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clockwayswrites · 5 months

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A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 18

WC: 1565, Masterpost

“Here to bring me to a debrief?” Danny asks the shadow lurking in the doorway. He swears that Batman almost looks chastised at that. “It’s fine, Batman, I know how these things work.”

“The core Titans are insisting on being there, for moral support,” Batman rumbles. “If you aren’t comfortable with that, they’ll be sent away.”

Danny chuckles; that really is like them. “No, I might as well only go through it all once. Besides, that’s sweet. Can I at least take the time to put on real clothing?”

Batman narrows his eyes at Danny. “You’re still injured. Loose clothing only.”

“Gods, how does no one see what a dad you are,” Danny teases.

Batman smiles, just for a moment, before he turns to sweep over dramatically out of the room. “I’ll send in Flash with some approved clothing.”

“That better be my Flash you’re sending in!” Danny calls after Batman. When the doorway is free of the luring hero, Danny lets himself fall back against the pile of pillows.

A debrief. How is he supposed to explain any of this? So far he hasn’t been allowed to explain things, really. Part of it is that he’s spent most of the last several days asleep. When he has been awake, it’s to a rotating cast of heroes; all heroes that he was close to and knew behind the mask. With every able bodied hero busy with clean up, no one has been able to stay long. He sees Barry the most, what with the other’s leg, but even Barry is busy helping coordinate the recovery efforts.

(Danny’s also pretty sure that they’re using the chance to visit him as a way to make people take a break.)

While the heroes are with him, it’s been mostly Danny getting updated on everyone and whoever is with him getting information to update everyone else with. They won’t even let him work, but they do pass on information about his crews at least. It’s Wally who’s with him the most. Wally was there the first time Danny woke and as Danny breathed through panic attacks and to patiently reply to the endless stream of messages for Danny.

Speak of the devil… Danny’s phone chimes again.

He can’t look at it.

He hasn’t been able to look at it since the first message from Jasmine came in. Since they all remembered.

Wally hadn’t asked. He had just let Danny shake apart in his arms and has handled Danny’s phone from then on. ‘This is Danny’s boyfriend. He’s alive and will recover. He’ll contact you at a later time.’

“I thought we put that thing on silent,” Wally says with a glare at the phone as he steps into the room.

Danny makes shameless grabby hands at the clothing. “So did I. Who is it?”

Danny’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake at the question.

Maybe it’s fair that they’ve all been avoiding the big big questions. Maybe it really is obvious that he’s still only hanging on by a thread. He certainly feels less like a live wire and more like the one, stubborn fuse still humming in the circuit breaker.

He certainly feels weak.

“Jasmine again.”

Danny sucks in a staggered breath and lets it out slowly. “Just… just tell her that I’m sorry, but I can’t yet.”

Wally presses a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I’ll remind her that you’re healing too. You just worry about getting dressed.”

“What, don’t want to help out with that part?” teases Danny as he undid the tie at the base of his neck. The Watchtower might have pretty nice quality, but any medical garb was going to be a little scratchy, and Danny is glad to have it off. He’s careful with his taped over IV port as he slides on the plain white shirt and then the well worn hoodie. It has a faded Nightwing logo and smells like Wally.

Something in Danny’s chest relaxes a little as he buries his face into the fabric and it nearly makes him sob.

“Danny?”

Danny just shakes his head.

“Oh, babe, it’s okay, I’m here. I have you.” Wally tosses the phone onto the bed and wraps Danny up into a hug. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been around—”

“Don’t, you were saving lives,” Danny says and tucks his face against Wally’s neck. “It’s what you needed to be doing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. I’ve officially been pulled off duty. My job right now is you.”

“I don’t want to take you away from anything important.”

“You aren’t. Babe, you’re why we’re all still here. Let yourself be cared for, okay? I promise if anything comes up that really needs my help I’ll go, but let me make you my priority,” Wally urges.

Danny closes his eyes. “I told myself I’d never ask that of you. I know what you are.”

“You aren’t, I’m offering. Please, babe, let me make you my priority.”

He wants to. Gods does he want to. He wants to go back home to their apartment and have Wally with him and just let the other take care of everything, just for a little bit, just until it stopped feeling like his insides were hollow. Just until he could be okay enough to lie and say that he was fine.

Just until then.

“Okay. I— yeah, okay. I think I need that right now,” Danny manages to admit.

“Thank you,” Wally whispers like it was Danny doing him the great service. “First act, let’s get you out of those pants.”

“You cad,” Danny gasps dramatically.

Wally rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now so Danny counts it as a win. “And get you into the sweatpants.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to debrief in sweats,” Danny says as he lets Wally help him finish changing. He’s a little less balanced in his feet than he’d like to be.

Okay, a lot less balanced.

Wally doesn’t even let him walk to the debrief, instead he insists on pushing Danny there in a wheelchair. Danny knows there’s no shame in needing a wheelchair, but it doesn’t help him be less frustrated at the way he feels weak down to his bones. Hell, he feels weak down to is core. At least he gets to move himself to a regular chair once they’re inside the conference room.

"Thank you for being willing to do this, Danny,” Wonder Woman says. She’s leaning forward, arms resting on the table, and offering a smile. At the table is a selection of other top tier members: Batman, Superman, a Green Lantern (Hal Jordan in this case), John Constantine, Zatanna, and, right next to Danny, Barry.

The Titans are off to the side, slightly behind the Dark members, in chairs that were obviously dragged into the room. Garfield gives Danny an enthusiastic thumbs up that almost makes him laugh.

“Of course. I get why there are questions,” Danny says instead.

“There are,” Superman agreed. “Now, as you aren’t a Justice League member and are in no way under any sort of investigation, this is going to be a bit informal. We’re just trying to make sure our report on recent events are as clear as possible.”

Danny huffs out a breath of air. His gaze darts over to Wally before dropping. “It’s a big more than that, isn’t it?”

“Kid?” Barry asks gently.

“You all want to know what I am, which is fair. If I could have, I would have told you.” Danny looks back at Wally again and gives a half hearted smile. “Sorry I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Batman asks, though the rumble of words isn’t unkind.

A sour smile twists Danny’s lips. “Curses are like that. Aren't they, Laughing Magician?” Danny hears Constantine and sucks in a breath and steels himself to look up at him. “How much do you know about her? About Desiree?”

Constantine shakes his head. “Not much. It’s not wise to go digging into the affairs of a member of the Infinite Realms, even an ended one.”

“Speak normal for the rest of us,” Hal says. “A who of what?”

“Infinite realms. That means a sodding ghost,” Constantine snaps.

Barry scoffs. “Ghost’s aren’t real.”

“Boo,” Danny replies. His smile is slightly too wide.

“Not funny, Danny.”

Danny shrugs. “Not trying to be. I’m half ghost.”

“How is someone half ghost?” Hal asks.

“I’m like Schrödinger’s Cat,” Danny explains. He can’t help for for his gaze to flick over to where the Titans are sitting and find Wally’s eyes. “I’m still in the box, basically. I’m half alive and half dead. Both and neither. A balance.”

“A myth.” Constantine leans forward. He taps the butt of his unlit cigarette against the table. “Or so we always thought. You telling me that you’re a halfa?”

The question pulls Danny’s focus back to the main table of heroes. “Yep. One of three. Me, my godfather, and my clone.”

Superman clears his throat. “Ah, your clone?”

Danny just gives another shrug. “Shit gets weird when you’re a teenage vigilante.”

“Danny,” Batman says, and Danny can’t help but smile again because the man is clearly one step away from pinching the bridge of his nose like he does as Bruce when one of his children is driving him mad. “Start from the beginning. State your name for the record.”

“Danny Jasper Fenton.”

---

AN: Vote was in favor of splitting it up. I've got a chunk of the next part written, so hopefully I can get it finished up next week! Sorry if there are lots of issues, words and me are struggling atm.

Poor Danny is really struggling with things as his world has once again changed. And what will everyone think of him now...?

I no longer tag, instead you can subscribe to the masterpost.

#dp x dc #abson #quick death ship #quick death #danny/wally

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drawlfoy · 4 months

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benefits of journaling p.2

read p1 here!

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: recreational drug use, language, mild gore, snakes, a mouse gets eaten (thoughts and prayers), tom is a little bit gaslighty, the quality of my writing declines sharply

a/n: note that this is not finished at all, but i'm not planning on finishing this series unfortunately :/ i just have too much going on. this is unedited, unrevised, unoutlined, etc. so adjust your expectations accordingly. i just kind of want to get this out so i've given u guys at least *some* semblance of closure for this series. (UPDATE: now that i’ve written this i’ve changed my mind. i will be working on the next part. i forgot how much i love tom)

wc: 6.7k

enjoy !

This time you were unceremoniously dumped into a hard wooden library chair. You gasped as you braced yourself against the hard table in front of you, drawing in shaky breaths as you gathered your bearings.

A loud bang startled you into wrenching your gaze up. Tom had dropped a thick book with an ebony cover right next to you, nearly atop your hand.

“Here you are,” he said pleasantly. “Happy reading.”

“Do you think I can take this back with me into my world?” you asked. The cover was smooth under your fingertips.

“Unlikely,” said Tom, dropping elegantly into the chair beside you. “You’ll have to read it here.”

You gulped. “Alright.”

The papers were yellowed and fragile against your touch, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how old it was.

“Any section you’d recommend starting with?”

The book was around 700 pages with tiny, fine print.

“Perhaps the beginning.” Tom waved his wand and wordlessly summoned a stack of books, lifting one up and beginning to read for himself.

You’d thought that you’d be less intimidated knowing that he was also doing something besides staring at you reading, but the back of your neck still prickled as you pulled the book to the edge of the table and began to dig in.

It was bizarre, reading next to a boy like this. The only one you ever studied with before had been Ishan, and he hardly counted. It was different with Tom. His presence hung in the air around you, a tension so tangible that it wasn’t unthinkable that you might feel something if you let your fingers sift through the space between you.

Despite all you’d told Tom, spending time around him made you unfathomably nervous. He was too good-looking to feel even remotely normal around him, and it was all you could do to hope that he didn't notice how much you blushed whenever he spoke to you.

The book he’d given you was dense and horrific, detailing magic so ugly and foul that you felt dirty just reading it. It covered topics you’d heard of before, like cases of the Imperius curse or the misuse of love potions or the nature of dark magic.

But there was nothing pertaining to Tom’s situation.

“Can’t you at least point me towards a chapter? Or…a general section of the book?” you asked him.

Tom lifted his gaze from his work, quirking a brow. “Having trouble?”

“This is going to take me forever to read.” You motioned at the width of the book.

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing much more of you.”

You couldn’t fight back the flush that spread across your face. “Well, this is an easily solvable problem. You really ought to just point me to the most relevant part.”

“And here I was, thinking I was doing you a favor,” said Tom. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment you thought you saw the slightest suggestion of a smirk on his lips. “Given that you’re such a glutton for knowledge and not at all singular in your academic pursuits.”

“That’s not—” You paused when you saw the amusement on his face. He’d been playing with you. “I’m flattered that you remembered. I suppose you’re right.”

And since you refused to let him win, you flipped the book back open and picked up right where you left off.

It was really stupid to feel so light at the fact that Tom had remembered a sentence you’d said verbatim, because even if it implied that he’d thought about your last interaction enough to commit it to memory, it was hardly a surprise. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do in his empty version of Hogwarts except read books he’d probably already read many times before.

You snuck another look at him a few chapters later. A few waves had fallen across his face, dangling over his brow. For a moment, all you could do was keep yourself from reaching out to tuck them back into order, to know what it felt like against your fingers.

But that was a boundary you hadn’t crossed yet—if you even could. Who knew how the rules worked in this dimension?

You resolved to believe that you couldn’t touch him. That it was impossible. Because if you believed that, maybe you’d stop wanting to.

“You never ended up telling me if you were a Parselmouth,” you realized aloud after you’d completed another gruesome section about ritualistic Dark Magic.

You watched him closely but didn’t detect even a glimpse of surprise.

“I didn’t,” he agreed smoothly. He didn’t look up from his page.

“So? I gave you a secret. Many, actually.”

“I think you already know.” He turned the page, dark eyes darting across the next.

“Well—” You paused, worrying your lip between your teeth as you realized that he was right. “What’s it like?”

That was what prompted him to finally lean back in his chair and lift his gaze from the book to your eyes.

“What’s it like?”

Repeated back to you, it did sound very silly.

“I mean,” you said, cheeks hot, “What do you even talk to snakes about? The weather? Whether or not there’s enough mice in the area?”

“It’s unlikely to find snakes that do more than listen to me,” he said. “Most aren’t very good conversationalists.”

“A boy in my—our, I guess—year has a pet ball python,” you told him. “I just don’t understand why he’d want one. They don’t seem like very good companions.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have no emotional depth,” you said. You could feel your voice slipping into the tone you used when you tutored younger students, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d researched this extensively in the library after the Incident in third year when you were looking for any good academic reason for how terrified you were of Malfoy’s pet. “They have no limbic system, so everything for them is about survival. There’s no—no mutual concern or love like you’d get from something normal, like a cat or an owl. As their handler, you only matter because you’re what keeps them alive. I don’t think I’d ever be able to get over that.”

“So all your companions have to love you?” Tom was resting his chin in his palm now as he looked at you. “They’re worthless otherwise?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you responded. “But I like my company to see me as something more than an avenue for survival or a means to an end.”

“Their companionship isn’t enough?”

You blinked. Everyone else that you’d given your reptile spiel to had completely understood. You couldn’t quite figure out why Tom wasn’t agreeing. “It’s just nice to be cared about, don’t you think? And it’s…it’s nice to care about something without it feeling meaningless.”

“I imagine that that’s true,” Tom said evenly.

Something deep inside you twisted at the implications of his answer. You’d sort of forgotten that he grew up in a muggle orphanage and likely didn’t have any sort of emotional closeness during his early childhood. But he was so pretty and sharp and witty that it was hard to imagine no one caring for him. Perhaps that had changed upon his admission to Hogwarts. He had said that witches and wizards found him charming. You could attest.

You passed the following Potions lab with flying colors and a perfectly brewed Draught of Peace that made even Snape nod approvingly. It was thrilling. It was incredible. All you wanted to do was get Tom’s diary out right then and there and document it as it happened—as if he were right beside you—but you refrained. You told him that night instead, when you were back again for another reading session.

You were falling into his world on a daily basis, devouring as much of the book as you could without forgoing any conversations with Tom. He’d been impressed to hear about your potion in his own very Tom way. He didn’t tell you outright that he thought that you were brilliant or smart or incredible. Instead he seemed entirely unsurprised, like he thought you capable of nothing less. Somehow that made you glow more than any explicitly stated praise that he could’ve offered.

When you weren’t reading, you were walking around the grounds with Tom and just talking, much like you used to write to him. At first you’d been nervous and uncomfortable with being as open with him in person as you’d been in writing, but Tom had a funny way of making you feel seen. Despite his slight aloofness and obvious air of pretension, he listened to you and appeared genuinely interested in your life by way of remembering things you’d said months ago.

Like when you’d told him off-handedly that it was raining back in the real world and that it was your favorite weather, and ever since the Hogwarts you were transported to was constantly overcast with torrential downpours unless you two were walking outside.

You still never dared to touch him, though. That was a line that you refused to cross. Tom seemed to hold the same opinion, keeping a wide berth around you whenever tactile contact was in the realm of possibility.

“How did you become a Parselmouth?” you asked him one day while you were taking a break from reading and walking through the Transfiguration Courtyard.

His eyes narrowed as he turned to you. “Do they not teach you about Parseltongue in Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore?”

“No,” you said. “I’ve only ever heard about it by reading a book from the Restricted Section. It was very vague. All I know about it is that it’s the language of reptiles.”

“No one becomes a Parselmouth.” Tom turned his attention back to the walking path, adjusting the cuff of his robes for just a second. “All Parselmouths are born. It’s entirely hereditary.”

“So did you have to learn it?” you asked. Your interest was piqued—you’d never heard of a language that was passed through genes.

Tom shook his head. That one rogue strand of black hair had escaped its orderly wave, just like how you remembered him from his yearbook picture. “I’ve never had to think about it. I’ve just always known how to say what I want.”

“Do you think that you could…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed thickly. You weren’t even sure why you’d started asking him that question. Of course he couldn’t teach you Parseltongue. You didn’t even really want to know it, either. You’d never use it. But you hated being told that you didn’t know something. That you couldn't know something.

“We can give it a try,” he offered.

You dared to glance back up at him and found him already looking at you. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

“I don’t know.” He appeared to be making a valiant effort to quell a grin. “I suppose it has something to do with your approach to acquiring knowledge. One could almost call it…gluttonous in nature.”

You sent him a glare.

Tom shrugged, properly smiling now for the first time in front of you. He had shallow, almost perfectly circular dimples. “Anyway. I’ve never taught anyone before. I actually don’t believe it to be possible, but we might as well give it a go.”

“You’ve never tried?” you asked. “None of your friends at Hogwarts asked you to teach them?”

“No,” he said. “No one knew I was a Parselmouth. I kept that a secret.”

“Why?”

He shrugged again. “I enjoy my privacy. Right, then. Serpensortia.”

A large, hissing snake appeared at your feet, thrashing about in the grass as it unhappily acclimated to its new environment.

You yelped, leaping nearly a foot in the air. Tom simply stood still, watching you with an amused expression on his features.

“Having second thoughts?”

“No,” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to let your eyes move from the wriggling snake in front of you. “I’m just—surprised.”

“It won’t hurt you.” His voice was low, gentle. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not,” you said, but the slight wobble in your tone betrayed you. “Just—get on with the lesson, alright?”

He stood silently, his head tilted in concentration.

“What’s it saying?” you found yourself asking. “Is it—I dunno—threatening my life or something?”

Tom sent you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It’s scared of you.”

