carol nodded, eyes landing on a set of double doors to her right. “Maybe we’ll come back for all that stuff later.” 

Daryl grunted in affirmation, about to push the cafeteria door open with his shoulder. He paused as a loud thump echoed down the hall. His eyes flashed, followed by the beam of his flashlight, landing on a singular closed door, a plastic chair propped under the handle. 

“Leave it,” Carol advised. “It’s just a walker.” 

Daryl nodded, but his eyes lingered on the door for a moment. Deciding to leave it be, he pushed the cafeteria door open, finding it empty yet again. The pair crossed the large area to the hot table, where they could already see some canned goods lying about on the tables. 

“If there were people here,” Carol began, “why wouldn’t they have taken the food with them when they left?”

“Why’s that matter?” Daryl asked, propping his crossbow against the wall and pulling out his knife. He knelt by the door to the kitchen, putting his flashlight down and wedging the blade between the frame. “‘S more for us, ‘s all that matters. Don’ gotta question everythin’,” 

Carol said nothing, keeping her flashlight trained on the door for Daryl to use as extra light. 

After prying open the door, the pair used a cart to transport the mounds of large, sealed canned goods. With Carol pulling and Daryl pushing, they’d made quick work of the first two trips they needed to make, loading their trunk as best as they were able. 

On their way out of the third and final trip, Carol held the cafeteria door open as Daryl pushed the half-full cart, stopping abruptly as the door started to swing shut behind him. 

“What? What is it?”

“I hear somethin’,” Daryl muttered, straining his ears to listen for the noise again. He listened for what felt like decades, and just when he thought he was going crazy, he heard it again. “There,”

“What? I didn’t hear anything,” Carol said. 

“Nah, I heard it. Comin’ from this way,” he gestured down the part of the hall they hadn’t bothered exploring. Slowly, focused entirely on identifying the noise, Daryl crept down the hall, a confused Carol following him. 

Just as he’d been passing the room with the chair blocking the door, Daryl heard two sounds: a dull thunk, and a hiccuping cry. He stopped, turning to the door that had drawn his attention before. 

“Daryl, it’s just a walker,” Carol insisted. “Let’s go, we got what we need.” 

The archer didn’t listen, footfalls nearly silent against the linoleum as he approached the door, knife raised. In quick motions, Daryl pulled the chair from the door, sending it down the hall with a resounding screech, grabbing at the handle and pulling it open. The hinges squeaked as he peered within the dark, small room — a supply closet, he’d discerned from the cleaning products lining the shelves. All sense of danger left him when he wasn’t met with a walker, but instead a girl, her body half-laying, half-sitting, propped against the wall. 

Daryl’s eyes widened, taking in her form. She was covered head to toe in dirt and grime, save for the clear tear tracks down her cheeks and neck. Her hair was matted, and the side of her calf, just above the ankle, was wrapped in dirtied bandages. Her only protection was a small knife, covered in dried blood, the handle of which rested in her limp hand. 

“Holy shit,” Daryl blurted, catching the attention of Carol, but barely gaining acknowledgement from the girl before him. 

Carol, peeking over Daryl’s shoulder, moved first. She darted around the archer’s broad frame, kneeling down at the girl’s calf. Peeling the bandage from her skin, Carol sighed in relief, finding a deep gash where she feared there might have been a bite mark. “She’s hurt,” Carol remarked, moving closer to search for a pulse. “And barely alive.” 

“Go bring the cart out, I’ll carry her out,” Daryl’s eyes never left the girl’s form as Carol left. Carefully, he scooped the girl into his arms, relief flooding him when a weak, protesting groan fell from her chapped lips.

There was no telling how long she’d been stuck in that closet, without food or water, simply left to die. And based on the chair propped against the door… it had been intentional. 

Daryl carried her to the car with ease, having Carol assist him as he laid you across the back seat, taking the time to make sure she would be secure as they drove. After confirming that everything was packed into the trunk, Daryl peeled out of the school parking lot, the drive back to Alexandria being much shorter than the one to the school. 

The sun was setting when the car passed the gates, and from there, things passed in a flurry of motion. Daryl carried the girl to the infirmary himself, watching Tara and Denise move about hastily to heal this mystery woman. 

“What happened to her?” Denise asked, cutting the bandage from her ankle. 

“Dunno,” Daryl huffed. “Found her like tha’. Musta been trapped for a while. Few days without water, at least.”

Denise only nodded, working to clean the wound and stitch it. She barely had the focus to think about the wound itself, how deep it was and the likelihood of infection setting in. Tara worked at cleaning the girl’s skin, inserting an IV into her hand like she’d been taught. 

The sun had set by the time they were done, the girl changed into new clothes and her skin cleaned of grime. Tara had been sitting by her side when Daryl came back to the infirmary, after going to the Grimes home to eat something and give as much information as he could to Rick and Michonne. 

“How’s she doin’?”

“As good as she can,” Tara smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think she’ll be waking up anytime soon, she’s like— super dehydrated. It’s been an hour and I’ve had to change the bag thingy twice already.”

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement, pulling up a chair on the other side of the girl’s bedside. He didn’t know much about her — or anything, really, not even her name — but even with her chapped lips and sickly look, he thought she was beautiful. And he also knew that whoever had left her in that closet had done so on purpose. He figured it might have been because of her injury, but it was cruel no matter which way he tried to paint it. 

He just hoped she’d be okay when she woke up. 

It took the mystery girl three days to wake up. Managing her health at a time where there weren’t any real supplies to use had been difficult, and it took all of Denise’s focus to make sure she had enough fluids. 

Waking up in an unfamiliar, oddly clean, room, on a bed, with no stench of rotting bodies wafting through the air was confusing, terrifying, and oddly comforting. 

Your body woke with a jolt, eyes snapping open like you’d woken from a nightmare of sorts. There was movement to your right, and you jumped back from it, frantic eyes finding a blonde girl attempting to calm you without touching you as best as she was able. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe.” She’d said, stressing the last word. “One of our guys found you in a supply closet and brought you here. He— He said you were half dead.” 

Pure fear and confusion kept your mouth shut. The girl kept talking, asking questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to any of it. The pain in your leg hadn’t been of any help, pulsing and throbbing with every slight movement. 

By the time she’d realized you weren’t going to respond, she sighed and moved over to the kitchen to your right. When she came back, she placed some food and a tall glass of water on the bedside table, backing away slowly as she spoke. “I’m Denise. The man who found you, Daryl, is on his way to see you. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable talking to him?”

The idea of speaking to anyone, even the man you vaguely remember before passing out due to dehydration, made your stomach roll. Still, you picked up the plate, gratefully digging into the food you were given. Drinking the water, you relished the feeling of it sliding down your throat. Water was something you hadn’t had in what felt like years, and you’d be damned if you didn’t cherish what you’d been given. 

As you finished up, the door creaked open, and your body stiffened. You watched a burly, reserved man step inside, his movements hesitant. You watched Denise approach, whispering something to him — likely about you. Presuming this was Daryl, you willed yourself to relax, even as you pulled your knees tight to your chest, arms locked around them. 

You watched him approach the bedside, standing awkwardly beside you as you looked into his eyes. Strikingly blue, surprisingly soft. 

“Hey. Ya alright?” He asked. His voice was rough, southern accent awfully thick. But his words sounded soft, somehow. Small. Like he was trying not to frighten you. 

All you could manage was a nod. He huffed, nodding back, clearly somewhat relieved that you were at least communicating somehow. You kept your eyes on him, tracing every inch of his face and his clothes. It was clear to you, though you were unsure of how, that he must’ve been built for this world. Daryl seemed out of place in this clean, crisp, white room, and when you pictured him in the woods, he seemed to blend right in. 

After a moment, he turned and went back to talk to Denise. They spoke in hushed whispers, and you thought back to the exchange you’d just had. Your mind had been reeling, so caught up in the entire situation, that the words Daryl had spoken didn’t register. And neither did the tingling across the inside of your wrist. 

Pulling down the sleeve of your shirt, your fingers grazed at the skin where the words you’d been waiting your whole life for the right person to say used to be. With wide eyes, you found the words gone, replaced by a slight scar of where they had once been inscribed. It was surreal, and definitely not the time. 

“Hey,” Daryl called out as he came to stand beside you again, voice still soft despite its natural roughness. “Doc said ya can leave if ya want. I know ya don’t know me, but if ya want… ya can stay with me. I got a cot ya can sleep on, if yer okay with tha’,” 

You mustered up a small smile, nodding at the man before you — your soulmate. You’d been wishing to find him your entire life, but with the world ending, you put that aspiration aside. You certainly hadn’t expected to find him when you were at the brink of death, trapped by the selfish people you’d once considered family. 

Carefully, you slipped out from the blankets, stumbling as you put weight on your injured leg. Luckily, Daryl caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other guided your arm to rest around his neck. Wordlessly, you watched his cheeks flush red as he shifted his weight before you began walking. 

It was painful, getting to the house he lived in. Not because of your leg, but because of the proximity. Along with the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a single word, not even to him. 

As you settled into the large basement room he’d taken, he told you more about the community, about his people. The ones who lived here — Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith — were family to him. The others were the same, but they all lived in different homes. He laid out the cot as you sat on the bed, watching intently as his voice reverberated around the room, rattling your heart in your chest. 

“I know ya don’t talk much,” he huffed, rooting through a bag of his and pulling something out. “But ya can write, right?”

You nodded, watching a smile play on his lips as he handed you a notepad and pen. 

“Can ya tell me yer name, at least? So we can call ya somethin’ that ain’t jus’ ‘girl’?”

Smiling, you wrote out your name and handed the paper back to him. Your smile widened when you heard him say your name, meeting his eyes as he looked back up at you. 

“Ya can talk, right?” You nodded. 

Daryl nodded, leaving the pen and paper with you, just in case. “‘M gonna go find Rick, tell him yer stayin’ with me fer now. Alright?”

The thought of Daryl leaving you, of being alone, in an unfamiliar place, with no light aside from the window at the very top of the wall, shocked the fear back into you. As he turned, heading for the door that led to the stairs, your breath caught in your throat. As quickly as you were able, you reached out, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling him back to face you. 

“Please, don’t leave.” You whispered, voice gravelly and strained. It surprised even you, eyes widening as you met Daryl’s gaze. But his carried a certain fear as his eyes tore from your own, locking onto the wrist you’d caught. 

Following his line of sight, your heart stuttered, watching the ink on his arm begin to fade into his skin, into the same imprinted scar of words that you had. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes watering, watching him as his eyes remained on his wrist. “Your soulmate.” 

Daryl pulled his wrist from your delicate hold, his mind on overdrive. He’d thought it ironic, that the apocalypse had only pushed him closer to his soulmate instead of further apart. And now, the words he’d been desperate to cover throughout his life were finally gone, and the woman that the universe decided was meant for him was sitting on his bed, saved from the cusp of death because of him. All because he couldn’t take his mind off the closet with the chair blocking the door. 

His hand came to his wrist, rubbing at the skin that was no longer tainted with words he thought would never be spoken. And despite all of the fear Daryl carried with him over the years, the gratefulness he had for the apocalypse and the relief that he’d never have to let down his soulmate when they saw that he wasn’t good enough for them, he felt none of it when he looked at you. 

All he could feel was happy. Relief, not that the world had ended, but that you were safe and healthy. 

And, all of a sudden, meeting your eyes, Daryl was okay with the idea of having a soulmate. All the words that had been spat his way growing up, all the times he was desperate to pretend like he didn’t have a soulmate didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was you. 

It would take time for Daryl to feel like he deserved you, he knew that. But you were here, and you were alive. That was enough for now.

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[russellsppttemplates]

Love notes (Charles Leclerc)

A look into Charles' notebook allows words and feelings to be exposed

Note: english is not my first language. The request didn't specify this, but friends to lovers was the first thing that popped into my mind and I know I'm not the only one whose favourite trope is that one so I did it ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions Charles' father and his passing and implications of the loss of someone close to the reader

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"And you want me to tell you that code?", you asked Charles over the phone.

Your boyfriend needed to go to the bank to sort a few errands out, and since you had finished moving the last boxes of your belongings to his apartment, you stayed back to tidy them and organise them within the apartment. As it turns out, he forgot to take the documents with the codes.

"Yes, please amour - it's in my notebook on my desk on the office", Charles asked, "I think I went as far as taking the paper out a little so it peeks out but I forgot to take it with me", you could hear the smile and blush on his face.

"Let me go there - don't you mind me looking on your notebook though?", you said as you moved through the apartment, "by the way, I have already found some space in the kitchen for mug collection - yay! Okay, found the notebook - is it the document with your signature or the one that has the details?", you questioned.

