#middle name equally as weird

[im-that-onebitch]

is there a socially acceptable way to say “the name you’ve picked for your still- baking baby is ass please don’t do this to them.”

[bit-odd-innit]

They’re about 20 minutes into the movie when Steve feels the familiar dip of weight against his shoulder.

He can’t stop the pulse of fond bemusement that surges through him. After all, Eddie had insisted on picking the movie this week, insisted that it was “an unfathomable travesty” that Steve had never seen it, insisted they had to watch it despite the bruise-colored circles under his eyes, the discreet flex of his hands disguising the tremors he gets when he’s over exhausted. Steve says nothing, lets the movie run, and once Eddie conks out instead of switching to something more his speed, he keeps watching.

The movie’s not Steve’s taste, but it’s not bad. He hasn’t been big into cartoons since he was a kid. The animation is strange yet fascinating, the characters’ movements equal parts natural and off-putting. He drifts in and out of the story, though enough of Dustin and Eddie’s ramblings have sunk in that he’s able to follow along. Whenever a name or location he recognizes pops up he turns to Eddie and says, smugly, “I know what that is.” Eddie replies with a soft exhale that ends in a low hum. His breath skitters across Steve’s throat. Steve shivers.

Eddie’s got this little bank of noises he makes when he’s sleeping. When he crashes after drinking too much, he snores. When he’s asleep but not deep enough to rest, he mumbles—sometimes giggles, too, which is really unsettling if you’re not expecting it. And when he’s dreaming, good or bad, he hums.

They’ve been doing this—whatever this is—for long enough that Steve can tell when Eddie is having a good dream and when he’s having a bad dream. (It’s not weird, he counters to the tiny, horrible Robin voice that lives in his head.) The bad dream hums are low, dredged up from the base of his chest. The good dream hums are high, slipping out from behind his teeth. Steve can’t read music but he took chorus in middle school and he’s hung around Robin while she learned a new piece for band so he’s got an idea of how the note…thingy works. If Eddie’s dream sounds were a song, the good dreams would be at the top of the bar, and the bad dreams would be at the bottom.

Except now, as the movie nears its end, the song changes.

At some point Eddie’s legs had curled up beneath him, his face buried in the join between Steve’s shoulder and neck. Steve can’t hear as much as feel the noises vibrating against his skin. He feels the thrum of bad rising into good, then dipping into something in the middle and holding there. They’re stuck at the center of the stanza (Stanza! That’s what it’s called!) and Steve doesn’t know where to go from here.

“Eddie?”

The arm Eddie is leaning on has gone a little numb, so Steve uses the other to sweep aside the curtain of hair drawn across the side of Eddie’s face, his fingertips grazing his cheekbone. Eddie’s lips part. A new sound, a different sound escapes him. He pushes in close enough for those pink plush lips to press against Steve’s collarbone. Heat curves around the back of Steve’s ears.

“H~eeey.”

He doesn’t want to wake him if this is a good dream. Eddie’s an open book. Eddie’s told him he’s been sleeping like dogshit, that the night terrors have been particularly horrible this week. It’s a joke, a little. The two of them share weird hours. They create bits about how bad things are, how awful they feel about their relationships with people they love, how awful they feel about themselves. It’s fun, until it isn’t. Steve’s seen Eddie’s whole personality swallowed by the wet sand of sorrow. He’s seen him sink into himself and surface with something else, something bright and exuberant and loud and false. If Eddie feels good Steve doesn’t want to ruin it. But if Eddie feels bad—

“Hey.” Steve hooks his palm to rest beneath the ridge of Eddie’s jaw, his thumb pressed into his dimple. “Eddie. Wake up.” Eddie’s eyebrows cinch, a sigh gliding across Steve’s knuckles. His eyelashes flutter, dark and spidery, his lids hanging low over hazy eyes. He blinks, owlish, then tilts up to meet Steve’s gaze with a slow, dreamy smile. “Hi,” he whispers. “Hi,” Steve chuckles in reply.

“W…” Eddie’s mouth works like its full of sunflower seeds; deliberate, purposeful. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Why’dju stop?”

“Stop…what?” He glances to the muted blue static of the screen. “The movie’s over, bud.”

Eddie blinks again, slower. He’s so sweet like this, soft and syrupy, so when he breathes a laugh Steve can’t help but mirror it. “Oh,” Eddie exhales, then leans forward and kisses him.

The hum of Eddie’s dreams are now against Steve’s lips. Those lovely little middle sounds are now inside Steve’s mouth. He swallows them, feels them knife down his throat, wedge between his ribs, twist into the open valves of his heart. He pulls back.

Eddie giggles again. Pouts. “You stopped again.”

“Oh, honey,” The endearment wrenches out of him, involuntary. He smoothes the worry lines out of Eddie’s forehead. “You’re tired, huh?” Eddie makes a non-committal noise. “Okay.” Steve sets his feet and secures his arms behind Eddie’s back. “Okay,” he groans as he lifts him, spins him towards the stairs. “Okay. Time for bed.” Eddie’s still in a half-conscious limbo as Steve navigates him upstairs, mouthing indelicately at any piece of Steve’s skin he can find. It’s untenable, and Steve’s not proud at how he launches Eddie in the direction of his bed, sprints to the en suite to splash cold water on his face before helping him undress. “Take it,” Eddie murmurs when Steve unbuttons his jeans, and Steve needs to sit in the center of the floor for a moment before proceeding. “That’s not what this is.” “Wantchu t’aveit.” Steve shoves him into a pair of flannel pajama pants and stuffs him beneath the sheets. Eddie curves onto himself like a mollusk, and Steve sinks at his hip, brushing his bangs away from his closed eyes. Steve feels himself split down the middle: One part already downstairs; one part already nestled in the contours of Eddie’s body.

“Go back to sleep,” Steve says, and moves to stand. Eddie’s hand closes around his wrist. “Stay?” His eyes flit open, brief, earnest, pleading. “Please, stay.” And, well. They’re going to talk about it tomorrow. They’re going to talk about the movie they didn’t watch, and the moment they half-shared, and the reason its so hard to sleep apart yet so easy to sleep together. Not now. Now Steve shrugs into shorts and a t-shirt, slides in beside Eddie. Now, when Eddie’s limbs tangle around his own, he tugs him closer, lets something deep within himself settle. “Stay?” Eddie asks again. “Go to sleep, honey.”

And he does. And they do.

[love-toxin]

(cw: yandere, noncon, drugging, kidnapping, daddyfication)

i think i need to be fr and acknowledge how i can't stop thinking about getting kidnapped by Gallagher and being his lil babydoll...

get all dressed up and drink all the fancy cocktails he mixes cuz it's easier to manhandle someone when they're drunk. being dragged to and from the bar day and night because, despite being his captive, he doesn't mind showing you off since he's sure he can train you not to break under any questioning from nosy busybodies.

he names a cocktail after you, all bright and cheerful with a mix of your favourite colours, but a sip of it proves too sour for you to handle. it's not even bittersweet, just a burning, acidic taste that bites your tongue all the way down to your throat as Gallagher watches you drink it. you've gotta drink at least one a day, per his rules. as strong as it is, it never tastes enough of alcohol for it to give you any serenity.

on the other hand, he doesn't really drink when he's around you. after he puts you to bed or when he's alone, sure, he'll have a couple dreamjoys--but aside from that, he keeps as sober as he can be when he has his pretty thing to look after.

he's kinda like a dad, you realize. he likes it. it's weird, but it becomes overly comfortable; he enjoys feeding you and eats better when he's got to make sure you're full and eating good. he still skimps on sleep often but he'll cuddle you when he slides into bed next to you. he spends so much time worrying after you that you might end up calling him 'dad' or 'daddy' by accident, and he'll encourage it to stick without thinking. he praises you and punishes you in equal measure, one with kisses and sex and the other with alcohol, restraints, and....more sex. for a middle-aged guy, he's got quite the hunger for getting rough in bed, but maybe that's just because of you.

after a while, when you're sufficiently brainwashed after so much gaslighting and manipulation, you might get jealous or worried that Gallagher's gonna find someone else if you're bad. that maybe daddy's love isn't unconditional like he said if you misbehave too much. that's one of the only thoughts he doesn't let fester in you--you can worry about being well-behaved, or if he's gonna let you have dessert after dinner, but not whether he loves you or not. that won't ever change. why would he put so much effort into training you keeping up your good behavior just to lie and cheat on you? that doesn't make any sense. daddy still loves you even when you're bad.

cause daddy isn't all that great of a guy, either. in fact, he's pretty much an unhinged, perverse psycho. but maybe you've forgotten that now, and all the better for him.

[syrupfog]

Need to read some fic where Law is the one who falls HARD and instantly, while Luffy takes a while. 

Law full on pining from day 1 while Luffy’s like “haha you’re so weird but your bear’s cool”

Law convincing himself that just being close to Luffy during their alliance is enough, treasuring every moment bc he knows Luffy doesn’t feel the same. All the straw hats pitying him and/or outright hostile towards him bc he’s transparent as fuck

Luffy being like “I’m busy becoming the pirate king traffy’s cool I like him but he’s not my crew” and law accepting that and thinking it’s for the best, he doesn’t have a good track record keeping loved ones alive anyway.

Law devoting himself mind body and soul to luffy after Dressrosa, knowing even then that Luffy’s going to be pirate king and law will do anything to make that happen because he wants luffy to have the freedom law’s never felt

And luffy, despite what everyone seems to think, he’s not dumb. He knows how law feels. He doesn’t GET it, just like he doesn’t get why Boa Hancock feels that way, or why he has a fan club, but he does know how law feels about him.

And maybe it’s not until after egghead that something changes. Maybe it’s when Luffy realises that Teach HAS Law, and he gets more upset than people expect. When he goes after Black beard with a fury even he doesn’t understand

And I dunno, maybe Luffy’s never felt love this way before, can recognise it in others but not in himself because it’s all new, but when he gets law back, beaten and tortured in the name of the eternal life surgery, Luffy can’t let him out of his sight.

Almost maniacally, carries law all around the sunny like a soother, law barely conscious as chopper is desperately trying to tend to his injuries but luffy just feels WEIRD without law in his arms. He’s being petulant and stubborn about it because he’s not processing WHY he feels this way. 

And law comes back to himself slowly and is equally confused. Feels undeserving for this weird questionable kindness of being dragged all over like a favourite stuffed animal while, again, chopper is BEGGING luffy to leave law in the infirmary

It goes on for days, until law finally tells luffy to for the love of god put him down, and luffy says “I WON’T I CAN’T something BAD will happen again” and Law has to stiltedly assure him that no, it really won’t. He goes on a tangent about compulsions that luffy clearly ignores

And to law this is a special sort of hell because he LOVES this. Knows this is the luffy version of being doted on,and feels entirely undeserving. He’s knocked luffy off course of becoming the pirate king, his one dream. Law can’t be the reason that doesn’t happen

But Luffy keeps not letting him go, until Law has to FORCE the issue “STRAW HAT YA PUT ME DOWN” only for luffy to say “NO I FEEL WEIRD YOU’RE MAKING ME FEEL WEIRD AND I DON’T GET IT, YOU’RE MAKING ME NERVOUS”

he’s throwing a whole mini tantrum on the middle of the deck on the Sunny where everyone is pointedly looking away as if they can’t hear. And Law, equally unable to understand the situation, says, “WELL HOW DO YOU THINK *i* FEEL”

And maybe that’s when it clicks for Luffy. Ohhhhhh this is how law felt all that time? Like uncomfy bad nervous and upset tummy? THAT’S what this is? 

