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trensu · 23 days

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Heyyy, long time no post, huh? I'm dropping another chunk of stasis in darkness for you guys! And I wanted to remind people that these posts are basically rough drafts. The final product will hopefully be more polished but in the meantime please enjoy!

After Steve convinced the old man he meant no harm, he’d been allowed into the home. The Lord of Night hadn’t been super specific about the purpose of his quest, only that Steve had to bring him to Wayne Munson. Steve discreetly looked around the home as he entered it. The old man was obviously unwell and had been for a while, given the state of the house. Steve had the creeping suspicion that the time limit the Lord of Night mentioned was linked to the man’s health.

“What are you doing?” Wayne Munson asked suspiciously once he had returned to the kitchen with Steve in tow. He had sat heavily in one of the old worn chairs at the table but Steve, instead of joining him, began to clear the table on impulse. Steve halted awkwardly.

“This ain’t your house, boy,” Wayne said with a scowl. “I can take care of myself.”

Steve did his very best not to look at the scattered mess in the kitchen or living room. It was not the mess of a dirty, careless person. It was the mess of someone tired and overwhelmed. It was the mess of someone in pain who was too proud to ask for help. Steve took in Wayne Munson’s watery eyes, wan skin, and the clothes that were plain things, tattered from use, but mostly stain-free. Steve quickly added all these details and came up with a plan of attack. He set the plate back down.

“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed easily. “I’m aware, but I serve the Lord of Night and he sent me to you specifically. In our god’s name, I must assist you in any way I can.”

Wayne’s expression wavered. Steve pushed again. He lowered his gaze in a slightly embarrassed manner, letting a note of uncertainty color his words.

“I don’t know what else to do until nightfall,” Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I don’t want him to think I’ve neglected you.”

“What happens at nightfall?” Wayne asked.

“It’s when the Lord of Night wants to see you,” Steve said. Wayne blinked.

“Me? He wants to see me?”

“Yeah! So, if you could please let me,” Steve said, putting on his most endearing smile, “I’d like to take care of you until then. You know, make sure you’re comfortable and get the place ready for a divine visit. If it’s not too much trouble, sir?”

“Uh, no, that should be fine. Is…is there anything I should do?” Wayne asked dazedly.

“Not really. All I know is he really wants to see you tonight. Oh, maybe you’d like to rest until then? A nap, so you’re not drowsy when he arrives.”

Wayne nods, still in shock at the news. He didn’t protest when Steve helped him out of the chair and let him lean his weight on him as they navigated to the bedroom. Wayne sat on the bed as Steve drew curtains closed over the room’s single window. The curtains were thick enough to dim the sun to a pale yellow glow.

“I didn’t know there was anyone else who followed him,” Wayne said as he lay himself down over the covers.

"He told me you’re the only one left, besides me,” Steve told him. “And I only discovered him a month ago by accident.”

“By accident?” Wayne asked with a wry grin.

“My friends found a holy text when we were researching other gods. It was the only one of his in the city's whole library. Then we had a hell of a time trying to find his last shrine. When I finally found it, it was falling apart. He’s been forgotten,” Steve said. At Wayne’s troubled expression, he hurriedly added, “But now that I’ve pledged myself to him, I’m going to make sure people know him again.”

Wayne did not appear convinced, but he finally settled to rest after Steve promised to wake him before sunset. Steve took the opportunity to clean. He hadn’t been lying to Wayne when he said he wasn’t sure what to do until nightfall. It didn’t help that Steve also liked to keep himself busy. Being idle made him itch.

The house was small. Aside from Wayne's bedroom, there was only a cramped kitchen and a modest living room. From the small window of the backdoor, Steve could see a short, worn path to an outhouse.

Given the size of the house, though there was a mess everywhere, it didn’t take Steve very long to clean it all. When it was done to his satisfaction, there were still a few hours left until sunset so he wandered outside. The porch railing was covered with broad green leaves from intertwining vines but Steve left that alone when he saw the small garden nearby. It was full of ripe vegetables that Steve assumed Wayne had been unable to pick himself given his condition.

By the time Steve had picked the vegetables, pulled the weeds, and watered the garden, the sun hung low in the horizon. He cleaned himself up the best he could in the kitchen sink and took one of the chairs from the table to the bedroom before waking Wayne.

He told Wayne what he accomplished during Wayne’s repose. While Wayne expressed his gratitude politely enough, it was still apparent to Steve that the old man was irritated at having needed the assistance at all. To keep Wayne from dwelling on that, as well as to satisfy his own curiosity, he coaxed Wayne into conversation.

“Can I ask, uh, how you–I mean, how did you know? How did you know the Lord of Night existed?"

Wayne laughed at Steve’s befuddled tone. The laugh turned into a coughing fit. Steve quickly fetched him a glass of water and put it on the bedside table after Wayne had a drink.

“My family’s a bunch of no-good criminals,” Wayne croaked. “Were. It’s only me now. But before, each generation of Munsons took it up. Like a family tradition.”

“Criminals?” asked Steve cautiously.

“Thieves and con men. Some ladies of the night, if you catch my meaning. They knew of our Lord of Night and passed the knowledge down,” Wayne sighed sadly. “The life of a criminal ain’t what you call stable. We lost bits and pieces of him with every generation. Like his name. No one’s known his name for a very long time. Is that why he wants to see me? Did I fail him?”

There was genuine distress in Wayne’s question so Steve hid his disappointment. He had hoped the Lord of Night’s last worshiper would at least have a clue about where to start the search for the lost name. He focused, instead, on reassuring the old man.