"The one with the signature, at the end, left side", Charles repeated what the bank assistant was telling him so he could help you find what he wanted, "and it's the third and fifth number on the Mobile Key".

"Okay, I have it - it's 4 and 1", you informed him, "those are the third and fifth numbers".

"Merci amour, I don't think I need anything else! Once I finish up here, I'll head home to you, I love you! And Y/N, I trust you with everything I have - I have nothing to hide", he offered, making you bid him goodbye before ending the call.

His words ressonated with you as you flickered through the pages, noticing some doddles and racing notes before you decided to look at it from the beggining.

The first page had what looked like a poem and it dated back to the end of 2016.

My father told me to be careful

- Try to slow down a little

You don't ponder nor stay still

You don't belong or give yourself to anywhere

He said - my boy, you know what you're capable of

The world awaits you, go ahead and smile

You don't want to be left behind

It's not been easy dealing with everything. There's hope and there's the want to do more to prove everyone that I belong in Formula One. Still, I'm happy that Prema decided to have me race for them next year in Formula Two and things should go up from there. Time and patience, work and rest. Spending time with the people I love most and care about me the most.

Y/N also progressed on her studies and she's doing really well - she makes our friend group very proud! The guys are investing on their careers too and it's nice to see that, in a way, we're all growing up.

The page went on about all the whereabouts of the group, who had gotten together with someone, who had moved out of their parents' house and the ones who got work offers. There were jotted up plans for the summer holidays that, in hindsight, were mostly realized.

When you turned it to the next one, the poem continued with the same tone.

My mother said to me

- You have to see what's happening

That girl is much more than a friend

And you don't want to lose her

She reads it in my eyes

Or in my open soul

I don't know how she does it

But no matter how much I deny it

My mother is always right

I really like Y/N. Not just as a friend, but also as someone who I want to share my life with.

Whenever someone wonders how I think my life will be like in five, ten, fifteen years, she's always there. There's racing - me climbing up the ladder to points, podiums, wins and championships -, and there is my family.

Y/N and our own family.

Mum claims she noticed it since we were kids and that right now is the right time. Y/N is single again and I can't afford to lose her. Lose her as a friend or lose the opportunity to confess my feelings, or the worst one: lose her because she doesn't feel the same or feel like being in a relationship right now?

It's funny how this works, how much I care about her and how it hurts me when she isn't feeling well. Or how bad I feel because I keep missing some of her university milestones because I'm racing somewhere in the world but she always call me and I'm right in her hand while her family and our friends are in the stands or waiting area.

Even though I'm the one that's furthest away, she keeps me close.

Charles had notes about you? He always carried the little notebook around but you assumed it was because of important information he wrote there. You didn't expect this.

His words rang in your ears as, while your boyfriend had told you he had been crushing on you for a while, he had never admitted feeling this doubt. Not to this extent.

Suddenly, it felt like you were taking a look from a different angle at Charles' soul. The intimacy and vulnerability wasn't foreign and you fell in love with him a little bit more.

Today is the day to get closer

To face her and see what she says

And if luck follows me

As I'm writing this, I hope Y/N is getting ready to meet me in the park. She looks beautiful in anything, but I'm hoping she wears one of her dresses that make her look like a real life princess.

Maybe we will be happy

What I have planned isn't elaborate, because I don't think she would like a big production, and I hope it's enough to show her where I stand.

I asked maman for some help with the cakes and cookies and got the rest from the shop, we're going to have a picnic and I've decided today is the day where I tell her how I fell about her.

There is no point in hiding it, and Joris and Riccardo seem so sure that she shares the same affection.

Today is the day to grab her

I hope she does.

To be with the one I always wanted

And if the nervous voice doesn't fail

Y/N said yes to being my girlfriend!!! As it turns out, she does feel the same and we both agree that it was a mixture of stubbornness and bad timing for eachother. Now, it's the right place and the right time.

I hope we will be happy

The memory is clear as day on your mind.

I confessed how much I love her and she reciprocated it.

Charles asked you to meet up with him at the park because he wanted to talk to you. The seriousness of the text was confirmed when you arrived, Charles pacing around the picnic blanket until his eyes found yours.

"I can't pretend anymore", he said, "you're the first person I look for when I get somewhere I know you will be too, I can't stand to see you hurt or upset and I will kick myself every day if I'm ever the reason you hurt, which I hope I'll never be. You deserve the world, Y/N, the moon and the stars, and I'm going to get them for you because I love you", he offered.

You had been so dumbfounded that you could only approach him and kiss his lips, cupping his face closer to yours, "I've been in love with you for so long, Charles", you whispered back.

It was the day where your love story truly began despite having existed for all of your childhood. You were his and he was yours.

Come with me, love is not time

Continuing to look through the notebook, you spotted some racing notes with numbers and acronyms you weren't sure that they meant, taking a while to find another page that had similar writing.

It's not even time that does it

Come with me, love is the moment

In which I give myself

Y/N is asleep right now as we fly back home after the race. She hasn't left my side and I think this is the first time she's sleeping since we got the news. We knew it was coming, but it doesn't mean that it hurts any less.

In which you give yourself

The feeling is unbearable. Someone who gives you so much also takes so much away from you when they go away. There's so much to go through, and all of the feelings haven't come up yet.

Maman is waiting for us with Lorenzo and Arthur, and I hope we will all find peace with this heavy feeling together.

Y/N told me the feeling may never leave, it creeps up when you least expect it and there are no rules to it.

Time is precious and I want to spend as much time as I can with the ones I love. God knows I did that with papa and it still feels like it wasn't enough.

The creak of the floorboards alerted you that someone else was inside the apartment before Charles' head peeked, "Hello, mon ange", he smiled, coming up to kiss your forehead.

It's these moments where we're not doing anything particular or special that mean the most. Y/N has given me all she's got and I've given her all of me, at the end it's the most human thing to do. Be there. Be present. Allow the other to feel everything they need to feel and protect them. Y/N has protected me and she's never let me doubt that we are for each other.

"I looked through these - I didn't mean to invade your privacy but I got curious", you admitted. It would be no use to lie about it or try to hide it away.

Time will wait, stop there

"Did you like what you found?", Charles asked, pulling the other office chair to sit at the table with you, "I have this one here that I really like actually", he flickered through the pages.

So I can stay like this looking at you

Time knows well, even time understands

That someone doesn't rush

"I wrote this one when we were on holiday, it the boat", Charles tapped the page, "you looked so beautiful that day and I felt like I was running out of time to appreciate you. Then I spent the whole afternoon watching you and I felt like time slowed down a little bit because it knew I was appreciating you", he charmed.

That looks at you like I do

"These are very beautiful, Charles - this one is so beautiful", you smiled, kissing his cheek and cuddling up to his arm as he continued to leaf through the notebook.

Call me an adventure and come and have an adventure

There were also drawings and loose poems along with some photos he kept of you two. One of the hike you had done in Ibiza last year caught your eye. You stood on top of the rock and by the way your arms were positioned, you were calling Charles to join you in there while he snapped the picture.

Change my plans and I promise I'll believe

That I'm the only one you want to see when you wake up

Your haven if the world collapses

Come and deceive me with that look of yours

The sweet way that trips me and without counting

Quench my thirst with a kiss to shut me up

Make me a poem and let me stay

I do not forget

But I want to hear from your mouth all the words that make me blush

Speak softly in my ear

And grab my hand

"This was last year, one of the seasons where I had to deal with so much disappointment in racing, and you never let go. You were there to hold me everytime things didn't go well, to celebrate my achievements and my podiums, and you still make it feel like an adventure every single day", Charles mused, "being loved by you is assuring, comforting, liberating, soothing, amazing, incredible and the best feeling I have on the world! Loving you? It's as incredible as it is a big responsibility because I have to make sure the adventure is still there and that we're both in it", Charles admitted.

Before the night is over

"Being loved by you makes me feel like the only other person in the world", you looked up at him.

"Loving you is making sure the time stops when you're with me so I can tell you all the silly stories I know just to make you smile, all of this to make sure you know you're the reason behind my happiness and the one behind the longing that never lies when you're not there. It's hugging you back tight and have my heart wide open because it's yours to take", he sighed with a smile on his face.

"I love you, Charles - being loved by you is the best thing I get to experience in this life", you smiled before kissing his lips.

"This helps me a lot when you're not with me, it's like I can talk to you", Charles muttered, "and I get to have the memories written out too, you never know when this can come in handy".

"You have no excuse if your speech in our wedding feels impersonal or doesn't have any memories then", you joked as Charles' finger lightly pressed down on the remaining pages of the notebook, making sure you don't get the idea to flicker through the random pages he has used to doodle the perfect engagement ring for you, smiling at the thought of having you be his forever.

"I definitely don't, amour - I'll make sure it's a good one when the time comes", he smiled.

[yannaryartside]

CARMY NEVER WANTED TO CREATE A MENU WITH SYD.

AND WHY THAT IS THE CORE THEME OF THE SHOW

PART 1: THE LIE THAT CARMY BELIEVES

So, one of the bases of creating an efficient character arc is to give the character something they want, and something they need. In the pursuit of getting what they want, the theme of the show and obstacles will show them what they need. Most of the time, they need healing from an emotional wound that prevents them from growing into the ultimate version of themselves, capable of winning the challenges of the story. I will try to explore Carmy's wound and, more importantly, the lie that created that wound.

In 'The negative trait thesaurus" by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi, it reads:

"Wounds are often kept secret from others because embedded within them is the lie-an untruth that the character believes about himself."

When I started therapy (disclaimer: this is not professional advice; I am just talking from how I interpreted all of this), I was introduced to the concept of "limiting beliefs:" lies we have told ourselves about our own nature or the nature of the world. The most difficult beliefs to leave behind are those established in our early childhoods, and we told ourselves those lies to make sense of the world, to make peace with realities we were not equipped to comprehend yet. 

Some examples of lies people belive:

"I am too stupid to learn anything; my teacher said so" "It was my fault that I was molested." "I am a bad person for wanting a different life."

When people believe these lies, they will act accordingly, maybe attracting situations that hurt them but keeping the lie active in their lives. They may self-sabotage or create bonds with people who also believe the lie, even if it doesn't seem this way. 

In some cases, people may develop complete personalities or behaviors to prove the lie wrong, but deep down, they still believe in the lie. Carmy falls into this last category. This is where we find the most contradictory parts of his personality, how he can act shy and insecure in some instances and appear confident and even aggressive in others. 

Long post underneath.

THE RESENT OF A MOTHER:

We can only assume here because I think Storer is gonna let us know more about this soon, but I think I got an idea of this wound when I saw the only moment Carmy was alone with Donna on "Fishes."

I have a lot of things to say about Donna herself, but let's begin with the obvious: the conversation in this scene had little to do with the dinner itself. This was a woman stating that she felt alone and not valued, probably due to being abandoned by her husband and having to overwork herself at the beef to support her 3 kids, all while being a single mother. We don't know if this feeling of abandonment is something she has carried since childhood, but in the state of current womanhood, it wouldn't be uncommon. The work of women (especially mothers), particularly the emotional labor, is rather invisible and not valued at all.

But again, this is something she has used as fuel to resent her kids, who, at the end of the day, didn't ask to be here. Her anger has to go somewhere since she cannot direct it toward the people that ctually caused it. To get to the point:

THE BEARZATTO SYBLING DYNAMIC

Carmy said, "You are not alone; I am here with you." (This kind of comes back to telling Syd she was not alone at the end of the season.) This scene is about a kid trying to communicate to his mother that he loves her and trying desperately to connect with her, to get her to express her affection for him as well.

It tells me that growing up, he felt like he had to "earn" her affection. Donna likes to make her kids feel guilty about her unhappiness, so the kids feel that they are constantly walking on shells because they think their mother hates them, or at least that she resents them and that it is their responsibility to fix it.

In the scene, Carmy asked,

"What is so hard, Mom?"

I think what he was actually asking is, "What is so hard about being with us, to love us? What did we do to you that made you resent us this way?" He is asking because he wants to know, to finally understand. Why do you drink, Mom? Why do you yell? Why do you say such hurtful things?

When she answers, "Nobody makes things beautiful for me," you can see in his face the disconnection. He knows he can't do anything about that.

Then, a crucial part in the scene occurs when Donna calls him "Michael, " which indicates that the only one of her children who could make her feel happy was Michael, or at least that is how the other two kids felt. You can see the hurt in Carmy's eyes in the scene because this answer dismisses his effort to connect to his mother in his own right. She asks him to just leave. He offers to wait to connect with her. Then, it comes to the most chilling moment on the scene, the "we have a problem" using his full name, with resentment in every word. She hugs him while crying, kisses him, and then slaps him.