“Traffy is this LOVE?”he asks, VERY loudly. 

And law, turning beet red, says “no!! It’s not!! Put me down!!”

Because law has known luffy in some form or another for three years at this point and law has loved him for all of it and therefore he is WELL AWARE that luffy doesn’t love him back, so this is clearly something else. PTSD, probably. OCD, definitely.

But then , because all of the straw hats ARE there, Franky yells, “don’t listen to him, little bro! That’s definitely love!” 

And law chokes, starts struggling to be put down, ears BURNING and face in flames. “No it’s NOT” he yells.

“Traffy,” Luffy says, a deep frown on his face as his arms wind again and again around law’s middle. “I think franky’s right.” 

“He’s not,” law seethes, struggling against the rubber boa constrictor arms. “ You CAN’T like me, you’re going to be PIRATE KING.”

Luffy looks up at him. “So what?” He asks, genuinely confused 

“You can’t TIE YOURSELF DOWN to THIS,” law says, furtively motioning to himself. “You’re the freest man in the world, you can’t be tied down to someone who couldn’t even beat black beard.”

Luffy studies him. He thinks REALLY hard, tilting his head and observing law’s expressions go through the five phases of grief. Then he says “that’s dumb, Traffy. Being free means I can choose whatever I want, and I want you.”

Which is, like, something law never let himself think about. So he doesn’t know how to respond. It doesn’t make SENSE. Luffy is everything, is freedom and joy, and law is a man who’s failed every important person in his life.

But luffy IS free to choose, is the thing. And law long ago vowed to do whatever he could to make him pirate king, so. 

“…fine, straw hat-ya. I think you will change your mind, but I won’t stand in your way.”

Luffy laughs. “That’s a weird way to say you’ll be my boyfriend, traffy,” he says. 

And then he gives law the worst, most wet kiss in history. All the straw hats in the vicinity cover their ears in embarrassment.

[rottingparts]

Cool okay! May I request some general romantic head cannons for Bay! Optimus, Ironhide and Ratchet ? Thank you so much ! :)

(SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! My internet is fucked, but only on my computer, so i'm struggling atm.)

OF COURSE!! My favorites.... I mean I totally love them all equally :) I wrote them with a Human!Reader (that's all i write but i just wanted to calrify)!

Optimus Prime:

My love... probably the most normal of them honestly

Isn't like super duper outwardly romantic when others are around. He isn't too fond of PDA. BUT he still shows affection in lowkey ways.

Like, he will gently nudge you if you seem anxious or off in general, to get your attention and when you let him know you're ok he gives you a slight nod and continues on with his conversation.

It's really no secret, because him crouching down and his giant hand descending from his side and nudging you is not very subtle.

He is way more protective over you than any other human. Will not let anything harm you. And if something does, nothing will get in his way to help/save you.

LOVES (when it's just the two of you) for you to gently hold his face in your tiny (compared to him) hands! Double points if you gently bonk your forehead against his.

If you are not feeling it, having a bad day, what have you, he will take you for a ride to calm down. his voice is so soothing! Sometimes he'll even talk to you until you fall asleep if that is what you need.

You two became an 'item' mostly because you had made offhanded comment to Cade about Optimus being attractive in a way and Cade shut that shit down immediately but Optimus heard. It was too late, Cade has to deal with this now...

Literally so sweet! Will kill for you!

Ironhide:

Oh my... definitely the least normal (in an endearing way).

Doesn't mind/completely understand PDA honestly. Like, you wanna grab him and nuzzle his face? Please do. He will be forever grateful.

He definitely wants to show you off, he is so proud of you!! He also needs everyone to know you are taken :)

Like he will do little things to make sure the others know he is with you, like bringing you towards him when someone gets a little too close.

Wants you close to him at all times, so he knows you're safe.

If anyone threatens you in any capacity (even if its sarcasm from a close friend) his arm is around you, guarding you, while he points a gun at the one threatening you. It takes a minute to calm him down.

If you are like visibly upset/anxious/not having it, he is very vocal about pulling you out of the situation. Has zero problems taking you away in the middle of a conversation.

Will literally go into alt mode and just... drive away with you. Your friends don't like that too much.

Ironhide definitely was weird about his feelings at first. Him liking a human? No thank you. Definitely tried to push the feelings away, until getting tired and telling you how he felt.

When you lit up and said you felt the same? Oh he was over the moon!

Very protective and secretly very sweet! Will also kill for you!

Ratchet:

My sweet cinnamon bun....

Will literally die for your hugs!! Please just wrap your arms around his neck when he bends down and hug him so tight!

Doesn't mind PDA (in a sense of like hugging and being sweet) but does get very flustered!!

Call him any pet name (honey, dear, etc.) and he will combust. If he could blush, he definitely would. Really wanna make him weak in the knees? Call him 'My love.'

Ratchet would worry about you constantly honestly. Waaay more than anyone else.

I mean, you're just a human! You're squishy and small. There is a lot to worry about!

He realized he liked you because he was so worried for you, then he grew even more worried!

He accidently confessed his feelings for you when rambling about how worried he had been for you, and when you go wide eyed he is retracting everything and ready to run away.

When you reassure him and tell him you like him too? He is even more likely to combust.

Is always wanting to check in on you, and learns very quickly what upsets you and what soothes you. he is very attentive.

So fucking sweet and will die for you!!

[jksprincess10]

White face and black eyes || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You explore an abandoned mall and Joel discovers one of your kinks.

CW: Sub/dom dynamics, reader is hinted at being younger and not knowing much of the world before so age gap, mask kink, pet names (darling, honey, baby, little girl), praise kink, Joel is rough, a bit of knife play, fingering, bj, riding, publicish sex in a post-apocalyptical setting, reader is cock drunk, minimal editing and all mistakes are mine.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“I’m goin’ to the right, you’re goin’ to the left. We join in the middle.” Joel ordered, flashlight over his gun as he looked around carefully, an eagle watching a potential pray.

“Fine.”

Part of your exploration consisted of visiting this old mall to find anything of substance. Sadly, in the midst of the panic, everything was mostly taken. Still, you sometimes found something interesting and new to you. Like this little cabin that looked like a time machine you found after walking for a bit. It was a rectangular cabin, the opening covered by a threadbare curtain. Withing the faded letters, you could barely distinguish the words “photobooth”. You were foreign to this concept, being born not too long before the modern world ended.

Carefully, you stepped inside the weird cabin. It was a tight fit. Inside was a weird broken screen and a tiny seat, that could only fit two people max. You pressed the buttons, and a weird mechanical voice made you jump.

At almost the same time, the curtain opened, and you were met with an elongated white mask with an absurdly long dark mouth and equally black eyes. You muffled a scream under your hand. You heard Joel’s familiar chuckle under the plastic mask.

“What the fuck, Joel!”

“Did I scare ya, darlin’?”

“Yes!”

But the more you looked at him, the more something strange stirred in you. Joel was an attractive man, you weren’t blind. But the familiarity of seeing his flannel-covered chest and broad shoulders mixed with the foreignness of the mask on his face made you feel… aroused.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Fuck it.” You mumbled and pulled Joel in the cabin. “Sit down.”

It was a tight fit, but curious, Joel obeyed. His spread thighs were taking up the whole space as you kneeled in front of him.

“Keep it on, please.”

His rough hand grabbed the base of your neck and the menacing black holes looked down at you as he tutted. “S���enough orders, honey don’t ya think?”

 “S-Sorry.”

“Good.” 

You looked down at his gun hidden in his holder as he took his pocketknife in his hand, using the pointy end to keep your chin up. “You gonna listen to me now?”

“Yes sir.”

Joel’s free hand undid his leather belt and you watched in wonder as he freed his strained cock. His hand circled its girth, pumping it a few times.

“Ya want it?”

You let out a desperate noise and with a dark laugh, he freed you, letting you go wild. You wrapped your mouth around his aching cock, tasting the headiness and saltiness of him. You moaned around him, the vibrations of your voice sending shivers down his spine. You kept your eyes strained on his masked face, a mixture of arousal and fear pooling in your panties. You shut your thighs together, desperately trying to gain some friction as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, giving him your best performance. You could hear his muffled grunts under the mask and feel his body tensing, the knife long abandoned on the floor.

“You wan’ more of that cock, yeah?” He grabbed the base of your neck to pull you away, watching as a mixture of spit and pre-cum escaped your lips. You nodded dumbly and let him pull you up, before stripping off your pants and panties.

“Mask kink, huh?” He observed as two of his thick fingers collected some of the wetness on your slit. “Didn’t know ya were such a dirty lil’ girl.” Joel’s calloused digits circled your clit at a practiced pace, and you fell against him, made limp by pleasure.

“Please Joel, can I have it?” You asked between moans.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya.” There was a hint of sweetness in his voice, despite him treating you so roughly minutes ago.

“I can take it!” You whined.

“Yeah? Then don’t ya fuckin’ whine if it hurts, baby.”

You straddled his hips. “I won’t.” You promised.

His big hands held your hips as he let you sink down on his cock, slowly.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze fixated on the white face and black holes that replaced his eyes, your mouth parting slightly as you let him stretch your walls, molding your body to his girth.

“Good girl.” He grumbled while he bottomed out. “Now stay still and le’me fuck ya.”

Joel’s hips moved at a painfully fast pace, letting you no time to adjust. Pain and pleasure melted together in your core and if you weren’t worried about getting killed by strangers in an abandoned mall, you’d scream.

“J-Joel… C-Can I see your face now?”

He slowed his hip thrusts. “Thought you didn’t wanna see it, huh?” He let go of your hips with one of his hands and slipped the mask off, letting it fall on the bottom of the cabin.

“I-I wanna see how y-you look at me while you fuck me, Joel.”

He grabbed onto your hips again and his dark gaze held yours as he thrusted up roughly, hitting that spongey spot inside of you that made you see stars. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you held your gaze to his honeyed brown orbs, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your orgasm was destructive, and his was equally as intense as he stilled inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your walls.

You fell limply against him, and your mouth slotted onto his, tasting Joel’s new familiarity.

“We might not have found much, but I want to keep the mask.” You chuckled against his lips.

[starry-bi-sky]

for clone Danny, Clone Damian

I give you

Edit Clone Talia as somehow Girlfriend of Danny, just think of the comedy

nah brO BECAUSE LITERALLY I HAVE THOUGHT BOUT THAT. Literally since the conception of Clone Danny, I have thought about it. If only for, as you said, the COMEDY of it all. Plus I love writing romance.

Literally my motto for my aus is: A) is it plausible, B) is it FUNNY (and a secret third option C) is it ANGSTY)

Clone Talia would be an offshoot au of Clone^2 because idk how she'd fit into the original timeline, bUT, she'd exist. And to avoid confusion I'll call her Nasra - I thought about Tameka (which means twin) but I like Nasra better. "Talia and Nasra" just flows so nicely doesn't it?