“I don’t know why he wants to see you, but he wasn’t angry when he sent me. He sounded excited.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Wayne said uncertainly.

“Definitely,” Steve assured. Before Wayne could sink into his gloom again, Steve said, “I know you said you’ve lost some knowledge, but do you know if the Lord of Night has any prayers? I haven’t…I mean, I’ve tried to worship him but I don’t think I can do it right without a prayer. I’m kind of new at all this.”

“My ma used to say our Lord didn’t have patience for formalities,” Wayne said, brow furrowed. “They bored him so he only had a few official prayers. There was one where we’d thank him for any dreams he gave us. I think there was another one that asked for dreams to bring inspiration or something of that sort. I don’t really remember those–ma would be boxing my ears for that if she was still around. I remember the one for protection, since we used that one a lot. It goes:

Lord of Night, Guide us through all phases Of the moon; May the dark be free of All dangers, While your many stars burn.

Wayne’s voice cracked into a coughing fit near the end. Steve hurriedly offered him water again once Wayne had caught it again. Wayne took a few mouthfuls and repeated the prayer again so Steve could learn it. It took a few tries, but Wayne was patient and by the end of it, Steve had it memorized.

“Is that the only one?” Steve asked, hoping to learn more. Wayne grimaced.

“It’s the only one I really remember. The Lord of Night prefers stories. My ma would tell us the best bedtime stories. Said they were for our god as much as for me and my brother. I was never good at coming up with new stories, so I retell my favorites or tell our Lord about my days and give him a little offering.”

Steve wasn't much of a story teller. He supposed he could do as Wayne did until he met up with Robin and Dustin again. They constantly chatted about books they’d read. Steve couldn’t help but notice how, once again, his friends seemed a better fit for his god than he was; all Steve could give his god was his shield and sword. It was discouraging. He had to figure out a way to make up for it somehow.

“What kind of offerings?” Steve asked.

He wanted to give his god more; he wanted to give the Lord of Night something he’d actually like. It wasn’t lost on him that the Lord of Night took him under duress. Who else would’ve been able to complete this quest?

“When I was young, it was horse shoes,” Wayne chuckled at Steve’s confusion. “Thieves are supposed to give him a part of their loot but my ma and pa were horse thieves. They got horseshoes and would leave one for each horse they stole, tied with a braid made of the stolen horse’s mane.”

“You stole horses?” Steve said, unable to fight off a grin as he remembered the conversation he had with the Lord of Night about it.

“Me and my brother, before he passed,” Wayne said with a weak nod.

The sky had darkened by now. Steve pulled the stone out of his satchel. He carefully unwrapped it from the cloth and set it gently on the bedside table next to the glass of water. Wayne eyed it quizzically.

“It’s from his shrine,” Steve explained. Without any further fussing, Steve stood up and went to the door.

“Don’t leave,” the Lord of Night said.

Steve turned to see the god, hooded in his cloak of constellations, sitting in the chair Steve had vacated. The Lord of Night had not even glanced Steve's way when he spoke to him. The god’s attention rested solely on Wayne.

Steve hadn’t seen or spoken to the Lord of Night since he’d been accepted as his holy warrior. The god had needed to conserve his energy, he explained to Steve, so that Steve could complete his quest. The god’s cloak was as mesmerizing as the first time. However, this far from the shrine, the god did not look as solid as he had during the nights he spent with Steve.

“I wanted to give you two some privacy,” Steve said softly.

“I think Wayne would appreciate not being alone,” the Lord of Night said.

The old man stared at the god unblinkingly. Wayne’s expression was one of awe and fear, so Steve did as he was told and stayed in the room though he chose to lean on the wall furthest from the pair. He was still close to them in the tiny bedroom, but it provided the pretense of privacy.

“My Lord?” Wayne’s voice was barely audible.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said.

#trensu tells stories #steddie #stasis in darkness #stranger things #i'm gonna be honest #i absolutely have no idea how prayers are structured and i've got like zero experience in poetry #i do NOT like how the prayer turned out but #i did my best okay?#steve is so eager to use holy words #i had to give him SOMETHING #also #i'm starting to think i should've been like numbering these posts or something #but it's not like they're actual chapters or have a consistent length yknow?#so idk

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chicinlicin · 8 months

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sometimes you just gotta put your azem in the asphodelos gear

for science

#ffxiv #ffxiv azem #ffxiv ancient #azem #astrid #drawing #oc #fan oc #i'm gonna be honest #i sketched the whole thing from the front #then remembered the casting top has a draped back #redrew it all from the other side flkfjflskjdfs #so much better for it lol #if the pose is weird it's cause they were sitting on a chair in the original angle and i didn't wanna draw it from this side fffff #deep lore #the glove is abyssos i do what i want #they need the little claws okay

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qrwinn · 15 days

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hail to THE bucktommy truther guys it's coming home

#buck will definitely struggle and bumble for a while #as much as i'd love for bucktommy not to have any problems it really is a first fling for buck rn #it is bound to be hard at the beginning #but that's okay because he is so gonna fight for tommy #and i'm actually so here for it #tommy's going to challenge him to be more honest with not only himself but also people around him #all so that he could finally be at peace with who he is #and not feel like he has to hide any part of himself #and be proud of who he is #it warms my heart oliver thinks this could be the right match for buck #and i think tommy fits right in this description #if they're not endgame i might actually cry #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #911 speculation #911 spoilers #hazel speaks

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camels-pen · 3 months

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the difference between zosopp and sanuso (romantic OR platonic) is that Usopp is Zoro's specialest little guy and Zoro is someone Usopp hangs out with and looks up to and hides behind when things get scary, but Sanji and Usopp are best friends. They horse around, they beat each other up, they confide their worst fears trying to one up each other. Usopp hides behind Sanji sometimes, sure, but idk, Sanji's weaknesses are more obvious (bugs, fighting women, etc) so there are times when Usopp has to stand in front of Sanji too, yknow?