“Really?” A spark of smugness lit up within you.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“It’s expressing how upset it is at how suddenly I’ve conjured it. Apparently we’ve interrupted the start of its meal.”

“What do I say if I want to apologize?”

He appeared to consider your request for just a moment before opening his mouth and making a hissing noise that you didn’t think you could replicate if you had a thousand years.

The snake immediately quieted and stopped its thrashing, its tiny head lifting from the ground to regard Tom curiously.

He looked back at you, expectant.

“Again, please,” you said. “A little slower this time. I didn’t quite catch it.”

He obliged, going through each syllable separately.

You felt very much like you were back in muggle school before you’d found out you were a witch, being forced to read out a passage in French. The sounds that came out of you were clumsy and not at all what you thought they’d sound like.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you accused. “For the record, I know it was bad.”

He didn’t address it beyond just the slight upward twist of his lip before he repeated it again, syllable by syllable.

You tried once again with the same outcome.

“Your tongue should be a little behind your teeth,” he said. “You have yours too far back on the roof of your mouth, which is why you’re losing control. Try again.”

This time, it came out much cleaner. The snake took notice of you for the first time, its dark scales glistening under the cloudy sky. It hissed something back. Tom’s mouth split into a grin.

“What did it say?”

“It wants to know if you have any food,” he told you.

“What’s ‘yes’?”

Saying yes in Parseltongue was much easier than saying sorry—it only took two syllables, both of which were made up of sounds that you were pretty sure you had in the English language.

The snake was giving its full attention to you now. Its forked tongue stuck out for just a second.

Gulping, you accioed a small stone into your palm and cast a quick charm to transfigure it into a mouse—something that you’d learned years ago.

You set it on the ground and watched the snake lunge.

“Gross,” you said under your breath, wincing as it began to swallow it whole, its body twisting and contorting as it shoved it down. “I—I think I’m done with the lesson now. I’ve learned enough.”

“You really didn’t need to feed it,” Tom pointed out helpfully.

“Yeah. I know that now. I just felt like it deserved something for the trouble.”

Once the snake had succeeded and the only evidence of the mouse was a bulge in the adder’s scales a little past its head, it lifted its head again to meet your eyes, its tongue slithering out as it made a sharp hiss.

“What’s it saying?”

“It thanked you,” said Tom. He was giving you that look again—like he was reconsidering you.

“And if I wanted to say ‘you’re welcome’?”

“I thought you said you were done with the lesson.”

You rolled your eyes. “Consider this my last request. I’d like to be polite.”

Tom let out a sigh, then made a sound that glided from a long S to a few sharp, pointed consonants.

You clumsily mimicked him, feeling like your tongue was much larger than you’d ever bothered to notice.

To your surprise, the adder slithered towards you, dragging itself onto the rock of the courtyard and in front of you. It coiled around your shin, slowly pulling itself up your body.

“Tom!” you whisper-screamed through your teeth.

“It’s alright,” he said.

“Do something!”

The snake continued up your leg, looping once around your waist as it continued its ascent up to your shoulder. It was cold and oddly heavy, its scales clammy against the bare skin of your neck.

For one terrifying moment, you thought that it was going to coil around your neck and squeeze until you asphyxiated. Your breath caught in your throat as it came around behind your neck, both ends dangling around your neck as you were paralyzed with fear.

Then it did the most peculiar thing; it stopped, just hanging in a loose hold around the base of your neck, its face nestled into the collar of your robes.

“What’s it doing?” you whispered. You tried to ignore the lump in its body that you could feel at the side of your neck.

“It’s resting on you,” said Tom.

“Why?”

“Because it likes you.”

You stared at him, floored. “It does not.”

He hissed something to the snake around your neck. It responded with something you couldn’t even begin to understand.

“It just told me so,” said Tom.

“How do I know you didn’t just make that up?” you said, mentally crossing your arms across your chest but refraining since a snake was taking residence there at present.

“You don’t trust me?” asked Tom. “I’m hurt.”

Before you could respond, you felt the slow, languid movement of the adder as it lifted its head from your collar. Without thinking, you offered it your hand, watching in quiet fascination as it slithered around your wrist.

“Hi,” you said shyly, like you’d speak to a nervous cat.

“It won’t understand—”

“I’m aware, Tom,” you interrupted, sending him a look before turning back to your wrist. “We’re bonding. Bugger off.”

He held his hands up in exasperation. “Bonding? Are you going to take him back to the real world as your familiar?”

For a moment, you actually considered this.

“Because that’s a terrible idea,” continued Tom, crushing your dream right then and there. “Adders are venomous. Once you don’t have me around, you won’t be able to communicate with it. It’ll probably bite someone.”

“Then perhaps we should start brainstorming ways to bring you back,” you said. “For safe snake handling, if nothing else.”

Tom didn’t say anything to this; instead, he reached out and gently unwound the adder from your wrist, his skin not brushing yours once.

“Surely there’s someone wondering where you are,” he said once the snake had been deposited on the ground. “You’ve been here longer than usual.”

“Do you not want to get out of here?” you asked, frowning. “It hardly seems like you’re trying.”

“I’ve been doing research when you’re not around,” he said simply. “I think I just need to theorize for a bit longer—figure out the best course of action.”

“The process would be sped up significantly if you let me help.”

“I won’t ask that of you. It’s very complicated magic—” He paused for just a moment, noticing the derisive curl of your mouth. “—Not that I think you incapable, of course. But you’ve better things to do. It would distract from your exams, and I tend to work better alone in this stage of research.”

“Oh,” you said, hoping the hurt wasn’t showing on your face. It made sense that he would want to work on this alone. You understood not wanting to have to explain things to people when you could already be going down a rabbithole that you’d deemed important. Plus, your current Tom rendez-vous schedule was eating enough time as it was. But it still stung.

“You’ll be the first to know if I stumble across anything conclusive,” said Tom.

You snorted. “Obviously.”

“Well—” Tom stopped himself. You thought for a moment that you detected the slightest flush across his pale skin, but that was likely because of the chill outside. “That was more clever in my head. Sorry.”

“I imagine that being in solitary confinement for half a century might addle your mind a bit,” you offered diplomatically.

“My mind is not addled.”

“I was very graciously giving you an easy out.”

“Someone is probably wondering where you are,” he repeated, his jaw tense. “So I’m going to send you back now.”

Without giving you another chance to argue, you were catapulted back into your desk chair.

“You look like you could do with a night out,” Lucy observed as she watched you storm into your dorm and send your satchel flying through the air to land messily on your bed.

“Casting my first and last Unforgivable on McLaggen would be preferable,” you said through gritted teeth.

He’d been your partner today in Arithmancy to work on a partner problem set. It apparently wasn’t enough for him to be dreadfully stupid and slow—he had to be an absolute chauvinistic arse about it. Whenever you attempted to correct him, he’d look at you with so much amusement that it made your head pound.

He didn’t even need to say anything—the look in his eyes told you that he didn’t even see you as a person.

The last person to treat you so dismissively had been Pansy Parkinson, but at least she’d been smart. And a witch. McLaggen dripped with conceit and smugness and was disgusting towards the most pureblooded witch on a good day.

It’d been nearly 3 hours and your blood was still boiling.

“Well, I can’t arrange that,” said Lucy. “But I can tell you that Hufflepuff is throwing tonight. McLaggen probably won’t come—Ernie hates him, and he’s the one who put it all together.”

You considered this, looking longingly once at the bag on your bed. You hadn’t done anything with your friends in forever; nearly all the time you had was spent either studying or with Tom.

The Hufflepuffs were always gracious hosts, too. The last time you’d gone, they’d given you something to smoke that had smelled like a meadow on a sunny spring day and made you feel like you were floating. You’d giggled all night with Lucy, clinging to one another. You’d gone on some tirade about how much you loved her, touching her face and tearing up as you said something about how you didn’t know what you’d be without her. Lucy’d beamed back at you, her face wide open with raw gratitude.

It had been sappy, but it had been fun and one of the few positive memories you had from the disaster that had been O.W.Ls season.

“You know what,” you said slowly, watching Lucy’s face light up, “I think that’s just what I need.”

Tom could wait.

Lucy squealed and got right to work. In seconds, all the clothes you’d brought from home were strewn across her bed as she scrutinized each one.

“I thought this was just going to be, like, a chill thing,” you said.

Lucy picked up a sequined top, held it up to your chest, and wrinkled her nose. “Too loud.”

“Lucy—”

“I never get to go out with you,” she interrupted, yanking a black slip dress from the pile that caught the warm overhead light. “Thoughts? We could do some fun earrings or something to dress it up.”

“Are we not just going to sit in a circle and smoke again? This feels a little overkill.”

“Well, it’s not,” said Lucy, throwing it at you. “This is hardly a ballgown. Plus, this is your annual outing. Dress to impress.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped the straps off the hanger, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned around to change.

Lucy continued her rampage, ooh-ing and aah-ing upon seeing it on you and immediately cornering you with a scary looking brush.

“For your eyes,” she said, like that made you feel any better.

“What?”

“Close them.”

You squeezed them shut, willing this to be over. You’d had your own experience with muggle makeup, which was tame and not at all exciting. The Wizarding World always had interesting takes on beauty tools, like charmed kohl that could turn your entire eye black if you weren’t careful enough.

Something cool and wet swiped across the corner of your eyes. Lucy mumbled something under her breath, and there was a slight ruffling at the end of your lashes, like a light breeze had swept through them.

“Open.”

You blinked, your lashes feeling a little heavier.

“Pretty,” said Lucy, nodding seriously. “Hang on. Do you have a lip color preference?”

You stared. A lip color preference? “Er—whatever you think makes the most sense with my undertones.”

“You would say that,” Lucy replied, already holding a wand of lip gloss. “Put this on.”

When you turned to look into the mirror she was holding out, you nearly started at your reflection. Lucy had done something insane with your lashes, curling them up and adding length that didn’t look too obvious. That weird tool she’d used on your eye had created a sharp, clean line that followed the contour of your lashline and licked out at the end.

You looked really pretty. Not quite Tom Riddle level pretty, but pretty nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said, turning back to Lucy after you’d applied the gloss she’d given you. It smelled faintly of something that you couldn’t quite place—like old parchment and the memory of walking through the library in the middle of the night. It was the strangest scent you’d ever encountered in a lip product.

Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs did not disappoint. They’d bribed house elves into bringing an entire spread of food that was fragrant and under a constant stasis spell to keep an optimal temperature. You spent the evening chatting with your Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff friends and feasting on ripe slices of pineapple and bites of strawberry that stained your already glossy mouth a vibrant pink.

Then Hannah Abbott reached into her pocket and pulled out a stash of corked bottles.

“Party Potions,” said Lucy in wonder as you both stared at the swirling liquids.

You’d heard of them before but had never personally had one. You weren’t entirely sure what they did, in all honesty, and that stressed you out enough to keep you from giving them a whirl.

They were different vibrant colors—one an opalescent pink, one a vibrant orange, one a blood red, one a deep, midnight blue that reminded you of your house colors.

“Anyone want one?” asked Hannah, motioning to her pile. Terry Boot raised a hand and plucked the orange one from the table, uncorking it and downing it in one go.

“What do the different colors mean?” you asked. The longer you looked at them, the more you were mesmerized.

“I don’t remember,” admitted Hannah. “Nothing crazy, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think,” you repeated.

“Just because I don’t remember why I bought each color doesn’t mean that I would’ve purposefully bought something that did bad things,” Hannah told you. “Here. Take one. It’ll help you relax.”

The midnight blue potion sat on the fingers of Hannah’s outstretched palm.

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“I promise it’s nothing too intense,” said Hannah. “You’ve smoked before, right? I’ve had one and it was honestly just like getting crossed. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of smoking, common sense flew out the window. The last time you’d been offered an illicit substance in the Hufflepuff Common Room, things went really well. Who were you to deny that again?

“If you’re sure it’s alright for me to have it,” you said. The bottle pulled easily from Hannah’s hand and into your grip.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Lucy was grinning at you widely.

Up close, the midnight blue wasn’t solid—there were specks of silver in there, like thousands of stars littered across the night sky. It was stunning. You felt almost bad uncorking it and downing it, but you didn’t give yourself a chance to second-guess.

It tasted like lavender and honey and something burnt that was horribly gross but faded away with time and went down like water.

“You didn’t save anything for me?”

“Sorry, Luce,” you said, swiping the back of your hand across your lips.

You weren’t feeling anything yet. Or were you? Was this how you normally felt? The ceiling of the Hufflepuff common room definitely didn’t move, right? And Lucy typically wasn’t outlined in a fuschia pink. That you were sure of.

“Whoa,” you said dumbly.

“I think Y/N’s feeling something!” called out Hannah. “What’s it like?”

You stared at her, watching as a warm brown that reminded you of English Breakfast tea with milk stirred in surrounded Hannah’s edges.

“You’re such a good person,” you said, feeling tears prick at your eyes, because Hannah Abbott truly was. “And so are you.”

You turned to Lucy, trying your best not to cry. “Did you know that you’re the color pink?”

Lucy nodded gravely. Later she would laugh about this, but not now. “That’s very kind of you.”

You spent the evening in a daze, staring open mouthed at your friends as you saw different colors swirl around, some overlapping and blending.

It was beautiful. Then the sadness kicked in. It wasn’t clear to you exactly what caused your sudden rush of melancholy—but all of a sudden you were staring at the happy people dancing around you, the colors blurring and mingling, and all you could think about was Tom. Tom, who was all alone. Tom, who might never get out. Tom, who was destined for an eternity of loneliness.

“I’m going to go back,” you said to Lucy, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention.

She frowned. “Aw, why? Are you not feeling well?”

“The potion Hannah gave me is making me feel really tired,” you said. It wasn’t a lie. Your eyelids were heavy and the thought of curling up under your blankets sounded better than anything. Well, almost anything. There was something you needed to take care of first.

“Booooo,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Do you want me to walk you back?”

“No! I mean—” You gulped. “You’re having fun. I’ll be fine getting back. I think Ron’s on the rounds in our part of the castle. He’s not going to write me up.”

“You sure? I’d be happy to take you.”

You started pushing her in the direction of the other party-goers. “Very. Go have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.”

By the time you’d burst back into your room, your chest was heaving with exertion from sprinting up the stairs as you wrenched open your desk drawer and pulled out the journal.

Tom you wrote. Can you let me in?

He didn’t answer; instead, you were falling through space and into the warmly lit Hogwarts library from the 40s.

“Tom!” You couldn’t stop the grin that came across your face.

“Oh—hello.” Like always, Tom was standing tidily a polite distance from you, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Unlike always, he was staring at you like you’d just shot his dog.

“Is everything okay?” The potion you’d taken was definitely still in effect. An inky blackness was hanging around his shoulders—a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin.

He swallowed, his eyes darting up and down. “Yes. Sorry. You just look a bit different.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was at a party. Did you know you have a black aura?”

“What?”

“Your aura is black,” you repeated, slower this time.

He just stared at you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, averting your eyes. Maybe he was insecure about having such a lame aura color. It had been a bit rude of you to point that out all willy-nilly.

“I’m not—” Tom stopped, pressing his lips together before continuing. “I’m sorry, is there a reason why you asked to see me? Surely you don’t mean to read after you’ve just stepped out of a party?”

“Oh,” you said, and suddenly you remembered why you’d come. A somberness dropped over you. “I was just…I was having so much fun tonight. And then I thought about you.”

He stayed silent.

“What’s going to happen to you if I can’t get you out?” Your voice wobbled as tears pricked at the back of your eyes. “Are you just going to be stuck here forever? Won’t you be lonely?”

When he didn’t immediately answer and opted to stare at you in shock instead, you continued.

“Because I keep thinking about what might happen if something happens to me or I lose your journal,” you confessed, now ardently choking back tears. “I really worry about you. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t help you leave.”

“Are you…” His eyes darted up and down you again. “Drunk?”

“Hardly,” you said, swiping angrily under your eyes as you collapsed onto the loveseat that you so often read on, pulling your knees to your chest. Then, quieter: “It was just some potion a friend gave me.”

“If you’re so worried about something happening to you so that I’m left alone…” You weren’t looking up at him, but the increase in volume told you he was coming nearer. “...May I suggest not taking mystery potions?”

Before you could issue a retort, the loveseat cushion shifted to accommodate the weight of a second person, sending you toppling over to the other side.

Right onto Tom.

Your hands went flying to the opposite armrest, fingers digging into the worn blue velvet with a death grip as you righted yourself, pushing your knees from where they’d landed sprawled in Tom’s lap.

Which you could actually touch, by the way. The implications began rolling in once you were back on your respective side. He’d been solid and warm and completely void of any attributes that may suggest he was a ghost. Which meant that it was probably possible to…

No. No. You weren’t going to think about that right now.

“I didn’t realize I could touch you,” you heard yourself saying, staring at him in wonder. “I just assumed I couldn’t.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh.”

And for purely scientific purposes (no reputable academic came to a firm conclusion based off of a single trial), you reached your hand out and experimentally poked his forearm again.

“Wow,” you said.

“Will you stop that?” said Tom.

“Yes.” You retracted your hand and placed it firmly in your lap. Then, because your manners hadn’t completely abandoned you: “Sorry. That was rude of me. I just sort of assumed that since you’re—well, whatever you are—it’d be like touching a ghost or something.”

“Whatever I am,” he echoed, looking off into the distance with what you could only describe as a very harrowed expression.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, but you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for.

Instead of responding, he buried his face in his hands, heaving a heavy sigh as his fingers tangled into his hair.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He just shook his head, scrubbing his face with his hands once before he let them fall.

“Er, all right then,” you said. “Would you like me to leave? I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“You really shouldn’t worry about me,” he finally said. The awkward, slight pauses between his words gave you a sneaking suspicion that he was choosing his words very carefully.