This is rejection. There is a book called "The Five Wounds of the Soul": wich are Rejection, Abandonment, Humiliation, Betrayal, and Injustice. I think Carmy's wound is rejection, for never earning his mother's love, particularly comparing himself to Michael.

Michael took responsibility for the Beef, finally giving their mom a break. It was Michael's job to make sure everyone was having a good time, to compensate for the discomfort that caused being in Donna's presence, to make sure all of them stayed as a family, which was Donna's intention, so Michael thought he had to make that happen for her. Therefore, Michael is the only one of her kids who succeeds and makes her happy. We know Donna rejects Natalie and Carmy. About Natalie, we can write another whole essay.

THE LIE THAT CARMY BELIVES

According to this scene, I think Carmy thinks that her mother didn't love him because he is not Michael; in fact, he is the most "not like Michael" someone could be. He was shy and stuttered and didn't have friends or girlfriends, comparable to Michael's ability to control every room he was in. Carmy was sensible and no macho alfa as Michael presented himself to be. Carmy left home and the family business, and both Michael and Donna expressed that they feel like he thinks he is better than them. Michael admitted later to admiring Carmy's work in Copenhagen, but Donna never did. carmy grew up having to live with the crumbles of Donna's attention that Michael left behind, wondering every day what was so wrong with him that made her reject him, and wondering what he could do to change that.

The lie that Carmy belives, could be sumarize this way:

I need to earn people's love. I need to always go the extra mile, doing the most possible at all times to earn people's love.

This all goes back to his trauma with Michael. It goes back to his career as a chef and how he became the best. He didn't need to succeed on a larger scale in the culinary industry to earn Michael's respect and love; he needed to be the best in the world, so he did that. He judges his own social abilities, comparing them to Miachae's. He left that promising career only because of Michae's death. He got the girlfriend Michael wanted for him (not saying it was the only reason, but it was there).

PART 2: WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS HAD TO DO WITH SYDNEY?

Well, what does a person who feels they always need to do the most? They do the most. I want to bring you back to the moments Carmy had to develop menu ideas with Syd on s1 and s2.

When Syd suggested items for the menu in s1, he gave her an inconclusive, not enthusiastic "maybe."

When she had to actually cook the thing for him to approve, he tried to make her feel small about it. He felt the need to remind her that she was "impatient and green," according to her previous bosses. He commented about her possibly ruining the flow by using time to cook her recipe. Yikes all around, but the core here is that he was treating her like an enemy, like competition, while she was trying to save the restaurant with what they had on hand to use the most efficient solution.

Then, when Carmy tries the dish and feels stunned by it, he has to make an ambiguous excuse on the fly and just finishes every chance of them using the recipe by saying, "is not ready yet"

And what does he do next? He goes to show the crew a recipe that is extremely complicated for the level they are operating at currently—they said so themselves. I think the recipe is a variation of Donna's butter chicken recipe. To put a nail on that coffin of his intentions to earn her love and approval at the end of it all.

But why does he do all this? Because he needs to be the hero, subconsciously, he is still that small kid begging for acceptance and love; he must go the extra mile. He cannot accept Sydney's help and partnership, because that will take away from him earning what he wants on his own merit.

In S2, he seems unenthusiastic about starting the menu in the first place. Then Claire comes along, and he tries to make it work with Syd and the menu, but I think he subconsciously thanks the universe for not having to go to his core wound. That is what self-sabotage is. That is why he bailed on the food tour with Syd, using such a stupid excuse as helping somebody else move out and never mentioning it again. He never asked her what she liked or what ideas she thought of. For most of the creative process, Syd is alone, working on her own creative crisis. The menu ends up being like two recipes they made in collaboration and then all of his family's traditional recipes. It is two of Syd's recipes and the rest of Carmy's. Then, desserts Marcus did on his own. The collaboration was superficial at best.

All of this creates the core theme of the show. The Bear was once a chaotic place (like their childhood home) that needs to evolve into an efficient, peaceful place built on love, support, and mutual collaboration like a functional family should be. Sydney is the member of this found family that forces Carmy to confront his core wound and learn he can actually be good enough while still accepting help. Therapy probably will play an important part in this theme, alongside with Carmy learning there was nothing wrong with him in the first place, that earning your parent's love is not something a kid can do.

Thankyou for reading. Gif and images are not mine.

[just-some-user-hunny]

I hope Isekai!reader is firmly team green I’m sick and tired of characters born to Alicent being team black 💀 also I need to see her getting along with her platonic yandere FULL-blooded siblings instead of Rhaenyra (I beg you I don’t want to see her around here 😔🙏)

I think it'd be fun to write for team Green, I adore Helaena and Aemond's character, they're so interesting :) I really want to do some stuff on Alicent too, there's so much to get and it'd be fun to navigate what kind of relationship the reader would have with her in a yandere situation. She's really always done what she's been told to do, always following orders, even at her own expense. She's given and given, and although I think she is a questionable mother, I do feel so sad for her because she could have had such a wonderful life if it weren't for the people around her :( for once she has something- someone of her own.

I always see the comparisons of her children representing parts of herself, and for a yandere Alicent I feel that reader would represent the part of herself that dreamed for more outside the confinements of her life. You'd be her joy for life, and she's obsessively possessive over you. Perhaps since you'd be isekaid, you'd have a deeper understanding of her character as a whole. It's like you know her better than herself, and for once she feels seen. Not the heir creator, not the powerless queen, not the screeching mad woman. Just her. Just Alicent. You'd be her precious one, the only person who can see deep into her very soul and not recoil in disgust- only understanding. She needs that. She needs you.

Having her three children as your siblings as well would be another trial of its own. Still, going on the isikai!reader perspective, you've seen them grow up through your screen. Seen the challenges they've endured, so they'd also feel that attachment to you through your empathy and understanding.

Aegon would love you because you listen to him. He's seldom met with your eye rolls or enraged scoldings, and he deeply appreciates that. With you, he can smile. Genuinely smile. The one that makes his eyes crinkle like crescent moons and his smile lines to wrinkle like the ripplings in a still pond. He practically glows in your presence, like the sun.

Heleana, the sweet girl, often feels that you are the only one who can see her. You listen to her with full attention to her dreamy mutters and ramblings, never once raising a brow or finding her odd. You indulge in her fascination with bugs, and may even join her in collecting them out in the garden together. You two would be especially close, as she can't say she has many close friends like you, the person she can happily call her sibling. She is different, and you embrace that. Embrace her, and that's all she could ask from whilst in a family where she is often ignored.

And Aemond? Oh he is an interesting specimen. He's riddled with loneliness and lack of care, the added fire of his rage and cunning wit creating a frightening combination. He'd be extremely protective over you, often shielding you from harm and consoling you if anything upsets you. He's a little different, because although he takes as much affection and care as he can get from you like his siblings and mother, he also enjoys giving it back tenfold. Taking you out riding under his supervision, joining you in the gardens to read, having you watch him train. Your other family members would most likely keep you locked up tight in the castle to keep you as safe as possible, but he wants to give you at least some taste of freedom. As long as you are kept in his line of sight, of course :)

I may write more on isekai!reader since it's a fun concept, and delve into some more writing on team green. I adore Rhaenyra and team black, but both have plenty to explore and pick apart :)

[phoenixblaze1412]

hawoo i like your writings soooooo much!!! can i request something like dottore as our father? like we're his child, literally. can be biological or adopted, up to u!!

His Legacy

Dottore doesn't have the time nor energy to find a lover and create a child with them. He doesn't even want to adopt one, there's a lot of processes that needs to be done before he can officially adopt said child.

If he wants a child, he prefers them to have his genes, a child that can follow in his footsteps and have the same knowledge as he does but from a different perspective of theirs.

What better way to make a child than in the laboratory.

After a month of finding the perfect resources and killing countless women to obtain the proper egg cells, he was able to create an infant, you.

He welcomed you into the world with a grin, his eyes staring back at yours, just the same color as his. He noticed your hair was blue as well, with the tips being a different color, possibly from the unknown mother's genes but he doesn't mind.

The segments all stood on one side of the room while staring at you, currently being held by Dottore himself as he held you out to the segments.

"What is that tiny thing?" "It looks like us but the tips of their hair is a different color." "Are they a failed segment?"

"This child you see before you is mine. I created them in the laboratory using a random woman's egg cell and adding my sperm cell to it. I expect the rest of you to take care of them as well. As for the name... let's call it (Y/n)."

You weren't much of a talker through the years of growing up but Dottore did found out your teeth were sharp like his, he was proud of himself to be able to create you that got most of his characteristics.

He personally taught you everything he knows, from the concept of science itself all the way to the medical field. You're already an expert at opening up a corpse at the fine age of nine without even vomiting or even disgusted at the sight and scent of blood.

Sometimes, the other harbingers would forcefully carry you out of the laboratory just to be able to enjoy the outside world and explore more, much to Dottore's annoyance.

Without the others knowing, Dottore would call a segment and order them to follow you and make sure that you're okay without being caught by his fellow harbingers.

You were given the nickname 'Mini Dottore' by Childe.

Whenever the eleventh harbinger called you that nickname, he would end up in your father's laboratory with a large bloody bite wound on either his arms or legs, courtesy of you.

On special experiments that requires a living test subject, Dottore wouldn't allow you to join in on the experiment, you would be taking the job of an assistant if an occasion arises.

Yes he taught you how to hold a scalpel and how to open up a body but he did it with a dead one. He didn't want you to kill a living organism yet, he may be crazy but he's not crazy enough to let his child watch a person screaming to death.

The segments would use you as a secret weapon if they were told to ask Pantalone for more fundings for their projects. They knew how the regrator couldn't say no to you. You may be a mini version of your father but you're way more adorable than him is what Pantalone stated.

We know Dottore's hair is usually around shoulder length but he doesn't know how to style it. With you in the picture, he had to deal with your hair because it would be everywhere and it is a big problem. It's either he cuts it short with scissors or style it.

He doesn't style it. He just grabs the nearest sharp object he could use and cut it short. He did thought of styling your hair like his but the idea was quickly thrown to the trash when you pouted at him. Luckily he knows how to do a ponytail, although quite messy but he makes sure it doesn't get in the way of your tasks.

Dottore would often be puzzled whenever he would see you caring for animals that were supposed to be used for his experiments. He concluded that this kind personality of yours could have belonged to the woman he killed back then, whoever she was. At least he didn't have to tell you who your mother was if you ever asked him, you were made in a pod chamber in his laboratory after all.

It may not seem like it but Dottore is proud to have you as his child. Aside from the new opinion and perspective he benefited from you, you grew on him and made him care for you.

'Father's little helper' is the nickname Dottore would coo at you whenever you assisted him with his experiments.

The segments treated you as their little sibling, making sure you're safe from harm. Doesn't matter if they get injured themselves because they can handle it but you on the other hand, are more fragile than them.

Dottore promised himself that he would never make you experience the things he went through in his past. He would never make you feel like a monster like he had endured back then.

Some would call you the second harbinger's apprentice, others would call you his pet.

The harbingers however, calls you Dottore's legacy.

[heartpascal]

i’ll be brave

▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: an infected attack leaves you fragile, in more ways that one.

▹— a/n: prepare for many father figure joel fics bc i love him!! also this is not the best thing ever but i love joel so!! hope you guys enjoy <33 planning on doing some more platonic fics where we see them develop more but alas. this is what you get rn!!

▹— tags: @loversdomain

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Growing up in the QZ was all you had ever known, your life limited to the walls that surrounded you, trapped you. You’d heard stories about the world outside, though it was such a foreign concept to you, both of horror and nostalgia.

Until Joel, you were certain you’d never see it. The guards that patrolled were too strict, at least where you lived. It was easier to sneak further in than it was to get out, heading towards where most of the residents lived and worked.

Your father would’ve worked here, you thought to yourself, the very first time you’d managed to get into the centre of the QZ. He would have lived and worked and would have known your mother here. Sometimes, you wonder what life could have been like if he hadn’t of died mere weeks after you’d been born. There was a part of you that longed to know where he was from, actually from, before the world fell to pieces. To know his accent, the sound of his voice, the way he acted… anything.

They told you that your mother fled the day he died, leaving you abandoned in a flat crying for hours until the neighbours finally had enough and cracked open the door, finding you there: alone.

That’s how you had lived your life since, alone. Facing the current world with nobody to teach you, nobody to protect you, to help you escape.