Like, how do I say this, all the crewmates are equal- Usopp and Zoro are equals- but with Sanji it feels like more... comradery? Zoro's a rock in a terrible storm- even rocks tend to get weathered and chipped and worn down, but they overall stay strong and steady. He has trouble being vulnerable and there are times when the burden he's placed on himself to keep the crew safe is crushing his chest. Usopp would help with that and be very understanding, but the point I'm trying to get with that is that those moments are few and far between. So I feel like Usopp, especially after Water 7, would take Zoro's lead on something like that, and keep most of his worries to himself or only talk about them sparingly unless they're really bad and/or he can't hide them.

Sanji is like a tree in a storm; he can be strong, yes, but it feels like he bends and sways with the storm, and has more obvious breaking points. He can relate more to Usopp's struggles rather than resorting to blunt honesty that might border on callous like Zoro. And while, with Zosopp, I tend to think of scenarios with Zoro being blunt like that as a good thing- because sometimes when you're spiraling, it's nice to have someone say exactly what's great about you and shoot down all your worries with straight facts that you can't argue with- I can also see this as being a bad thing. Anxiety can really twist up your brain sometimes, you know? And despite the words, the tone could still mess someone up if they're already feeling like a burden on others in some way.

With Sanuso it's a lot more understanding and thoughtful words. It's distractions and comfort food and patience- the kind reserved for Usopp- until Usopp talks about whatever's troubling him. Compared to Zosopp, it doesn't take as long for Usopp to open up, since he's done the same thing to Sanji at times and it's more familiar to him to talk and commiserate with Sanji about his worries and doubts and such. However, there are times stuff like this has absolutely no effect and Sanji will end up at a loss, no idea what to do or how to help over the course of several days with Usopp being quiet and keeping his distance, and he'll end up working himself up about it which will only serve to make Usopp feel worse and. yeah. bit of a vicious cycle with them.

So it's like. Usopp can be weak with both of them, but since I see Sanji as the type of guy who'd be more open with his worries (at least compared to Zoro), there's less of a need to 'perform' and be his best self around him. He's comfortable around Zoro, yes, but he is constantly wanting to show that he won't be a problem to him. On the other hand, while he's more open with Sanji, and Sanji with him, they tend to relate a bit too much with each other and they both have issues with causing trouble for others and being 'deserving of love' so failed attempts at consoling one hurts the other and creates an unpleasant cycle of misery and avoidance before some other crewmate (Zoro) tells them to quit being stupid and just fucking talk to each other.

#one piece #sanuso #zosopp #long post #nemotime #does this make sense or is this the ramblings of a person who's only got 3 hrs sleep #bc thats me. 3 hrs sleep. ugh #listen okay its like. zosopp has their own growing pains to get through yknow? zoro will eventually get the whole #'oh usopp isnt as open with me bc he wants to seem tough and is also kind of doing the same thing i do. thats bad for him'#and it'll be a whole thing about making a promise between the two of them to try and be more honest with their fears and seeking help #when they need it #the sanuso thing is like. i hope i didnt mean to make it seem like sanuso is 'better' or w/e bc its just a different thing #sanuso got their own problems to sort out. 1. Sanji's everything 2. boundaries on special treatment-#i'm not gonna go seriously into this but both relationships start out not the best and get better over time yknow #also i know usopp's afraid and freaking out a lot but for this post i meant his deeper fears and insecurities #not 'i've got can't-go-on-this-island disease' lmao #the tl;dr of this post is: Usopp is more closed off with Zosopp. Usopp and Sanji have similar issues that cause problems with Sanuso.#also the way i see these ships will probably change at some point. who knows #there was a post i saw recently that was like 'hey sanuso bc romance trio were already chill with each other so sanuso became chill with #each other in an 'alone together' type of way and also they have the same issues' and i thought 'wow so true bestie' and here we are #also. man. usopp taking on / copying the behaviours of his loved ones regardless of his age is just. my jam. in a positive or negative way #maybe i'll make a post about that explaining it more. maybe

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sarucane · 4 months

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Stede's *sob* Last Story (Kinda)

(Parentheses in title because I'm a big believer in stories having a life of their own, and hell this is the kind of thing where a cast would agree to a movie in 10 years, and that's before we get to fanfic...but as far as OFMD the tv show goes, this is the last one)

Stede's last story doesn't really begin with him. It begins with Ed.

Ed's the one who's suggested being innkeepers. Who decided he wanted to stay on this island, to set aside the impossible bird and rest on land. Ed's adding one more story to his cacaphony of contradictory stories. But this one isn't an extreme "I'm THIS now, and my name is JEFF." It isn't a death, or a personality shift. It's a story he'd like to "give a go."

Stede used to be so obsessed with his own stories that he couldn't--or didn't dare--see what others thought of them. He had to learn to set some stories aside, in order to live the life he wanted to live.

And that's just what he's done here. The life he wants to live is one with Ed, and this is the life Ed needs to live.

This is the story Ed's telling. So, Stede tells it too. With his whole heart, and no second thoughts, none of the doubts and fears that plagued him for so long.

Stede may be binding himself to land now, to Ed, but he's more free than he's ever been--to tell any story he wants.

Ed is more scared than Stede. Is too willing, as always, to tell a story that devalues himself.