Idk WHY there's a clone of Talia running around -- maybe the LoA made her, maybe n unknown organization who hates Batman and knows he has romantic ties to Talia, and started making a clone of her to fuck with him and then she got nabbed by a portal when she was still Danny's age and in the middle of training. She might be like Connor (??) and have memories and thus her training is more proficient than baby Dames.

Either way, regardless of how she was made, I think it's hilarious if she, much like baby Dames, immediately attacks Danny on sight. She falls into his city and Danny only has a moment to go "goddammit not agaIN" before he's fending off a very confused, very violent Nasra. Fortunately he's able to actually try and talk to her and be at least somewhat successful -- Nasra knows english. although even if she didn't, Danny would still be somewhat successful since he knows Arabic.

Also Bruce and Danny are the battinson bat because i think that is also hilarious and 'wet rat' is STILL the perfect energy for Danny as Phantom - especially in the early days when he's running around in all but jeans and a hoodie. (and god watch me go on a rant in a separate post about his outfit and reasonings for being Phantom when he has no powers later on because it makes me go FERAL. and his active choice to look as inhuman and ghost-like through his behavior as phantom and the decision to wear such a creepy mask as possible)

(like seriously, imagine walking home late at night while danny was still in his early vigilante days (and even now when he's got damian and a better suit) and seeing a skinny figure in the shadows with sunken in black-and-glowing-green eyes, and a bone white, skull-like face, crouched on all fours like a wild animal about to pounce. THAT is the level of creepiness I was going for for clone danny)

In my head, Sam offers to house Nasra and Nasra stays with her. SAm is able to convince her parents to let her stay, or she pulls a Danny and just straight up smuggles her in and her parents are none the wiser. I also think it's funny if they have unspoken BEEF with each other. Only to later become like sisters. Nasra teaches Sam the martial arts she knows, and also Danny joins in too with Damian because goddamn he needs it even IF he's learning stuff from his mom (as per the most recent snippet post I made).

OH AND DAMIAN AND NASRA. I think it's equally as funny if they ALSO have beef with each other. Nasra is a clone of his mother (of whom he might have complicated views on due to being a clone but still is his mother) and Damian is a clone of Nasra's "son". This beef largely starts from Damian's own refusal to want to share his Danny with another clone, especially with a clone of his MOTHER.

Danny and Nasra don't become lovers for a good, long while I think. They're besties first before they even consider the idea of dating -- not only just because of the whole "uhhh our counterparts dated so it'd feel kinda weird and forced if we dated" and also because Nasra, with her newfound freedom, is busy trying to figure out herself.

A big theme here in clone^2: discovering your identity and who you are as a person when the only thing you own that's unique is your name (which isn't even the case for Damian), and figuring out if your choices are your own or because you're a clone and its something your original would have done. Nature vs Nurture and the illusion of choice and whether it really is one or not.

Also Nasra also becomes a vigilante. Danny appreciates the help but is also tearing out his hair because what the fuck is up with these assassins and becoming vigilantes?! Nasra goes by "Nesha". She's similar to Red Huntress at first where she kinda does her own thing, but is lowkey forced to team up with Danny about it because she doesn't have any proper ghost hunting equipment with her.

And then a duo becomes a trio, and Danny is spending more time with her. And they steadily become friends. Very snarky friends who are very bratty to each other, but friends. Damian still doesn't like her so Danny spends extra time during patrol keeping the two of them from making insults at each other.

"Nesha please stop fighting with a nine year old. Wraith, quit insulting Nesha."

Nasra also uses like, weaponry as Nesha which exasperates Danny a little because why are you using swords??? They're already dead its not gonna kill them,,,, If you cut off their heads its just gonna piss em off, its re-attachable. Let him ghost-proof it first too. But well, its still gonna HURT he supposes. He's still a little exasperated.

And MMM i'm sorry lmao im so focused on Nasra becoming her own person than the actual romance aspect of it all. Nasra cuts her hair short for the same/similar reasons that Danny keeps his long - to try and gain a semblance of autonomy and identity that's away from their original. Danny has his alternative rock-kinda geeky look and Nasra's got, from influence from Sam, a more alternative fashion style. Although she still leans into being feminine, which is a good challenge to Sam's belief that feminity = bad, and gets her to unlearn those bad habits since her new adoptive sister is feminine while still being an unapologetic badass.

And ykw I think Nasra gets into rollerblading and loves it. She rollerblades constantly. Damian is furious because skating is his thing (even if what he gets later on is a skateboard - skater boy damian ftw. i can see him wearing flannels and graphic tees as a teenager. very grungy/skater aesthetic. He also has a much more relaxed and teen-y speech pattern compared to DW's more formal way of talking. He also spray paints as his form of artistic medium.) and he refuses to have Nasra be a copy of him.

They will sort out their differences eventually. LMao.

Anyways they eventually do get together, but not before Danny finally has his run in with Mister Wayne. Which, they only meet because Danny starts destabilizing, and thus needs Bruce Wayne's DNA to help stabilize himself. Which that meeting in and of itself is pretty chaotic on its own, but then add clone Damian and Nasra? Bruce needs coffee.. or alcohol.

Because picture this: its late at night, you're on patrol with the rest of your family. It's like, two in the morning. You suddenly get a call in from your butler, Alfred, informing you that not one, not two, but THREE children -- two of them in their late teens and the other one not even ten yet -- showed up on your doorstep. One of them is unconscious. They are all clones.

The girl and the boy are twins - and are clones of YOU - and the girl isn't even technically YOUR clone she's a clone of your clone - and also this clone of you is your college friends' kid. And then the youngest boy is a clone of your youngest SON. Bruce is running across rooftops when he gets this call and does a literal 180 degree turn and touches the ground because he basically did a figure skating turn, and sprints back towards the manor because what the fuck? He needs to check this out.

And then half a day later a clone of your fucking ex shows up on your doorstep demanding to see the clone of you - the boy that is, not the girl - and then immediately gets into a verbal lashing with the clone of your son. Like what a fucking DAY. Your kids are equally as baffled but also laughing their asses off -- except your bio son, who is very unhappy about this turn of events and keeps getting the stink eye from his clone.

Like??? I'd quit right then and there.

While Danny recovers he's staying in Wayne manor and Damian is very reportedly not leaving his side. Ellie has to leave to help take care of Amity Park with RH, and then Nasra is also very determinedly not leaving his side either. This is her friend dammit. The first thing she does when he becomes lucid is insult him, and he insults her back - they're bantering. It's how they flirt later on. None of the Bats know how to deal with this situation.

[dduane]

Re: Magic systems

kosmonaunt asked:

I have the weird hyper-fixation of wanting to know all their is about The Speech and just how everything works!! I love learning about how power systems work, and it helps since I’m trying to develop my own. I’m always stuck on soft or hard magic systems. Since I don’t know all there is to really know about my system. Do you have tips on crafting magic systems? How do you feel about someone being inspired by pieces of your system?

Inspiration is fine! What you want to make sure you do with whatever inspires you, though, is to work hard to make your own take on it different from or better than what you borrowed. Around here we refer to this as "the magpie principle:" if you're going to pick up and play with/make off with a bright and shiny idea, you need to be working to produce something even brighter and shinier as your part of the "exchange". Whether or not you succeed at this (or can succeed), either sometimes or never at all, isn't the point. The point is to always be trying.

As regards building magic systems: there were three different ones in the foreground or background of my first novel alone—all of them with features that at this end of time I can recognize as being inspired by elements of magic systems in other writers' work. But by the time I'd more fully developed them, each had become something unique. The system I'm probably better known for—the system based on the wizardly Speech and its use—sprang more or less automatically from the increasingly complex answers to the question, "What if there was a manual that could tell you the truth about/the secrets of what makes the world go?". (Because once you answer one question, another pops up. "Where did that manual come from? What're you supposed to do with it? What's wizardry for?" Etc., etc.) I've spent the last few decades, on and off, answering that question in ways that (intentionally) mirror the main characters' exploration of the art of wizardry, and what it means to engage in the business of errantry in a world that mostly thinks wizards are a fairy tale.

Before getting into describing my own approach to building a system, I needed to take a little time to look around and make sure I knew what you meant when you mentioned hard and soft magic. My best guess is that you're referring to what a lot of people are calling "Sanderson's Three Laws of Magic" (fairly enough, as Brandon calls them that himself). I had a look, and have come to the conclusion that they're more general guidelines than laws... as in each of his three essays on the subject, Brandon no sooner names his basic laws/principles than he starts punching holes through them to make room for systems that don't follow them rigidly. (And frankly I find this kind of endearing.)

With his first one, in particular, I have no quarrel at all: the concept that in one kind of magic, which for his purposes he defines as the "hard" kind, rules are extremely important. (Which is why I'm kind of horrified that he apparently got dogpiled about this take on a Worldcon panel, because to me it seems so intuitive. Some of the best fantasy storytellers I know, like this one, would agree with him.) Then later he gets on to the equally valid ideas that limitations on magic are really important, and that culturally interconnecting multiple systems is useful; and here too we're in agreement. This is reassuring to me, considering that I built my first four systems—all of which feature approaches resting on similar concepts—while Sanderson was between four and six years old. :)

People using Sanderson's Laws will look at the three systems in the Middle Kingdoms books and classify them as varying sorts of relatively hard magic, with their power rooted in two or maybe three different sources. (The blue Fire is a gift of the Divine, nearly lost since ancient times and much damaged, but now slowly being recovered: sorcery is a language-based art in which no one's terribly sure where its power comes from: and the so-called "royal magics" probably started out as a blood sorcery that over centuries was shifted toward very specific uses by the power of the demigod-descendants who employed it.)

The Young Wizards novels, though, feature an extremely hard magic deeply rooted in science and (more or less under the hood) very, very rules-intensive... while its power relies on correct use of the language used to create the Universe, and the active cooperation of the Powers still busy about that work. And this is the reason why, though people are going to naturally be curious about the Speech itself, no one's going to hear very much from me about its actual words.

This is because the Speech is canonically described as so powerful that its use is something you can feel in your body and mind (and theoretically your spirit): bone-shaking, life-changing, unmistakable. And there's no way that made-up words on the page can realistically be expected to evoke physical sensations like that in the reader... or like the sense of the universe going silent around you, leaning in to listen, as you speak your spell. The careful writer knows that it's unwise to attempt to produce responses in the reader that, when they fail, will only emphasize how that thing is not happening, and stands a good chance of shattering the illusion one’s trying to weave.

So a Speech-word gets dropped here and a phrase there, but no one's ever going to get enough of it out of me to try to build a spell. Readers are better at doing that work for themselves in their own heads, out of hints and whispers. Over ten books and their interstitial material, there are plenty of those scattered through the text: not to mention the most basic principles of wizardry, which are laid out before the end of the first chapter of the first book in the series. So I'll leave you to get on with deducing what you can from canon.

Meanwhile, if I was about to build a new system, I'd look at my main characters—in the setting of their home cultures—and ask myself for answers to these questions:

What do they want more than anything?