You’re sure that Joel finding you was a miracle, though most people didn’t believe in those anymore, or so you were told. But you were certain that if one was to exist, it’d be this man.

The man who, despite his unwelcoming appearance, had hauled you away from the guards who had tried to beat you until you learned the lesson they were teaching. Who had given you shelter even when he knew nothing more than your name, who had lended you blankets and clothes to keep you warm.

Joel himself certainly wasn’t expecting you — your presence scared him. That day, when he saw those guards attacking you, he felt a glimpse of who he used to be in the life before, and he was unable to walk away. It terrified him, more than any clicker or runner ever could, that he may have some humanity left within him after all.

After Sarah, he turned his nose from anyone who could’ve needed his help. Other than those exempt from that, such as Tommy or Tess, he decided that it wasn’t his business.

But when you called out, being struck again by two armed guards, grown adults, something inside of his chest snapped. Like a tether that had been pulled far too taut, frayed away until the tension was too much to bare. He vividly remembers the blood that had dropped from his hands as he pulled you to your feet, remembers the way it matched the droplets that stained your face.

He wasn’t planning on you becoming part of his and Tess’ little… group, but once he found you, you seemed to stick. You didn’t particularly want to leave, anyway, and when the duo didn’t kick you out? You figured there was no harm in staying.

Now, you travelled with them, earning your place among the two adults, even when they suggested you stay home, where it was the slightest bit safer.

They had refused your requests to come with them on runs for a while, but the first time they allowed it was imprinted on your brain as if branded there by hot metal.

The brightness that came with being outside of the QZ was something you truly didn’t expect, though that could’ve just been in your brain. The QZ was dull, full of grey walls and faces and dirt, but out here was full. Greens and yellows and everything between covered the horizon, and you squinted to see as much of it as you possibly could.

Joel had huffed at you, nudging you lightly to keep you moving, but he wasn’t angry. He and Tess had shared a look, something going between their silence that you didn’t understand, and in that moment, you didn’t care to.

By now, you’d been coming on runs with the two of them for a few months, here and there. When they deemed it wasn’t too dangerous, of course.

Which is why today’s occurrence was so odd — it was a regular run, with you spending all your time in the great outdoors admiring everything that surrounded you, something akin to wonder in your eyes. Seeing all the buildings that had crumbled not long after your birth, taken over by nature and its most fearsome monster; cordyceps. As soon as you approached the desired hit of the day, you put your game face on. It was like flicking a switch in your brain — one second, you could have no worries in the world, stuck in your own head as you wandered around. The next, it was like every movement echoed in your ears, the slightest of sounds drawing your attention.

It was meant to be safe.

That is what Joel and Tess had said — god, that was the only reason they let you join them today, on one of their rare daylight outings: the safety factor.

So imagine your surprise when you slipped, ankle twisting as it went through the creaking floorboards of the building, followed by the clicking.

It was like your whole body froze solid, every muscle fibre tensing and pulling taut, eyes wide — a deer in headlights, Tess might’ve described you as, if her heart hadn’t have been beating so fast it could’ve burst.

Your head swivelled towards where Joel stood, just in front of you, to your right. He stared at you, something dark in his eyes, and you swallowed harshly as he held a finger to his lips, shushing you.

Each of your breaths came out silently, the only sound being the echoing clicks before the footsteps started coming towards the three of you, directly from your left. You swore you could hear the drip of blood in the quiet between each footstep of the monster.

You kept your eyes towards Joel and Tess, as much as you wanted to look to your left, where the sounds were starting to get louder. You watched them as they shared a conversation through their eyes, a nod of understanding held between the two of them. Joel’s expression was pained, but Tess put on her best brave face, giving you a wink.

“Hey, asshole!” Tess yelled, before scrambling to run ahead, a screech echoing in your ear, deafening you. Your breath hitched as she ran, and the clicker followed before your eyes.

As soon as its attention was on Tess, Joel was grasping you underneath your armpits, hauling your leg out of the hole it had fallen in. You held in your cries and winces as the broken floorboards left splinters and cuts all along your calf, your ankle hurting like a bitch.

He was pulling you out before you could utter a word, and by the time he managed to get you outside, your blood had covered your shoe. He leant you against the broken wall that had surrounded the building, ensuring you could stay upright — though you couldn’t put pressure on your leg — before he barked out a, “Stay here!” and ran back inside for Tess.

Your heart was beating in your ears, your throat clogged up as you did your best not to cry. This was your fault — had you not insisted upon joining them again, they would’ve never been put in this situation. They could die in there, and you were stuck out here, unable to even stand on your own two feet.

The pain in your leg was worsening now that you weren’t in imminent danger, though you were sure you were going to pass out when you heard the gun fire a single round.

“Are you guys okay?” You all but yelled as soon as you saw them emerging from the door, Tess leading, seemingly unharmed, with Joel following in much the same condition.

“We’re fine,” Tess breathed out as she approached you, leaning against the wall beside you. “It’s dead.”

“Are you alright?” Joel asked, his hand grasping on to your forearm, keeping you steady where you were shaking, holding yourself up against the rough surface of the wall. You nodded, breath still not able to properly filter out past the lump in your throat.

He knelt in front of you, hands reaching out and pulling the trouser leg up to see the full extent of your injury properly.

“Shit, kid,” he sighed out, looking up to Tess, “we’ve seen worse. We can manage.” He dropped the backpack where it was hung on his one shoulder, digging through it to tape some spare cloth around your injury, taping it around your ankle to keep it secure, too.

When he finally got you on your feet, silence lingering between all of you, he had to help you carry your own weight all the way back to your home in the QZ.

By the time you had managed to pick all the splinters out of your leg, Joel and Tess had gone to their beds, leaving you in the ‘living room,’ alone.

You felt sick, knowing you could have gotten all three of you killed today, just because you wanted a taste of the world that had long since decayed past anything worth wanting. Finally left on your own, the tears spilled past your eyelids, cleaving clean lines through the dirt and muck that caked your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but feel terrified, like you could still hear that damned creature coming for you. Like its footsteps echoed in your own home, right now.

With a fearful sob, you looked up to where you swore the sound come from, only to find Joel approaching, frown present on his face. His eyebrows were creased upwards, taking his expression from grumpy to worried.

Without a word from him, he came and sat beside you on the couch, wrapping the blanket that usually stayed firmly on the back of it around your shivering shoulders.

You clutched at it, wanting nothing more than to hide underneath it and pretend the entire day hadn’t happened — you wanted to forget the fear that shredded your veins, leaving your heart hammering. If you could just lose the entire memory of today, you would in a heartbeat, because the idea of leaving the QZ again with Joel and Tess made you feel sick.

Joel sighed, coming to kneel in front of you after you continuously avoided looking towards him. His hands reached out to your leg, the movement sending deja vu straight through you. He checked over your injury again, wrinkles caused by his frowning getting deeper. “You know it’s all okay, right?” He checked, finally, unsure what else to say in the quiet you usually tended to fill.

“It’s not o—okay, Joel,” you sobbed out, barely even breathing between your cries, “I al—almost got you and Tess kill—killed.”

“No, no, listen to me, kid. The… situation today was not your fault. Hear me? Not your fault. We thought it was safe, it wasn’t, that happens. We’re just glad you’re okay. Mostly.” He added on, nodding towards your bruised and bloodied leg.

“I tried so h—hard to be brave,” you continued, now even more hysterical as you thought of the way that thing approached you, how it could’ve killed any one of you had you made the slightest noise.

“I know,” Joel said, and he returned to your side at the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing it with his hand. “You were very brave, and I’m sorry you had to be.”

Part of Joel couldn’t help but feel like this was too much, too reminiscent of the daughter he’d lost. It made his head spin, even as he pulled you closer at the sound of your continuous cries, the way you could bring back that piece of him, the piece with some kind of humanity.

You didn’t have anybody else. All you had was Tess and Joel, and all he had was you and Tess, at least while his brother was out of town. This thing you had built, during the apocalypse and all, was a family.

“C’mon, kid,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his hand, “It’s alright. We’ll go out just to see the outside, next time. No risk of infected.”

“No, I—I don’t want to get you guys hurt again.” You responded, shaking your head and feeling your tears slow, remembering the pain that burned through your leg. You didn’t want to experience anything like today ever again, even if that meant staying inside the walls of the QZ for the rest of your life. “You didn’t even get what we went out for, because of me.”

His chest lurched, and he huffed a frustrated breath. “I don’t give one shit about that,” Joel said, leaving it to you to catch on to the end of that sentence that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. I care about you.

You couldn’t tell him how you truly felt — like dead weight, a burden they couldn’t get rid of. You stayed with them, ate their food and used up their supplies, and now you were ruining the only way for them to get a decent income, too. It’d upset him, hearing you say that aloud. You knew it would.

“I just… I don’t want to end up alone.” You translated, the best you could do to tell him that you needed the two of them, for more than just the ability to survive they provided you with.

You knew they missed the old world, everybody who had lived before the outbreak did, as much as they tried not to think about it. It was a deep longing for something you would never know. While their world was gone, they were your world.

Joel’s arm squeezed you close, like all the words that refused to leave his lips could be heard that way.

In a way, it told you everything you needed to know.

Your eyes closed soon enough, and you missed the look that crossed Joel’s face, the warmth in his eyes that he never thought would return after the loss of his first daughter. And yet here it was, present and warm as ever, as he looked at where you’d fallen asleep resting against him.

[dragonpropaganda]

you should talk about your thoughts on rw fanon (looking with huge eyes)

Oh god, there's a lot of major misconceptions have concreted into fanon, mostly around ancient society and ascension.

First things first! Ascension is not death! They are entirely separate things treated entirely separately by the text of the game. I can see where the interpretation is coming from, but it doesn't really align with how the text treats either subject. Five Pebbles may want to remove the self destruction taboo, but from his reaction to the rot it's clear that he doesn't want to die. Conflation of ascension and death only comes up as an offhand possibility that pebbs makes on iterator 4chan, when he's going into the possibilities of scenarios that even the other sliverists are doubtful of! (let me make clear that I am not a sliverist by any means)

Ascension is more of talked about as a form of transcendence, yeah? A Bell, Eighteen Amber Beads talks about their sitution as being "To have grasped at the boundless infinites of the cosmic void…", not as them seeking an end to life.

The beta dialogue goes into more detail, mentioning the "infinities of time and space" and the "boundless fractal planes of spirit and reality...", though this dialogue was cut and it's hard to tell how much it reflects the concept as in the released game.

As for the cultural misconceptions... there's A Lot to talk about, but the first that comes to mind is the common conflation of the five natural urges and the christian concept of sin.

It is true that the negation of urges is mentioned by moon as an alternative method of ascension, but much of what we know about the culture of the people who the fandom calls the ancients (which makes discussion of the depths a mess but that's something for another post entirely) points towards the urges not being seen as shameful.

Even the first urge does not seem to be particularly scorned! Being a warrior is presented as a cause for bragging in the Shaded Citadel pearl, being comparable with being an artist and a fashion legend. The second urge, also does not seem to be suppressed. Multiple sources attribute some level of honour to parenthood! The aforementioned pearl also mentions Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel as being a "Mother, Father and Spouse" without any hint of shamefulness. Nineteen Spades, Endless Reflections expresses pride about having progeny, mentioning it alongside their owned land and esteem among their peers.

After some peer review, an esteemed friend has told me to add a section on purposed organisms as well! This is not so much my area, so I might be a bit off on some things.

As moon says, the majority of purposed organisms were tubes in boxes, and that the primal fauna of the world are almost entirely extinct. A lot of the fandom seems to ignore the first part, and i can't say I blame them, but the evolution of the creatures is so much weirder than people think.

Concept art for the creatures has this interesting quality to it, where the organic parts of the creatures have an almost... melty quality to them.

In the concept art, the flesh appears as if it's almost defying the machinery to form an animal shape. It's as if it's conquering its own artificiality the way the foliage grows over the (stone, brick and concrete, not mostly metal as some think!) ruins.

Of course, it's hard to really tell how much of this reflects the finalised concept, most of the integration is much smoother in the game, in line with a seamless kind of biomechanical design. There was always an intention of biomechanical strangeness, as shown in this screenshot of the devlog before the term "slugcat" even existed!

That said, the melty nature of the concept art shows a level of wild change inherent the biomechanical nature of the creatures, as if they truly are the result of these "tubes in boxes" almost revolting against their own boxes.

and considering centipedes... some tubes may not have had boxes in the first place!

[starcurtain]

What do you think about Sunday and Aventurine? and their interaction in 2.1, I know Sunday did what he had to do but I just have a strong dislike for him ever since. He is an interesting character though.