But Stede takes that story and transforms it. Because telling a story together is far, far more powerful than telling a story alone.

So Stede takes Ed's story and transforms it. Into something full of honest hope. No more buying a boat and crew and pretending to be a pirate hoping it'll change him; no more clinging to vision without action. The house needs work. The relationship needs work. The story won't become reality all by itself.

But it can.

And I love that Ed doesn't quite engage with this (yet). That even now at what turns out to be the end, he's still a bit more uncertain than Stede because he's just not as secure as Stede yet. Because that's honest.

Instead, Ed focuses on the practical. On needing some food , on the need for a bit of violence.

But that doesn't change Stede's story. And neither does the crappy smell awaiting them inside.

This is a story of hope. And it can shape reality. A heap of painted wood can be a real boy, and a terrible smell can be a smell of the future.

And Stede holds true to that long enough for Ed to finally join in telling this story. To say, "love that," and stop trivializing or devaluing the story he wants to tell.

And then Stede says "Me too." They're in the same place, telling the same story.

And then--now that the story has legs, now that the core truth of love is where it belongs, at center --Stede doesn't cling to perfection, to completeness. He doesn't try to pretend the smell is nice, or doesn't bother him.

He embraces reality, and goes about doing what needs to be done to make the important story true.

A seabird to land; a unicorn still standing in defiance of everything and everyone; two mad queers packed with insecurity and trauma finding love and peace together.

A last story, gently setting aside any ugliness of reality, kindly shoring up insecurities, and seducing its listener into becoming another storyteller.

Stede's stories carried him from one family, to another, to one last and truest family. The one he chose, with both eyes open. Took him to a home he'll build with his own hands, alongside his love.

It's story that will shape his reality--and that of those who trust him--forever. A story he'll tell, forever.

Because now, he can. He knows how.

And he won't do it alone.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #ed teach #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #fuuuuck i'm endlessly grateful for this ending #like rushed yes needed 10 extra minutes but damn the more i think about this the more this just works so well #it's a good ending. not great in terms of story--but great in terms of CHARACTER #it's honest and true and beautiful #they get to be okay. forever.#sad for us out here in reality but pretty nice for them if you think about it #now i'm gonna go be sad

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 2 years

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I see Monkey King wagging his tail and remember a story I read online about a dog who was so happy that their owners were staying home all the time (cuz you know these past couple years) that they wagged their tail so hard that they sprained their tail. I'm just imagining a happy Monkey King with a sprained tail now.

monkey hasn't been so genuinely happy in so long his tail isn't used to the motion BGLKAMWEF

no but genuinely this is so funnyVBGA;LJFNWEF

(the thing he’s excited about in question)

#KNOX ART (me)#Monkie Kid #Monkey King | Sun Wukong #Pigsy #LEGO Monkie Kid #asks #anon #Dad in Training #no fr tho just like #thinking about how Pigsy would probably actually find Wukong really endearing if he was honest and open about things #like the raw unfiltered jttw Wukong who just meant well and was a bit of an airhead due to pepper overdose he grew on him fast #he was just genuine and open and honest about things #I actually wonder if he just couldn't lie considering he thought a demon was gonna eat his master and kept insisting he would indeed give #immortally if consumed #usually he would use the I'm not him thing to his advantage and talk is way out but NOPEBGKSAMFOWE #anyway where was i going with this? right #Pigsy would just genuinely enjoy Wukong's company if he wasn't so insistent on pretending to be perfect #just the dorky not all the way okay Wukong who's trying #yeah Pigsy would like em

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front-facing-pokemon · 9 months

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#another closer bonus under the cut. this is another one of those “only looks good from the side” pokémon that you can get really close #and it becomes completely fucking unrecognizable. so i won't put that on at the top. but it is under the cut #luvdisc #now i don't think i ever understood this one's name either. it's not *really* a disc? it's a heart shape. so i guess it's like… if a disc #was heart-shaped instead of disc-shaped. therefore. a love disc. is that it? it's probably based off the name of some fish #y'know what i'm gonna beat y'all to the punch this time and look it up on bulbapedia #ahhh. the discus fish. fine‚ fine. i won't look up a picture of it‚ though. just proved me wrong‚ to be honest #i PROMISE i'm a real pokémon fan. i swear i swear (i'll be a-okay just fine). that's a louie zong song. takin' it easy for today…#this is going entirely off the fucking rails i'm just gonna cut it off here

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yeahivegotanaccount · 10 months

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Happy second round win in @battle-couple-battle!

#shoujo kageki revue starlight #I'm gonna be honest bumbleby has a really good claim to the 'battle' part and as far as I know 'couple' too so there's no rest for yuri #either way I made the illustration specifically for the W so I didn't have enough time to do my research and it's janky #But that's okay.#I chose ponytail Karen because I think it's cuter that way #(oh also the bumbleby battle would be not only against it but also all thise that were scorned)#вышедшее из под моего пера #risuyu

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lighthouseas · 9 months

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alright friends i'm not gonna lie i wouldn't mind if the byler kiss had will leaning in first. or like. will kissing mike first on impulse during a heated moment. and then he regrets it immediately after because he thinks mike doesn't reciprocate (even though he obviously does) because mike just stands there for a second like 🧍🏻‍♂️ before swooping in to kiss will back