“Of course I’m going to worry about you.” Now that you knew that you could touch him, nothing stopped you from reaching out to flick his arm indignantly. “We’re friends, and I like to think that my friends would worry about me if I was stuck in journal jail. Or whatever this is.”

He was still staring at where you’d touched his arm.

“...Unless you don’t want to be friends,” you added, suddenly feeling a little silly for jumping to such rash conclusions. “Which I’d understand. I can give your journal to someone else. A Slytherin, maybe. Someone a little more your speed.”

You decided to blame the potion for the obvious hurt that had seeped into your voice at the prospect that there was someone else who was better suited as his confidant.

“I don’t want you to do that,” Tom eventually said. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Then what do you want?” The strength in your words surprised even you. “I don’t understand you. You tell me you want to get out, but you still won’t let me help you. You let me talk to you and come visit you and read with you, but then you expect me not to care. It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t make any sense.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Tom, thumbing the ring he always wore around his finger. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“So help me understand!” Your voice rose sharply, echoing off the walls of the empty library.

Tom finally turned to you, his face split open with something so uncharacteristically raw and open that it takes everything within you not to gasp.

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” He drew in long breath. “Not right now. I need more time.”

“Oh, a half century wasn’t enough?” you retorted. “Need another?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Tom, an edge of franticness in the way he spun the ring around his finger quicker. “I never thought that I’d—I didn’t think I’d ever be found. I wasn’t supposed to be found.”

You didn’t know what to say to this. Instead, you sat there with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, eyes set on the floor, your mind racing with all the implications of everything you’d learned.

A moment passed. Then another. Once it appeared clear that you weren’t going to say anything back, Tom spoke up again. “You’re angry with me. I understand that this is…” He paused. “Unconventional. But I am grateful you’ve found me, and I’d really rather prefer that you don’t give me away to another student.”

You were just about to respond when—

“But of course I’d understand if you did,” he added hastily.

It was the most unnervingly emotional speech you’d ever seen come from Tom, ever the stoic, and under the influence of the potion that Hannah had given you, it was almost enough to make you give in and move on. But not quite.

“You said ‘supposed to’.” Your eyes still didn’t move from where they were trained on the scuffed wooden floor of the library. “You said ‘I wasn’t supposed to be found.’”

“That’s right.”

You turned to look at him, inky black aura spilling over his equally dark hair. “‘Supposed to’. Like you knew this was going to happen. Like this wasn’t an accident.”

And the change you saw in him was so miniscule that if you hadn’t been spending enough time studying his face, you might not have noticed it. But you had, and the slight dilation of his pupils and twitch of his jaw was enough to betray his panic.

Then his mouth split into a smile and his face smoothed over, his eyebrows furrowed with just the right amount of concern. The shift was startling, like he’d slipped on a mask. “Of course this was an accident. Do you really think that I’d choose to be stuck here for eternity?”

“That’s—” You paused, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“I wouldn’t,” he pressed, and this time his arm came up to drape over the back of the couch. You tried your best not to think about how you could feel warmth radiating from it, how if you tilted your head back, you might brush against it. “Are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll send you back,” he said, a polite smile set on his lips. “You should really get some rest.”

And for the first time since you’d first discovered the journal, you fell asleep feeling a little bit afraid of Tom Riddle.

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you

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meiiie · 6 months

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dave lizewski, i’m so into you. (pt. 1)

summary: you say something unexpected about Kick-Ass while discussing with your friends which hero you prefer the most.. Kick-Ass? Or Red Mist? little did Dave know or so you thought, you knew it was him all along..

a/n: uhh this is just a silly little imagine.. no one is probably going to see this post anyway but i’m new to this so this isn’t really the best thing i wrote, i hope u still enjoy reading this LOL i’ve also added my OC named Melilah who will be your best friend in this, um slight nsfw mention near the end but no actual action, thats it i think! yeah that’s it, happy reading :)

(pairing: dave lizewski x fem!reader) link to pt. 2

word count: 1.5k

It was a normal day, going to school, attending your classes, eating lunch, procrastinating your school works, submitting homework… attending more classes… rinse and repeat. But today was not what you expected, like.. at all.

ring ring… ring ring… you pick up your ringing phone while walking down the street, on your way to the convenience store.

“hello.?” your voice turns out more tired and groggier than you expected “hey when are you getting home sweetie? the food is getting cold and its already almost 6:30 pm, where are you?” your mom says with a worried voice, you could already imagine her face by just hearing her voice

this week has probably been one of the most stressful weeks of your entire life, class has been giving more school works, more due dates, you probably see your life flashing before your eyes right now “um yeah i’m on the way home already, don’t worry mom!” you say attempting to make your voice sound enthusiastic “well you better not be hanging out with that pretty boy.. actually maybe you should invite him for dinne-”

“mom— i—“ you cut her off but then you sigh giving up to even explain. “…he’s just a friend i swear..”

this supposedly ‘pretty boy’ your mom is referring to is Dave Lizewski, this guy in your class who you were paired up to work on a major project so he’s been at your house a few times already. surprisingly you get along with him really well? you’ve even become a part of his friend group including your best friend Melilah. She always points out the fact he always stares at you whenever you all hang out in Atomic Comics and during classes, but you’ve never really thought about him that way, or maybe you were considering it?

while walking down the road the street lights flicker a bit and you see someone trying to hanging onto the ledge of a billboard of some sort. you hear the figure shout at the cat sitting, waiting for him to fall “FUCK YOU MR BITEY!” his voice echoes, but wait.. why does his voice sound so familiar…? “okay okay okay, but call me and update me on where you are okay? be here quick, i love you!” your mom says- *THUD* you quickly look at the direction where the person, you assume, fell “UH yeah i’ll call you! i love you mom, BYE!” you say hastily, almost whispering.

beeeep.. beeeep.. you hang up the phone call, quickly putting your phone back in your messenger bag and hide behind a car. you spot a green figure, uh, “what in the world is that…” you think to yourself. the figure is wearing a weird.. cosplay suit.. it’s almost as if he looks like a green condo-

your thoughts are interrupted as he storms off looking frustrated, most probably because of the cat he couldn’t save.. he walks hurriedly into the dark alley. for some what reason you felt a little curious, just a little bit. so you go and follow the ‘super hero’, “this is so stupid.. someone remind me why I’m doing this to myself?” you whisper to yourself as you hide behind a pole, (you think this helps you stay hidden but you should’ve seen dave’s face when he saw you) trying to get a peek at the stranger. he takes off his mask angrily, you watch his curls fall into place, there are some scratches on his face from the fall, “damn why does he look so fine” you say in your thoughts and then you realize.

those are the blue eyes you see everyday in school, THAT’S DAVE LIZEWSKI. you silently gasp covering your face. his eyes dart at your direction, he shudders at the sound of your noise then next thing you know you start running away like a cockroach flew at your direction “WAIT!” he shouts, good thing you ran quick enough so he probably didn’t see your face, key word: probably.. actually there was no reason to be running from him at all- but you just felt like it..? considering you’re still in your denial stage about your feelings for him, who wouldn’t? you open the door to your house and get in as fast as you could just in case he followed you. the tv is bright and the news displays the text in bold ‘SUPERHERO KICKASS SAVES THE DAY’ you stare at the tv in shock because that’s… how… he’s Dave..?

your mom pops out of the kitchen “hey your back home! i thought you were going to call me to update me where you were..- oh yeah that superhero… what’s his name? Kickass? apparently he stopped a bunch of guys yesterday who were trying to beat up another guy that was in front of a convenience store and a bunch of people saw it then recorded blah blah blah you get it” you just stare at the tv in shock. “hello…? earth to y/n?”

it’s been almost 2 days, you’ve been avoiding Dave, trying not to make eye contact with him, passing by him in the halls, not even acknowledging his presence, even avoiding the hangouts to Atomic Comics, despite the fact you still have to do a major project with him. you open your locker getting books out of your locker, “hey have you heard about those two new superheros? Kickass? and Red Mist?” Melilah questions and your eyes widen at the question, only being reminded of Dave “yeah- well- i think its kinda dangerous doing that you know? being a um.. a superhero? why are people even so into them nowadays?” you say hesitatingly “ugh you are such a buzz kill, anyways Todd and Marty invited us to hangout… in Atomic Comics…” she looks like she’s about to ask a question, but she hesitates “go on.. continue” you gesture her to reply “why are you like.. i don’t know avoiding Dave? we’ve all kind of noticed that you know and the tension is killing all of us..”

you close the locker door and bring her to an empty classroom, you say “okay i know this sounds a bit crazy but DAVE IS KICKASS.” she “pffts” at your statement then turns to look at your face again, “oh.. your being serious” she says “YES I’M BEING SERIOUS?? i was on my way to the convenience store right and Kickass or Dave- i don’t know anymore was trying to save this cat then falls from this thing- anyways he walked in the alleyway so i was like ok i’ll just follow him! what could possibly happen!? then he took off his MASK SO THEN I RAN AWAY AND HE WAS LIKE ‘wait!🤪’ BUT I KEPT ON-” Melilah tries to comprehend everything, slowly nodding… slowly.. she whispers loudly “OKAY KEEP IT DOWN SOMEONE MIGHT HEAR YOU, okay so are you SURE this was Dave?” still whispering

“a HUNDRED percent.” you say trying to defend that you weren’t just seeing things

she sighs “well what are we going to do? I already told them we were going to be there..”

“you said WHAT?”

“okay okay chill they didn’t say Dave was coming, they obviously noticed how awkward it was with you guys so why would they invite him right haha.. haha…..” she laughs nervously

after both of you gather your thoughts you find yourself already settling down in a booth, in Atomic Comics, contemplating your life decisions. fidgeting nervously already imagining what’s going to happen. hoping not to see him. Melilah comes back after gathering a bunch of comic books to read while waiting for them to arrive. “hey stop fidgeting your going to be fine, plus he doesn’t know you know. right…?” you both just stare at each other. you both start praying in unison—“lord give us the strength to-“

“give you guys the strength for what?” Todd interrupts, you look behind him frantically to check whether Dave was there or not. to your surprise, he wasn’t. does he know? did he see my face when i ran? what if he doesn’t like me anymore? wait. why did that even matter? Todd and Marty took a seat beside Melilah leaving you alone sitting at the other side of the booth, obviously planning something.. “guys what do you think of Kickass?” Melilah asks, you kick her leg from under the table making a face screaming WHYAREYOUBRINGINGHIMUP. in fairness the both of you didn’t know whether Todd and Marty knew about it too, you shoot a glance at her giving a ohhhhiunderstandnow look to what she’s doing (spoiler alert: you've got the wrong idea, she was in fact not helping you) “i think he’s fine i guess, to be honest Red Mist is way cooler though because of his cape and all..” Marty says with Todd nodding his head to show that he agrees

“well- for one i think Kickass is wayy cuter, i’d fuck his brains out if i got the chance.” you say out of your thoughts completely regretting saying the said statement- “Really?” Dave says out of nowhere observing the conversation from behind your booth, making you jolt “y/n that just came out of nowhere what in the world.” Melilah says right after staring at you for a few seconds while Dave is making eye contact with you, smirking like he knows something. the conversation falls quiet.. real quiet… “okay wrap it up you two.” Todd interrupts, i wonder what happens next?

a/n: and the rest is history, I hope this was good enough lolol hope you enjoyed reading! (pt. 2 coming soon)

#Spotify #dave lizewski imagine #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski oneshot #kick ass imagine #kick ass one shot #kick ass x reader #aaron taylor johnson #gif not mine #kick ass #aaron taylor johnson x reader #im only realizing now that this imagine is so ass omfg #meiiie imagines

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lady-arc-art · 2 months

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THEORY: “Welcome Home, my son…”

For a while I wondered why puppets are used specifically to help tell the story of this ARG? Then it was brought to my attention from another Welcome Home fan that maybe there are some parallels to the story of Pinocchio. In versions of the story, Geppetto had a real son that passed away and from his grief he created a wooden puppet that looked like his son, who would later become Pinocchio.

I also think it kind of is that way because there’s a big emphasis on family and children/babies in this update. With Howdy’s family coming over for the Homewarming, Julie and Frank trying to get everyone to be quiet so they don’t wake up the flowers and bugs that are hibernating (which is something parents do when they don’t want any loud noises that could wake up a sleeping baby), and the commercials targeted towards children, also Frank singing a lullaby and Wally singing a song about children going to a place called Toy Land and never leaving.

Then it hit me, sorry if any of this sounds fanfic-y or if I’m reaching a bit, but this is what think could be going on.

In the early-mid 60s, Ronald Dorelaine was a children’s entertainer, specializing in puppetry. He ran a troupe with some of his other puppeteer friends called “The Playfellow Puppets” and they would put on little puppet shows as part of the children’s theater slot at the local community centers.

The cast of characters included (and in order of creation): Julie Joyful (she was the first created since she’s a simple hand rod puppet), Frank Frankly, Eddie Dear, Sally Starlight, Howdy Pillar, and Poppy Partridge.

Since a part of me feels like almost everyone else was created before Wally and Home also it would make sense if Poppy was kind of “new” since she’s the most complex puppet to operate.

Ronald Dorelaine had a young son who would often tag along during his father’s performances, and his son’s named was Walliford, but sometimes his dad would call him “Wally.” Walliford was very fascinated with his father’s work and the characters he created, and one of his favorite things to do was draw and paint, hoping that someday he would create something when he grows up just like his father. Walliford even helped Ronald come up with a new character for “The Playfellow Puppets.” Barnaby B. Beagle. A blue dog that was inspired by one of his son’s drawings.

Which would explain this.

Ronald’s puppet shows started becoming so popular that it even started gaining attention from producers of a local tv station (sort of similar to PBS) where they offered Ronald the idea to turn his puppet show into a television series. Ronald took up on the offer, and the show began to develop. However a tragedy would soon happen….

Ronald was a heavy smoker (hence why there is a a big emphasis on cigarette ads in the recent update):

One day when trying to discard a cigarette before Ronald had to leave the house (possibly to go to a last minute meeting with the producers that would be helping him develop his new tv show). However he was unaware that the cigarette was still lit, and it set a fire to his home. Ronald was safe because he wasn’t in the house at the time of the fire, but his son Walliford was nowhere to be found and his body was never recovered so he’s presumed dead.

(Probably hinted at when Home’s eyes turned red in the commercial compilations)

I also think maybe Eddie’s puppeteer was a witness or somehow involved with this incident (possibly because he agreed to watch Walliford while his dad went out) since I noticed during his breakdown, everything turned bright red and Eddie looks like he feels guilty about something, hence why he’s sweating and Home appears to be starring him down as if he did something.

From his grief and in order to cope with the loss of his son, Ronald created a new character as a tribute to him. Wally Darling, and from there the plot of the show changed. The show would now be about a neighborhood, all of the previous characters would be neighbors with Wally Darling, who would now be the lead of the show. Ronald also added some traits that were present in Walliford, such as his love for art and his friendship with Barnaby (who was Walliford’s favorite of the group) for the new Wally character.

Then for a last minute edition, Ronald included a sentient home for Wally to live in. The Home was meant to keep Wally the puppet safe and to watch out for him, which was something he wasn’t able to do for his son.

Hence why the title of the show changed to “Welcome Home,” since to him he wanted it to feel like his son now has a second chance at life and he’s finally back home where he belongs. Almost like saying “Welcome home, my son.”

However none of this was enough for Ronald, even though he created a new character to keep Walliford’s memory alive, it was hard for him to find a puppeteer to play Wally because it wasn’t the same. All he really wanted was his son back and he would go to whatever means necessary even if it means going to the extreme. He later came across “the entity” and made a wish for Wally Darling to become real (like how Geppetto wished for Pinocchio to be real and The Blue Fairy brought him to life). And with that his wish came true. Wally was now sentient without the use of puppeteer.

I kind of believe this to be the case because Wally to me feels like the odd man out, everyone else feels lively and zany since they’re real people, while Wally just feels like a blank slate, with the way he speaks sounding very monotone. Here there was a bit of an innocence to Wally since he’s always learning things for the first time and asking questions about certain concepts and feelings, since he was literally a puppet brought to life and “the baby” of the group. However the producers, and parents watching the show didn’t think it was odd since they thought Wally was like this since he was meant to be a character that children can project themselves onto.

However what everyone didn’t know is that the entity that helped bring Wally to life manifested it’s way into the show possessing The Home puppet, and since Wally had no one attached to a real person playing him, the entity used Wally as a vessel to carry out their agenda. Day after day, the show started to go more and more off the rails, but what was really happening was through Wally the entity started to brainwash each of the puppeteers into believing that they were the actual characters, possibly by using the sleeping pills advertised in the commercials, or there was foul play on Ronald’s end and he gave all his puppeteers the sleeping pills to “put them out of their misery.”

By 1974, Ronald tried to put a stop to the entity, and he had no other choice but to end the show and destroy all the evidence that it ever happened. Ronald himself also began to slowly disappear from the public eye and he hasn’t been seen since then.

For years “Welcome Home” has gone on being a lost media, until now.

That’s not the end of story, because it turns out the real Wally Darling, Walliford Dorelaine, is actually still alive, but he has amenesia from the incident and he was no memories of his previous life. Doesn’t know what his real name is (it probably started with a W) or who his parents were, which is why he was never brought back to Ronald. By the time Walliford grew up, his friends started talking about this mysterious puppet show that was on TV years ago called “Welcome Home” which was kind of like Sesame Street, but they all thought it was some kind of urban legend. Then suddenly Walliford started getting all these tattered artwork and pictures of merchandise from the show they were talking about, and he showed it to his friends and together they formed The Welcome Home Restoration Group to try and uncover the mysterious Welcome Home show.