Why can't they have it?

What kind of power will help them get it?

When they do eventually get within reach of the power / the desired thing... what will its achievement cost them?

And will they pay the price?

...Because the payment of such prices is where you find out what your heroes are worth. (Or aren't.) The above arc succinctly describes, in broad strokes, both The Door into Fire and So You Want To Be A Wizard, and a good number of the books that follow them. (Because why abandon what works, or try to fix what's not broken?) :)

With answers to the questions above you can start feeling your way toward what you need—always looking closely at the cultures your characters spring from, and how those cultures will shape their response to the magic they seek. (Or that finds them.) Maybe it's no surprise that the preferred arc structure of a writer who was a psychiatric nurse will be deeply involved with questions of motivation: because motivation is at the heart of almost all human behavior. Find the motivation and you find the character's heart—and, often enough, what kind of magic they need to make their desire and intention overflow into triumph.

...There are quite a few "How to design your magic system" pages out there. You might glance at these to see if there's anything useful in them for you:

How To Build An Amazing Magic System For Your Fantasy Novel

How To Create A Magic System In Six Simple Steps

Building Your Magic System: A Full Recipe

How To Create A Rational Magic System

However, my favorite is the "So You Want To Write A Functional Magic System" page at TV Tropes, which is nicely arranged yet also completely nonprescriptive—a pick-'n'-mix jar of prompts, things other writers have done that've worked, and generally useful ideas. (And try not to vanish too far down the many interconnected rabbitholes...) :)

Now get out there, build the world, and make the magic(s).

[companionjones]

Love is in the Air (Why Didn’t You Tell Me?)

Pairing: Beck Oliver x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Victorious (Nickelodeon)

Summary: Based on the episode of Victorious “Beggin’ on Your Knees,” where you take the place of Tori. Some things are changed.

Warnings: None that I can think of

Y/n=Your name

W/n=Wrong name

*******

    Love was in the air at Hollywood Arts, and you absolutely hated it. You sat on the stairs in the main hallway and watched all the main couples of the school go about their day.

    Trina came into view. She was running after Jade. “Babe! I said I was sorry!”

    Jade’s jaw tightened as she turned back around to her girlfriend. “You walked in on my auditions!”

    “I’m sorry! You know how I get! I see an opportunity and I just gotta take it. Y’know?”

    Her words didn’t soothe Jade’s anger. “My audition isn’t your opportunity!”

    Trina paused for a moment. “Well, yeah. I know that now...Listen what if I buy you those new scissors you wanted?”

    That seemed to immediately resolve a lot of Jade’s resentment. “...The ones that are diamond encrusted?”

    “The very same,” Trina nodded. “Do you like me again?”

    Jade took a step up to Trina, took her hand, and kissed her cheek. “Maybe...”

    The two walked off together.

    “Whatcha doin’?” Beck was suddenly looming over you.

    You turned around to look at him. “Wallowing in my loneliness.” You turned back around and rested your head on your hands.

    “...That sounds like fun,” Beck responded, not knowing what else to say.

    “Robbie!!! Robbie!!!” Cat burst onto the scene by running down the stairs and screaming bloody murder for Robbie. She reached the middle of the main hallway and released her loudest scream yet. “ROBBIE SHAPIRO!!!”

    The boy came sprinting into view on Cat’s right. “What? What is it? Everyone’s telling me you’re looking for me, Cat. Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

    “No,” Cat answered, much calmer than before.

    “Then what is it?” Robbie asked, still very concerned.

    Cat’s response was simple: “I missed you.” She then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Robbie’s torso.

    Robbie let his head rest on top of hers. Probably to equally revel in her cuteness and insanity. “I...I missed you too, sweetheart...But next time, maybe try calling me on the phone...” His voice trailed off as he and Cat walked away.

    “Hey, guys.” Tori approached you and Beck, hand-in-hand with André.

    You immediately rolled your eyes. “Here we go. Yet another couple to rub their happiness in my face.”

    “I’m sorry?” Tori wasn’t sure if she should’ve apologised for her happiness.

    “What’s with the sour attitude?” André wondered. When he and Tori came to a stop, he traded holding hands with her with putting an arm around her shoulder.

    “Nothing’s up. Right, Y/n?” Beck answered for you. Before you could respond to Beck, he asked the three of you, “You guys wanna get lunch?”

    Both Tori and André nodded. “Sure.”

    Beck grabbed your hand. “You’re coming too. C’mon.” He dragged you along with him.

    Outside, you were mainly focusing on your food, which was why you didn’t notice, at first, a guy walk up next to you. When you did notice him, you saw that he wasn’t just a guy, he was Ryder Daniels, a senior. A really hot senior at that. He was talking to you.

    “Hey. It’s W/n, right?”

    “Y/n.” Beck corrected without looking up from his meal.

    Ryder cleared his throat. “Y/n, right. How are you doing?”

    “I-I’m doing okay...How are you?”

    Ryder smiled at you. “I’m good. So, Y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?”

    You felt your eyes widen. “With me?”

    Vaguely, you heard Beck go, “With her?”

    Ryder gave a weird look to Beck. “Yeah...” He turned back to you. “What do you think?”

    “Uh, s-sure.” You had to physically push the word out.

    “Great.” Ryder grinned and walked away.

    “Great!” you called after him, then turned back to your friends. “What just happened?”

    Tori was the first to answer. “What do you think just happened? You got a date!”

    Your heart was beating out of your chest. “Really? Are you sure?”

    “Yes!” André congratulated you. “Be happy, Y/n!”

    You were pretty sure that was what you were feeling. Your heart wouldn’t slow down to tell you anything else.

    That night, you had just finished a pretty fun night with Ryder. You couldn’t believe it, but you were pretty sure you had just fallen into your first relationship.

    There was a knock at your door.

    You walked toward it, confused. “Ryder? Did you forget something?” You opened your door to find not Ryder. “Beck?”

    “I don’t like this.” He came marching into your home.

    Your confusion only grew. “Don’t like what?”

    He jumped onto another subject. “How was your date?”

    “It went fine. We’re doing the Full Moon Jam together. Is this what you’re upset about?” you wondered.

    Beck’s jaw clenched. “Maybe.”

    “Why?” You were flabbergast.

    He thought for a second. “I don’t-I don’t know, but I just don’t like the idea of you with someone else--”

    “Are you kidding me?!” you shrieked. “All this time, I’ve been alone, Beck. So I swear to god, if you tell me you like me now--”

    “I don’t like you!” he shouted back. “I just don’t want to see you with him! I don’t want to see you with anyone unless it’s m--” Beck immediately stopped talking as realisation dawned on his face.

    “...Get out,” was all you had to say.

    Beck hung his head as he followed your order.

    And just like that, you were left alone.

    The next day, you were excited to see Ryder again. You were excited to see anyone that could distract you from Beck. You decided to meet Ryder at his locker.

    You were about to round the corner when you heard Ryder talking to one of his friends.

    “Hey, Ryder. Congratulations! I heard you’re dating that one girl--What is it--W/n?”

    “Yeah. Only until she gets me an A on this Full Moon Jam assignment. Then you can have her.”

    That was all it took to have you booking it in the other direction.

    You weren’t sure how many hours you spent in the janitor’s closet, but you were pretty sure you’d heard the bell ring three times. You weren’t willing to do the math.

    Suddenly, the door to the closet burst open. “There you are!” Beck called out, relieved. “Jesus, I’ve got everyone looking for you, y’know...Y/n?”

    “He’s using me,” you tearfully informed, “He’s using me to get a good grade on the Full Moon Jam assignment, then he’s gonna dump me.”

    Beck didn’t know what to say, “Oh, Y/n.”

    “Why didn’t you say anything?” You sprung to your feet.

    He thought you were talking about Ryder. “I didn’t know--”

    “Not about him. Why didn’t you tell me you liked me before all this mess?”

    Beck was ashamed. “I didn’t know about that either until Ryder asked you out.”

    “Why didn’t you tell me--?” Your sobs cut you off. You started crumpling into yourself until Beck enveloped you in a hug.

    For some reason, life didn’t seem so bad anymore. You hugged him back. The tears kept falling.

    “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again,” Beck whispered, “Whether I have you or not. No one will ever treat you like this again--”

    You kissed him.

    It was an intense kiss. Beck roughly backed you against some drawers, and you forcefully ran your fingers through Beck’s hair.

    Eventually, you two had to part for air, and you just smiled.

    “What’s the smile about?” Beck asked. His expression matched yours.

    “Oh, a few things,” you answered teasingly. You kissed him again. “I think I know how to get revenge on Ryder, and I’m gonna need your help.

    “Anything,” Beck promised you.

    “Good,” you grinned, and kissed him again.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you!

[gallusrostromegalus]

AEIWAM - Some details about whats going on with Komamura. IIRC canon said he was a werewolf, are you doing anything with him?

Me: What IS Komamura's backstory? Me: *reads backstory and eventual canon fate of Komamura* Me: Hm. Me: That's thematically weird and depressing. Me: I'll just ignore that :)

---

So in An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy, there's ALL KINDS of animal-people and supernatural creatures of varying degrees of anthropomorphic states in the Soul Society! Wolf people! Yokai! Centaurs But Bad! Snake people (sneople)! Mothmen! Whatever the fuck The Philosopher Wax is! Hell, Zaraki Kenpachi was raised by eagles! More nonhuman persons than you can shake a stick at!

They just stay away from the humans because The Humans are TERRIBLE.

...Not as terrible as my immediate family though, The Young Wolf is willing to gamble. he has to leave his home suddenly, in the middle of the night, frightened and injured. Family feuds are bad enough, but a drought year for a large group of apex carnivores and great-grandmother dying and creating a power vacuum? I'm lucky I got out alive! He reasons, tightening the bandages and wincing.

It doesn't look so bad. he lies to himself, looking at his reflection in the where he had finally collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss the previous night and somehow woke up alive this morning. Great-Grandfather did me a favor, trying to bite me in half like that- a tail would just make it even harder to blend in with the humans!

...Clothes would help more though. He sighs.

One man's trash is another's treasure, and that has never been more true than in the case of wolves that want to live with humans. The Young Wolf nearly weeps with joy when he finds the dump- barely-rotted animal carcasses to eat! broken wood for a fire! and clothes! Big enough to fit him! Alright that's definitely a bloodstain with a big, sort of sword-slash-shaped hole in the middle, but nothing a dunk in the river won't solve!

...Or not. Well, at least being covered in mud is less suspicious than being covered in blood? How does this thing even go on anyway? The garment is so confusing, he almost doesn't hear the humans who came to dump something until they are nearly upon him, and realizing they'll panic if they see his face, he grabs a broken basket and jams it over his head.

"Hey!" one of the humans calls out, seeing the movement. "What're you?" An old man peers around the pile at him, curious.

The Young Wolf sputters- he's heard tales of humans before, but this is the first human he's ever actually seen- The stories tell of their strange dark eyes and flattened faces how their fur is so fine they're nearly bald all over, and this man fits the description perfectly. An old woman- he guesses this one is a Woman, because what little fur she has is longer- she appears behind him, equally curious, then smacks the man under the ear.