I mentioned on a previous ask that I wanted to talk about narrative foils/character parallels, and that ask mentioned Aventurine being similar to Robin and a little to Sunday. But I thought I'd combine that character foils idea with this post about Sunday because...

Aventurine and Sunday are Near Perfect Character Parallels

(Also sorry to Youtuber Fayato who I screencapped this image from; I literally couldn't find a single other good image of Aventurine and Sunday in the same frame!)

In media, the concept of the narrative foil refers to a character who contrasts another character; by setting the two characters and their plots side by side, the audience is better able to understand the traits of the central character.

And by setting two surprisingly similar characters in opposition to each other, it becomes very clear how even those facing similar circumstances can take diametrically opposed paths in life.

First, let's start with the basics:

Aventurine and Sunday are both characters whose real fathers were never in the picture, and who lost their mothers right in front of their eyes to traumatizing events.

They both experienced the violent deaths ("death" in Sunday's case) of their sisters.

They both were "rescued" by people who intended to use them by growing them ("grooming them" in Sunday's case) into a figure of authority.

They were both told they were "chosen ones" growing up. And yet ultimately this status as the chosen one is in doubt: Aventurine isn't sure if his family's faith is real, while Gopher Wood tells Sunday that Penacony's chosen should have been Robin all along.

They both became self-sacrificial, Aventurine through his obvious willingness to throw his life away, and Sunday through his plan to remain outside the sweet dream to be its keeper while everyone else got to live in "paradise."

They both are trapped by their situations, Sunday by his inability to leave the cage, Aventurine by his inability to accept the life he isn't able to throw away.

They both became the "villain" of their respective patches and both faced "death."

Personality-wise, they both strongly favor being in control, to the point that their scene together is an aggressive power struggle over each other.

This is how the "future" Aventurine describes himself:

Does it sound familiar? It should, since that's exactly how people describe Sunday.

But they also both prioritize their families, and they are equally altruistic at the core while seemingly self-centered on the exterior.

They both, of course, have the blessing of an aeon.

And here's where I'm going to take a massive tangent, but it's important: I do tend to be among those who think there is at least some connection between Ena, the Order, and Gaiathra.

I've heard all sorts of reasons that they can't be two different concepts for the same being, from the whole "Gaiathra is a goddess of trickery and that's not related to order" to the whole "the Order's followers worship with song while Gaiathra's followers specifically don't," but I think something that has been missing from the discussion of Ena and Gaiathra's possible connection is that "Order" as a concept has entirely different definitions depending on which cultural context you approach it from.

The most mainstream modern concept of "Order" is something that is imposed: A power from on high descends to quell the chaos of the mortal world, to "bring order" through guidance to humanity. This is very Abrahamic, very modern Christian, and that is reflected in the imagery surrounding Sunday. Sunday, as a manifestation of the Order's power, believes he will be able to uplift Penacony from the mire, free people from their unfulfilled desires and confusion, and bring about perpetual peace by enforcing his understanding of harmony on the populace trapped in the dream.

Sunday's Order is not the natural state of the world but something that must be carefully cultivated and maintained, a constant battle against the chaotic forces of life and its temptations. This type of "Order" promises an idyllic future, but at the cost of the present freedom of everyone who submits to the law, who must surrender their original fate for a structured sweet dream.

We understand this concept of "Order" because at its core, it's the one that modern societies largely embrace--ruling authorities establish laws that must be followed at all costs, even when they risk the freedoms of individuals, because they ultimately (supposedly) support a greater good. A majority of society adheres to the laws handed down from on-high, and life functions relatively stably.

Yet this conception of "Order" is predicated on the idea that the course of people's lives is decided first and foremost by the people themselves--which is why they can make mistakes, go astray, and need to be shepherded in the first place.

Without imposing structure through authoritarian power, this type of "Order" will crumble away in an instant, because this view assumes that rightness can only created by humanity, and that chaos--not order--is the natural state of existence.

Ena, who holds worlds tidily contained in her hands, who is tangled in puppet strings, who wears a hood like a nun or the Virgin Mary, and who is haloed like a Christian angel, clearly represents this definition of "Order" to a T.

But... this is not how humanity has always defined "Order."

It was not always taken for granted that people had the power of self-determination, and in fact, for many centuries and across many cultures, the concept of "the order of the world" was tied directly to the concept of destiny. Whether a volcano would explode and destroy your entire civilization, whether floods would swallow your city, whether the crops would grow or fail all depended on the pre-made decisions of supernatural powers, who were in turn often personified concepts of the natural world itself. What happened to any given individual, what twists and turns their life would take, whether they would achieve their dreams or not--all these aspects were also predetermined, decided not by the actions of the individual but by fate itself.

Thus, the world and everything in it has a natural order. Things may seem chaotic, they may even seem unbelievably horrible, but all events in existence unfold as they should. We may not understand why, but everything occurs in due course, woven into an endlessly repeating pattern on the fates' loom--spring becomes summer, life becomes death, disasters happen and are healed from, children are born and grow old. If it is your fate to die, you will. If it is your fate to fight and live, you will. To reject this natural order would be as futile as telling the sun not to rise.

The words "order" and "ordained" have the same origin.

Enter Gaiathra. First of all, she is the Star Rail equivalent of a pagan goddess--her worship exists separate of the confirmed existence of aeons, by an uncontacted and non-space-faring race. Even her description, being triple-eyed, evokes other "triple goddess" figures across history, both in modern interpretations (the triple goddess of Neopaganism) and in ancient mythologies (the three fates of Greece, the Tridevi of Hindu culture, etc.).

She is strongly associated with the natural world: The planet of Sigonia is said to be a manifestation of her very body, the rain is her blessing and acknowledgment, and she goes through a yearly cycle of death and rebirth (calling the cycle of the seasons to mind). She is said to be a goddess of both fertility and travel (likely in the sense of nomadic wandering by the time Aventurine was born). Avgin worship of the goddess manifests in the form of sacrificial cyclic knots.

Which might call to mind another pagan culture well-known for their cyclic knots: the Celts, whose famous Celtic knots represent cycles of eternity, unity, and the interconnected nature of life itself.

The Avgin prayer to Gaiathra focuses on elements of a person's life that all might be determined by "fate"--will your blood keep flowing, will your journey be peaceful, will your schemes stay hidden? It hopes that things will be as they should, that the future ahead of you is predetermined to be a good one, and that the cycle of life decided by the goddess will be in one's favor.

But while the Avgin hope for good things, they also strongly espouse embracing the reality of one's life, with suffering and hardships seen as manifestations of fate that should be accepted as facts of life. It is said that any society blessed by the Order ultimately falls--is it not the natural fate of all societies to one day fall? For mankind to return to the dust and be reborn anew?

Whatever will be, will be.

There is a reason--a logic--an order--to everything that happens.

I hope you can see where I'm going with this: While Sunday and Ena represent the concept of "Order" as a result of self-determination, a power "the strong" can wield to overcome the inherent chaos of reality, Aventurine and Gaiathra represent a different, older concept of "Order" (I can't help but see the entirely separate eye lurking behind Ena?): existence is not inherently chaotic but instead is foreordained, following endless orderly cycles life and death, weal and woe, rise and fall.

PHEW! Okay, so all of that to say Aventurine and Sunday make perfect parallels through a mirror darkly, even when it comes to the blessings they've been granted: One imposes order from on high; one continually rolls the dice despite knowing the inevitable outcome.

Both of their stories are entirely intertwined with the concept of fate, whether by opposing it...

Or accepting it.

And even at the end of Penacony, we leave both Sunday and Aventurine in precarious positions. Aventurine, while ostensibly "victorious," faces another roll of the dice immediately after Penacony, when his future as a Stoneheart is called into question. Yet "fate" comes through for him again--his bet, as always, comes true. His future isn't in question--it is the question itself. What's next? He finally wants to live to find out.

Sunday, meanwhile, ends Penacony's arc in a truly difficult place. He's virtually exiled from the only home he's ever known, a flightless bird tossed out of his cage into cold hard reality. He has to find an entirely new way forward and may even be forced to reckon with an entirely new definition of "Order" itself.

The parallels between these two characters are entirely intentional and very, very blatant, and I am exceedingly interested in seeing whether their paths diverge or continue to reflect similar fates moving forward.

So uhhh... that's what I think of Sunday? 😂

[antiquarianfics]

Sun to Me

If there is one thing Bucky Barnes remembers about his mother, it is that she told him to find someone who plants flowers in the darkest parts of him. If there is one thing Bucky Barnes knows about Reader, it is that they grow him to the clouds.

A/N: Okay, so. (1) Thank you all so much for the incredible response to my last fic, "Timeless." It's given me the motivation to keep writing fics for y'all. (2) Apparently my inspiration strictly comes from music; thus this Zach Bryan "Sun to Me" inspired fic. Enjoy! Genre: Fluff / WC: 1,049 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x G!N Reader Rating: PG / Warning(s): N/A Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

---

Children rarely grasp the concept of marriage when they're little. They understand that their parents get married because they love each other, and that's about as far as it goes. Children rarely grasp the concept of different types of love when they're little. They understand that their parents love each other, and they understand that their parents love them, but that's about as far as it goes. Bucky Barnes was no exception to this human truth when he was young. He remembers being 5 or 6--lifetimes ago--telling his mother he was going to marry her. He loved his ma: you marry the people you love.

Winnifred had gently taken her son in her arms, sitting on their solid living room couch.

"My darling boy," she had said, "you can't marry me. I'm your ma."

Bucky had made a face, protesting. "I love you, though!" He had argued with his mother. "You said people marry people they love."

"I did say that," Winnifred agreed, "but the way I love your father is different than the way I love you. You don't get it now, but one day, you'll meet someone wonderful. When you meet that person, you'll understand what I mean."

Bucky had made a face, scrunching his eyebrows together and biting his lip in confusion.

"James," his mother had said, "you'll find someone someday, somewhere that plants flowers in the darkest parts of you--someone who grows you to the clouds. You'll find someone who loves you the way I love your dad. I promise, sweetheart."

---

Bucky wakes to your alarm blaring--your third, if he counted right. He had woken up three times now to the blaring alarm that you have snoozed just as many times, not stirring more than you have to to pause the incessant noise. Bucky lie in your shared bed, staring at the ceiling and sure he would be unable to fall back asleep for a fourth time. Tiredly, he looked over to the digital clock on his nightstand, reading the taunting 5:32 A.M. in the aggressive red. Running a hand over his tired face, he is about to pull himself out of bed and start his day, but he looks beside him first.

There you are, fast asleep, ignoring every attempt your alarm makes to rouse you. He briefly thinks you're going to oversleep, but he also knows you set alarms earlier than you need to wake up to account for each time you hit snooze.

You're sprawled across your side of the bed, your legs tangling with his and arms tied around your pillow. It's only then that he realizes his legs have gone numb from being pressed beneath your own. He can't bring himself to care, though.

As he watches you sleep--your chest slowly rising and falling as you breathe--he smiles softly. He decides right then that anything he could possibly choose to do at 5:32 A.M. is not nearly as appealing as lying with his partner.

Bucky then rolls onto his side, letting his left arm wrap around you, pulling you close. He breathes in the smell of your shampoo, and he thinks it's something floral. The smell reminds him of his mother--a lifetime ago--telling him to find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of him. It's funny, he thinks, that a smell could pull out such a memory that the brainwashing and science experimenting had fought to erase completely, but he is glad it did.

He misses his mother for a moment. He had lost her so early on, but he remembers how he loved her, how she loved him. He remembers then how his mother had assured him the way they loved each other would be different than how he loves you. He can't help but laugh softly to himself. You were right, Ma, he thinks, I understand now.

You really are something special. You are the kind of person he thinks his mother would have loved. Your kind disposition, your intelligence, your strength: just you. You are the kind of person, too, that took his history, his scars, and his damaged heart and sowed a plentiful garden. You planted flowers in his soul where there had been thorns. You watered the sprouts every night to allow them to eventually bloom. You were there for every nightmare, every court appearance, every fight. You were there to pick up the pieces when he felt most broken. You were there to grow him to the clouds.

He hopes he has been the same for you.

A fourth alarm starts blaring, screaming for you to wake up. The fourth alarm takes the title as the final alarm as you clumsily grab your cellphone, looking at it just enough to turn it off. You drop your phone next to you on the bed before turning around in your lover's arms.

"Mornin', handsome," you say before letting out a yawn.

"Good morning, Doll," he replies easily, gently swiping a stray hair away from your eyes with his finger. "You know, you slept through 3 alarms this morning," he says with a teasing (albeit slightly annoyed) tone.

You groan. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Gave me time to just hold you."