Walliford however started experiencing strange feelings both physically and mentally. There were times when he doubted if the show was even real, but whenever he did have any doubt, he had dreams and hallucinations of Wally Darling trying to communicate with him through the phone and he also starts seeing all these strange video clips from the show itself sprinkled throughout the website that he and the team built. The team however started growing concerned for Walliford thinking that he “lost his mind” so they kindly tried to distance themselves from him while they are trying to rebrand the site after seeing that Walliford was trying to communicate with what he believed to be Wally Darling haunting the site, before they shut it down.

This only caused Walliford to create his own website with his own evidence, since it seems like his own restoration team is starting to mistrust him, and now he’s going to get to the bottom of this all by himself.

But what they all don’t know is that Walliford’s connection to “Welcome Home” goes much deeper than that, as it’s in his blood.

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #barnaby b beagle #julie joyful #frank frankly #eddie dear #sally starlight #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #welcome home theory #welcome home puppet show

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connorsnothereeither · 13 days

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So like, a while ago I did a little update on the Brink fics, and I figured it was worth giving a kinda sad update on my other Fable fics as well.

At this stage, there are no plans to continue or finish Your Skin Beneath My Teeth (the second book in the Blood series).

I know this is probably disappointing, because I know a lot of people really loved the Vampire AU. But from a personal writing level, I’m just sort of unhappy with the direction of the books, and I don’t have the time to commit to rewriting them. I’m not invested enough in my own story, and while that’s a shame, I don’t know if there’s much I can do without just giving myself time to stew on it.

There’s also a logistical side to things as well. Fable is coming to an end in less than a month. I feel like it’ll probably take me months to finish the Brink series still first, which are the fics I’m personally more passionate about. And at a certain point, I don’t want Fable to be the only thing that consumes my writing for the next year+. Not to mention the time I want to dedicate to other SMPs and creative projects I’m involved in, like Cantripped, Bound SMP, and Terramortis, with even more stuff in the works.

On top of all that like… I’m just a guy, ya know. I’m a full time student, work part-time most days of the week, commute between 2 major cities regularly, and I have other things that just deserve my time more.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been in fandoms for years, I know it’s shitty when fics you enjoy never get an ending. But I hope that like, people get where I’m coming from with discontinuing it, I guess.

Besides, there is, technically, an ending for Blood. I’ve had the ending written since the end of the first book (it’s just getting there that’s the problem) and so if people would like, as some sort of closure for the story, I would be happy to release that here on Tumblr or on my Kofi or something. Maybe I’ll make a follow up post with a poll.

I might as well mention that there is likewise no plan to “finish” the Band AU, but since that was always a collection of one-shots, there was never really a plan or end for any of it. It was always kinda disjointed without an end in sight lol.

I’m not saying that I’m NEVER going to go back to these fics. Just that it’s unlikely. But who knows, maybe someday I’ll crawl out of the dirt to finish them-

If you did only follow my Fable fics for the Blood books though, I’m sure some elements of my other fan works might appeal to you, if you want to give them a go! The horror/contemplations of humanity are the key theme of Brink, and the mystery/thriller, high stakes political conflict mixed with interpersonal melodrama is the focus of Cascading Skies, my new Bound fic. And of course those and so many more things are just key elements to like all of my storytelling my canon characters lol. But if none of that ticks your boxes, it was great to have y’all along for the bloody vampire ride :D

Anyway this was me getting sappy about setting aside a project I worked really hard on lol. Sometimes you gotta do that and sometimes that’s okay, and that’s an attitude I struggle with but am getting better at. I know don’t owe y’all any kind of explanation for this, I could have just stopped and let it die, but I wanted to give one. More for me personally really; I needed to say something about it publicly to like… fully cement in my mind what I decided on a long time ago. Anyway, catch y’all later when I’m not incredibly tired, and hopefully with a more silly goofy post ✌️

#fable smp #fablesmp #fanfic

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blueeofsl · 9 months

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Okay so this is going to be a pretty long analysis on @somerandomdudelmao ‘s most recent update… Will have to be split into multiple posts because of pictures

Been staring at the post for a while and damn,,, imagine going from dying in an unforgiving wasteland to waking up in what I can guess is a soft mattress with a healthy portion of sheets and blankets. Like those are absolute opposites in terms of comfort

The fact that Leo wakes up with unfocused eyes (compared to his brothers, who almost immediately shoot up), tells us that he’s still expecting himself to be back in that apocalypse.

Also the frown he has in the middle panel, it’s probably just his face relaxing, but we see that it immediately goes to a frown. An “ugh, im so exhausted why am I awake?” Sort of expression. Which kinda continues to show in the last panel of this first page.

And in that entire time, Leo’s eyes never fully focus. Because he isn’t expecting anything good to happen for him. So why should he even try at this point when there’s no one left to save?

~~~~~

Which brings us to the next page. Zooming in, we can see that Leo is staring at the back of Donnie’s shell. Im guessing it takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking at because we get enough time to see Donnie struggle to stay awake. And knowing Donnie, this hints to Leo that this isn��t some sort of normal hallucination.

We can also see that Leo is on a soft bed, and is being consistently monitored by Donnie. I am wondering what Donnie is working on though. Maybe checking Leo’s vitals? A new prosthetic for Leo? Or maybe, for once, allowing himself to start to plan on a new invention. Something that doesn’t directly involve with whether the resistance will survive the next day or not. He shows this sort of stubbornness to keep himself awake until he’s sure that Leo is okay.

In the last panel we see Leo finally perk up as he crains his neck back to really get a good look at his twin. He probably notices how Donnie’s shell looks a bit wider, his arms a bit stronger. But maybe hasn’t fully recognized it yet. This is also probably where he lets his vision come into focus, and becomes more aware of his surroundings because oh shit, I’m not dying on packed dirt any more.

~~~~~

Moving on to page 3, Leo reaches out to Donnie to see if he’s real. These poses remind me of the first episode of the comics.

(Episode 1, part 7) Here we see Leo do pretty much the exact same hand motion as his tiny, little self. Which kinda tells us that Leo is moving purely on instinct, on emotion. His mind telling him to seek for that sort of comfort.

When he falls in the last panel of the recent comic, I feel like it becomes some sort of wakeup call for him. Because the fall from the bed to the floor is pretty far from what we see in page 2. And the noise of his shell hitting the floor was probably pretty loud too. Enough to scare Donnie out of what ever he was working on.

Would also like to take a moment to look at Leo’s scars, specifically the one on the shell. I realized it’s the scar from when Donnie had to forcefully pull his shell together by screws and wire. (Part 2 of Episode 11)

The fact that that scar is still on Leo’s shell shows us that it was an impactful moment for him (the revived turtles so far have shown that the scars/features that stay are those they think a lot about or have an emotional attachment to). He was lucky at that time. Because the rubble that caused that injury could have easily killed him. A wrong crack/break in the shell could have left him immobile for the rest of the war. But that’s where Donnie comes in because he knows that Leo would hate that.

The reason why the scar is so big on Leo’s shell now shows how much impact it had on his mind. At least that’s my guess…

~~~~~

Moving onto Page 4, we get a good view of Leo’s expression in all panels. First one shows pain, a wince. His arm looks to have twitched towards himself in order to protect his head. It could have also twitched because of Donnie’s sudden yell to him.

The second panel shows surprise. Because his twin is picking him off the floor. Symbolically speaking, this could mean that his family is here to pick him up now, to carry him over to better times.

This surprise is also towards the fact that Donnie is able to lift Leo when before, right on the day Donnie dies, it was Leo who was picking up Donnie.

Also notice how in this page, we don’t see Donnie’s face at all. Even when Donnie is lifting Leo up in the third panel, we just see the confusion on Leo’s face. And also, perhaps, a bit of fear. Maybe he was fearing whether or not this was a dream.

But heres the thing. Many have noticed the parallel of Donnie and Leo switching positions in who is carrying who. But I noticed another parallel in this page.

First panel in page 4 looks nearly identical to this page of Leo dying here.

When realizing this, the parallel just made that page so much more emotional to me.

Because Leo was expecting to be brought back to the apocalypse in his head.

~~~~~

Moving onto page 5, we get another good view of the scar on Leo’s shell. First panel though, love the Donnie face squish. There was no way he was gonna just let his twin sit on the cold hard floor when theres a bed right there.

This might be looking to much into it, but in the first panel, it looks like Leo is shaking too.

We also see that Donnie and Leo are the same size now, when before, Leo was larger than Donnie when the soft shell was sick.

The second panel again shows the emotion Leo is going through. To me, it screams “is this real? I can’t believe it. How is this happening?” And we can see that Donnie’s grip on Leo is strong and firm while Leo seems to sorta cling/melt into his twin.

In the third panel, Donnie is telling Leo to sit still. Perhaps this is because of how badly Leo is shaking, or the fact that he had just fallen out of bed. Either way, what seems as a command for a shitty patient has another meaning; that Leo is okay. He’s going to be taken care of, he just has to let his family take care of him. Just like how he took care of them and so many other people.

~~~~~

Page 6, We see Leo’s expression again, and the way his arm is still reached out from Donnie pulling it off his shoulder. It’s full of surprise but theres not much fear being shown except for the hollowness in his eyes.

Leo still doesn’t fully believe all of this is real. Then Donnie goes and starts moving around him, checking what’s left of his arm (some people are saying that it’s the first thing donnie checked. Also wondering if this could be him planning on a new prosthetic for Leo), and what I can guess is Donnie checking his heartbeat (the little white ninpo rectangle thing near Leo’s heart).

For Leo, this is quite overwhelming. He lets Donnie do his thing, but it’s been years since he’s seen his brother be so active around him. He shows signs of nervousness too, the wobbly line for his lips, and the way that his arm is tucked towards his middle, and his knees slightly pulled up and together. In that moment, he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Going back to scars again, notice the scarring on his neck. It’s the same injury from when he went to Donnie’s lab for guidance after almost getting his head bitten off by a krang dog. It’s another scar that’s left a large impact on Leo’s mind. Perhaps part of it is because of the krang dog, but another part I think is because of him yelling for Donnie.

~~~~~

THIS IS PART 1 OF ANALYSIS!

PART 2

PART 3

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #future leo #cass apocalyptic series #rise of the turtles #cass fanart tag #oof ive never made a post this big before…#hope it works

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kaminocasey · 4 months

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Dream A Little Dream of Me: Part 3

Summary: You get into an accident and are transported to the Star Wars galaxy permanently... for the time being. In the meantime, you get closer to Rex.

Pairing: Captain Rex x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Angst, reader gets into an accident in the real world, Hardcase lives though!

WC: 4.2K

A/N: HELLO I know it's been a hot minute since I've updated most of my fics, BUT the good news is, I'm focusing on four of my big fics this year: Dream A Little, Sacred Woman, Bonsoir, and Loverboy. I'll also do small fics and try to update the smaller fics when I can! ANYWAY, I am really excited about this fix it fic <3 (pics from Pinterest) AND A HUGE shoutout to my girl @idledreams for reading over this COUNTLESS times and still hyping me up over it (Along with all my writing) You're the best! <3

Dream A Little Masterlist │ Playlist

Don’t panic.

DON’T. PANIC.

“I meant someone else. I’m not confident that I can-”

“Cut the osik. What’s going on?” Kix crosses his arms, his eyes still narrowed at you.

How are you supposed to get out of this? He clearly knows you well enough to know you’re lying. What if you just tell him the truth? He’ll more than likely think you’re crazy. You’re still not entirely convinced you’re not.

This is all just starting to feel too real for you, so you close your eyes and will yourself awake.

Wake up.

WAKE. UP. Goddammit. Why isn’t it working?

Kix sighs your name, making your eyes snap open again.

“Just talk to me.” Kix sighs, a pleading look in his eyes.

Clearly the two of you are good friends here in your dream or alternate reality, or whatever this is.

“Do you promise to not think I’m crazy or to not tell anyone if I tell you?” You ask him, your pleading look matching his own.

He nods. “Of course.”

As the two of you walk in silence to a more secluded spot, you try to figure out how to tell him the truth. Even though he promised to not think you’re crazy, that doesn’t mean he can stop the intruding thought from popping into his head. And you can’t really blame him. Would you believe you if you were in someone else’s shoes?

“Okay…” You breathe out as you find a closet and go inside. “Okay…”

Your hands start fidgeting, clenching and unclenching as you pace in the small space. Kix murmurs your name again, stopping you so that you look at him.

“It’s alright.” He assures you.

You nod, wanting to believe him.

God, why can’t you wake up?

“I’m not from here…” You start.

He laughs, confused. “Okay?”

“I’m not from this… reality?” You still struggle to find the words.

“What do you mean?” His brows furrow as he struggles to understand what you’re saying.

You shake your head, still trying to find the words.

“Do you know how when I first woke up yesterday, I woke up confused?”

He nods. “I heard about it.”

“That’s because I’d never been here before…”

You’re still timid to tell him this is all a tv show in your reality.

You continue anyway. “My ‘real’ life is somewhere that is different from this galaxy…”

Kix’s face goes from confused to disbelief rather quickly. You still can’t really believe it yourself.

“I go to sleep at night there and then I’m somehow transported here…”

“Okay…” He murmurs. “I mean, I’ve heard and seen way stranger things happen.”

“Y-you believe me?”

“I have no reason not to. I know for a fact that you’re not crazy.” He smiles softly and you let out a huge sigh of relief. “Unless you’re having some sort of mental breakdown…”

You give him a pointed look and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“Okay. Not a mental breakdown. Got it.” He nods, smiling.

He believes you.

“Do you not think anyone else would believe you?” He asks.

You shrug. “Maybe Rex?”

It was only a few moments ago that you found yourself wanting to tell him everything. He’s easy to talk to. That still surprises you.

Kix smirks knowingly and you roll your eyes.

“Focus please.” You try to hide the flustered expression that is inevitably on your face right now.

“I’m just saying-”

All of a sudden, you and Kix are interrupted by a random 501st trooper as the door slides open and he looks between you and Kix, clearly embarrassed and thinking he walked in on something going on.

“I was looking for towels-” The trooper explains, apologetically.

“It’s alright. I was just leaving…” You look at Kix. “I’ve gotta find Rex.”

A bad feeling settles in your stomach as you quickly walk out of the closet, finding the exit to the building with the only thing on your mind being saving Hardcase.

The moment you wake up, you groan into your pillow with frustration and try to will yourself back to sleep. To no avail, of course. “Goddammit.” You murmur, concern automatically coursing through your body.

All this stuff that’s going on in your “dream world” is starting to take a toll on your body. As you sit up, you feel tense, as if you’d been nervous all night. Stretching your aching limbs, you look over at your clock and realize it’s almost noon. Which means you’re running late for your lunch with your mother.

With a quick restless groan and one last stretch, you practically throw yourself out of the comfort of your bed and race around your room, throwing new clothes on and then running to the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair. You very quickly pull it back and then grab your coat and bag and head out.

Debating whether or not it would be quicker to walk or catch a cab. It’s only a couple of blocks away, and knowing noon traffic in New York, it probably has to be quicker to walk/run.

Your phone starts ringing the moment you get into the elevator. When you pull it out of your bag, you see that your mom is calling. Knowing you’re about to get an earful for being late, you debate on sending it to voicemail and just texting her an apology. But then you’ll have to hear about that when you get there. So you answer.

“Hello, mother. I’m so sorry-”

“Should we just reschedule when it's convenient for you?” She snips.

“No, mom… I’m sorry, I just overslept is all…”

“I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes. There are people staring at me, probably thinking I’ve been stood up. By my own daughter, no less.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t stand you up, mother. I’m literally on my way.”

“How far away are you?”

This angry, irritable version of your mother is completely different than the one who had been singing to you the last couple nights. If you weren’t used to it, perhaps you’d have whiplash. But nope, this has been your whole life.

“Maybe 10 minutes.” You tell her as you get out of the elevator and start walking out of your building.

Cool air practically whips you in the face and brings tears to your eyes as you see there’s still lingering snow on the sidewalk.

“Have a good day!” Your doorman, Frank, tells you.

“Thank you, Frank! You as well. Tell Marla I said hello!” You grin.

“Will do, sweetheart.” He kindly tips his hat toward you and you start practically sprinting down the street.

“Who’s Frank?” Your mother demands.

“My doorman.”

“And Marla is?”

“Frank’s wife, mother.”

“He seemed a little too friendly with you.”

“Oh good grief, mom… He’s been the doorman for my building for longer than I’ve been alive. His wife bakes me cakes for my birthday.”

“Oh good, your father just got here.” She doesn’t even listen to you, which gives you a premonition on how lunch is going to go. “We’ll see you when you get here.”

She hangs up on you and you shake your head, putting your phone back into your bag and then walking briskly the rest of the way there.

When the restaurant comes into sight, you see your mother and father in the corner window and start to wave, thinking they see you. Luckily the pedestrian sign turns green and you start booking it across the crosswalk.

Unfortunately, the last thing you hear is “LOOK OUT!” from someone behind you and when you turn to look, a car is speeding through their red light.

And then you squeeze your eyes shut.

You’re hyper aware of your shut eyes, of the darkness. Everything feels fuzzy. Are you breathing? You take a breath. It doesn’t feel quite necessary though… You need to wake up. You can tell that much.

So wake up.

You open your eyes but it's immediately too bright. Like a bright white light.

Oh great… I’m dead. Wonderful… You think to yourself. What happened?

You rub your eyes until you can stand the light again, finding that you’re standing.

Weird, but okay.

There’s a white end table that looks like the one beside your couch at your apartment. On it sits a single picture frame. You stare at it, inspecting the silver frame. It’s a picture of you, your mom, and your dad on your fifth birthday. You look genuinely happy and excited, smiling wildly at the large birthday cake in front of you lined with at least a hundred candles.

Who makes a little kid blow out a hundred candles? Your mother who had to make sure you had the best birthday in your entire pre-k class.

Raising your hand to pick it up, something stops you.

No… not something.

Someone. Someone’s deep, soothing voice.

Rex.

You’d know that voice literally anywhere. It sounds like he’s right next to you, and you can’t quite understand what he’s saying, but a deep ache fills your veins. You miss him terribly.