#im tired doesthis make sense #anyway. just a concept #i feel like a lot of takes have mike kissing will first but im gonna be honest i think will kissing mike impulsively is more realistic #<- like. at a point where he's 90% sure mike reciprocates but he's had these feelings bottled up for so long that he can't take it anymore #and just. finds himself kissing mike before he even knows what's happening #so he has his “oh fuck” moment when mike is just standing there staring at him. Bug Eyed 🐛#because he's fucked everything up hasn't he??? what the fuck was he thinking???? mike ISN'T like him #only for mike to crush his lips against will's like 10 seconds later and they make out sloppy #(and they're clumsy about it DO NOT FORGET THE CLUMSY OKAY)#(((GIVE ME THEM SMILING AGAINST EACH OTHERS' LIPS. ESP MIKE OKAY))))))#oh my god i thought of smthn even better. will leaning away from kissing mike and being like “i'm sorry i shouldn't hav-”#only for mike to INTERRUPT HIM WITH A KISS oh. giggles and kicks my feet #alr we are starting to tread in fanfic trope territory and these tags are getting long. im done now #stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #st.txt

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lizzybeanbutt · 11 months

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It smells like them

#friends at the table #fatt #palisade 07 #palisade spoilers #palisade #scopophobia #guys im gonna be so honest #as soon as austin said that I dropped what I was doing and started drawing #i paused the episode midway and came out with this #so i'm not done with the ep but I had to draw this. i had to okay #okay yeah #my art

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captainschaos · 2 months

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Also who am I kidding, I wanna hear about your fae Etho!!

now ETHO. this is one I like to ponder

etho is one of those fae that really.... isn't even sure what he is. it's pretty evident that she's fae, I mean she's the most faeish arguably out of maybe All of the hermits. but it's hard to tell exactly what's going on with him

the one thing that's pretty clear is her court, very obviously winter. he does very much connect to the autumnal love of games, but this easily passes into the winter area, especially where winter court generally surrounds the mind's ability to manipulate the heart. etho is highly calculating, but it's all with emotion and laughter and well-used fear in mind. he is the perfect player of games, but she also taps into the spring love of art in how he thinks so deeply about color and contrast and all these things in his builds, she really loves getting deep into thought about the less concrete, the emotional

the thing that's less clear is his exact typing of fae. there's been an idea floated around that he could be a spriggan, (along with false, wels, and perhaps gem and hypno,) a kind of protector fae associated with great strength. however, this role is one that's... elusive to her. he certainly possesses a strange and complicated relationship with the desire to protect, and has the enhanced senses and physical prowess/awareness notable of spriggans, but it is rare for spriggans to be so mystical in their power. they're often grounded, forceful, and straight-forward, and etho is simply too shifty and mischevious, especially in his magics, to not have at least a bit of dissonance with the idea. he uses illusory magic typical of winter fae with extreme proficiency, and it's known that her masking is often magical instead of physical. many fae have supernatural connections to word and lies, and etho seems to have one of the most convoluted relationships, spinning strange tales in one moment and seeming unable to lie about the tiniest of things in the next. she's just confusing, honestly. and so it's far more likely to hear etho simply referred to as "trickster," opposed to any more specific type of fae. it's really pretty futile to try to pin her down, and definitely not all that helpful if you want to understand him

but weirdly enough, if you're another of those fae that isn't sure what you might be, you're likely to get pointed in etho's direction. he was the one who was able to spot gem as a spriggan, after she'd spent a long time wondering what her combination of features were for. she seems to know just about every species and designation under the sun and moon, and has yet to really be surprised yet. makes you wonder how long she's been around, really

#captain's mailbox #captain's scribbles #to be quite honest I'm not even sure if I wanna keep gem as a spriggan LOL but I do think whatever she is #etho was the one to figure it out #but I am just too prone to labelling people as spriggans LOLLLL I'm a sucker for protective entities okay #don't blame me it's good #ethoslab #also yea it's my post I'm gonna he/she etho as much as I want heart<3 #but anyways I could talk about fae etho foreverrrrr she's the most fae of the fae #he's everything to me. my little fae dressup doll truly LOL

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sureuncertainty · 3 months

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for your consideration...

ronan lynch trans

that is all thank you for your time

#win rambles #the raven cycle #ronan lynch #i'm sure this is not a new or revolutionary headcanon/concept but i personally adore it #i'm rereading trc and going insane about it #he's also autistic btw #i mean they all are let's be real. blue and gansey especially are like practically canonically autistic #but anyway trans ronan is very special and important to me okay #and i know that he's like. some weird eldritch god or whatever but like. he's still trans. that's trans.#(gonna be so totally honest i don't remember what happened in the dreamer trilogy i think i blacked out for it)

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hippogrifffeathers · 9 months

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Is This Seat Taken?

Ominis didn't usually mind History of Magic. Dull as it was, at least the class gave him a change to get some peaceful sleep for once. It was almost enough to make up for the stinging loneliness that came with the reminder that he was sitting alone, that nobody wanted to sit next to a Gaunt- nobody except Sebastian and once upon a time, Anne.

And maybe, in the light of a newly blossoming friendship, MC.

or, as usual, it's also on ao3!

It had been a small mercy that History of Magic classes didn’t start until after Halloween, something which all Hogwarts fifth-years would agree on.

Ominis had chosen the class under family expectations, and only tolerated it now due to the ease of the curriculum- and if he were being completely honest, the wealth of nap opportunities the lessons provided. Though, he could do without the demanding workload Binns assigned. One student could only take so many essays.

The chatter of the classroom greets Ominis as he crosses the threshold, full of usual pre-lesson complaints and friends trying to choose what table they want to claim for the rest of the school year. He pushes past it all, allowing it to become background noise.

That was another downside of History of Magic, sitting alone. It was one of the few classes he didn’t share with Sebastian, which left him sparse on people to sit with.