You hum happily, leaning forward to softly kiss his lips. He happily reciprocates. When the two of you part, he smiles at you.

"I remembered something."

"Was it actually 4 alarms?" You ask playfully.

Bucky chuckles and leans his forehead against yours.

"Nah, it was just 3," he assures you. "I remembered something my ma told me."

"Oh!" You exclaim, a little surprised. "That's an early memory!"

He grins. "Yeah, it is."

"So? What'd she tell you?"

"She told me that somewhere, someday, I'd find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of me. Someone who grows me to the clouds. I was, like, 6, I think, so it made no sense when she said it to me."

You smile softly, letting your hand cup his face tenderly. You don't say anything, though, opting to let him share his newfound memory at his own pace.

"But I get it now. It took a literal century, but I get it now. You're the person Ma told me I'd find."

"Can I tell you a secret, Buck?"

"Anything, Doll."

"I love you, too."

[teamatsumu]

was i meant to love you? (part one)

pairing: miya osamu x reader

summary: the kanji on your arm says Miya Atsumu’s name. but every fiber of your being is in love with his twin brother.

word count: 2796

warnings: soulmate au, fem!reader, miya atsumu x reader, angst, fluff, swearing

series masterlist

As a young child, your parents always told you that the universe created soulmates to form and nurture the bonds of love. No human on this planet would be left alone, because everyone had someone created for them. To love and care for them, to fill the gaps in their hearts and provide people with the bliss of knowing that they meant the whole world to someone.

There was nothing sad or difficult about it, the universe had ensured it.

At an infant’s first birthday, neat kanji letters would appear on their forearm, clear as day, specifying the first and last names of their soulmates. There was no ambiguity. The universe ensured that you would find your soulmate no matter what. An individual would grow up knowing who they were meant to be with, and they would die at a ripe old age with that person after spending their whole lives with them.

You were no exception to the rule. When the clock struck midnight, your tiny, one year old arm was marked with the letters that would be there until you died. A simple name.

Miya Atsumu.

Your mother was ever the hopeless romantic. She had met your father in her late teens, considering he lived all the way across the globe and getting there wasn’t easy. So she wanted for you what she had never had. A childhood romance. A kinship between children that would one day transform into a comfortable, familiar love. She wanted you to grow up with the person you were meant to be with, to stand by his side through everything, no matter how trivial. The thought of maturing with your other half had her sighing and batting her eyelashes dreamily, so the minute your kanji appeared, the hunt for Miya Atsumu was on.

Imagine her overjoyed reaction when she found out he was in the same country. Nothing could stop her from uprooting your lives in Tokyo to move all the way to Hyogo, and your father, the man who could never deny her anything, had agreed to go along of course. Anything for his wife. And anything to secure love for his child.

And so you met the Miya Twins. Same age as you, scarily identical and hard to differentiate in your tiny, underdeveloped mind. You had moved in only a few blocks away, and once your mother had spoken to their parents, it seemed you were woven into their lives permanently.

Miya Atsumu, your soulmate, was okay. He was a baby, you were a baby. You have no concept of love, or fate, or other halves. All you cared about was that he was active and loved to play. But he didn’t like sharing his toys which often made you cry. In moments like these, his twin, Miya Osamu, would share with you what was his, both of you playing together and occasionally scowling over at Atsumu. Eventually, Atsumu would get tired of being left out, and he would offer you his own toys just so all of you would play together.

Your mother thought it was very cute. The twins’ mother was endlessly relieved. At least one of her boys had found his soulmate. Because for the other, it seemed a hopeless case.

For you see, Miya Osamu’s arm was blank. There were no deep red kanji letters on his skin, telling him who his soulmate was. As far as the eye could tell, Miya Osamu had no one.

The boy had no concept of how doomed he was. But his parents did. And his mother had cried and sobbed herself to sickness thinking her boy was an anomaly. That somehow, the universe believed that maybe Osamu didn’t deserve love. It broke their hearts. So when Atsumu’s soulmate was brought to them, they felt slightly at ease. Just a bit. Just enough to lighten their load slightly. Because you got along so well with Osamu. You liked to play with him, you enjoyed sharing with him. Sometimes, you even ate off the same plate (something Atsumu would never tolerate. That was his food. He doesn’t share).

Their mother could rest easy knowing that even if Osamu didn’t have a soulmate, his twin brother’s soulmate would not cut him out. That Osamu could still rely on family, even if he didn’t have somebody of his own.

In hindsight, these early interactions between toddlers should have been an indication of the future. But your mothers never noticed something off. If only you had a brain developed enough to realize what was happening at such an early age.

And so you grew up with the twins, same daycares, same schools, same playgrounds. At no point were you separated. From the moment you could form coherent thoughts, they were with you, and you with them. Atsumu was your loud, boisterous soulmate. Always ready for a challenge, endlessly hungry for victory. In his middle school days he had decided he wanted to play volleyball for the rest of his life, and so that’s what he focused on. Atsumu was a simple person, his intentions and objectives were clear.

In middle school, you first wrapped your head around the fact that Atsumu was someone you had to like romantically. It was almost a foreign concept, but the young girl in you was curious, just as anyone your age would be while going through puberty. So you were excited when you and Atsumu started ‘dating’. It was what Fate had dictated, after all. You and him were meant to be together, weren’t you?

You had your first kiss with him after a volleyball game. You had been cheering from the sidelines, and Atsumu barrelled right into you after the final whistle. He was sweaty, and very sticky, and he laid an equally sticky smooch on your lips. You and him both buzzed with the adrenaline of the win, and the kiss felt nice.

You would hold hands at school, and Atsumu would walk you to class. You would always stay on the balcony during after-school practice, watching the twins play. To onlookers, it was endlessly cute. Young love, as they say.

You didn’t think too much about the fact that you did it more out of obligation than for love. You assumed this is what it was. The ‘soulmate bond’ or whatever. You didn’t need to consider it. You had always been told that your life and Atsumu’s were connected, so that was that.

And then there was Osamu. Quieter than Atsumu, but just as determined. He had a competitive streak just as mean as his brother, and at no point did he get left behind. Osamu loved volleyball, maybe not as much as his brother, but enough to invest a whole lot of his time into it. In every aspect, the twins balanced each other perfectly. Osamu knew exactly when to reign Atsumu in. He was more perceptive in that sense. He picked up on stuff that flew over Atsumu’s head sometimes. And that applied to you too.

He was your best friend.

When you would fall on the playground and skin your knees, Osamu would help you up. He would wipe the tears and snot off your face and shoulder you as you walked home. He would hold your hand while your mother would clean and patch you up. Osamu would share all his snacks with you, including candy. He didn’t mind. He always insisted that you ate so little that it hardly mattered.

In middle school, Osamu made sure to ask the volleyball team coach for permission to let you stay and watch practices. Onlookers weren’t really allowed for day-to-day training, but Osamu convinced him to make an exception. You studied together for every quiz, every test. When you would fall asleep while studying, it would always somehow be on Osamu’s bed, and he would tuck you in without fail every single time.

While Atsumu kept looking forward in life, Osamu made sure to glance back and hold your hand tight to make sure you didn’t get left behind.

He was here now too, standing outside the volleyball coach’s office with you. Your first year in Inarizaki High, and you clutched your application in your hand tightly, making Osamu tut and pull the paper from your hands lest you wrinkle it even more. He smoothed it out and gave you a quick once over, sighing a bit.

“Ya gotta cool it.” He spoke up, watching how you nervously fidgeted all over the place.

“Thanks, that helps a lot.” Sarcasm dripped from your words and you gave him a nasty look. He only rolled his eyes in return, reading over your application one more time.

“Yer gonna be fine. Once he knows you and Tsumu are soulmates, yer practically guaranteed the manager position.” He said, trying to soothe you a bit.

“How is that a guarantee?” You scoffed, staring at the closed office door.

“Because he’ll think ya can keep that scrub in line.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so nervous. “He would be dead wrong. When has Atsumu ever listened to me?”

Osamu snorted. “‘M not sayin’ he would be right. But don’t ya dare correct him. I need ya on that team to keep me sane.”

You finally gave him a smile, feeling better slightly. It wasn’t really his words. Osamu’s whole presence just helped you feel better.

And he was also right. You easily got the managerial role for the Boys’ Volleyball Team. The twins whooped in celebration when you gave them the news, Atsumu laying a sloppy kiss on your cheek while Osamu just gave you an encouraging grin.

Something in you stirred when you realized that in the moment, you wanted Osamu to kiss your cheek too.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

It was easy enough to dismiss though, because Atsumu was pulling you into his lap on the couch, talking about how awesome it would be to have you actively helping the team instead of just being a spectator. Osamu’s stare wavered before dropping from you entirely. And you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes dim.

Nah, it couldn’t be, right? There was nothing to be sad about. You had just gotten the manager position. But when Atsumu tucked your head under his chin, it hit you. Osamu’s sadness was likely due to him not having a soulmate.

The topic of Osamu’s absent soulmate was something that was never brought up. Somehow, it was always ignored. He never mentioned it, and neither did you. You were unsure if he had ever talked about it with Atsumu, but you hesitated to ask. You didn’t want him feeling worse than he already probably did. And you were sure that your and Atsumu’s open displays of affection weren’t helping that fact either.

You stayed silent, though you did slowly detach Atsumu’s arms from around you and slid off his lap, instead sitting between the twins on the couch. He didn’t notice, too engrossed with whatever was happening on the TV before him. Your attention was entirely on Osamu though, trying to decipher his expression from the corner of your eye. He was still as a rock, not giving anything away.

You fought the urge to hug him.

Back in middle school, Osamu had first questioned the fact that he did not have a name on his arm. It was a silly childish tantrum, something about how come Tsumu had something that he didn’t? He had pestered his mother about it until she sat him down and explained. You don’t know what exactly they talked about, but you never heard him complain about it again.

Your overthinking mind immediately started mulling through your memories, thinking about all the times you and Atsumu had done something in front of Osamu. You felt guilt ripple through you when you realized that it all probably reminded him of his lack of soulmate. And he never said anything about it. You knew that must have been a struggle. Osamu told you everything. But maybe he felt that he couldn’t tell you about this.

The thought made your heart ache for him.

“Tsumu?”

Your boyfriend hummed in response, too focused on whatever video game he was currently obsessing over. His tongue was sticking out from the corner of his mouth, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, c’mon. Turn that off. I gotta talk to you about something.”

“Gimme five minutes.”

You groaned and flopped down on his bed, knowing five minutes meant at least twenty, and resigning yourself to wait for that time. If you forcefully made him quit the game, he would be distracted throughout your conversation. You needed him to be fully attentive for this.

When you finally had him settled on the bed in front of you, game turned off and him frowning at how serious you were being, you got straight to the point.

“We need to tone shit down in front of Samu.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“What does that mean?”

You explained to him how you felt that Osamu might be feeling left out when Atsumu draped himself all over you, making him hum and rub on his chin in thought.

“He never said anythin’.”

You nodded. “But he always gets kind of upset about it.”

“I haven’t noticed.”

“That’s because you’re dumb as bricks.”

“Hey!”

The conversation abruptly ends there, with Atsumu pinning you down on the bed and holding you hostage until you apologised for calling him dumb. But the agreement is made, and from then on, you and Atsumu tone down your physical affection when you’re around Osamu.

No more kisses when they picked you for school in the mornings, or after practices when they walked you home. And no more unnecessarily long hugs. And of course, no more sitting on Atsumu’s lap while Osamu was there.

You hadn’t anticipated that this meant almost no intimacy at all, because Osamu was around you two all the time. You didn’t notice that you spent so much time with him until you had to be mindful of your actions. And as the weeks passed by, your and Atsumu’s physical relationship fizzled to almost nothing.

It should have been concerning. It should have. But it wasn’t. The lack of affection did almost nothing to you. If anything, the thing you were concerned about was why you weren’t concerned. Atsumu was your soulmate, yet you could go days and weeks without feeling any need or want to kiss him or hug him. You were still around each other all the time, but the instinctual habit of being in his arms was breaking, and you felt this gnawing fear that without it, your and Atsumu’s relationship was barely a relationship.

In trying to accommodate Osamu, you discovered your lack of feelings for your soulmate.

Your second year of high school was plagued with thoughts of your hesitation, why you tried and tried, but felt almost nothing for the blond twin except the sense of kinship that came with knowing him for so long. You stared at Atsumu as he rose up in the world of volleyball. Making Nationals, going to Youth Camp, and while you did feel proud of him, there was not an ounce of you that loved him romantically.

And it made you feel lost.