"You dummy!" She snaps. "That's a monk!"

"Big damn monk!" The man laughs- indeed, even though he's one of the smallest of his people and not even grown, The Young Wolf towers over him- but still, he extends his open hand. Like the stories say, his claws are blunt and pale and the pads of his paws are soft. "What's yer name, venerable?"

"He can't answer that, he's a monk!" the woman snaps, exasperated. "They got- whatchyamacallit- Vows of Silence!"

"Oh, right!" the old man laughs. "Well, wouldn't matter if you could talk anyhow- my Old Lady's deaf as a post and I'm dumb as a rock! Come on, this is no place for a holy man!" he waved.

"Our home is up this way- it isn't much, but it's better than sleeping in Garbage! You stay with us and I'll fix that ratty old robe right up!" She said, grabbing him by the hand-

-

Ba-San looks down at his hand- it feels strange in hers, but it's not the fine gray fur covering his fingers or the rough pads on his palm or the dark nails that taper to claws.

It's that the hand is bleeding, scraped and cut and one of his nails missing like it had been torn off in a fight.

Ba-San is so old that everyone has forgotten her name and they just call her Ba-San, even her husband (who is so old that everyone has forgotten his name and calls him Jii-san, even his wife), and she didn't get this ancient by being an idiot. She glances up at the broken basket she knows got thrown in here by her neighbor not a week ago and sees the large golden eyes inside, staring down at her.

She's also old enough to know what a frightened child looks like, no matter how tall or what species he is.

She makes a show of squinting at his hand. "Why, your nails are FILTHY! You can wash up at the well out back too." She pats his hand.

"Of course! That's right!" Jii-san laughs. "Like I said- I got gravel for brains! He can sleep in Sajin's bed- Sajin is our Boy, but he's long since left home. It'll be good to have a young person around again!" he says, taking the boy's other hand.

He follows, stumbling awkwardly in the badly-tied robe and like he's been injured, but if he leaves paw-prints behind him, they don't remark upon it. - After about a month, the boy has something to confess. And something to ask.

Ba-San and Jii-San have been kind to him- they let him into their home and fed him and Ba-San didn't fix his robe so much as make an entirely new one "appropriate for a Monk", and Jii-san found a pair of old work gloves for him "so you can do your Good Works without losing another nail". Ba-San always gives him her soup-bones "I don't have the teeth to chew them anymore" and Jii-san always moves over so they can both sleep in the sun-patch that appears in the middle of their home every afternoon.

He's tried to repay them how he can- he's tall enough to fix the holes in the roof of their one-room shack standing flat-footed on the floor, and he carries water from the well every day to wash the stone steps outside and re-painted the red gate out front and every morning he makes them breakfast to wake them up and every night he rubs their tired necks and shoulders.

"Mmm-rr." he tries at breakfast, and they both look up, but it's hard enough practicing human words in the woods behind the shack to the birds, let alone now, at the table with the two people he cares most about in the world.

"You say something, Venerable?" Jii-san asks. "Don't worry- I won't tattle to the abbot on you-" he teases.

"Shush!" Ba-san barks at him. "What is it?"

He sighs, and tries again, focusing on the sounds. "mMnoddamunk."

The two elders stare blankly at him.

"Ahm nodda munk." he tries again, enunciating better. "Ahm nodda yumn eethrr."

The two look at each other, then turn back to him and place a hand on each of his.

"...Sorta figur'd the first when you didn't recognize the shrine." Nods Jii-san. "-But that's alright. You take good care of us."

"...Sort of figured the second when I saw your hand on the day we met." Nods Ba-San. "-But that's alright. You're a good person, which is a very different thing than being a Good Human."

The Boy stares at them, stunned, then cringes, embarrassed. Of course! They're old, not stupid. "Aiyee- r-r-r MN! Aiyee LLied." he apologizes, stumbling over the difficult consonant in the middle, determined to conquer it.

"I didn't hear any lies, did you, Jii-san?" asks Ba-san.

"I didn't hear nothin' and my ears even work!" he grins, ears perking up.

The Boy sighs, still exasperated with their antics but mostly relieved.

...Then something Jii-san said caught up with him, and he frowns.

"Aiyee- Aye haffa..." Another tricky consonant. "Aye needa assk ssmmng." he changed tracks. L was enough of a battle for one day, Q and his frustrating wife U could wait.

"Whadday wanna know, Venerable?" Jii-san asked, and Ba-san frowned, turning her ear out behind their home, already suspecting his questions.

He held up two fingers and they nodded, waiting. He'd gotten very good at numbers and pointing already, and until today, that had carried the conversation. "sssHrrine?" he asked.

Jii-san frowned. "...what's your second question?"

"th-Therre'ss ah- Grrrave?" he pointed out behind the shrine, to where a stone stood, with what he now recognized as marks signifying a name carved into it. "wHo?"

Ba-San and Jii-san looked at each other, distraught for some time before Ba-San finally turned back to him, both hands on his.

"...Venerable," She finally spoke. "You had to run away from home in a hurry, didn't you?"

The boy nods.

"-And Jii-san and I were the first people you met that weren't you family, right?" She continues.

He nods again. She purses her lips, agitated.

"Jii-San." She finally speaks. "I think we ought to show him Sajin."

Jii-san sighs and nods, agreeing with her, and stands up. At the back of the house, there is a little cabinet with two boxes they never open, and something covered by a black cloth. Jii-san opens the cabinet and takes out the thing covered by the black cloth, pulling the cloth aside and bringing the thing to the table. It's a flat rectangle, and on it is a drawing of a very strange creature.

It's face is almost perfectly circular, and it's body covered in clothes, like how Humans dress, including a funny hat. What the boy can see of the creature is perfectly smooth and hairless and the same color as not-quite-ripe peaches. It has a long mane of straight dark gray hair growing from the top of its head, and a beard a bit like a billy-goat's

"This is Sajin," Says Jii-san, voice wavering a bit. "He wasn't our son- you can tell, we're not related by blood- but he was Our Boy. He took care of us, like you do now."

"He was Our Boy." nods Ba-San, on the verge of tears. "Then he was Our Man. And then he was Our Old Man, and then-" She stopped, and began to cry in earnest. "-And then he left home, and we buried his body out behind the shrine, and marked his grave, as Humans do."

The boy continued to stare at Sajin's portrait. "...Sajin." he whispered, and the name didn't fight him at all. "...Ihff- if Sajin iss Yumann-?" he looked up at his friends. "Whattrrre You?"

Ba-San beckons him and Jii-san back to the cabinet, and puts her hand on one of The Boxes They Never Open. Jii-San puts his hand on the other, and together, the open the lids just a tiny bit for The Boy to see inside.

He gasps and steps back in horror- the things in the boxes are very much like the skulls he's seen of his people before, but the noses are all smooshed like they didn't grow right, and the eyes are too large and- -And they're just the right size each to belong to Ba-San and Jii-San.

"We are Koma, Guardian Dogs, and this is our shrine." Says Jii-san, closing the lid on his box as Ba-san closed hers, and placing the drawing of Sajin back on the shelf above them. "We wear clothes and speak like humans because we once took Names, a very long time ago, and thus we are People and we act like People." He explained.

"Nnames?" the boy asks.

"A Name is... a sort of contract, that the humans made up." Says Ba-San, locking the cabinet back up. "Humans can live together in such huge packs and crowded cities because they have Rules- you're not allowed to kill other people except in self-defense. You're not allowed to take food someone else caught. Nobody is allowed to kill a child for any reason, things like that. If you take a Name, it's like saying- 'I am this Person! And I agree to abide by the rules of being a person!', and you have to follow the rules, but everyone else has to follow the rules for you too, because you have a Name. So Humans can live very close to each other, because they all have an understanding that nobody is going to violate those rules."

"It's not just humans that can take names- long ago, some wolves decided to take names, and those wolves became Dogs, that live with humans. They were our ancestors, and like our ancestors, we took Names, and we obeyed the rules, and for that, we were fed and allowed to sleep inside and given soup-bones and let to sleep in the sun-patch, but most of all, we were Loved." Said Jii-san.

"-And just the same, we Loved Sajin. He was Our Boy. And We were His Dogs." Said Ba-san, bursting into tears again. Jii-san held her, tears running down his face as well.

Ba-san cried into Jii-san's shoulder for a long time, and The Boy Who Was A Wolf That Wanted To Live Among The Humans sat in silence, thinking.

"...Cour-could Aye- take a nName?" He asks, slowly.

"You'd have to take two, and learn all the rules-" Nodded Jii-san. "But yes. Anyone who can talk can take a name. And you've been talking my tail off!" he wagged.

"Two?" the boy asked. He didn't need to use his fingers this time.

"Humans have two names- one is the name of that specific human, and one is the name of their family or the place they came from or what they did, as a sort of... Introduction. Humans are very big on introducing themselves and all their friends- though I suppose it makes sense, what with them having names to introduce themselves with."

"You can be a Komamura!" Jii-san said, wagging excitedly. "Ba-san and Jii-san are Koma, and we are your Ba-San and Jii-San, so you must be part of our family, so that makes you Mura, a relative- so you're a Koma-mura!" he nodded.

"Humans also give their children names of revered ancestors, to honor the ancestor, and protect the child." Added Ba-san. "You do Sajin's chores, you sleep in Sajin's bed, you take care of Sajin's Dogs... You must be Sajin!"

"That's your name, if you want it- Komamura Sajin!" Said Jii-san. The Boy stared at them for a long time, completely still, until they realized that, for the first time since they'd known him, the scarred nub on his backside was wagging too.

"Thank you." Said Sajin, tears streaming down his face too. --

Many months later, a Monk* leaves the little shrine to Ba-san and Jii-san at the edge of the dump. He leaves his home in no particular rush- if anything, he's lingering- in the middle of a bright morning, hale and with joy in his heart. He waves to his Ba-san and Jii-san as he heads down the road, promising to come back and visit.

"Look at that." says Ba-San. "Our Boy is leaving home again."

"I know," Says Jii-san. "-but this time it'll be alright."

--

[callsign-rogueone]

one for the books - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Scribe!Reader part of my Valentine’s Day Celly (better late than never?) words: 1.7k (got a little carried away here, oops) 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS. scribe reader who is referred to as a woman one time, and has painted nails, but no pronouns used. just some meet-cute fluff with reader and Gare. love at first sight. it's weird writing him with anyone other than Angel, but I hope y'all will still like it anyway 🥺

Garrick wanders through the rows of bookshelves in search of someone who actually knows what they’re doing, so he won’t have to spend the entire day looking at the titles of every book in this massive library.

It doesn’t take long for him to find the only scribe who’d come with them to Aretia: Violet’s friend, Jesinia, who had helped them sneak into the Archives to get the journals. Who happens to be Deaf. He hadn’t thought about that part. 

He waves a hello, racking his brain for the letters of the alphabet and spelling out his request at a snail’s pace, hoping he’s moving his hands correctly. I… n-e-e-d…

Jesinia takes pity on him, holding up a hand to stop him and darting back into the maze of shelves, leaving him standing there thoroughly embarrassed -- he really needs to add “study sign” to his list of things to do after this whole wyvern thing is resolved and Tyrrendor is freed again. Whenever that will be.