Solitude was hardly an unfamiliar shadow in Ominis’ footsteps, it had become something he’d grown used to quickly in his youth, trying to convince himself he preferred things this way. It was quiet, not isolating, he was just fine with the way things were.

The lie was easier to believe some times more than others.

Hearing the whispers of chatting classmates around him, knowing their giggles and scratches of quills on parchment were more from the exchanging of notes and games than focusing on Binn’s droning tone, wasn’t always easy to ignore- not against the pang of envy that he was particularly susceptible to in classes like this one. Times when reminders of his loneliness were forced to the forefront of his mind.

As classmates debate and disagree over which desk they want to claim for the rest of the school year, Ominis heads for the front of the room, settling for the desks to his immediate right. It made little difference to him where he sat, hardly as though he’d get any visual advantage, but given his unpopularity among his classmates Ominis had long since avoided more favourable tables when sitting on his own.

He goes through the motions of pulling out a quill and parchment, despite knowing they’ll go untouched for the next few hours as he drifts in and out of consciousness. Some rest was just about all he had to look forward to for the next few hours.

A familiar voice pulls him from his thoughts, someone who had stopped by his desk. His spine straightens.

“Ominis?” Soft and almost hesitant, in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from its normally assured owner, a rush of unexpected joy pulses through him as he recognises them, and his posture relaxes on reflex- MC, “Sorry, for bothering you I was just…is this seat taken?”

The unexpected line of question momentarily throws him off course, and a small laugh threatens to burst forth at their innocent inquiry.

With MC’s popularity, getting along with just about everyone in the school and the way they were excelling in all their classes, sometimes it was easy to forget this was their first year at Hogwarts. Then they asked something like that, and it was all too obvious.

“You’re not bothering me at all, MC,” He resists the urge to reach for his wand, catch a better understanding on how they were standing- or even, if there was anyone else in their company, “This seat’s free, why?”

A shuffle of shoes on stone, relief lacing their tone, “Oh good, I was hoping- I mean, if you’d not mind, if I could join you?”

A pulse of silence follows their question, Ominis finding himself momentarily lost for words, something that he found never happened, not to him.

Nobody ever wanted to sit next to Ominis Gaunt- a fact he’d become quickly familiar with in his first year. The only people who ever did sit with him were Sebastian and, once upon a time, Anne, sometimes even bickering over the seat in their early years. The occasional housemate might join him, if they were short on other choices.

But MC? MC, who Ominis knew had a wealth of friends in this class alone- many of which would be happy to offer MC a seat- and they wanted to sit with him?

Even despite their almost too-easy companionship recently, Ominis knew he’d made an awful first impression on them that first night by the Undercroft, snapping at them as he had, threatening their mentor- the fact they’d headed straight for him now, of all the choices they had, was almost too unrealistic to consider.

Too late, he realises MC has mistaken his silence for rejection, he can hear the rustle of fabric as they start to fidget, the disappointment underpinning their rushed retraction as they desperately try to redeem whatever moment MC seems to believe they’ve ruined, “I-if not I totally understand! I didn’t mean to impose, I can sit somewhere else-”

“No!” He hopes he doesn’t sound as awkwardly flustered as he feels, frantically interrupting MC’s rambles before they can make the mistake of thinking Ominis didn’t want them there, “I mean, I’d be happy for you to join me.” He emphasises his point by shuffling along the bench slightly, aware he’s been sitting closer to the middle of the table, an old habit.

“Oh, thank you!” His chest gives another pang at the relief in MC’s voice as they slide onto the seat next to him, their arms brushing slightly at the proximity. Neither of them move away, even as MC continues their chatter, and Ominis can’t quite believe their evident happiness is because of him, feeling a smile take over his expression as they talk, “It was a relief to see you here, if I’m honest, you didn’t mention you were taking History of Magic!”

The easy way they said it risks going straight to his head, he tries not to give that much attention. “Well, nor did you. History of Magic isn’t the most popular choice amongst our peers you know, I didn’t expect you to take it honestly.”

It was true, which maybe was blindsided of him. MC had taken to spellcasting like a niffler to treasure, everyone knew that, but proficiency in practical magic didn’t necessarily mean they wouldn’t be interested in the theoretical, too.

Their mentor is the Professor of Magical Theory, afterall.

“It wasn’t really my choice, the school board chose my classes for me.”

Ominis supposed that was another explanation.

“That sounds unfair.”

MC shrugged, “Looking back maybe it was, but I didn’t exactly have the knowledge to make an informed decision on my classes at the time anyway.”

“Well, while the class is incredibly dull, it is useful for getting into some N.E.W.T classes, as long as you don’t mind all the essays Binns tends to assign.” He can’t help the look of distaste at the reminder that he had another year of that to endure. Late nights alone in some corner of the common room, trying to force out several inches worth of facts on Goblin Rebellions, always made more difficult when he needed his wand to search the textbooks. It nearly doubled the amount of time he had to spend on the assignments compared to his peers, not that any of the staff seemed to care.

Sebastian would always help, where he could, but History of Magic wasn’t even his subject- it never felt fair asking his friend to help, no matter Sebastian’s fondness for learning.

And now between Sebastian’s own studies, and his questionable preoccupation with finding a cure for Anne, Ominis doubts Sebastian would even have the time to offer his help.

MC nudged his shoulder gently, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts, “Well, I suppose I’m lucky to have a friend to study with, in that case.”