All your life, you had been told Atsumu was the one for you. Your other half. The one you would marry and have kids with and die with. You had been friends with him since you could barely walk. And he had been your boyfriend since you knew what a boyfriend was. You had kissed him and hugged him and cuddled with him so often that it was almost by default. Instinct. But now that your instinct was no longer there, you felt….. nothing.

Atsumu was your friend. One of your very best friends, but no part of him made your heart beat faster or your breaths come shallower. He was just….. Atsumu.

When you kissed him in the comfort of your room, alone, you felt nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. You had always felt nothing. But when it was part of your routine, you didn’t realise how fucked up these lack of feelings were.

Now you did.

Fear filled you when you realized how abnormal your feelings were. How could you be like this? The universe had decided Atsumu was the one for you. The fucking universe. Who were you to deny it? Who were you to question his place in your life? And how could you possibly make these feelings go away?

You were alone in this.

If only you had known back then that not loving Atsumu would soon be the very least of your concerns.

[mysterycitrus]

All of your Bruce takes are so real and so true. It must break your back having to carry the weight of being the most correct batman account on this website. 🙏🏻 I love your thoughts about Bruce and Dick in particular and I was wondering if you had any thoughts about Bruce and Damian? Something about them is just… oh boy.

that’s very sweet but untrue, anon 🫰

i love damian and bruce's relationship, but it's hard to talk about without mentioning two other crucial people - talia and dick. for my own sanity i only accept damian's conception as a consensual act, so in this context talia is a fundamentally well-meaning person who attempted to protect her son from a violent life, and hid his existance from bruce until she felt he could be safe. damian loves and respects his mother. this is important.

dick, on the other hand, is really the foundation for their relationship. bruce spent like two weeks with this kid before he went on his timestream roadtrip and left everything behind for dick to juggle. contrary to popular opinion, i think it's a real disservice to act like dick taught damian to "be a good person" or like basic etiquette - a more realistic interpretation would be that dick taught damian that he didn't have to prove himself to be worth something.

the robin mantle from the time it was taken from dick has always been about proving yourself to bruce, to justify your role as his partner. always unfairly, mind (think how tim is treated vs. steph, for example), but damian is the first robin's robin. dick isn't a wayne, he's a grayson. there's an interesting point of comparison being that dick is the only robin who had a clear trajectory for his life prior to his parents dying - he was a core member of the worlds greatest acrobatic troupe - but he then left that path to become something else. damian is destined for the bat, but becomes robin instead, serving beside someone who achieved greatness by his own skill and kindness. damian has been told about his father, and here he is with someone who knows bruce better than anyone but also understands what robin means, better than anyone. i cannot emphasise how important i think dick being damian's first batman is for their own development. it's so so crucial to combat damian's perspective on family and blood. it's so important that he has that foundational knowledge of what robin means.

by the time bruce returns, damian has made tangible human connections in gotham. he's not the prickly, reactive kid that bruce first met. he's allowed himself to trust that the people around him have his best interests in mind. he knows that he isn't cared for because he's bruce's son - he's cared for because he's worth loving. his siblings aren't competition for affection or honour. he no longer sees bruce as an omnipotent force, and rather as a man he could learn to love. i think seeing bruce through both talia and dick's persepectives really helps with that.

bruce i think is confronted by the fact that for the first time in his life he can't try and hide behind the "im not really xyz's father" excuse. not that his adopted kids aren't his kids, obviously, but i do think he sometimes tries to lean on that as a crutch so he doesn't get attached (way too late for that lol). he loves damian, and there's a lot of fear about damian reflecting his worst habits, his most self-destructive behaviours back at him. maybe there's some fear about damian's history of killing, and how close bruce himself always feels to that edge. maybe there's misery about missing one of his kids growing up, again, like he's always a second too late to the important moments. bruce and damian are so similar, but this is bruce's second chance to be there. he is thomas wayne, emerging from the alley alive. do u think damian looks like his grandparents?

[yyuangss-main]

❝MOTHER LANGUAGES — SPIDERVERSE HCS

summary ; pavitr with a hispanic girlfriend who teaches him some spanish and he teaches her some hindi.

pairing ; pavitr prabhakar x hispanic fem!reader (no specific race stated)

note ; teehee i was so excited to show off the new layout 🤭 i literally have so much fun writing for pavitr. this concept was so cute, i started working on it immediately so thank you to the anon who requested it <3 mwah 🫶

• — pavitr prabhakar !

about three months into dating, pavitr started practicing some spanish on his own. went about his way to get a dictionary that took forever for him to find. he starts writing the words out and takes his time to pronounce them. he takes note that he’s extremely great at reading spanish just a little troubled on the way to say the words.

the very first phrase he ever told you in spanish, he had a slip of paper with the sentence written down. pavitr wanted to make it sweet and maybe tell you right after kissing you but poor boy forgot the phrase. so he had to squint and read off the torn paper.

“tu eres la chica de mis sueños.” (t: you are the girl of my dreams) the second he finished saying it you jumped on him, kissing all over his face, telling him how cute and adorable he is.

you told him that you were practicing hindi in secret to surprise him as well, but you were having a lot of trouble. it makes a big smile spread on his face to know you both had the same intentions.

it’s where he offers to teach you how to speak, read, and write hindi if you can do the same for him with spanish. you agree and then he goes, “hehe >:) and teach me the bad words too muhehehe” you’re just like “pavitr 😭”

pavitr really excited when you’re teaching him spanish. he’s listening intently and repeating each word after you. he doesn’t think it’s hard, but it’s definitely good to have a native speaker helping you out and giving tips.

keeps a separate notebook filled with words and phrases he wants to tell you. of course, they’re all him telling how much he loves you. you also have a separate notebook with hindi written in it and it’s mostly you practicing to write ‘i love you’ and memorize it.

he knows it might take you a while to fully understand hindi and he’s okay with that. you’re the making the effort and that’s what he loves the most about you. finds your confused face cute when he starts rambling in hindi.

you two practice by only having conversations in each others language. he finds it super helpful and you both will correct a word if needed. text messages will sometimes shift from spanish to hindi to spanish again.

his heart and feelings grow for you even more when he sees you talking to his aunt in hindi. she thinks it’s so sweet that the two of you are learning each others languages and don’t find the barrier to be a bother. she even starts to help you too in secret. she wants you to surprise pavitr with what you learned.

i cannot stress this enough. loves to introduce you as his girlfriend in spanish. “esta es mi novia, ella es mi novia”. mi novia this, mi novia that. he gets like a schoolboy when he says it. if he gives you gifts, pavitr always writes a little note that says “para mi querida novia” (t: for my dear girlfriend) or something along those lines.

whenever he meets someone who is either hispanic or speaks spanish too, he’ll speak to them in spanish just so they can ask where he learned. all because he can’t stop saying how his girlfriend taught him how to speak spanish.

he starts picking up on the expressions too. accidentally let “tch, no mames miguel!” slip out when he was getting sent on a new mission. miguel’s head whipped over so fast and just looked at him so shocked like, wtf did you say to me?

“no mames? no mames?! como que no mames miguel?! who taught you that huh?!”

“mi novia teehee :)”

[wing-ed-thing]

Jean Kirstein Relationship Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns

𓆃 All around a fairly well-rounded partner who will treat you right in a simple, low-drama but loving relationship.

𓆃 Jean is the kind of guy who thinks he already knows it all, especially if it's his first relationship. Most of this has to do with his mom, who raised him "to be a gentleman."

𓆃 Buying chocolates, flowers, holding the door open, walking closest to the road on the sidewalk, and paying the bill to name a few, Jean has a strict list of behaviors that he's already designated as his to perform in a relationship.

𓆃 It'll surely throw him for a loop if you don't want him to do any of them, especially if your relationship leans on the more non-traditional side.

𓆃 But no matter the dynamic or how you present in a relationship, Jean continues to function with his own idea of "chivalry."

𓆃 Throwing your card or cash out to pay the bill on one of your first few dates will surely throw a wrench in your night.

𓆃 And it's not that Jean thinks that "you think he's weak" or is insecure that you might "have a higher income," but it comes more from the fact that he had a specific idea of how things were going to go and Jean isn't great at readjusting.

𓆃 He's upset and semi-moody the rest of the night because Mama Kirstein taught him that he's supposed to get the bill, but how the hell is he going to bring that up? He can't.

𓆃 Not to mention if his finances are a lot lower than he anticipated. He wants to pay, but who else isn't embarrassed by their card declining?

𓆃 He's not attached to an unhealthy extent to the concept of being a man (or masculinity in general), but it is very important to him and a part of who he is.

𓆃 While this correlated to physical strength and status to him in his youth, as he grows older, this will manifest as healthy self-grooming, confidence in his communication skills, and emotional sharing, using language that doesn't denigrate others, and strong and inclusive leadership skills.

𓆃 And it's important to note that Jean's idea of being a man also strongly correlates to taking care of and caring for you.

𓆃 He's especially skilled at baking, and prides himself on making meals for you. Whether it's baked goods for special occasions or little treats like breakfast in bed, Jean enjoys using his skill in the kitchen to surprise you.

𓆃 Even if his surprises are impractical. You might have to tell him that while some of his gestures are thoughtful, they aren't practical.

𓆃 Breakfast in bed means you have to change the sheets because crumbs got everywhere. His running you a nice bath with flower petals was thoughtful, but you had just seen the largest insect you had ever seen in your entire life and you think it ran to hide in the towels.

𓆃 He gets a bit down on himself the same way you paying for your date would. Where he almost sees it as a personal failure. That he wants to do nice things for you and it's embarrassing when he doesn't hit the mark.

𓆃 Jean has a bad habit of inadvertently taking this out on you by becoming quiet and pouting, making you regret saying anything. That's a conversation to have.

𓆃 And sometimes he's misguided about what he thinks is best: for you, for himself, and for both of you.

𓆃 Sometimes, he'll fixate on something "chivalrous" to an annoying extent.

𓆃 Perhaps he notices you're walking on the street side of the sidewalk, he might grab you by the shoulders and physically move you to the other side saying, "Nope, wrong side."

𓆃 That might be annoying to you, and you'll have to remind him multiple times to stop.

𓆃 That's one thing that might be concerning to you, is when he locks into something, he needs to be told multiple times before he actually listens to you.

𓆃 He also has a hard time setting boundaries with his mother, so hope you have a good relationship with Mama Kirstein.

𓆃 Overall, Jean clearly cares about you very much. He's just a little slow when it comes to change and admitting when one thing isn't the answer to everything.

𓆃 It might take you both some time to adjust to and communicate how you want your relationship to operate, but once Jean understands what you need, you'll never want for anything.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[flamingpudding]

Part 13 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost >>AO3

<<1 Previous Next

A/N: I got a bit too self conscious in regards to why Danny is the older twin in this story. I know it would be nice and cute for him to be the younger but when I started to work on this idea, I always saw him as the elder twin. It just kept bothering me that some wished differently and made me feel like I needed to explain my thoughts. Besides when I first thought of Danny as an assassin that couldn't kill, I also thought of Odasaku from BSD and the image just fit in my head, including the older brother energy and getting pushed over the edge when losing loved ones.

Interlude: A Brothers Protection

When they had been four Danny had quickly learned what it had meant to be an heir. Their grandfather had showered him and Dami in love and praise at first. Happy about having two heirs that would lead the league to glory. Even if only one heir was needed, having two was a blessing in his grandfather's eyes. His mother always spoke proudly of them, of how they were meant for something great. Then their training had started, and words of love and praise became criticism and pressure.

From the outside there was no difference in the pressure put on the twins. Their teachers and handlers treated them equally when they had lessons together. Both were heirs, but Danny was the primary one. So when they were separated for their training Danny knew their teachers were making differences influenced by that. At the age of five he started to egg them on, challenging them, making them more aware of him, to take the pressure off his brother. He didn't mind, because no matter how harsh they were with him, he still got to late night stargaze while cuddling his twin. Damian would indulge Danny's need to rest on him thinking Danny's stamina was not the same as his own but still pushed him away at times if he hindered his twin from drawing.

He had read about how elder brothers were supposed to protect the younger ones. When he learned about that concept he had gone to their mother asking, who was the elder and his mother had told him that he was born before his twin, which was why he was the primary heir. Yet all he cared about was that the elder twin had a responsibility towards the younger. Though even if he had been the younger one, Danny would still have found an excuse to protect Damian, this just made it easier for him to rationalize protecting his twin from the true harshness of their training.

With their growing skills, soon came the time for them to be sent on their first mission. An easy one. They were to eliminate a traitor. Someone that had joined the league for only a couple of months before deciding to quit, taking secrets with them that they weren't supposed to know.