He’s expecting her to come back with a pen and paper, so he can write it down, but she emerges thirty seconds later with another scribe in tow, one he’s never met before -- the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Jesinia gestures to you with a soft smile, and leaves.

He blinks once, twice, taking you in.

You’ve taken some creative liberties with the uniform, wearing the beige scribes’ robes open with a plain shirt and pants underneath, the hood down to expose your face and hair, a pair of glasses perched atop your head and a clipboard in hand, your nails long and painted a pale pink -- a few of them have started to chip, but it’s endearing; comforting to find a tiny flaw in an otherwise perfect presence.

You’re equally entranced. The fortress is crawling with riders -- you’re one of maybe five students here who are anything else --  but this one in particular makes your heart race. 

It’s as if the gods pulled a knight from the pages of one of your fantasy novels and dropped him in front of you in this library; broad and tall, muscled and tattooed, two longswords strapped across his back… he’d be intimidating without the nervous smile on his face and the blush dusting his cheeks, the afternoon light coming through the windows and making him glow.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” you ask after a moment, hoping you don’t sound as flustered as you feel.

The scar running down the side of his face moves as he speaks -- more quietly than you’d been expecting. “Riorson sent me; he wants everything you have about wards.”

You blow out a nervous breath. “Okay, uh… I’m still not totally sure how this library is organized, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“We can look together, then,” he offers, giving you a knee-weakening smile.

You don’t know if you can spend the rest of your afternoon with this man and not make a complete fool of yourself, but you’ll just have to try your best. “Sounds like a plan.”

You realize you don’t know each other’s names, having been too busy staring at each other to make proper introductions.

“Garrick,” he offers, extending a hand to shake.

You’re really supposed to refer to him as Lieutenant, since he’s graduated and you haven’t, but you still repeat the word softly, trying it out. “Nice to meet you, Garrick.”

He already owes Xaden Riorson his life, but hearing you say his name, feeling the softness of your hand against his… he decides he’ll be in the boy’s debt well into the afterlife, too.

“I’ll start on one end, you on the other, and meet in the middle?” you ask. “Anything with wards, magic, or protection in the title would be a good start.”

He hums in acknowledgement, heading down to the end of the row.

“I haven’t been in here in ages,” he admits, scanning the rows of shelves for anything that could be useful. “I lived most of my life here before the revolution,” he adds quickly, explaining.

Small talk is good. You can do small talk.

“It must have been interesting growing up in a fortress like this,” you respond, too shy to ask him for his likely incredibly-tragic life story outright, and you’re technically on the job right now, so you should be focusing on the task at hand.

He picks another volume off the top shelf, keeping his feet flat on the ground and barely having to stretch for it. “It was. There were a few dozen of us kids around, always underfoot and meddling. We used to play hide and seek in here, and see how long we could stay before the scribes found us and kicked us out.”

You laugh, a sound he doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing. You may be a librarian, but you’re the polar opposite of the typical strict and stiff scribes he’s used to -- young and lovely and not afraid to laugh and talk among the books, to let them hear your voice and know that they’re appreciated. They’re lucky to have someone like you watching over them.

Since you’re grasping at straws here, you decide to cast a broad net and pull down anything that could be even a little bit helpful -- and you’re finding more than you’d thought, likely because the Tyrrish basically invented wards. 

You really should have brought a cart, but it’s no issue for him -- he’s holding at least ten thick volumes at once with complete ease.

“I got it,” he offers, shifting the tall stack he’s amassed into one arm and taking yours with the other. Seeing a man like him with an armful of books is hotter than it should be. Everything about him is hotter than it should be.

He sets the stack on the nearest table, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair before he sits down.

Your eyes linger on the relic winding around his arm like a plume of black smoke, contrasting against the pale muscle. You know it was intended as way to mark them as the descendants of those who had committed treason, to set them apart from their peers and to force them to enroll in the rider’s quadrant, but he looks like he didn’t have too much trouble in his days at Basgiath, if the two dozen patches on his flight jacket are any metric.

It suits him. He’d look incomplete without the relic and the thick scar on the side of his face. It would be rude to ask how he got it, but the curiosity still tugs at you. You want to know everything about him.

You realize you’re staring, and pull your eyes away as quickly as you can manage, worried that he’ll think you’re judging him -- though you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t on his side.

You each take a book off the top and crack it open, scanning for anything that could help. “Did he say anything more specific? Or why he needs this?”

“Nope. But he’s always been vague and mysterious, even when we were kids, before he had all those shadows following him around.”

“I’ve only seen him twice, but that sounds accurate.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “He may be all cold and broody all the time, but he’s a good guy. I’ve always considered him my best friend.”

You’re thinking of the best way to keep him talking when Jesinia knocks on the side of a nearby shelf to get your attention. Done with my transcribing. What’s next?

Thank you. You can leave for the day. 

Jesinia gives you a sly smile. You don’t want help? Or do you just want to be alone with him because you think he’s handsome?

She’d told you that Garrick’s sign was rusty, that he could only fingerspell, but you still turn away from him as you respond, praying he didn’t understand what she just said. 

Two can play at this game. I’ve been meaning to ask, how is that redhead boy who keeps coming by to talk to you? I’m sure he’d like to see you for another sign lesson tonight.

She reddens, realizing you know about her crush on the rider, and bails out of the conversation while she still can. Goodnight!

There’s that lovely laugh again as you turn back to him, seeing him watching you -- now you really hope he didn’t understand. He quickly returns his gaze to the book in front of him, which definitely isn’t modern Navarrian or any of the other languages you know. It must be Tyrrish.

“You can read this?” you ask with rapt curiosity, leaning forward to take a better look at it.

“About every fifth word or so,” he answers. “There aren’t many fluent speakers left, since it was outlawed decades ago and kids aren’t taught it in school. I don’t see the symbol for “wards” anywhere, but that might be too obvious.”

“No language should ever be outlawed,” you respond, perhaps a little too hotly. “There must be so much valuable information that was lost in translation or destroyed entirely after the wars. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to become a scribe, to try to save as much as I could. But so many of the texts in the Archives have been translated over and over, and I can’t help but wonder if some things were left out on purpose.”

Another smile. “Well-said. Into the “maybe” pile, then?”

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you realize how long you’d been talking. “That’s the only pile we have,” you sigh, stretching. 

He’d shown up around four, and it’s nearing seven now, your body automatically responding to the hour and telling you to pack things up, but that’s one of the nicest things about the library here -- unlike the Archives at Basgiath, you can work here through the night, and not be booted out at seven on the dot.

You’d asked the Lieutenant Colonel about it when he’d come by one day, and he’d told you there wasn’t any sort of magical time-sealing-lock on the library, just a normal wooden door charmed to be fireproof -- so you’d stayed in one of the armchairs until midnight reading, just because you could.

“Well,” he offers, “I know it’s a grave sin to eat in the library, so how about we take a break, get ourselves some dinner, and pick this back up after?”

Smooth. Very smooth.

“I’d like that,” you answer, your heart fluttering. “I’d like that a lot.”

[onceonafullmoon]

Guessing Game

Rin x GN!Reader

Warning: slight possesive behavior from Rin, not severe but enough to note. Reader is GN but is noted to wear stockings. Reader is a foreigner in Japan. fun fact this was just a mess of dialogue I daydreamed before I actually decided to refine it, maladaptive daydreaming come through 💪🏽💪🏽!!

“…because…stockings are… out of fashion?” You question more than answer before lighting up at your new idea. “Oh that’s why! My fashion choices suck!” He looked distinctly like he wanted to bash his head into the wall, and even with the way he was avoiding answering you, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

“You can’t come to my games.” Rin says abruptly, causing you to pause, your ramblings of all the things you wanted to do now that you’re back in Japan cut off.

“What?” You ask before sitting up on the couch, straightening up to look at him. “Why?”

“You—” He cuts himself off, seemingly trying to find the right words. 

“You’re too distracting.” He eventually settles on, hands fiddling with each other in an uncharacteristic show of nerves that has you furrowing your brows.

“As if!” You scoff. “ How?”

He stares at you, trying to gauge if you’re serious or not. 

“…You seriously don’t know?” He asks after a  bit.

“Oh come on, I mean I’m annoying, but I’m not that annoying, like I’d at least have common decency to shut up during a game.” You say, knowing of your penchant to ramble.

“That’s not why.”

“Oh, then it’s ‘cause I’m a foreigner? I’m sure that’s a little distracting, but too distracting either. I mean, even the most xenophobic person there would stare like… I dunno, 5 minutes before getting over it.” You say, remembering the looks you got when you first moved in middle school.

“No— that’s not it either.” He says, looking more and more put out as you continue.

“Shit, is it my mannerisms then? Like, do I come off as an asshole or something? Or like, a weirdo? I mean, I am pretty weird, but I don’t think that’s obvious at first glance so…”

“‘You ever think it’s because of your looks?” He asks finally, his impatience reaching an all time high.

“Pfft— okay sure, I’m not that ugly.” You laugh, looking at him, only to stop laughing when you see a deadpan look on his face.

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Oh my god, am I?!” You gasp, looking scandalized.

“I didn’t think I was like a model or anything, but I didn’t think I was below average in the looks department either…” You start to ramble, feeling a pit form in your stomach. “I mean Jesus, I know the beauty standards here are harsh, but I didn’t know they were this harsh.”

“Who the fuck told you that you were ugly?” Rin finally asks, his expression equal parts annoyed, angry and confused.

“No one!” You protest, before pointing an accusing finger at him. “It’s just cuz I was joking and saying “I’m not that ugly am I?” And then you gave me your patented ‘(Name) are you an idiot?’ stare, so I just assumed you meant that I was… now that I think about it you probably meant that I was an idiot for thinking that was the reason…”

“You are an idiot.” He sighs, relaxing slightly into the couch with the knowledge that he doesn’t have to fist fight someone. 

(And he would, if it was for you.)

“So that’s the reason? Cause I also feel that’s not obvious at first glance, but I do space out sometimes…” You trail off before looking at him, rolling your eyes as you see his exasperated face. 

“Why are you face palming?” You pout. “If you would just answer my question instead of making me play a guessing game we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“(Name)...” He says, finally deciding to give you a hint. “...why do you think everyone was looking at you the day you wore stockings?”

“…because…stockings are… out of fashion?” You question more than answer before lighting up at your new idea. “Oh that’s why! My fashion choices suck!”

He looked distinctly like he wanted to bash his head into the wall, and even with the way he was avoiding answering you, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

“…because my fashion choices are good?”

“No, god damn it (Name), it’s because you’re pretty!” Rin finally snaps.

“…”

“…”

You stare at each other unblinkingly for a few moments, you blank faced, and him growing more and more flustered.

“…for real?” You ask, somewhat flabbergasted, before shaking your head. “Wait, no, you’re joking, okay good one, now tell me the real reason.”

“Why would I lie about something so embarrassing?” Rin says, despite not wanting to admit it.

“Okay, so I’m supposedly really pretty, but I haven’t gotten any valentines?” 

“…of course you did.”