Warmth spreading from where they had brushed against him, Ominis tried not to feel too excited by their words, the silent offer- or was it a request? Sometimes, it was hard to tell with MC, but their sentiment was not lost on him. The suggestion of the pair of them studying together for History of Magic, working on the same essays that had been such a burden on Ominis for years now, but instead in the warmth of company and even teamwork, was almost enough to make up for the hand cramps Binns’ essay length would inevitably cause.

“I believe that might be my line.” MC didn’t know quite how truthful his statement really was.

“Careful Ominis, I’ll hold you to that.” He could think of no other reply but a small chuckle, as though their companionship was something he might ever want to avoid.

Please do, he couldn’t help but urge, hoping they meant it. Perhaps it was pathetic of him, the surge of glee he felt at something so measly as the possibility of working together on homework, but with years of pushing through the exhausting subject alone, guilt-riddled whenever he asked Sebastian to help him find something in the textbooks, nobody could really blame him.

“What did you mean when you said this class was dull, anyway?”

“So, I take it nobody’s warned you?” That was definitely unfair, everyone deserves an advance warning about Binns’ teachings. If only to make sure they remembered to bring a pillow to class, “He’s hopeless, rambles on for the entire lesson and hardly even recognises students, let alone calls on them- I’d not worry about that though, most people just use it for napping or messing around, as long as you’re not too loud he won’t notice. Or care. Nobody’s sure which it is.”

“That sounds like such a waste.”

“Oh, so you’ll be paying attention then?” He grins, already knowing the answer.

“I never said that.” Their tone is equally as cheeky, punctuating it with a small laugh, “What about you then- you’re telling me that the ever perfect Ominis Gaunt naps in class?” He felt a flush of warmth flash across his face at their teasing, the ever perfect Ominis Gaunt-

“You expect me to get a full night's sleep in the same dorm room as Sebastian? The boy snores.” Not a complete lie, Sebastian did snore on occasion, it just wasn’t the reason Ominis struggled to sleep sometimes- but the jibe is enough to earn him another laugh out of MC.

“Oh no, he doesn’t!”

“Oh, he does.” Ominis grins at their obvious glee in teasing their mutual friend, even if Sebastian wasn’t here to defend himself, “I’ve considered casting silencio several times now, but I wouldn’t want to get predictable.” Or face retaliation.

He likes it, this easy conversation between them, the light jibes and laughter.

Despite their rocky start together, after that horrific night in the Scriptorium, he and MC had become closer; MC warmly greeted him whenever they crossed paths in the corridors, happily struck up conversation with Sebastian and Ominis outside of classrooms, but until now they’d never had any chances to talk where it was just them, without the buffer of their mutual friend. Now, with MC choosing to sit beside him, their conversation coming just as easy as it did whenever Sebastian was there, MC’s earlier words stuck in his mind, a surge of appreciation in his chest-

A friend.

MC considered him a friend. Not just ‘Sebastian’s tagalong’, or someone they talked to because it was convenient, but a friend, their friend.

There were only two other people in his life who had ever thought of Ominis as a friend, and now it was three.

Ominis wished he’d not been so harsh to MC that night by the Undercroft, so uncharacteristically emotional in the heat of the moment. It had been an impulsive lashing out that haunted him even more after the Scriptorium, when MC had defended him against Sebastian of all people- he knew what that must have taken, given the two were practically wrapped around each other’s wands these days, and still MC had taken Ominis’ side when Sebastian had wanted him to cast Crucio. Merlin, MC had all but demanded Sebastian cast it on them, just so neither Sebastian or Ominis would have to bear the torture curse themselves.

It was an act, a friendship, he still struggled to feel deserving of.

Even now, surrounded by classmates perfectly suitable for MC to sit with, others who MC knew and greeted warmly, it had been Ominis they made a beeline for when they entered the classroom, Ominis whose company they chose over everybody else.

He wished he was able to convey just how much that really meant to him, without sounding like a complete moonmind, or risk scaring one of the few friends he has off by being too attached.

For now, he’s content just knowing they chose his company even if he doesn’t understand why, but elects not to dwell on it any further, happy just to enjoy the mindless conversation with MC- drawn to an end only by the sudden wave of silence that sweeps through the room, followed by the familiar drawling tone of Professor Binns.

As if on conditioned reflex, Ominis’ eyes begin to feel heavy.

The only thing that snaps him out of it is a quiet groan from MC, who’d already made the rookie error of making an attempt to pay attention, “Goblin Rebellion?”

He leans towards the left, closer to MC and murmurs to them conspiratorially, “A Binns specialty, they’re practically all he talks about.”

MC groans again, “I’ve had enough of Goblin Rebellions for an entire lifetime, thanks.”

It’s fortunate they seemed to be complaining more to themselves than him, because Ominis didn’t know how to respond to that, nor did he like the uncomfortable reminder of the sorts of dangerous activities that (rumouredly) occupied MC’s spare time.

Still, MC had never made such a direct reference to it before, or at least- never to Ominis. They remained frustratingly tight-lipped about where they slipped off to after class, and what they discussed with Professor Fig- regardless of the whispers that followed them around the castle. Despite his urge to ask, to find out exactly what dangers MC was facing, Ominis knew the value of secrets better than most, had respected the privacy MC was so vehement about maintaining.

It only made their small admission all the more meaningful. The confirmation that they were involved in the recent Goblin Loyalist action, and the fact they trusted Ominis with that information, however vague, knowing he wouldn’t push them.

Like they hadn’t pushed him when he brought up his family.

The pair fell into the same silence as the rest of the class after that, the dull tone of Professor Binns washing them into the arms of lethargy, the ghost none the wiser about the slipping attentions of his students.