You turn around to throw your arms around him, but find that you’re standing in a familiar, yet unfamiliar doorway. You’d recognize a medbay a mile away.

“Come back to me, cyar’ika…” Rex’s soft voice pleads. “There’s so much I need to say to you… so much I didn’t get to tell you.”

You look at your vitals up on the screen beside the bed you’re lying unconsciously in, confused. Did something happen here to you? You turn back around and no longer see the picture frame.

Instead, you see yourself in a hospital bed, your parents next to you and then it all comes back to you.

The crosswalk… The car.

You don’t understand… How are you looking at two versions of yourself? Where are you? Why are you seeing two versions of yourself?

But deep down, you think you know…

You have to choose right now. You don’t exactly know for sure what that entails. If you choose one, would you eventually be able to go back to the other?

There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?

You take one last look at your mother and father asleep in a couple chairs next to your hospital bed and then walk the other way.

When you wake up, the lights are still a little bright. But you can see Rex’s face perfectly next to yours.

“Rex.” You murmur, taking his hand.

His eyes widen with relief and he swiftly stands up, over you, hugging you to him. You can’t help the warmth that spreads from head to toe at the touch of this man as you notice that he’s not wearing his upper plastoid armor. His chest is so warm and firm that you can’t stop yourself from placing your hand over where his heart is and breathing in his familiar vanilla and warm ocean breeze scent.

“What happened?” You ask, you look up at him.

He pulls away, slightly, his brows still furrowed with concern.

“Kix said that the two of you had a conversation and then you went to go find me… You passed out again. But this time, you weren’t waking up at all. And then you started to crash, but Kix got you stabilized. That was three days ago…” You can see that it's difficult for him to talk about it.

It’s beyond clear to you that he really cares about you and you’d be lying if you said your entire heart doesn’t do a somersault at the realization.

“I’m not going anywhere for a while now… okay?” You try to assure him.

“See… what does that mean?” He scoots down to the chair so he can fully look at you.

“You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.” You murmur, noticing the way his thumb is brushing over your knuckles.

It's almost intoxicating, the effect he has on you. An effect no man has ever had on you.

“I could never think you’re crazy.” He flashes a soft, amused, smile and your chest tightens at the sight.

And with a smile like that, how could you deny him? So, you tell him everything that you told Kix. Every detail, aside from the tv show bit.

After a few moments, Rex lets out a breath. “Wow…”

You expect him to pull away, call you crazy, and leave. But he doesn’t. He continues brushing his thumb back and forth across your knuckles in an almost hypnotizing manner.

“I know…” You murmur. “So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”

He lets out a soft, amused snort. “We live in a world where a certain type of people have powers and run around with laser swords. I don’t think anything is outside the realm of possibility anymore.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips. “Okay, good point.”

It’s quiet for a moment before you look around and see that you’re in a medbay somewhere.

“So, where are we?” You ask him.

“We’re back on the Jedi cruiser.” He looks toward the doors.

“And Umbara…?”

“We won. Krell is imprisoned.” He smiles.

“And Hardcase?”

His soft smile widens a bit. “Hardcase is okay. He has a few burns and bruises, but he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

Relief floods your entire body.

“And the 212th?”

“All perfectly fine.” He promises you.

You let out a relieved sigh and close your eyes, bringing your hand to your chest.

“You’re sweet to care so much, you know… It’s one of my favorite things about you.” He admits and your chest tightens.

“Rex, I-” You smile, but are interrupted by Kix’s cheery voice.

“She’s alive!” Kix comes to your bedside, opposite his brother.

“I’m alive.” You nod, a smile still on your lips.

At least you think you’re alive. You’re still not quite sure, yet.

“The boys have been hounding me about seeing you. I told them not until you woke up and only if you felt like it. I can make them go away, just say the word.” Kix tells you.

You let out a playful sigh. “Send ‘em in.”

Kix nods with a playful smirk and turns to walk out.

“I’ll let you visit.” Rex tells you and you start to protest, not wanting him to go. “I’ll see you tonight, I promise.”

He smirks down at you as he brushes your hair off your forehead. And before you have time to process that, he kisses you on the forehead, making your eyes flutter closed for a moment.

A simple, yet meaningful enough gesture that your chest tightens. You’ll never forget it.

He throws you a quick wink and makes his way out of the medbay just as four large men in 501st blue armor come filing in, already rowdy and clearly excited to see you.

“Look at you!” Fives’ voice booms, making himself comfortable next to you as he slings an arm around the top of the bed. Hardcase and Tup sit on either side of your feet while Jesse stands at the foot of the bed, checking your chart on the data pad.

“How are you really?” Jesse asks you, concern laced in his tone.

“I’m fine.” You assure him, a wide grin unable to leave your lips.

You still can’t believe that this is your new life.

“Thank the Maker.” Tup pats your foot.

As you look around at the four men, you’re overcome with so many emotions and feelings, with acceptance and belonging coming in right at the top of the list. You feel like you’ve finally found a place you belong.

But at what cost?

“How’s your head?” Hardcase asks you, grinning.

“I should be asking you that.” You smile as you take in his patches that are covering his burns.

He chuckles. “My head is always loose, so nothing out of the ordinary here. In fact, I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you.” He pats your foot, appreciatively.

“Yeah, how did you know about the droid and the missile?” Jesse asks you.

You shrug, nonchalantly. “Just had a feeling.”

“Well, lucky for us that you had feelings.” Fives ruffles your head and Kix throws his hands up in the air with exasperation.

“Be careful with her!” Kix tells him. “She’s gone through enough-”

“Aw, come on, Kix. She can handle a 501st boy, can’t ya?” Fives elbows you teasingly and you give him a playful glare, going absolutely warm in the face.

“Alright. Visitation is over.” Kix starts to usher out his brothers. “She needs some rest.”

“Yeah, she does!” Fives grins. “Especially for later.”

Fire creeps into your cheeks with thoughts of a certain captain and his promise of tonight. “Later?”

“Yeah, when we take ya to 79s to celebrate you not being dead.” Hardcase says, a little loudly.

79s. The clone bar. The bar you’ve thought about many times throughout your multiple watches, always wondering what it would be like to get to see the men you care about let loose after their endless days and nights on the battlefield. They deserve to have fun and be carefree, for however long that may be.

“Is that okay Doctor Kix?” You smile.

How easy it is to tease and joke with him, as if you’d been friends for a lifetime and not just a mere few days. Now whether or not it has to do with the fact that you’ve watched the show countless times or because you’ve apparently had a whole life here before you “arrived”, you’re not sure. All you can do is go along for the ride, right?

He rolls his eyes with his signature smirk. “Sure. As long as you get some rest now.”

“You heard him, boys.” You shrug, teasingly.

One by one, each man files out after giving you some sort of well wishes. It’s incredibly sweet how each man cares for you, making you feel like you truly belong. You never had this sort of connection with people in your other life.

When they leave, you lay there for a while, listening to the low hum of the cruiser, still unable to believe that you’re actually here.

You’re in Star Wars… Wow.

The urge to get up and explore is strong. But you promised Kix that you would rest. And you can only assume you’ll be back on Coruscant soon, so there’s no point in upsetting him.

But still… you’d be lying if you said a part of you wasn’t afraid to go to sleep here… Will you be transported back into your other life? Or perhaps worse?

You lay there for a while, staring up at the durasteel ceiling as Kix comes in with a data pad.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He comes to the edge of the bed.

You sit up, crossing your legs. “I’m afraid to go to sleep.”

He nods, understanding. He and Rex are the only ones who would. “I made up this data pad for you. Information about you before you kinda popped into your own life here. And, your bag of clothes. There should be some civies in there.”

“Civies?”

“Non military clothes.” He chuckles.

He hands you the data pad and the bag, and you take them, touched at the gesture.

“Thank you, Kix. This means a lot.”

“I just… I have one question.” He murmurs. “How do you know what’s going to happen? You never said.”

You sigh, knowing you weren’t going to be able to avoid this question forever. “This is all a television show where I’m from.”

“Television?” He looks confused.

“Um… I think they’d be called like holo-shows here?” You try to make him understand.

“Why would anyone want to watch a ‘show’ about us?” He laughs.

You laugh with him. “Lots of people do. Lots of people care about the clones in my reality.”

He sits next to you. “Thank you.”

You nod and the both of you are quiet for a moment.

“Would you like a tour?” He grins.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You clap your hands together, excitedly.

Kix lets you run to the bathroom, apparently they’re called freshers, so you can change. You put your bag up on the counter and look inside. Sure enough, there’s a couple pairs of nonmilitary clothes that are your size exactly.

It still all feels… surreal.

You try not to dwell on it too much, afraid that you could accidentally go into what Kix called a mental breakdown a few days ago.

A few days… that’s how long you’d been knocked out here. It had only felt like moments…

Snap out of it. Get dressed. Think about something else. Literally anything else.

Rex comes to mind instantly. Someone who’s given you a sense of calmness in this massive storm. You can’t wait to see him again, you think to yourself as you get dressed and then exit the fresher, finding Kix looking down at his own datapad.

“Ready.” You smile softly.

He looks up at you, his smile matching your own. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” You nod.

“Good. Come on.” He nods towards the door and you follow him out into the hall.

As you walk down the long halls of the cruiser, you can’t help but stare at almost everything in awe. Kix points out the barracks, the mess hall, and the other medbays.

“You know, it might help if you at least try to act like you’ve been here for the last couple years.” Kix teases.

“I know, I know. It’s just… I’ve dreamt of this moment for… so long.” You confess.

“So you were… what do they call them?” He snaps his fingers playfully. “A fan?”

You playfully bump your shoulder into his. “Shut up.”

“I would ask who’s your favorite but it’s pretty obvious.” He teases again.

“Yeah. Obviously Fives.” You shrug with a smirk as you look in each room in the hall.

Kix laughs and then looks down the hall. You follow his gaze and see Rex, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ahsoka Tano coming this way toward you and it takes everything in you to keep it cool.

You’d already seen Anakin the first day you were here, but now… it’s different. You know you’re not dreaming, and it feels more real.

It truly is like seeing a celebrity. You’ve looked up to these characters- people for so long. And now, here they are in front of you. Life truly did not prepare you for this moment.

“Generals. Commander.” Kix nods.

“Kix.” Anakin nods and then murmurs your name. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” You nod. “Uh- General.”

Kix and Rex share a knowing smirk.

“We owe you a thanks for figuring out that Master Krell was working against us.” Obi-Wan tells you.

You nod again. “No problem.”

“You know, you might be in the wrong profession.” Anakin chuckles.

“I agree, it seems like you could’ve made quite a career in espionage.” Obi-Wan compliments you with a half grin.

You laugh. “Well if there’s anything I can do for you… just let me know.”

“We will.” Obi-Wan nods and starts to walk away with Anakin.

Ahsoka gives you a wave and you wave back, still practically starstruck.

Rex stays behind and smiles down at you.

“I’ll see you guys tonight at 79s.” Kix grins and walks away.

For being told he was part of a tv show, he sure is handling the news well. Probably better than you would.

“Hi.” You smile up at Rex.

“Hey there.” He nods for you to follow him. “I want to show you something you’ve not seen yet… personally, at least.”

“Lead the way.” You follow beside him, unable to hide your smile.

Does he know you’d follow him no matter what? You chose this life not only to help save this galaxy from Palpatine, but also for Rex.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, softly, glancing down at you as you walk.

“I’m feeling a lot better.” You promise him.

It’s true. You don’t feel exhausted for the first time in a really long time. You feel more awake.

“I’m relieved to hear that.” He tells you.

You don’t realize where he’s taking you until you get to the flight deck. You look at all of the starships, gunships, and walkers, still unable to believe your eyes. When you walk up to one of the walkers, you feel along the side of it, the cool durasteel making you smile.

When you look back at Rex, he’s giving you an amused smile.

“What is it?” You ask, taking your hand away, self-consciously.

He shakes his head with a shrug. “You’re like a breath of fresh air.”

“Was I not before?” You tease.

He immediately becomes flustered, trying to figure out what to say.

“I’m just kidding.” You grin.

Rex lets out a sigh of relief and nods for you to follow him.

“This is what I wanted to show you.” He walks up to the ray shield and that’s when you see it.

The dancing blue hues of hyperspace. Your lips part and a small gasp escapes as you grab onto Rex’s arm, unable to look away from it. You're feeling something so profound that words just can't convey.

“Oh my god. It’s even better than I imagined it would be.” You think you practically have tears in your eyes. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Sure is.” Rex murmurs.

Except he’s not looking up at the hyperspace lights. He’s only looking at you.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #x reader #alternate realities

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johaerys-writes · 2 months

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Hi! I’m pretty new to the world of Achilles and Patroclus (I read The Song Of Achilles last month) and I just saw your post about your love for them. When you said “there's just so much stuff out there about them (tsoa, hades game, the iliad, a bunch of other myths and adaptations, non fiction books, academic papers etc)” I was wondering if you could touch on the other myths and adaptations part maybe? I’m not exactly sure where to begin there but I would appreciate any guidance you could give!

Oh boy I don't know where to start either because there's a LOT. I don't want to overwhelm you so I'll just list a few key myths and adaptations off the top of my head:

Adaptations

So as far as adaptations go, I will include works where both Achilles and Patroclus show up and that are inspired by the Iliad.

Hades Game: I'm pretty sure you're already familiar with this, just mentioning it just in case!

Aristos the musical: it's a musical as the name suggests, and it revolves around Achilles and Patroclus' lives from Pelion all the way to Troy. It's really lovely and has made me emotional on numerous occasions and I love revisiting it every so often! It also has a Tumblr account: @aristosmusical

Troilus and Cressida: this is Shakespeare's take on the Trojan War and it's quite interesting, not really faithful to the Iliad but offers a sort of different perspective on the characters and the events that led to Hector's death.

Achilles (1995) by Barry JC Purves: it's a short stop motion film using clay puppets, it's on Youtube and it's only 11 mins and I think it's worth a watch! I find it very compelling visually and any adaptation where Achilles and Patroclus are lovers is a plus in my book 🫶

Holding Achilles: this is an Australian stage production by the Dead Puppet Society, I really enjoyed it and I found it an interesting blend of TSOA and Iliad Patrochilles, which also featured some cool new elements that I hadn't really seen before. It used to be free to watch for a while but now I think you have to pay to watch it, there's more info on their website.

The Silence of the Girls: a novel by Pat Barker, it's a take on the events of the Iliad mostly through Briseis' eyes, I personally didn't really like the book or the characterisations but hey both Achilles and Patroclus are in it so it might be worth a read.

There are some other novels I've heard of where Achilles and Patroclus appear (A Thousand Ships by Natalie Haynes, Wrath Goddess Sing by Maya Deane) and also a TV show called Troy: Fall of a City but I haven't read/watched them so I can't really rec them

Myths

Most myths revolve around Achilles, there aren't that many with Patroclus I'm afraid, but here are some of my favourites:

Achilleid by Publius Papinius Statius: this is an epic poem about Achilles' stay on Skyros disguised as a girl and his involvement with Deidameia. It's interesting but I'd personally take the characterisations and events in it with a grain of salt because Romans were notorious for their unsympathetic portrayal of Greek Homeric heroes but it's still a cool thing that's out there and free to read online.

Iphigenia at Aulis: a tragedy by the ancient Greek playwright Euripides, it's basically the dramatised version of the myth of Iphigenia's sacrifice in Aulis which predates the Iliad, there are many obscure versions of this myth but Euripides' sort of updated version is my favourite, I will never shut up about this play!! Lots of a nuance and very interesting portrayals of Achilles, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Clytemnestra, Iphigenia and pretty much everyone in there, well worth a read.

Lost plays: there are several plays in which Achilles appears but that have been lost or survive only in fragments, but two of my favourites are Euripides' Telephus and Aeschylus' Myrmidons. Telephus takes place before the Trojan War, while the Greeks are on their way to Troy. I really like Achilles' characterisation in the fragments that remain and also the fact that he was already renowned for his knowledge of medicine and healing despite how young he was. The fragments that survive from Aeschylus' Myrmidons I think are fewer but the play was extremely popular at the time it was presented to the public and it sparked a lot of controversy re: Achilles and Patroclus' relationship and who tops/bottoms so I think that's kind of funny lol.

There are lots of other obscure little myths about Achilles that I've picked up by reading various books, papers and wiki posts on the matter and that are just too numerous to list here, but what I will mention and that I think concludes the myths section of this post pretty neatly is that the Iliad and the Odyssey are not the only works about the Trojan War that were written, merely the only works that survived. The rest of the books in the Epic Cycle have been preserved either in fragmentary form or in descriptions in other works, and I think the Epic Cycle wiki page is a good place to start if you want to get an idea of what each of those books contained.

I hope this helped! 💙

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the iliad #homer's iliad #if I remember anything else I'll probably add to this post but I think that should be enough for now #there's just! so much stuff!!#happy reading/viewing/listening 😁

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catboybiologist · 9 months

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I'm trans! Here's a way-too-long ramble on my internal thoughts on that!

My other posts on this:

https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/725852054829023232/im-going-to-document-some-things-about-my?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/725851397783011328/the-short-answer-is-no-but-im-gonna-have-a?source=share

So yay I’m trans! Which like, is neither unexpected nor abnormal for the community I’ve fostered here, so I’m guessing most of y’all’s reactions is just a “hey cool”. But, you see the online side of me, not the irl side, so there’s still a lot of thoughts to sort out on my end. So I’m dumping a lot of thoughts here to sort all that out. And hoooly shit, it got very long, and I still feel like I have more to say… but yeah. If you wanna hear some perspectives on my relation to gender, transness, and femboy culture, read on!

I guess the best way I can think to style this is as an interview with an imaginary third person, sooo…. Bold text is questions I can imagine people having LOL

So what’s my own personal relationship with the term femboy, catboy, and gendered terminology in general? Is the name of your accounts gonna change?