Grandfather never liked loose ends. So they were sent out, with clear instructions. Grandfather had instructed Danny to be the one to deal the killing blow. Danny was supposed to prove his worth, for the first time their grandfather was acknowledging him as the elder twin. Words of promise were spoken to him during the briefing and when he had asked about Damian, grandfather had told him that his brother would prove his right during their next mission. For now Damian was to follow up and eliminate any third party that would prove to be a risk to the mission.

That mission was the first of many of Danny's failures.

He had critically injured the traitor but hesitated too long in dealing the killing blow. Their observer for the mission stepped in. Killing the target with a disapproving stare that made Danny wither and seek his brothers closeness. Grandfather had lectured him afterwards furious of how he as the primary heir could fail at something so simple when he had the target before him on a silver platter. A silver platter he had created with his own hands.

The image of his wheezing target, with glassy eyes, begging with fear and pleading for their life flashed before his eyes. Even without a killing blow, Danny knew he had injured them enough that they wouldn't have survived anyway if no help arrived within 15 minutes. But that was not up to league standards. Even if slim, do not leave your enemies with the slightest change of survival, his grandfather's words ringed in his ears.

They started to separate Damian from him more often then, sending Danny off to more harsh training that he had no problem completing. He had the skill but still, from there on he continued to mess up his mission in similar ways. Yet Damian was covering for Danny whenever they were sent on mission together. Danny incapacitated the target soundlessly and Dami killed them.

In a way Danny found another form of how to protect Damian like this. He couldn't kill but Damian would gain their grandfather's praise by covering for him. Danny in return would earn the punishments for failure, the lecturers and their teachers' harshness. Their displeasure would focus on him during lessons leaving his twin to learn their lessons in peace without them constantly shouting at him what to do better. Because that was directed at him, the failure they needed to correct.

Yet his twin insisted that they were meant to complete each other. Danny had the talent in incapacitating anyone no matter their size and impromptu thinking and a heart of mercy while Damian had the calculating and strategic handling with a heart steeled to kill. They were each other's missing half's his twin had told him. They were meant to work together this way, to balance each other out.

Danny loved Dami for that even more but he knew better.

When they were six Danny lost his title as heir. His grandfather had declared that Damian was the one true heir, the one meant to lead them in the future. He didn't mind that, he had expected that the moment he was unable to kill the first time. Besides even if he had the harsher lessons, Damian was still better skillswise, he truly was the better between them. His twin was of a different opinion, in the privacy of their rooms his twin kept insisting that Danny could prove their grandfather wrong. That they were meant to lead together and not alone but Danny knew better.

With the loss of his title, the scorn and mockery began from other league members more openly. The focus of his mother and grandfather turned to Damian and so did their love. Still Danny continued like before, challenging teachers and other members, drawing the focus on him despite having become the black sheep. His skills were still on par with his brother's, even if he couldn't kill and he made sure their teachers were aware. His mother was giving him knowing looks whenever she had to pull him off teachers sometimes several times a day. She knew why he continued doing that.

His twin also still adored him in a way that made Danny think that Damian might know about the way he attempted to protect the other even without the title of heir. As if Damian knew that whenever Danny learned that a teacher had been harsher on Damian than needed that Danny was the one injuring said teacher in his own lessons. That Damian knew that the exhaustion he displayed at night when they sat on the roofs to watch the stars over Nanda Parbat while Dami drew into drawing pads, was not because of a lack of stamina but the work he put into honing his skill so that they focused on the back sheep of the family and focused their scorn, jealousy and envy on him instead of Dami.

He was eight when he realized he had screwed up to much. His grandfather's words from long ago rang in his ears as he stood before his twin with drawn blades and the eyes of nearly every league member watching them, awaiting his inevitable death. This was his last act to protect his twin and fulfill the role of elder brother in the way he had read about when he had been even younger. Dami would live and that was all that had mattered to Danny.

"Is there a reason why you bring these memories to the surface, Nocturn?" A sixteen year old Danny asked frowning, watching his own memories like he was a bystander. His surroundings changed once more. Gone were the images of the memory of the last time he had protected his twin as a wide and empty space surrounded him. In the distance stars glinted, reminding him of the night sky of Nanda Parbat. An answer never came. It wouldn't matter either way. Because by the time he woke up he would have forgotten again anyway.

"If you won't answer, could you at least ask Clockwork what he was thinking by doing this?" He asked into the nothingness. Still not receiving an answer. With a sigh Danny plopped onto the ground, eyeing his surroundings as his earliest memory of Damian's and his first lesson in parkour started to form around him, coaxing a small smile from him.

Blinking into awareness Danny yawned before rolling onto his back, his eyes briefly flashed green before settling into blue. His head lay in his twin's lap as this older Dami was drawing something on a drawing pad. His head felt clearer these days but not by much. There was also the feeling like he remembered more stuff in his sleep yet whenever he woke up he felt like something was missing. There was always a headache pounding in his head making him dizzy when he tried outside of sleep. His eyes watched this older version of his twin and an image of the Dami drawing while they sat on roofs overlayed the one he was watching right there.

He chirped happily. There were still so many questions in his mind but the answers didn't matter to him anymore. Dami was alive and doing what he loved openly. Whatever happened in between his last fuzzy memory and now didn't matter. Because Danny was sure, he must have done something right in protecting Dami as the elder twin for this to be the result. Yawning, curled up more pressing his face into his twins stomach, to silence the noise in his head. His mind started to feel muddy again as he snuggled into this older and alive version of his twin brother. The extra set of instincts still screamed at him.

Blobbert and the other blob ghosts were trying to help him with that but the struggle was still there.

A small hiss escaped him as he turned his head, eyes zeroed in on the eldest that kept trying to pet him or give him sweets as bribery halted his approach. His nose scrunched up as he bared his teeth and the briber coed at him. Danny protested and he could hear his twin scowling as suddenly his senses were thrown for a ride. Danny's eyes focused on the icky one as he entered his field of vision.

The icky one was feeling more icky than before. Like the first time he had met him. Danny hissed in displeasure feeling something strange but familiar run through him. With his instincts screaming he sat up quickly before his brother could stop him and lunged as he let something else in him take over, not knowing that his eyes were glowing green.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Concept for First Lady

"I saved your fucking image."

“Why do we ALWAYS do this?” Jack exclaimed while throwing his hands up towards you, but all you did was attempt to put your excuse of hair into a ponytail because you didn’t know the last time you actually brushed it. 

“We always don’t do anything, you brought it up so I answered your question.” You fired back while looking at the two mismatched socks on your feet.

“I’m trying here so the least you can do is cut me some slack!”

“Jackman, if this is what you call trying to at least attempt to act like you care about this marriage, this is one hell of a poor job.”

“Here we fucking go. Don’t you think that if I wanted a divorce or to separate from you that I would have done it already?” Jack asked and you could tell he was immediately filled with regret as his eyes went wide and all you did was stare at him.  

“There’s still time to go to the courthouse today if that’s your heart’s desire since it’s only eleven in the morning. But let’s be serious I saved your fucking image because come the fuck on, I could have thrown your ass under the bus. No matter how you mistreated me and put your wife, someone that you gave your last name to on the back burner, I still did right by you. As much shit as you did and it wasn’t a secret, it got played out for the entire world to see but yet, I never spoke bad about you ONE TIME. Because as much as you constantly give me headaches, I love you and I do want to save this marriage. But if I’m the only one trying then fuck it. The one thing that really sticks out in my mind is when I actually did fight Anitta and you didn’t even ask me if I was okay, not once. Despite how she had acted towards me ever since she met me. I told you how I felt about her and all you did was ignore me in order to try and boost your career. The career that I helped you create, but whatever.” You simply shrugged your shoulders and tried to walk past Jack, but he caught your wrist and lightly tugged on it.

Deep down, he knew that he had been difficult towards you and it had been hard to process his emotions and Jack did feel some type of way about how he had treated you. He broke the one promise to you when you told him not to ever forget where he came from or the people that helped him get to where he was, but now he had done the exact opposite and the fame had got to his head.

It took him hearing it from his mother to finally realize it.

“Y/N…. wait a second.” 

All you did was turn to look up at him and let out a deep sigh.

“I promise to do better and do right by you….. And them. I’m sorry I just…. I know for a fact that I have to be better about expressing how I feel towards you and a few months ago, I thought that I was going to lose you forever. Please don’t ever think that I don’t love you because I do. I love you more than life itself and just for the past year I haven’t been the best husband that I could be and want to get back in your good graces and fix this. I’m tired of us fighting and we have three little ones that don’t need to grow up in a dysfunctional household. You know for a fact that divorce would never be an option for me on my end. I was serious when I asked you to marry me at nineteen and I’m still serious now.”

“It’s not just us anymore and they should always be your first thought.” You quietly said as you could hear through the baby monitor that they were awake.

“I’ll…. Go make an appointment with Fatima after I check on them.”

The two of you had been seeing a marriage counselor named Fatima and you could tell that she was genuine and also wanted the best for the two of you.

“That sounds like a good idea.” You quietly answered as you simply hugged yourself in your pink oversized sweater that Jack bought you years ago, not bothering to make eye contact with him.

“We’re going to get through this, baby. One step at a time.” Jack quietly said as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

All you did was nod in response as you sat down on the bed and simply stared off into space. 

Jack simply sighed as tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he walked out of your shared bedroom and was on his way to the triplets room when he pulled out his phone to do a quick google search.

He knew that something was wrong. 

What are the signs of postpartum depression?

[jalluzas-ferney]

Soooo….I made some nationality headcannons! At first I was a liiittle bit unsure if to do so cuz then again.. they live in ninjago…. And im pretty sure countries like argentina or Morocco don’t quite exist in the ninjago universe LMAO. Butttttt. Already seen others make headcannons, so hell, why not? I uses they apply to some irl au or what if they lived in our world uk? And what different countries would I see them coming from and etc.

I can imagine that the EM might have travelled all over the world, either to go into hiding, or missions, or escape conflict, etc. Or maybe simply that’s where they came from! So yeah that’s my little explanation that is mostly for myself cuz im a little bit too literal sometimes lol.

When thinking about nationality I always think a lot about where they grew up and what nationality they grew up with and would later on identify with the most. It’s a complicated concept when your parents are from a different nationality and theyre immigrants in a different country- so you grow up in this country, surrounded by this culture and people, but your. Also. Raised by your parents who also have your family living in this completely different country- where you also find home and relate to the people considering how you look, the language you speak with your parents- or the specific culture and environment your parents grew up wiooith, impacting your home life and the way your raised. Perhaps you lived in both places, or travel a lot to your parents homeland. Perhaps you live in one of your parents countries but the other. Not. but you still identify with one of your parents nationality because of the rest of your family from that side and the culture your take in from them. So it’s always very personal! So for Kai and Nya, I imagined that ray was Argentinian and Maya Filipino. And perhaps - because I want to project onto my faves- they were born and grew up in Argentina. But have always also identified a lot with their mothers homeland, since not only does their race impact the way they might feel more different and set apart from kids there, maya loves talking about her childhood in the Philippines and is always talking over the phone with their aunts and cousins, meaning Kai and Nya def were taught some Tagalog, tho theyre not incredibly fluid with it. In their early teens they probably travelled to the Philippines, (took ray and maya some time to settle down and get enough money to travel, as well as find time) and met their whole family, and the place they reside in, habit that would turn quite common as they would continue to travel other times the following years.

For Lloyd, I really wanted to make him Asian -Brazilian. It just felt right. So imagined that my queen (don’t you judge her >:() Misako would be Brazilian, meanwhile Garmadon,Japanese. i imagine that Misako adores traveling, so she met Garmadon on her trip to Japan, and decided to stay there for a WHILE because of the brothers. During her time there, she had Lloyd. Since her family heard of her new baby, she travelled back to Brazil with a two y/o Lloyd to have her family meet the him and catch up overall. but as the serpentine wars rose In japan (ill hc it happened in japan let me know what u think of that) Misako was told to wait in Brazil. Misako didn’t really like that though, and while she dreaded having to leave her son, she was sure shed come back soon after helping out the Brothers in the battle against the serpentine. So Lloyd was left to live with his aunties and grandparents in Brazil. Of course, after Misako found out about the whole Green Ninja thing and all that crap, she pulled the same stunt as in the series and ✨ vanished ✨. But then Garmadon came and fucking took him like divorced parents sometimes do uk? So then he spent some other of his childhood years growing up in, ya guessed it, Japan. This is how Lloyd identifies both with being a Brazilian and Japanese. As for the rest, I just envision that they lived in their respective countries their whole lives till they were recruited!