“Yeah exactly so— wait I did? And more importantly how do you know and not me?” You ask, raising a brow in response.

“…” He averts his eyes, not wanting to answer.

“So, you’re lying?”

“No, I— I threw them away.” He admits, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever seen him.

“What?! Why? I know you reject everyone, but that doesn’t mean I have to.” You frown, despite knowing you wouldn’t have accepted any of their confessions.

“That’s the problem.” He begrudgingly says.

“Huh?”

“That you don’t have to reject everyone.”

“…” 

You stare at him, trying to comprehend his words.

“…forget it, I said too much. I should go.” Rin says, moving to get off the couch, but you pull him back with your hands grasping his.

“Wait a minute, you— you like me?!” You gasp out, looking at him with widened eyes.

“Now you use your brain?!” He scoffs more than questions, an unfamiliar blush rising on his cheeks.

“Oh fuck off, you were being purposely vague.” You say, before you switch back into your questioning. “But you… you seriously like me?”

“… I’m… fine, yes, I like you.” Rin says, looking over to see your unreadable expression.

“…”

You stare at him again.

“… I’m going now.” He says, pulling his hand free from yours,

“No— wait!” You protest, coming out of your shell shocked state. “No, I’m sorry, I was just— like— shocked, sorry— no, I mean, a good shock, like a birthday present surprise shocked.”

“…what?” Rin questions, trying to keep up with your rambling despite his years of training.

“Ah— that was very poorly worded, I mean— I like you too is what I’m trying to say.” You manage to get out, shooting him a flustered smile.

“…oh.” He gets out.

“…Okay, uh, cool.” You say.

The silence between you both drags on for a bit, until you can’t help it and you start talking again.

“So uh, what exactly is the protocol now cuz I don’t actually know what to do…”

Rin gives you a painfully fond look paired with a rare smile that makes your heart flip.

“You’re so stupid.” He says, although it sounds more like a complement than an insult with the way he sounds.

You smile despite yourself and roll your eyes. “And you’re emotionally constipated, just say I’m cute already.”

“And inflate your ego further?”

“...Says you.” You retort, before pausing briefly to speak again.

“So… Can I come to your game now?”

“No.”

You pout at his swift decline before giving him a pleading look. 

“… if I wear your jersey can I come to your game?”

“…fine.”

[stayyyyyyyyyyyy21]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN)

THE HWANG ART GALA

reader : part one part two, PART FOUR

TAGS: LOVE TRIANGLE, ANGST, BREAKUP, BETRAYAL

As Y/N dashed through the corridors of the college building, her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn't help but curse the chaotic night that had led to this mad rush. Wooyoung, I.N, and she had indulged in a bit too much alcohol and ended up bleaching their hair and wreaking havoc on Wooyoung's belongings. It took Felix's midnight rescue mission to restore some semblance of order, and by the time they settled down, the sun was already peering through the windows. After that they thought it will be fun to make tanghulu and make mukbang videos, and it was 8am by the time they were done.

So there she was, sprinting to class, desperately hoping to avoid any awkward encounters with Yeji and Hyunjin As she glanced back, she caught sight of another latecomer, a guy with curly hair and boba eyes, looking equally harried but undeniably attractive in his all-black ensemble.

Their eyes met, and without a word, he fell into step beside her. "Room 203?" he asked, his voice slightly breathless.

"Yeah," Y/N confirmed, relieved to have some company in her tardiness. "Let's stick together and minimize the scolding."

"By the way, I'm Bang Chan," he offered with a charming smile.

"Hey, I'm Seo Y/N," she replied, returning the smile as they found seats at the back of the room, accompanied by Bang Chan's friend Seungmin.

As they settled in, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of Hyunjin's curious gaze from the middle row. What was that weird look about? She pondered, silently hoping that their morning wouldn't get any more eventful than it already had been. but a notification poped on her phone.

Teacher: "I think everyone understood what I am saying."

Y/N looked up as Seungmin cleared his throat, "Since you were not listening, you, me, and Bang Chan are partners for the first internal."

Y/N replied, "Oh, sorry, I had an emergency. Can you please give me a gist?"

Seungmin rolled his eyes, "We have to work together throughout the semester, basically work on a fake company and pitch ideas and all. You will get a mail today."

Seungmin added, "By the way, my name is Kim Seungmin."

Y/N replied, "My name is Seo Y/N."

Seungmin asked, "Are you Changbin's sister?"

Y/N confirmed, "Oh, yes."

Bang Chan chimed in, "You're Bin's sister?"

Seungmin teased, "Well, she has the same surname and dumb look on her face."

Y/N smiled, realizing what Seungmin implied, "Hey, I don't look dumb like Bin. But how do you guys know him?"

Bang Chan explained, "Oh, I met him through night music school."

Y/N puzzled, "Music school?"

Before she could ask anything, Hyunjin cleared his throat, and all three of them looked at him. He was with Yeji, holding hands.

Hyunjin semi-hugged Y/N, "I saved you a seat, you know. Now we both won't be on the same project, very good."

Y/N thought, "How can he be so normal?"

Y/N replied, "Haha, it's fine."

Hyunjin gave Bang Chan and Seungmin a look and asked Y/N in a hushed tone, "Are you fine with doing your project with them? I mean, it has 70 percent of your grade."

Seungmin jumped in, "You know we can hear you, Prince?" (He called him prince in a mocking way)

Y/N retorted, "Hey, Hyunjin, don't be rude. Besides, yes, they are Changbin's friends."

Hyunjin brushed it off, "Whatever," after giving Seungmin one last dirty look and continued, "Can't wait for today's after-party. It's been like so long since we last talked. Also, I need to talk to you. Do you want to ride with me and Yeji?"

Y/N immediately replied, "Oh, no, I am gonna stay back and talk with them about the project."

Hyunjin said, "Okay, see you later," and Yeji smiled at Y/N.

Y/N banged her head on the desk after Hyunjin left. Seungmin quipped, "If I was you, I would have the same reaction."

Y/N gave him a confused look, and Seungmin added, "I use Twitter too."

Y/N hid her face, groaning, "Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I want to die."

Bang Chan looked confused, "How do you know what is happening to her?"

Seungmin smirked, "I keep up with gossip sites."

Seungmin suggested, "Since we are working together, let's exchange our numbers." Later, all three of them exchanged numbers and had a decent conversation. Y/N found Seungmin extremely funny, especially when he was teasing Bang Chan about being old.

As they were laughing, Bang Chan removed his mask to take a sip of coffee, and Y/N swear the whole world stopped. He had dimples and very cute boba eyes, his eyes were so pretty you could see the innocence in them. He had perfect hair paired with perfect curly hair.

Seungmin joked, "Hey, earth to Y/N!" snapping her back to reality. Bang Chan looked at her in a concerning way, "Are you okay? You zoned out."

Y/N stuttered, "Oh yeah, by the way, what is the time?"

Seungmin checked his watch, "4:30."

Y/N exclaimed, "Shit, I am getting late! Guys, it was so nice talking to you. See you later!" and ran.

Bang Chan and Seungmin looked at each other, and Bang Chan asked, "So what happened to her?"

[thekatebridgerton]

I like your discussion of Anthony's relationship with his sisters.

For Hyacinth, I have this image of Anthony at her wedding, breathing a sigh of relief. He got Hyacinth married and it didn't involve any of the Theatrics of their other siblings.

Imagine what he would do if he knew about all the breaking and entering & Mattress dancing the bride and groom have done?

Oh I have thoughts about that all right. But on a more serious note.

Anthony's relationship with his sisters is very sweet but also funny because he's at odds with all of them half the time and the other half he loves them to death.

With Daphne, he knew she was going to be the first one he'd have to step up for as a man of the house and she was born in more or less equal footing with him. First girl vs first boy when it comes to society expectations. There is a certain respect there that Anthony has for Daphne, and her womanly intuition. But I think Anthony for most of her life has treated her as an adult, I highly doubt that Anthony did much sugar coating with Daphne, she got to live most of her life in the role of his sister not his daughter and it shows in her relationship with him. The problem in their book was that Anthony at one point started worrying that Daphne wasn't as ready for marriage as she pretends to be and began to be a little bit overprotective over her specifically because of her adventures in the marriage mart. Which seriously weirded her out. And once she got married they went back to their usual relationship where they both respect each other's interests and leave each other largely alone. I'd also like to add that when it came to Daphne Anthony was hurt because he expected a little bit more of her since he always trusted her to be an adult and at one point Daphne was going something along the lines of ' well I'm not an adult, I'm not that mature, I'm just a girl' which really brought things into perspective for him

With Eloise the scene where they're talking things out into tspwl speaks volumes about their relationship. Because Eloise was stuck in the middle between being Anthony's sister and being treated as his daughter, which she never wanted and really rebelled against, both of them wanted to have a sibling relationship and both of them knew they couldn't have it because she was entirely too young when Edmund died and needed a father figure. but she resented that it has to be Anthony, she resented at her playful brother had to grow up too soon and now couldn't play with her, because she simply wanted Anthony to be the guy he used to be before their dad died. So she antagonized Anthony just to be contrary and have her fun. Also she is the sibling who is the most like him, prideful arrogant, I lay the law kind of person. So Anthony was sort of worried for her because he knew she was a lot like him and eventually she would chaff at the weight of the Bridgerton name, he just didn't know if he could protect her from the consequences, so when she ran away to meet Philip he probably had a little bit of a heart attack because he expected something crazy to happen to Eloise at some point he just couldn't prepare for this particular eventuality. Also I think it was a welcome surprise for Anthony to see that his most stubborn sister had actually grown up and was ready to become the leader he always knew she could be, he just never thought that and all this happened while he wasn't looking.

I think that Anthony's relationship with Francesca is the sweetest one, because unlike Eloise and Daphne, Francesca never actually made Anthony feel like a failure which he often felt like with his other two sisters. But Francesca she played by the rules, she never gave Anthony any trouble she was smart, a little bit sneaky, always there to welcome him with warmth, at home or in Scotland, sometimes you just have that sibling who is a healing to the soul. And I think Francesca was that for Anthony, perhaps that's why she fell through the cracks because she never complained and that made Anthony think that she was happy. I think in his younger years Anthony would just spend time with Francesca because he wanted to be with someone who was just always happy to see him, since everyone else seemed to have all these expectations and demanded so much attention, but not Francesca, she was calm and good and she understood when he couldn't give her as much attention as he gave everyone else. And because he loves her so much I think he also feels very guilty that he missed out on a lot of important things in her life and wasn't there for her when she was passing through her worst moments and he feels grateful to Michael that he made her smile again because to Anthony Francesca is special, out of all his crazy siblings, she's the one he probably likes the most and the only one he's willing to look the other way for. I'm pretty sure that Anthony did find out what happened in Scotland, and he pretended that he didn't know because she's his favorite and he doesn't want to have this conversation with her Anthony has never had to seriously scold Francesca for anything in her life and he doesn't want to start now ( at most he told her off for not inviting him to her second wedding and that was it. )

And then we have Hyacinth, she's practically Anthony's daughter so she is more babied than anyone else, I think Anthony spoiled her too much, and at the end he realized that he had to let her grow up make her own mistakes even if that meant he would have to eventually deal with a scandal (because of course she's wild and stubborn like Eloise but with Daphne and Francesca's social charm). Letting his baby grow up also meant setting her loose to find her own path. And let her be the' joy' of other unsuspecting individuals like Lady Danbury and Gareth for a change.