Short answer, no. I like the name CatboyBiologist. “Catboy” itself is a term that is completely untethered from gender at this point to me. Tbqh, the “cat” part feels more wrong than the boy part- as time goes on, I’ve generally ditched the cat ears for most of my outfits as I take them a bit more seriously. Maybe that’ll change when my transition actually starts, but for now, CatboyBiologist stays, and the femboy related language stays in all of my own past posts (keyword, past- more on that in a bit).

I’m not gonna be updating my approach to pronouns. Any pronouns do just fine, I’m sending a vibe into the world and pronouns are my feedback as to what other people interpret that vibe is. Default to they/them if you don’t know what to do with that.

I will be updating my pinned post to link all of these posts, but mostly copy/paste the information from before. That might take a moment cuz I’m lazy, tbh.

And let’s get something else out of the way.

I’m not socially transitioning yet, and probably won’t for a while.

Which, I think leads to a lot of follow up:

Well, why not?

I present fully male and masculine on a day to day basis, and look the part too. Part of it is just this looks insecurity. The mask stays on in my pictures for a reason. Beyond just facial hair (which grows aggressively on me and always shows some shadow), my face looks pretty masculine overall. It takes time to look the way I do in my posts. I wanna give my face and body some time to change so I can look more femme in more casual ways before I present it to the world.

Beyond that, I’m also just worried about being “accepted” as femme straight off the bat. Implicitly, I know this will be easier if I already have some small amounts of physical feminization down my belt.

There’s two main environments that worry me: family, and professionally. Family is a weird hot mess grey area that is too personal to talk about here, but the professional atmosphere is certainly going to be a bit… weird. I live in an accepting geographic region, and around people who are very outspokenly trans supportive…. But most of whom are cishet and simply don’t have a lot of experience seeing or working around trans people. I’m more afraid of being seen as “trans first, biologist second” as far as my career is concerned, than I am about outright transphobia. I know this will never fully go away, and given that I’m 6’2”, I’ll probably never “fully” pass- but I’d at least like people to implicitly read my as femme on a gut level before I start changing how I present that way. One thing my irl femboy experience has shown me is that, even if people can “clock” you intellectually, the way their gut instinct reads you affects whether they treat you as masc or femme. I hope that makes sense on some level. Of course its always going to be an awkward shift, but I hope some time on HRT will make it less awkward.

I’ve come out to one person that doesn’t know about this online persona, or the depths of my queerness. They straight up told me they were shocked. They were incredibly supportive, but they told me they didn’t see it coming at all. And they already knew that I “crossdressed occasionally”. So that’s kinda what I’m working with here.

Essentially, I’m not actually truly “transitioning” in a real sense yet. More than that, I feel like I’m getting the ball rolling. If there’s anything I learned in my research, it’s that HRT takes a while, much longer than anyone expects (suppressing my rant about how the media cherrypicks people in early transition for trans representation and the effect that has on public perception). Two years is often cited as the “end” point, but based on both scientific and anecdotal accounts, that is wildly untrue and variable. I also know that the first changes onset quickly (skin and mood, most notably), but that overall body shape changes sometimes take a VERY long time to start and progress. So to be quite honest, I barely feel like I’m transitioning yet, I’m just laying groundwork for the future.

So yeah. I’m gonna be boymoding for a bit. Possibly a year or more. Even for the people who know, I’ve still asked them to address me as he/him or they/them, and use my masculine name for now (haven’t even really decided on a femme name yet, although I have ideas [open to suggestions as well]).

Wait, so why address it online at all?

Put simply, honesty. I’m displaying a lot of selfies and experimentation with my look here, and I want to make it abundantly clear what I’m doing to have an effect on that. People have asked me if I’m on HRT in comments before, and like, I’m not gonna lie about that. Might as well also make a shitpost, a data gathering post, and a too-long ramble about it as well (which you’re reading now!).

There are a LOT of body image issues in femboy spaces (and trans spaces too!), often among very young people. While I have no issue with people on HRT continuing to call themselves a femboy (more on that in a bit), I do think transparency on that matter is helpful for those body image issues.

So to make it abundantly clear: all of my selfies and pictures that I’m labeling and tagging as “femboy” are pre-HRT. In the future, everything I tag with “trans” is post-HRT. I still got 1-2 weeks before actually starting, and I’m still going to use the femboy tag for any outfits I post during that time. The moment an estradiol pill hits my mouth, though, new pics will use trans tags.

Posts that relate to discussion of the interplay of the communities, and how I view myself within them, I’ll tag with both.

Which leads to another follow up question. This one isn’t about me specifically, but it’s my hot take about a certain brand of trans discourse I’ve seen around (mostly on reddit tbh):

Why would someone who knows they’re mtf trans willingly call themselves a femboy and/or request people to “misgender” them?

So this is actually gonna be striking a nerve with me, and I know I’m gonna kinda be strawmanning here by arguing against the ghost of reddit comments past. I’m not gonna try to dig any of them up in the internet archive, but they are sentiments I’ve seen multiple times.

I’ve seen this question almost word for word in the comments of trans subreddits multiple times. Imma be blunt, and it’s maybe gonna sound a little mean. If this thought is going through your head, you’re likely way more sensitive and particular about labels than most people. And that’s okay! Ask people to address you how you want, you deserve that respect! But the real answer to this question is that many people simply don’t mind being called whatever label is most useful or familiar to themselves in various contexts.

The moment that it becomes completely unacceptable is when someone does actually change their pronouns, name, presentation, etc, and people still address them as “male” or “femboy”. That is completely the fuck out of line, and if you don’t agree, fuck off.

Why does this strike a little bit of a nerve with me? Well, the “conclusion” I saw reached in these trans spaces multiple times when the subject was brought up was annoying as hell. That conclusion was that the only or primary reason that people labeled themselves a femboy, even while on HRT… was to sell their onlyfans. My fucking god, seriously? This is just conservative rhetoric. Luckily, on tumblr, it seems that people are a lot more accepting towards people using whatever language they like to describe themselves, which I’ve enjoyed a lot.

I’ve also had a lot of hate towards “fencesitting” directed at me on reddit, from trans people, for calling myself a femboy. I can’t remember it verbatim, but I very distinctly recall getting a DM that went something like “I fucking hate femboys, just transition already. You’re making us (transfemmes) look bad.” So yeah. Bit of a sore spot.

Yadda yadda yadda the personal journey shit

If I can be real for a moment…. In an ideal world, I would still want to be a part time femboy. Even moreso than the sheer utility of it all (eg, enjoy cis male privilege when I want, but still get treated more femme in certain contexts), it feels almost more profound to fuck with gender norms without sitting on one side of the gender line or another. But I can’t really ignore what I’ve described as my “mental resting state”- a baseline crackle of dysphoria that fills the space in my head when there’s nothing else to fill it. It’s easily distracted, but its always there, and I can’t imagine living my life that way anymore.

I’ve pretty much known I was trans since I was about 12, and had a realization that puberty was just starting to hit me, and I hated it. I suppressed it deeply, for many, many reasons that I don’t think I want to share here. But it made a lot of other mental health struggles in my life a lot worse, even if I didn’t consciously acknowledge that’s what was happening. By the time I was willing to consciously acknowledge it, I realized that my dysphoria wasn’t so bad as to dive in right away. But, I made moves to stabilize my life overall, which have been massively beneficial to me in other ways as well.

During the pandemic, I found myself living alone for the first time ever. So during the pandemic, in one last ditch effort to try to convince myself I wasn’t trans, I delved into femboy aesthetics to try and “just be a feminine man”.

That failed.

So yeah, here I am. I have a wonderful queer community both irl and online, a meagre but stable income, health insurance that has great coverage for trans care, and accepting people around me in my life. It’s long overdue. Maybe I’ll beat myself up for waiting so long and masculinizing so much as a result, but I don’t think I really could have done it any other way.

This all said, I don’t actually really consider myself a woman yet. I’m sure many of you are aware of two different ways transfemmes view themselves(and trans people in general, but using a transfemme perspective here):

-Some view themselves as having always been girls or women, but took some time to realize it and make their body more comfortable for themselves with that information.

-Others view themselves as boys or men who made efforts to become women later.

I fall strongly in the second line of thinking for myself. For my own personal experiences, even though I have felt dysphoria for a long time, I don’t really think I’m “actually” a woman yet. I don’t know what my identity as a woman looks like yet. But I deeply want to discover and create who that person is, and there’s no way to do that without transitioning.

B but… BASIC BIOLOGY!!!!!

How many biology degrees do you have? I got a BS and an MS, and I’m working on my PhD. I’m sure you’ve brought a similar level of expertise to this discussion.

But seriously, I could genuinely write an entire fucking essay about how studying biology has influenced my views on this subject, but honestly, that’s an entirely different topic. But tl;dr is that bioessentialism is brainrot, and if someone tries to use essentialist language to “justify” someone’s transness (or gender in general)… well, I think they’re wrong. Plain and simple. We don’t say someone isn’t “really able to see” if they put glasses in front of their eyes.

I’m stopping myself before I write more here, because this warrants another post or even a fucking video essay, to be quite honest. But yeah. Biology based.

Conclusion?

Uhhhh… in conclusion, I’m not particular about language or pronouns you use for me, I’m making posts about it anyways to ensure honesty associated with my selfies, if you’re transphobic jump of the tallest bridge you can find. I think that about covers it.

#femboy #transitioning #trans #transgender #mtf #cross dressing

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una-hopeless-romantic1118 · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐕: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: sorry for disappearing :,( I’ve had a pretty shitty life lately and writing has been helping me cope. things are less tense now and i’m able to update so i’m hoping u guys enjoy this MOMMY IS FEEDING YALL

timeline: ep. 3 (right smack in the Christmas scene) - ep. 4.

PS I WILL BE MAKING ANOTHER CHAPTER. WHY? BC I WANNA SNEAK IN SOME HARDCORE ANGST BC WHAT IS A LOVE STORY WITHOUT ANGST

also bc i feel like the relationship is sped up and rushed and we hate that

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

This chapter: Part 5

Part 6

Epilogue

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings: as always, not proofread, hornae warren and y/n, some cavity-causing fluff, billy being a dicky dick,

summary:

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Eddie: Y/N Augustine was not who I expected to show up that Christmas Eve, with two trays of the best smelling lasagna I’ve ever smelled in my life, and an apologetic smile.

Why did she look apologetic? I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with the fact that as soon as she walked in, Warren was behind her? They were, like, 3 hours late.

Karen: Y/N is always on time. Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. For someone as fashionable as her, she manages to always arrive on time in the most gorgeous outfits I’ve ever seen.

She was still gorgeous that night, of course, but she was late, and she had a sort of...sleazy smile. Of course everyone assumed the same thing.

But 3 hours late? *she rolled her eyes* I mean, fuckin’. hell.

Camilla: When I first talked to the Y/N Augustine, I remember almost dropping you *she laughs* I was a major fan of her work, and still am. I really wasn’t expecting her on the phone when she called a few months before.

I asked who she was, being so forward on the phone about asking for my vest size when I didn’t order anything. I explained who I was, and introduced myself as Billy Dunne’s wife, and that I didn’t order a vest from this woman.

She was silent on the phone for a while, and came back introducing herself saying her name casually as if she wasn’t an important person. She said that she had no idea who Billy was, and that she was only familiar with a Warren Rojas, who she owed an order.

I found myself wondering how Warren managed to get a fashion designer to owe him a piece of her work...*she shrugs*

After freaking out to myself while I got his vest size, I didn’t bother passing the phone to him. And why would I? I wasn’t going to pass the chance to talk to one of my idols. And she didn’t seem to mind either.

I believe we went from talking about California, to the beaches, the majestic golden hour that shined through our windowsills at the same time, to you, even. She heard you crying through the phone.

And when I finally met her in person that night on Christmas, she was as lovely and funny. She gave every one of us presents, including you, and bothered to make us homemade food. I was so happy for Warren, but there were so many gaps as to how they even met.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“How did it go. Really,” Camilla insisted with a pleading tone. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh boy,” Karen mused, drinking her beer.

Y/N gave her friend beside her a pointed glare. “We met at a yacht party.”

Eddie leaned forward. “S-So is your name really Flora? Were you born ‘Flora?…”

“Flora...?” Camilla commented, lost, looking back and forth between Eddie and Y/N.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Graham: She was so sweet about it, when me and Eddie went back and forth trying to connect the dots, which made it even more embarrassing.

I guess it didn’t really make sense to me at the time. Why and how someone proper and prim like her managed to wind up with Warren, the wild one of the group.

If I really considered the times he came late for practice, or left early, or that whenever he left to “work” at the boats, I think I could’ve gotten to the conclusion that he was smitten for this woman a lot earlier.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“That’s pretty smart right there,” Eddie chuckled at Y/N’s recall of fooling Warren. “I am very impressed.”

Y/N shrugs humbly, obviously as a joke. Warren knew she would forever tell this tale for however long she lived. Meanwhile, he’s just glad to be part of it and getting her at the end of it.

It seems that in their almost month-long relationship, the two have managed a healthy and surprisingly well schedule to meet up. With Y/N’s new projects and the band’s practices, they meet three times a week. Sometimes four, or more, depending on Warren’s libido that Y/N’s compared to a rabbit’s.

Though, it’s not like she can’t complain.

Apart from that though, Warren never misses the chance to get her something. Mostly jewelry boxes, jewelry, and take-out food, and when she needed to run an errand, he’d come to her apartment with her much needed rolls of cloths that he paid for, despite sending him off with her money.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Y/N: When Warren and I first started dating, he was always the one coming to my place, never me visiting him over at Laurel Canyon. It was a little suspicious at first, so when I told him what I thought, y’know what he said?

He said, with the biggest grin on, “I wanna make a show out of it” and went to sleep after saying that. I never knew what he meant until that Christmas.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

That night, he did indeed showcase his lover to his friends. Every question asked by Camilla or Billy or Eddie about her career he knew the answers to.

Where were you raised? Here in California up until she was 10, lived in France until she was 22 and moved back here to start Serenity. Sexiest French accent ever, even better when she’s muttering phrases under her breath stressfully.

Siblings? Two brothers, one older who hosts a foster home with his wife, one younger who just started a professional boxing career following their father’s footsteps. Three stepsisters who are all younger than her from her step-mom’s side, all of who are just now convinced their sister is famous for dating a rockstar drummer.

Favorite part about putting together designs? She finds satisfaction in piecing them together, and how she gets lost in sketching to the point that she doesn’t realize how long she’s been working.

Favorite song ever? She’ll say something everyone else says: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. It is a good song, but it’s not a favorite song ever, because in reality it’s something old, specifically, Stand By Me by Ben E. King. She doesn’t like admitting this to other people for fear of being called a sappy romantic.

She is, in fact, a sappy romantic, and Warren doesn’t miss the chance to taunt her about it. The bedside table full of romance books that he's tried to read, but for the love of everything good he cannot sit still and read.

What he doesn't mind doing, however, is sit still to watch another invest in her books with focused, determined brows, and the occasional squealing after reaching a certain point in the book.

He's got her memorized so well, even Y/N's surprised that the things and habits she's kept to herself, he notices like she leaves it out in the open under the sun.

At the thought, she rests her head on his shoulder with a proud grin. And Warren responds with a peck at the top of her head.

While listening to an ecstatic Eddie share a story, something against Y/N’s lower back began to grow.

She holds in every fiber in her body to refrain them from giggling.

“Shame on you.” She sarcastically spat in his ear.

He frowns down at her. “Huh?”

Y/N widens her eyes and makes a pointed glare down to his erection.

There was a short reaction of shock. “Shame me? Shame on you.” Warren took note of this. It’s happened way too many times now, and he’s lost awareness of what turns him on. “Thanks to you, I don’t have control over my body functions anymore.”

“I didn’t do anything!” She whisper shouted.

“You’re just way too hot and good,” he groaned. “I can't wait to get home."

Y/N sighed into his shoulder helplessly. Home. Their condo, together.

“I love the way you smell,” he whispered, as he always does whenever near her. But no matter how many times he’s sniffed her or said that, he still doesn’t know exactly what she smells like. He figured it was sweet, of course, but it didn’t shoot up his nose too strongly. It wasn’t fruity either, or so he figured she's just her own scent. Natural.

"Thanks." She smiled up at him. "It’s the French brand. It lasts longer on me.”

"No, I think it's just you."

She looks up at him through furrowed eyebrows. "Nobody can just smell nice naturally."

He shrugs. "Well, I dunno what smell it is." He twirls her hair. “It can’t be on a title of a perfume brand.”

She shook his chin playfully. “Pay attention to the conversation, playboy.”

He can’t. How could he?

It’s only been a month, but a month of what Warren already knew was pure and genuine. Y/N could do no wrong to him, and vice versa. They were good for each other.

The soft, buttery gliding up and down on his arm is what Warren can determine with his eyes closed; the softness of Y/N's fingers. The arm wresting on her chest as she leans on his front—it was only natural for Y/N to caress.

And as a response, another peck to her head.

•─────⋅(cut to the documentary)⋅─────•

Daisy: I’ve never been a fashion fanatic, but Y/N’s work spoke to me. She was a true artist, y’know? She knew what she was doing, and she is really fucking good at it. She didn’t just throw it a bunch of cloth and called it a day, the woman directed her creativity to the art every single time. And I recognized that.

Imagine my surprise when I see her at a house party I was also invited to.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

Daisy arrives at the Dunnes’ place, already making a fool of herself by absentmindedly dropping the bottle of wine that she technically stole, but still.

Not to mention, she had an audience, their faces were clouded by the smoke she just blew out, and not to mention, it was dark.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” In her voice, Daisy can tell she spoke with a smile. “They have too much fun, they’ll need the fruit. Nutritional values.”