Predictably, the sounds of whispered giggles and scratching quills echo from behind Ominis- a sound he knows by now is not the sign of a diligent student, but one proposing some game on parchment, or passing along a note.

The pang of loneliness he’s so used to following after the sound never arrives, instead all he feels is the familiar edgings of exhaustion pulling at his eyes, any thoughts drifting far away to the tune of Binns’ mindless droning lecture, the scratching of quills on parchment, and the occasional whisper of a student all creating a harmonic lullaby which he had no interest in denying.

Going to lift his left hand, ready to settle in for a couple of hours of dreamless sleep, he almost jolts violently as a pressure falls atop of the outstretched limb, heavy, but not crushingly so.

His brain catches up to him before Ominis reaches for his wand, filling in the gaps with soft hair tickling the exposed parts of his wrist, familiar breaths that now sound deeper and closer than before.

MC had fallen asleep.

MC had fallen asleep, right next to Ominis.

Well, basically on top of him, if the weight on his arm was anything to go by.

His initial alarm is quickly replaced by a surge of affection, and another of deep surprise. For as tired as he often was, Ominis had only fallen on top of someone four times in his life. Once on each of his best friends, and twice on his Aunt Noctua. It was just about the most vulnerable position to put yourself in, willing to let your guard down completely around that person and place faith that they won’t betray that in any way.

Then here was MC, who hadn’t hesitated to use him as their makeshift pillow as they succumbed to the throes of sleep.

Him. Ominis Gaunt.

He almost can’t believe it, and wonders if he’s been dreaming up a positive History of Magic class this entire time, because at least that would be easier to believe.

For a moment, a stab of disappointment hits him as he realises MC probably only fell asleep on him by accident, not realising how close they were- but, he supposes MC could easily have leaned the other way, and they hadn’t. Just as easily as MC could have chosen any other table in the classroom to sit at, yet they’d chosen Ominis’- even though he’d chosen what was arguably the worst spot in the room.

If it had been difficult before, now it was nearly impossible to fight the smile that tugs at his lips- an expression that’s rare for him, especially these days, he notes with a pang of silly delight.

Just as quickly, his moment of warmth is ruined by a sharp spike of concern, as he notes the way MC hadn’t so much as stirred when Ominis almost pulled away from them in his earlier alarm. MC had fallen asleep faster than Ominis, which was no minor feat- he was at least self-aware enough to admit that much.

Their fatigue is too reminiscent of his own, something he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

How much sleep were they getting at night, Ominis couldn’t help but worry.

Rumours of their escapades outside of the castle had only grown in frequency over recent weeks, between that and their undeniably demanding schoolwork, where does MC find the time to rest. Merlin, do they even allow themselves to rest?

A trickle of insecurity bled through his concern…Was it even Ominis’ place to ask?

Conflict raged within him, the want to ensure MC was taking care of themself, that his friend was alright, versus the fear of overstepping and pushing MC away in the process. Their friendship was new, despite the turmoil it had already endured, and he wasn’t quite ready to test its boundaries.

The idea came to him immediately.

He could ask Sebastian. His friend had many fine qualities, but Sebastian had never been great with boundaries- not where worry for the people he cared about was concerned. It was an endearing enough trait, when it wasn’t pissing him off, or worse yet, exposing his secrets to other people.

Resolved to casually investigate the matter later, Ominis allowed his lingering concern to fade to the back of his mind. MC was resting now, and he knew better than anyone that naps in the History of Magic classroom were always peaceful and empty of dreams. They’d rest well here.

And so would he.

Exhaustion was becoming too hard to resist, and with Binns well and truly lost in droning details and stories, it wasn’t as though they’d be getting up any time soon. The slow blinks of his eyes were becoming longer and more frequent, and as his head drops sharply with a fractional loss of consciousness, Ominis finally gives in to the urging pull of sleep, bolstered by the comforting weighted presence at his arm. To his sleepy mind, it feels all too close to an invite.

Logically, he should rest his head on his right hand instead, since MC was resting on his left and he didn’t have the heart to move them. It wouldn’t be fair for him to disturb them like that, that was all.

(It had nothing to do with the fact the pressure on his arm felt so warm and comforting. Nothing to do with the easy way MC was touching him, that physical contact between them a presence he was so unused to but deeply appreciated. Privately, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d sleep all the better for it)

He’s too tired to think so pragmatically, for once he just wanted to do what felt natural, without overthinking it- to give in to the natural lean of his body, even as it sways him to the left, resting atop of MC.

Head cushioned by the fabric of their hood, as he easily fits to the junction of their shoulder, suddenly greeted by a wave of them- the faint smell of their shampoo, smooth material of new robes that hadn’t yet endured the might of a Hogwarts school year, and the slow beat of their heart, just audible over the muffle of robes and the droning of their Professor.

It lulls him to rest, not even realising as his breathing and MC’s effortlessly become synchronised, as the sweet pull of sleep finally getting the better of Ominis, along with a comfort he hadn’t felt in some time.

History of Magic wouldn’t be so bad, if he had this to look forward to in the future.

#hogwarts legacy #my fics #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #thrilled to announce i wrote this fic instead of editing the EXACT SAME FIC as i was procrastinating on editing last time #i'm not proud of myself okay #avalanche studios gave us (1) class interaction with ominis and we're all RUNNING with it and i loved that for this fandom #also yES i know HoM is a mandatory class BUT I'D FORGOTTEN WHEN I WAS WRITING IT and i'll be honest i'm far too lazy to change it #i'm lucky if i grammar check you think i'm gonna do a RE-WRITE???

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