And that's the tea

[rainstops]

pen meets paper, head meets pillow

alhaitham x gn!reader

summary: you overwork yourself, but you really had to get a good grade on this test. clearly alhaitham cared more about your wellbeing than you did yourself.

a/n: based on true events!! minus the fact that i have a boyfriend to take care of me

It was late, yet you were unsure of how late exactly. not like it mattered to you anyways. all that mattered was that test tomorrow.

being a student, has often left you feeling dumb. especially around most of your friends who immediately understood any topic. your grades were average at best, and you could not let them drop by any chance. sure you were good at a lot of things, that a lot of people were not good at, but why could you just not get better grades? no matter how hard you tried, how much you believed you finally understood the current topic on hand, you were never pleasently surprised.

thats why you were grateful for your boyfriend. even if sometimes, people made you feel stupid, alhaitham has never made you feel that way. quite the oposite - whenever you needed it, he was more than happy to help you and explain anything you needed to know.

he was just in the room right next to yours, but you couldnt ask him for help. it was the middle of the night and he was sleeping.

just a little more you thought.

just another hour or two and then-

"hey why arent you in bed", alhaitham was standing behind you, hair messy and a sleepy yet concerned expression resting on his face. seeing alhaitham worries or concerned, was pretty new to you. sure sometimes he was worried about things, but never did he really let it show.

"i have a test tomorrow", you replied, as if that explained why you were disregarding how tired your brain and your body were. you were neglecting your health, and alhaitham seemed to be more aware of it than you were. "so? you need to sleep [name]. a test isnt nearly as important as your health", alhaitham looked down at what you were writing. papers were spread all over your desk, messy notes, graphs, pictures and at least two books. or maybe three. you couldnt really tell under the mess.

but alhaitham realy grew concerned when he saw your face. your eyes were sleepy as never before, and as equally teary. why you were crying, you didnt even know yourself. maybe it was because you were tired, or maybe because you didnt really understand the topic.

without another word alhaitham started cleaning up your desk, collecting the papers and put them into a neat pile on the side of your desk.

"hey- wait im not done-", alhaitham did in fact not stop. he continued closing the books and collecting all the pencils you had used.

as much as you wanted to protest, as much as you wanted to tell him that you needed to study more, you knew he wouldnt hear it. and surely you were also too tired to actually do anything against it.

"alhaitham i cant fail this test, i need to get at least a C. if i dont-"

"if you dont go to sleep youre not going to get even a C, because your brain wont have enough rest, and youre not going to get a good grade no matter how much you study", alhaitham didnt want to hear what you were going to say. maybe if he wouldnt have cut you off, he wouldve never heard the end of it.

"come on, go to sleep", reluctantly, you got up from your chair, and alhaitham took you by the hand, to lead you to your bedroom.

when he turned to look at you, you were rubbing your sleepy eyes. even when you were tired, you were just so cute, alhaithams heart skipped a beat. and he was so glad he was there - he didnt even dare to think how many times you had put yourself through this while he wasnt there.

you layed down on your soft bed, and under the cold sheets, but alhaithams warm body made up for the weird feeling off the cold against your skin. his arms wrapped around your waist, and he somewhat burried his face in your shoulder.

a few minutes had passed, in comfortable silence and just listening to each others soft breaths and heartbeats.

"[name], please dont overwork yourself like that. its not good for you", you were already asleep when he said that.

a/n: storytime,, today i collapsed in school because i overworked myself for a test... i fucked up the test anyways...

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

My Hazbin Archangels;

Asks about them are more than Welcome

These are very developed OCs so at this point I need to make masterpost for how my interpretation of them works

Listing I'm using is;

Lucifer, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel, Jophiel, Zadkiel |__________________| |___________| |__________________| ^ ^ ^ Elder Sister syndrome, Forgotten middle children, family babies

I don't include Azrael mostly cause weirdly intense and underappreciated job are covered by Michael and Lucifer and I feel it would undermine both of their supposed isolation, you can only have so many outcasts and loners in a group of seven that are also a team.

Yes I did make up all the titles based vaguely on translations and mythological roles, it felt weird for just Luci to have something like "the morningstar"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Originally called Angels of Creation or Heirs of the Almighty; they were uniquely Imbued with powers of Creation and raised as His own offspring. (He kinda had to there was nothing else)

Each was hatched in tandem with a realm they were charged with overseeing the development of; in line with the Seven Days of Creation.

Later these seven were named the Archangels and designated the highest authorities within Heaven; however most their duties are distant from the rest of Heaven's hierarchy, the most involved they get is in delivering commands, as God is rarely willing to talk to anyone other than them.

While they were all hatched over the course of a single week, the order was still very important as it defined the chain of command; so much so that the oldest two were called twins just cause they were equal in power. (practically speaking, they're all septuplets)

They all call each other brother, only three have genders, only two are men and Luci's mostly doing it as a bit. They can be a child, a kid, a hatchling, or a fledgling of God but never a son or daughter, isn't gender fun?

Day 1: Lucifer

‘Let there be light’

Lucifer(he/him); the Morningstar, Herald of Creation. The fallen one the brother below Made to be incapable of worship so he could never be satisfied with God's perfection alone and would seek out other paths to take creation.

(which does count as a neurodivergency, angels are inherently creatures of worship)

He'd find flaws in his brothers' realms and expand them into something entirely unique. He was less in charge of anything and more excluded from the control of anyone else. He also regularly got into arguments with their Father for shits and giggles, giving his very reverent brothers fucking heart attacks. (they assumed he was allowed to do this because he was the favourite and not perhaps the other way around)

Day 2: Michael

"the Heavens are separated from the Earth",

Michael(he/it); the Divineblade, Archangel of Law and Truth, Highest of All Angels, Charged with the creation of the Heavens and all other angels.

Most devoted to the Father's will; Chronic workaholic and quite resentful of his own personhood, all he wants is to be God's perfect tool but he keeps having feelings. Well-respected as a leader by his siblings; relentlessly bullied by them (out of love) as a brother for being unable to comprehend 'outgrowing their first intended purpose'. Hes got a famous polite stoic demeanour that's equally infamous for being broken by Lucifer's anything and nothing else. He is getting steadily worse at his job and its going to break him any day now.

Day 3: Raphael

"the waters are gathered, the earth brings forth life"

Raphael(all/they); the Healingspur, Archangel of Life, Keeper of Balance, Charged with the creation of the seas and vegetation.

Mediator of the twins' constant arguments, most consistent voice of reason in any room; Michael's right hand and the only reason he remembers to eat(they don't need to but its good for them). Gentle and controlled but also quite stern. Very strong sense of empathy that is systematically destroying them as they face others on their worse days over and over again. They are the most aware of how Lucifer absence is tearing each of their brothers apart and how unwilling anyone is to even acknowledge it; they have pretty much resigned themselves to the approaching all-out breakdown, there's not much a healer can do before the injury.

Day 4: Uriel

"the sky is filled with signs of days, months, season and years"

Uriel(all/they); the Aflameword, Archangel of Knowledge, keeper of the sun, stars and archives, Charged with the creation of constellations and planets.

Likes things quiet and tidy. Ordinarily quite reserved; preferring to keep to themselves, focus on documenting and organizing and simply observe the others. But unwilling to be resigned, has stepped up as the only one willing to call Michael on his bullshit, like refusing to officially promote Raph to second in command despite them already taking up all of Lucifer old duties; and even hesitantly but directly questioning their Father on some things, which is a lot for any of them. Has an arrogance streak, doesn't enjoy reminders of what they don't know; especially that they are just as in the dark about God's big plan as anyone else.

Day 5: Gabriel

"the earth is filled with creatures"

Gabriel(all/they); the Herocue, Archangel of Order, Keeper of progress, Charged with the creation of creatures and their instincts.

Gabe is a somewhat of a Hermes figure, Michael’s left hand. Quick and always eager to provide their services to anyone who asks; especially known for getting last minute tasks down for Michael. Their wings buzz like a hummingbird at the speeds they fly. Always set on efficiency with a reputation for being deadly serious but is secretly bit of a prankster. A gremlin when they get their mind set on something and will regularly startle others out by clinging to walls or ceilings. In charge of most of heaven’s military and had A bit of a complex about being weaker than Michael despite being the soldier of the seven.

Additional; a Channel suited for Him also sometimes called a sockpuppet, they can be possessed as God's vessel to act as his direct body and voice (without the negative repercussions to their body and mind or discomfort to Him other angels or creations would cause)

Day 6: Jophiel

humans are brought forth as caretakers of the earth

Jophiel(she/her); the Gracespector, Archangel of Passion, Keeper of Beauty, Charged with the creation of humanity

Highlight of every room she enters, quick-witted and an equal to Gabe, even a challenge to Michael on the battlefield. Always up for a good challenge, puzzle or debate. An open prankster, Gabriel is her hidden accomplice. Will defend the potential of humanity to her last breath, a more and more controversial stand; she's pretty upset at never getting to finish her masterpiece since she lost a lot of control of mankind once free will was introduced, she still tries to influence them probably more than she's really technically allowed. Knows about politics.

Day 7: Zadkiel

creation was finished, and the day was blessed

Zadkiel(all/they); the Righteouspeace, Archangel of Grace, Keeper of the Holy day, Charged with miracles and blessings.

Detached, muted and kinda smug but well meaning. They try but they don't really know how to interact with those of their equals. Their devotion rivals Michael’s but they’re quieter. Insecurity about having such an unclear purpose next to the other seven has let them entirely give themselves over to faith. If it happens, Father means it. Spends by far the most amount of time on earth(Gabriel is a distant second) and has strong opinions on every individual sect of Christianity and how they build their churches. They are continually surprised by how out of touch their brothers and rest of Heaven is to the religion that worships them, come on guys at least Our Brother Down Under has an excuse.

Additional; also a Channel suited for Him

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The youngest three are very close on account of being shut up out of important arguments and being left to gossip upon themselves

Michael tries really hard to convince himself Lucifer is The Enemy (he can't live with the alternative) but the other five are of the opinion "He transgressed, he got punished, still being angry at this point is just petty" and still want to be in his life. However, they still don't really get what he was trying to do, Lucifer is also hung up on how none of them came to check on him.

He didn't see any of them for 5 000 years and when he did it was Michael holding a sword to his throat and demanding to know why he was on earth.

From Luci's perspective; the fall very nearly killed him and only didn't because the Sins found him before he bled out; it was then years of painful recovery that never quite healed right. It wasn't like there was anything in hell that could hold a candle to the power of an Archangel, he would know. There was nothing stopping them, he was always there for them when they needed him, but when he was scared and hurt, they just abandoned him.

From their perspective; archangels were, and still are, assumed unkillable, and practically indestructible. This was the first time Father had ever punished like this before and they were terrified. No one was willing to risk it now that Falling was on the table; now that they saw He absolutely was willing to sacrifice His children for the Plan, whatever it was.