She emerged from the shadows with, indeed, a smile that warms the heart. But a recognizable face that she’s seen on televised interviews and small pictures of beside the designs she eyes enviously on the magazines.

“Holy shit...holy shit!” Her hands went up to the sides of her head. “Holy fucking shit! Hi! Oh my goodness...”

“Daisy Jones you’ve been in radios in everywhere I’ve been today,” she chuckled humbly. “I can ensure you I’m a bigger fan.”

“I’ve seen you in magazines for a lot longer. “ She shook her head in disbelief. “I love you so much.”

But before Y/N escorts her to the rest of the band, she pulls her into a hug.

•─────⋅(cut to the documentary)⋅─────•

Daisy: I’m not much of a hugger. I think, especially considering my relationship with my mother, I couldn’t handle physical touch. Most times I would just be forced into hugging people and I stand there, just like a stiff tree. But something about Y/N, even though I’d never met her before, made me feel so glad that I’m a person she would hug.

I felt really appreciated by this stranger.

While we spent most of the night talking us a group, eventually everyone else started to branch out and talk to others. Warren was clung to her like a lost puppy. God, *shaking her head* never thought a guy like Warren can be sappy.

They just started dating and I could already see the connection between them. They mutually understood each other on such a level that everyone else around them can just do theirselves a favor and leave them alone.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“My family might visit for the summer,” Y/N smiles against her hand. “I can’t wait. Lils and Hana and Ines are gonna try and talk to you. They’re English is so broken, it’s adorable.”

Warren smiles at her, even as he’s drunkly chugging at his drink. “You ever think about kids? I dunno, someday?” He panicked.

“Yeah. I think about kids.” Y/N vaguely answered to tease him.

He nods slowly. “Ye-Yeah. Me too.”

Y/N smiles innocently, scratching his headful of curls. “Want my kids?”

Warren gave her the deepest kiss as an answer.

taglist (aka beautiful people): @pinkdaiisies @mlwriting5 @teletubbysteroids @linatells @stanzie @arsonkween @rexorangecouny @lisbeth122605 @cultsanrio @thatoneawesomechicka @magicalmiserybore @sourholland @sunfairyy. @lilyhw1 @viridianflowers @goldenjasssy @eonnyx @coldlamaspersonspy @navs-bhat @nicostars @darkestcinema @gr4cel4nd2

#daisy jones #daisy jones and the six #djats #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #warren rhodes x you #warren rojas #warren rojas x reader #warren rojas x y/n #warren rojas x you #warren rojas fic #warren rhodes fic

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autisticlancemcclain · 6 months

Text

thank u @zenstrike for the tag <333333333 i see ur mic and i'm elated about it

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

185! but i haven't updated in like a week and a half so we're probably closer to 190

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

556,104. i am very excited to watch it jump up when i finally finish my longfic teehee

3. what fandoms do you write for?

literally just voltron lol. well not counting baby me's wattpad lol. i started writing almost two years ago and just went ham basically. i've been intentionally avoiding things that i know i will get hyperfixated on bc i don't want to stop my writing obsession lol

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

ooooou i'm excited to check. i know it's changed quite a bit over time. i usually sort them by hits!

i will grind you to sand (beneath my louboutin heels) [voltron, 2573 words]: bamf lance fic where i give him a revolver and let him go ham basically

mr. snuggles [voltron, 1656 words]: one of my very earliest fics! lance, lover of weirdo animals, finds a demonic cat-sized spider and adopts it despite his friend's freakouts

he might not look like he gets bitches (but honey that dick was eleven inches) [voltron, 1136 words]: this one is so dorky lol but it's just secret relationship klance coming to light in the most embarrassing possible way

does anyone know where the love of god goes (when the waves turn the minutes to hours) [voltron, 4283]: a canon divergence au where lance is a seer and convinces the skeptics on his team of his abilities by ending the war

this is the part of me that you're never gonna ever get away) [voltron, 3262 words]: a lance & shiro hurt/comfort with a small autistic lance character study! i'm very proud of this one

5. do you respond to comments?

i definitely do on tumblr! it's one of the first things i do when i wake up actually. on ao3, though...i'm pretty sure i have about eight hundred unanswered comments sitting in my inbox 💀 it's an ongoing issue

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm almost sure it's this post-game show lance leaving fic, because i got comments and asks for weeks begging me to write a happy ending lol. but this fic from the hana universe, from when keith is little and shiro is fighting for custody and they haven't figured things out yet. that one is sad. this dream pov adashi fic is also sad and has no happy ending bc, you know. shiro is in space and adam thinks he's dead and everything. my loneliest series is also still in progress and as such there is no happy ending. and this is my earliest angsty-ending fic with MCD

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh god pretty much everything i write has a happy ending?? if i’m being serious?? frankly i don’t do a lot of linear plot. i just write Scenes that are vaguely connected. BUT my h2o fic had a plot that ended happily, as did my cowboy fic, but truly i’m more of a slice of life kinda gal. all my active wips are plot-driven, though, and i plan for all of them to end happily.

8. do you get hate on fics?

oh god yeah. i get it on brown eyed lance, autistic lance, adhd keith, allura just in general (are you sensing a pattern), my refusal to use readmores, and lately just some demands for me to write differently/more?? most of it is just funny so i post it to goof on it lol, but some of it i just delete and pout about until i forget about it 💀

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

yes and it’s nasty and i will literally never ever post it. although i guess i’ve written some softer stuff that’s more allusion than anything, like in my loneliest series.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

not anymore, but i did when i was a kid?? i think i wrote a pjo/hoo/divergent/the mortal instruments/homestuck/a bunch of other shit fic when i was 13. i’ve successfully blocked that era out of my mind tho so i’m not sure. i do a lot of insane aus, tho. i wrote a fic based off a country song written in the sixties. so.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

i’ve had people write continuations of my wips?? which i didn’t rly like. i just ignored it.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

someone has asked me about translating a fic before! haven’t heard anything since tho.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have tried. i’m not very good at it. i have very Specific ideas about things and can be very controlling, so it’s honestly better that i don’t lol.

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

klance, easy. been in the trenches of this goddamn fandom since i was 13 years of age. it’s been a Journey.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

god, the butterfly effect. i get people asking me to update all the time and i genuinely feel bad, because i have absolutely no ideas or plans for it. i might try to come up with an ending of some kind?? but i wrote that like two years ago, so i have changed a LOT about my writing since then.

16. what are your writing strengths?

dialogue and humour, i think. and sometimes writing lack of emotional communication (if that makes sense — i like to try and write around an emotion).

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i over explain a lot. and i overuse dialog ur tags sometimes. i have a Very Specific scene playing out in my head and i want everyone else to see it like i’m seeing it, which is my downfall a lot. i’ve been trying to work on implicit stage directions.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i think sometimes it’s necessary? it can be a good tool for humour, like with cussing that can’t be achieved in english. but while i understand and read several languages i have always always struggled to speak or write in them. it’s very frustrating so i often avoid the subject entirely lol.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

i’ve been writing fanfic in my head since before i knew what it was, but i started typing things at around 11 when i used to homestuck roleplay with my friends lol. messy messy times.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written?

oh i am my own target audience. i have several.

i need a man (who’s patient and kind): keith-centric post canon (divergence) fic where lance takes him to his family and keith is good with kids and just keith being loved is the whole point. always.

what if i lose it all: an alternate universe where lance, as a baby, loses both his parents, and then is raised by his oldest siblings. in luis’ pov.

when does a ripple become a tidal wave (when does the reason become the flame): brogane fight & angst canon divergence post season 6; covering shiro’s guilt complex and keith’s unwavering loyalty

he’s into superstitions (black cats and voodoo dolls): halloween verse with witch lance and vampire keith! i have barely spoken about this au on here but rest assured i’m thinking about it all the fucking time

the applebee’s universe: modern au with young keith and lance learning how to love each other

ceilings (plaster): non-linear dream-like fic that’s just so trippy and strange i’m obsessed with it

if the sky comes falling down (for you) there’s nothing in this world i wouldn’t do: a keith character study about how the biggest bleeding heart in the universe loves

the hana universe: brogane-centric universe as their family starts rocky and grows

thank u again for the tag zen <33 open offer for anyone else who would like to hop on!!

#writer games #?#info #tag game #longpost

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black-is-beautiful18 · 1 year

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The Unexpected Ch2- Explanations and Surprise Visits

K’uk’ulkan x Black reader

A/N: As promised here is part 2 of The Unexpected ❤️❤️❤️

———————————————-

Returning to the palace caused my nervousness to return in full force. This was supposed to be a simple meeting. Get updates, or even requests, and relay them to Shuri, M’Baku, and the council. Not…this. How do I even explain this when it came out of thin air? Or when he’s who he is?

I walk into the lab to see that Shuri is definitely still here. Some interns linger around doing different projects, but other than that the lab is actually quite empty. I’d prefer to tell her in private but this is better than nothing. Taking a deep breath I walk over to her table and sit down.

“How did it go?” She doesn’t look up and I roll my eyes.

“Alright I suppose.”

She glances up at me but continues working.” You suppose? Where’s Aneka and Nia?” I shrug.” I told them I could take it from here.” That makes her stop and straighten up.

“Y/N.”

“Shuri.”

I give her an innocent smile as she gives me an unimpressed look. Alright, maybe lying to someone who you’ve grown up with and who can definitely tell when you’re lying or hiding something isn’t the smartest thing.

“You did meet with Namor, yes?”

“Yes, I did. Very interesting person when he’s not on a rampage or trying to kill anyone. He also gave me this.” I mutter placing the conch shell the god-king gave me on the table and clearly she is just noticing it.

Shuri looks at it for a moment before asking the interns and scientists that remain to give us some privacy. I wish someone would make an objection. Say that they can’t leave without finishing some theory or important project, but it never happens. All they say is ‘Yes princess’ before filing out of the lab leaving us alone.

“Usisi omncinci...” I wince and sigh.

“You’re going to get upset and I don’t like seeing you upset.” I murmur, refusing to meet her eye.

She comes to my side of the table and sits across from me turning my chair so that I’m facing her. Her face is serious yet encouraging. However, I can see the wary look in her eye. She’s not going to like this.

“He was…fine. Considering everything that’s happened. Charming even, but he had the strangest request.” Looking away from her I try to think of the best way to say this. Shuri is being very patient though and that helps a little. Best to just get it out.

I take her hands in mine. “ Apparently he knows about my abilities, finds me interesting, and wishes to court me.”

Shuri says nothing and I look at her cautiously. She wears no expression and I know I have to keep going.

“I didn’t give him an answer, I mean of course I didn’t. I just met him today. He has given me a week to consider things, but something tells me that he’s going to be persistent.”

Pulling away from me, Shuri stands.” I forbid it.”

“Shuri. Listen to me-“

“No. As your older sister I will not allow it.” She’s practically shaking with anger and I frown.” You’re only 3 months older than me, Shuri. I know how this sounds and believe me, I’m most likely going to say no. However, K’uk’ulkan said some things that have me thinking.”

Shuri says nothing and I keep talking before she can say something else.

“There are doubts. Some of them are the same ones that came to be when he first appeared. Others are birthed from his actions. All are valid, but if this alliance is going to work then we must have trust. We must believe in each other.” I pick up the shell and turn it in my hands, feeling how smooth it is.” There is far too much tension right now, and I fear that should you, or the elders, have some sort of disagreement with him then this whole thing will go up in flames. We cannot risk that happening.”

“You said you were going to say no.”

“I said most likely. I have a week to decide and I’m not going to speak prematurely.”

This clearly does nothing to reassure Shuri or even calm her down but she now wears that face she makes when she doesn’t like what she hears but knows it to be the truth. That gives me hope.

“You don’t have to be happy about this. I doubt anyone is going to be happy about it, but remember that at the moment it is simply a proposal. An idea. My decision comes at the end of the week.”

Exasperated, Shuri throws her hands in the air. “It’s archaic, Y/N! Who marries to form alliances anymore?!

“Do you have another option? I know I don’t.”

We know what the god-king of Talokan wants. He wants the knowledge of his kingdom and people to be kept secret. Protection and aid from Wakanda should they need it was also negotiated. Tensions are still too high though. Of course they would after Wakanda being flooded, but maybe this could be a good distraction for everyone. At least momentarily…

“This is ridiculous. We can look for alternatives. Treaties.” Shuri suggests as she puts on her necklace.

“Treaties are nice, but they are just as easy to break.”

Shuri pauses and raises an eyebrow. “You sound like you want to marry him.”

My eyes widen and I scoff.” Shuri! I-I’m being realistic!”

“Mhm. Let’s just go before the elders send the Dora after us. Or M’Baku comes himself.”

She grimaces and I laugh glad for the opportunity to change the subject.

“You still don’t want him in your lab?”

We make our way out of the lab and she chuckles.” Absolutely not. He’s still not used to technology and I don’t need him knocking anything over with his Jabari might.”

“Well don’t be too hard on him. I will make you apologize.”

With a roll of her eyes Shuri pulls me close and I simply smile. This isn’t going to be easy but I know regardless of my decision she will be the one I can count on the most.

————————

To say that the elders were shocked is an understatement. Once the meeting began and the news was broken to the council all hell broke loose. Everyone was shouting over each other and continued to do so even after M’Baku called for order. It took Ayo and the Dora to get control of the situation fully.

“First he comes here unannounced, demands we take his side, floods Wakanda, and kills our queen! You mean to tell me he now wants a bride?!” The elder of the Mining tribe, Zawavari, demands having yet to take her seat.

“What right does he have to ask for such a thing?” That comes from Amahle, the Merchant tribe elder. While she does have a point, things such as this are delicate and should be handled that way.

Shuri steps forward knowing her sister would rather hide away in her room than be under scrutiny of the elders.

“He does have the right to make requests and suggestions. Personally, I don’t agree with it, but I don’t think we have much of a say in the matter either. We’ve seen what he is capable of when he doesn’t get what he wants.” She looks to Y/N. “The best we can do is offer our support.”

That silences everyone. Namor has definitely made a lasting impression on those here.

Stepping forward, Y/N clears her throat.

“This is very sudden. Believe me, I know. Right now I’m not set on accepting his offer, but he has given me a week to come up with an answer..” I look around the room.” And you are right. I have no titles nor am I a princess. That isn’t why he has chosen me.” Taking a deep breath, Y/N mentally gives herself a pep talk.” I’m sure most of you have heard of my…interesting story, and the rumors. How I was found floating in a basket in the river and that my birth mother was a water spirit…”

“Yes. When I went to meet with Namor he said that he saw me when I was rescuing those who were pulled into the water. That is what has drawn his attention.”

There is more silence and Y/N shifts uncomfortably. Shuri squeezes her arm gently and Y/N sends her a grateful smile. She knows everyone is simply processing this and while Shuri doesn’t exactly believe in anything she can’t see or explain…She’s always been very supportive of her sister/bestie and helping her experiment with her powers.

It’s M’Baku who speaks next. His words finalizing what the young woman already knew.

“Well…We can do nothing except wait for your decision. Having such a union would be beneficial to this alliance, make it stronger, but you will not be forced to do anything that you do not wish to do.”

There are nods and murmurs around the room but Y/N could care less. Getting that over with takes a weight off her shoulders.

———————

After the meeting, which had gone longer than anyone really wanted, Y/N goes to her room. She asked Shuri if she’d like to accompany her but she insisted on returning to her lab to put some finishing touches on her suit.

Y/N reaches her room, promptly kicking her shoes off and sighing.” Thank Bast. Freedom.” She walks to the bathroom quickly taking a shower and getting dressed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts. She also makes sure to wash her face and brush her teeth. In her hurry to relax and have some alone time , she doesn’t notice that the doors to the balcony are wide open. Nor does she hear the faint sound of wings over running water.

Feeling refreshed, Y/N enters her room tying her braids back with a silk scarf. She’s so focused on her current task that when she finally does spot the intruder in her room all she can do is stare. In all his glory, and in the middle of her bedroom, stands the king of Talocan holding a box.

“Ufanele ukuba udlala ngam…” She mutters as her jaw drops.

“Hello, in eek'e.” He gives a charming smile that has Y/N’s heart pounding in her chest. There he goes again. Calling her his star…

“K’uk’ulkan…What are you doing here?”

Internally, she winces. She definitely didn’t mean for it to sound rude, she can also hear Queen Mother in the back of her mind scolding her, but judging from the way the god-king pays the question no mind he clearly isn’t offended. Instead, he walks over to her, taking her hand and kissing it gently.

“I come bearing gifts.” His voice is low, sending vibrations through her hand that tickle. His beard doesn’t make it any better. Holding back a squeal, the young woman nods slowly.” That is deeply appreciated my lord, but I haven’t accepted your offer. The week has only just started. If you’re trying to bribe me…”

Raising an eyebrow, the king of the underwater realm laughs. He finds the slight pout on her lips and the furrow of her brow to be quite cute and endearing.

“I assure you, this is no bribe diosa.”

Well by now curiosity has completely taken hold of Y/N. She allows him to lead her to the lounge chair across from her bed. As they sit, K’uk’ulkan makes sure to give Y/N some space so that she’s comfortable and so that they have room to face each other. He finds himself looking over her in awe. She is beautiful even in this…simple attire, but he will have to bring her dresses from Talokan. Reds, blues, and yellows…They’d all look stunning on, and off, her. That will have to wait though. Right now the god-king plans on easing her into this.

Y/N is patient but he’s looking at her as if he wants to worship her and devour her at the same time. Feeling her face growing hot, she clears her throat and squirms slightly.

“What is it that you’ve brought me?” Her voice is soft as she motions to the box in his hands.

As he lifts it, the box shines in the light of the room. It’s made of vibranium and carved with beautiful designs. What catches her eye though as a depiction of a woman with a snake on her head kneeling beneath the moon.

“I had this made after the first time I saw you.”

Her eyes meet his in surprise for a moment before looking back down at the box as he opens it revealing a choker made of golden cowrie shells.

“Oh! How beautiful.” Y/N smiles up at K’uk’ulkan moving closer to him.” This must’ve taken some time to make…Can you help me put it on?” She turns around moving her braids to the side to reveal her neck. Happily moving closer, K’uk’ulkan removes the choker from the box and unclasps it before leaning in close and placing it on her neck. With him so close it’s impossible not to take in his scent. He smells of a fresh ocean breeze which is one of Y/N’s favorite smells. It’s so comforting…

The feeling of a pair of lips on her shoulder startles her but an arm wraps around her waist pulling her back into the broad chest of the king of Talocan.

“Relax.”

Sitting like this, Y/N can feel the vibrations from his chest against her back. Not to mention that his voice has taken on a huskier tone that sends chills down her spine. Staying like this is very tempting and it wouldn’t be a terrible thing as long as they both behaved. That option quickly goes out the window though.

Another kiss is placed on her shoulder and Y/N is close to just taking her shirt so that she can feel the king’s lips everywhere. Something catches her eye though.

“Hey. Your ankle…”

Of course she knows of his battle with Shuri and how she managed to cut off one of his wings. She didn’t think it was like this though. Sitting up and turning to face him she pats his leg lightly.

“Can I see?”

The king narrows his eyes for a moment before lifting his leg allowing Y/N to put it in her lap. Gingerly, she shifts his leg getting a closer look at the wing. There’s nothing left except for a little nub. The skin around the area is a little red but thankfully not swollen. It was cut cleanly too, so it shouldn’t have any trouble growing back. She stands putting his leg down carefully.

“I’ll be right back.”

And with that she’s rushing off to the bathroom gaining a curious look from her guest. What was she up to? Her mind certainly wanders. He’ll have to find a way to keep her focused next time. She soon comes back with a bowel filled with warm water and a towel draped over her arm. Kneeling in front of the god-king, Y/N places the towel over knee and takes his leg once more before taking the bowl and slowly pouring the water over his ankle.

“Buyisela into ethathiweyo.” She whispers the water taking on a soft glow as it pours over the injured wing. A comforting warmth fills his ankle and the feathered serpent is in awe. He stays quiet not wanting to interrupt her…ritual but this only makes him want her more. When the water is all gone she gently dabs at his ankle with the towel humming softly.

“What did you do?”

Looking up at him, Y/N smiles.” That’s for me to know and for you to find out. Your ankle will heal just fine though.”

As she stands there’s a knock at the door that startles her.

“Y/N? I have mango slices.”

Shuri.

“Shit. She actually came up early.” Y/N mutters in surprise as she quickly puts the bowl back in the bathroom and throws the towel in the clothes basket. When she comes back the doors to the balcony are closed and K’uk’ulkan is gone. A fact that disappoints her but that feeling soon disappears when Shuri peeks her head inside the room.

“Everything ok in here?”

“Sorry about that. I was in the bathroom.”

Smiling, Shuri comes into the room with a big bowl of mango slices that makes Y/N laugh. Mango slices have always been a favorite of theirs.

“Where’d you get that?” Shuri moves closer to her looking at the choker.

Damn it. She forgot to take it off.

“Oh I got it from the market. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Taking the bowl from her sister, Y/N climbs into bed and pats the spot next to her before taking off the choker and placing it on her nightstand.

“It’s lovely. The colors match wonderfully with your skin.”

She takes a slice of mango and promptly lays on Y/N who sputters before flicking her in the forehead. Shuri tries to retaliate but with the bowl in the way it’s a bit hard so she opts for sticking her tongue out instead. This is how the rest of the night goes. Teasing each other and watching American movies. Just like old times.

That doesn’t stop Y/N’s mind from wandering. K’uk’ulkan’s wing should be healed by morning at the latest. She doesn’t use magic often but that was worth it. She still isn’t sure about courting or marriage, but she does know that she wants him to trust her. He’s done wrong but at least she’ll have backup no matter what her decision is.

Bast!

How could she forget?

Courting or not, there’s one person who could either make or break whatever is going on between her and K’uk’ulkan…

Her mother.

——————————

Translations: Xhosa:

Usisi omncinci- little sister

Ufanele ukuba udlala ngam- you’ve got to be kidding me

Buyisela into ethathiweyo- give back what has been taken

Yucatec Mayan:

In Eek'e'- my star

Diosa- goddess

———————————

@lunamoonbby , @artaxerxesthegreat , @alexa-33 , @queenshikongo3 , @ant1r3al1ty , @lostpirateinwonderland , @nunya7394 , @louderfortheback, @danika1994, @weepingwitchofthewest , @chaimantis , @jurneesjourney, @stars8melanin, @prettyvintageafternoon

#I forgot the tags 🧍🏾‍♀️#k’uk’ulkan x reader #black!reader #namor x reader #namor the sub mariner #namor x black reader #k’uk’ulkan x black reader #wakanda forever fanfic #plus size reader #black plus size reader #the unexpected #unique writes

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3am-starry-night-sky · 2 years

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What we can take away from the Hidden Strifes event: Diluc and his current relationship with Kaeya

I have too many ideas and new theories filling my mind, so I’ll be making several separate posts. Many things have already been mentioned by others, so I’ll be going over those things briefly or maybe even not at all.

Ok, let’s start with the new info we have regarding Diluc and the series of events that followed his father’s death.

Diluc did not leave right away. And it was actually Alice who gave him the idea, and from the wording of both of their letter, it didn’t seem to be so much about going on a killing spree, but more about getting away and finding himself (being lost due to the recent events) and along with that also the truth. Also, Kaeya somewhat helped him with it, keeping Jean and Varka from stopping Diluc and giving him a tip on how to leave.

(A part from Alice’s letter)

(A part from Kaeya’s letter) The way He worded the last part, makes it seem like Kaeya himself has thought about doing something similar.

Not so much about Diluc, but we learn that Kaeya kept Diluc updated about the Eroch situation, even though the other hasn’t been shown to have replied or requested the info. You know the “You don’t have to reply” Also that the whole Eroch process took quite the effort from the Knights and probably also time.

EDIT: I also want to add that Kaeya might be aware or at leas have suspicions of Diluc working with a secret organization. Or those “businessmen” were from the fatui. But I’m more leaning on the first.

Diluc isn’t so much against the Knights of Favonius, but due to their different approaches and differences in philosophy, he prefers steering clear of them, unless cooperation is necessary. Also, we can not forget that Diluc still holds a grudge towards the knights actions following his father’s death.

Lastly, it becomes even more clear that Diluc’s character is built on justice and righteousness. And also that he’s someone who thinks about the present and future more than the past. Basically, someone who strides towards the better future, rather than sulking in the past. But interestingly it seems like he also takes a lot after what he has experienced in the past, sort of gets stuck in his feelings and doesn’t forgive so easily.

(This is opposite to Kaeya, someone who lingers on the past and holds onto mementoes from everything he can, but yet is quick to forgive and put aside his own feelings. He feels hesitant about the future and prefers not to think about it, rather enjoying what he can in the present)

(I might make a separate post about talking about How Kaeya and Diluc are both parallels and opposites to each other)

Now to unpacking Diluc’s and Kaeya’s relationship:

The most important thing we can take away from this event, is that the two have been exchanging letters over the years. Kaeya took the initiative almost immediatly, and even though Diluc was at first resistant, he eventually started sending in replies.

(I’d like to add, that these reveals are very important. I personally feel that they have made not only both Kaeya’s and Diluc’s characters feel more fleshed out but also their relationship and the string of events more clearer and civil. Basically, it feels much more realistic now. And I’ve certainly felt my perception of the two shift a little)

It seems like their relationship isn’t as bad as some thought, but at the same time it seems like it’s still not as good as some hoped for. I’d say they have found some common ground and are at least on speaking terms. And interestingly you can feel the tone of the letters get better over the years.

Talking about the tone of the letter. It seems still a bit cold/resistant and there are some jabs at each other here and there, but overall it does seem better than how they communicate in real life. I think an interesting thing to note when comparing the letters to the others, is that while the tone of the other letters reflect more respect and warmth, it’s partially because the letters sent to Albedo, Alice Jean and Varka have been written in a rather polite manner. In an opposing way writings exchanged between Kaeya and Diluc are much more casual (Kaeya’s more than Diluc’s, but still).

Maybe I’m looking too much into this, but this line right here, is one of the jabs that actually also seems to have some compassion in it. It seems to be sending a message “Why don’t you worry about yourself instead, I know you act similarly/you aren’t any better, so please do take of yourself too”

Overall it feels like they both have moved past their initial conflict, but there still seems to be a rock between them that makes it awkward.

It seems like Kaeya holds no grudge towards Diluc and his actions and instead takes the blame himself (While they both certainly hold some blame, it feels a bit unhealthy to forgive everyone who hurts you, but you do you, honey). It does feel very Kaeya-like to look at both sides of the conflict and not lable people as good-and-bad or hero-and-villain (Given that Kaeya himself stands between a conflict, having seen both sides, and I’d say that that experience is the base of Kaeya’s character and his actions, but that’s an entirely new topic I might post about one day)

There’s no backup to this claim (at least not one I can think of right now), but I’d say (and I’ve seen others theorize this), that perhaps Diluc seems hesitant towards Kaeya, because he sees his actions as a wrongdoing, a misguided justice, a violation of his own philosophies and while he has tried to learn from that, he still (depending on whether he knows or not about kaeya never having blamed him) doesn’t see himself as worthy of forgiveness. As “I should uphold myself to same standards as I do others” (So If I can’t forgive others why should others forgive me). And thus keeping a bit of distance from Kaeya, at elast emotionally.

(Or It’s Kaeya who can’t accept that Diluc has changed, and is thus approaching the matter from the wrong angle. Always referencing things from the past, perhaps thinking it will bring back the old Diluc.)

Lastly, I’d say that we got even more proof about how much the two work together behind the scene. At this point, Kaeya might as well be sponsoring Diluc’s whole Darknight-hero affair.

And the fact that Kaeya immedaitly figured out that Diluc was the Darknight-hero (though let’s be honest, it’s not that hard) and that similarly Diluc figured out that Kaeya wasn’t blinded, shows that despite both having changed and their relationship not being what it used to, they still know each other better than they’d like to admit.

PS: Sorry if the post is a bit all over the place and long. My thoughts themselves have been all over the place after the reveals. Plus, I’m not best at putting my thoughts to words sometimes, well actually most of the time.

#genshin #kaeya #diluc #ragbros #hidden strifes #spoilers #a lot of stuff already #but I might add mroe stuff #I sometimes feel bad for only talking and theorizing about these two #wow why did this take an entire day to post #also 16 tabs open

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year

Text

Birmingham | Tommy Shelby x Reader (Part 11)

Previous Part

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy's the one who's finally able to coax (Y/N) out of her apartment. She returns to the Garrison, where Tommy enlists her to get a message to Ada who is, not surprisingly, at odds with her family again.

Warnings: smoking

Word Count: 4153

A/N: I’m sorry it took a little bit, but we’re back!! I hope you’re still excited to go on this journey with me. I know that this gif isn’t from season 1, but I felt that it fit the chapter nicely. Also, updates will be happening every other weekend from here out. Please let me know what you think! Enjoy! :)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

-ONE MONTH LATER-

An incessant knocking finally roused (Y/N) from her spot on the couch. Usually the knocking would end after a few tries, but this person just wouldn't stop. She took a deep breath and grabbed the handle, taking a moment to prepare herself before she turned it and opened the door. "Hi..." was all the person was able to get out before she was shutting the door in their face, "(Y/N), wait."

"I should've known it'd be you," she sighed as Tommy's arm effectively got her to stop shutting the door. Accepting her defeat, she opened the door all the way and dropped her hand from the knob, showing him that she wouldn't be shutting him out again. "What are you doing here?" she asked then.

"It's been a while, (Y/N)," he started off by pointing out the obvious.

"It has," she was quick to agree because, once again, it was obvious.

Tommy took a moment to look her over. Another thing that was obvious was the fact that she hasn't been caring much about appearances. Her outfit wasn't as put together as it normally was, and her hair, which was usually pinned back in some sort of intricate matter, was left hanging down around her face. From what he could see behind her, her apartment looked to also be rather unkept. This past month had most definitely taken a toll on her, and he felt like an ass because he hadn't been around to help her when she needed it most.

"Your landlord gave me these. She said that they were piling up in her office," he said then as he brought a handful of envelopes up to show her.

"Thank you," (Y/N) responded, taking the letters from him. She looked down at them for a moment before looking up at Tommy again. "Anything else?" she asked him, more than ready to go back into solitude.

"Yeah, uh..." he trailed off, clearing his throat as she looked at him expectantly, "I think you should come back, (Y/N)."

"Oh you do?" she asked him with raised eyebrows, wanting to jump on him for thinking that he had any say on the timeline that she should be following. He didn't know what she was going through...he couldn't be the decider of when everything went back to normal. The pain of losing Matthew wasn't as apparent now as it had been a few weeks ago - it just seemed to be dull now, but every little thing was still proving to be a challenge for her to do. At this point, she felt like she didn't have the energy to deal with the outside world.

"Yeah," he doubled down on his statement.

"So you're deciding when I stop hurting now?"

"No. That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Tommy sighed as he heard the defensive tone stark in her words. He should have thought about what he'd say before he said it. She was right...he couldn't be the one deciding when she came back to work; to society. "What I meant by saying that was that sometimes the best way to get through the pain is to shut the door on it. To make yourself busy enough to the point that there's no space for it in your mind."

"Like you do?" she raised her eyebrows at him, her words making his eyes narrow. He now looked at her like he was surprised that she knew this about him. And she let him know that that was exactly the case. "I've talked with Polly and Ada...they've told me how you just threw yourself into business after the war was over; how you refused to talk about it to anyone."

"The war was different," he said in a dismissing tone.

"Different, maybe...but you of all people should understand why I'm doing what I'm doing. This..." she paused, motioning to her apartment for emphasis, "is my way of shutting the door on it."

"You should be around others...be around people who have dealt with loss like this," he tried another avenue. He didn't quite know if what he was saying was making sense, but he didn't want to see her shut herself off any longer.

"I don't know, Tommy..." she trailed off, a sigh slipping from her lips, "I don't know if I can do it," she admitted to him, her hurt finally seeping through her features.

Silence fell around them then. For once in his life, Tommy didn't know what to say. He knew how (Y/N) thought...he knew that him saying 'you can do it' would fall on deaf ears and most likely be met with push back. He didn't know if she could. He didn't know what she was going through. Sure he'd been in her spot; losing many people in his past. But she was allowed to go through it in her own way, and he wasn't in any place to tell her when she was to forget about it and return to her regularly scheduled programming.

"I'll come back," (Y/N) broke the silence moments later.

Her voice was soft, but Tommy heard her. He couldn't stop his eyes from widening as what she said processed in his mind. He didn't expect her to say that she'd come back. "You will?" he checked, wanting to make sure that this was her own decision.

"Yeah," she nodded her head, "I'll come back to the Garrison tomorrow."

"Ok," he nodded as well, "I'll have someone come to pick you up and make sure that you get there."

"I'll be fine on my own," she turned down his offer, unable to stop the pang of sadness that she felt at the mention of someone doing the job that was once delegated to Matthew.

"Ok," he repeated what he'd just said, knowing better than to push her on it. Despite his desire to make sure that she was safe, he knew she could hold her own.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked him, using her question as a way to see if he wanted to say anything else to her.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he nodded in agreement, clearing his throat as he dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Ok. Bye, Tommy," she said, offering him the slightest smile as she spoke. He was lucky that he looked up when he heard her voice, otherwise he would have missed it.

"Bye, (Y/N)," he echoed her farewell, nodding to her as she then shut the door between them.

After taking a deep breath, she focused her attention on the envelopes in her hand. The first in the stack caught her attention, so she made her way over to the table and sat at one of the chairs. The return address glared at her for a few moments before she took another deep breath and broke the seal on it.

(Y/N),

I do not know how to express what I need to to you. I am deeply sorry for what occurred when you came to Sheffield. I was unaware of what had been planned, and that you would be coming to visit. Your brothers must have intercepted our letters and sent one of their own. I do not know this for sure because I have not spoken to them since the events of that day. I refuse to do so if this is to be true. Their intentions were heinous and not in line with what my family and its name has stood for.

I was happy to see you though. Your visit has only made me miss you more. I wish things within this family would be different. Your grandfather would be so disappointed to see what has become of his name.

I understand if you don't respond, but just know that I love you with all of my heart.

Mum

After reading over the letter a second time, (Y/N) folded with the letter a sigh and reached up to swipe the tears away before they could fall from her eyes. She should have known that this was the case. Her brothers were most certainly not above using the lesser members in the family for their gain. That's one of the main reasons why (Y/N) had left Sheffield. She didn't want to get tangled up in their schemes anymore.

Deciding to take her mind off of this new news, (Y/N) stood from the dining table and moved back to the chair that she'd been sitting on. She picked the book she was reading up again and attempted to fall back into the fictional world within it. But as she read, the internal war on whether or not to write back to her mother was happening in the back of her brain. Hopefully time would reveal the correct answer to her.

——

(Y/N) arrived at the Garrison at least fifteen minutes ahead of the time she was to start her shift. As she was walking through the front doors, Tommy was exiting the snug. The two's paths crossed almost perfectly, making them stop before they could get to their destinations.

The slightest smile appeared on Tommy's face as he looked over at her. "I'm happy that you're back, love. Are you ok?" he asked her, an expectant look on his face as he awaited her answer.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," she answered him with a slight nod, a small smile forming on her face.

"I'll let you get to work. I'm sure there's something Harry could use you for," he told her, nodding his head in the direction of the barman as he spoke.

(Y/N) nodded again before she continued on her way to the bar. Tommy let her walk past before he went to the doors to exit the tavern. He stopped before he could walk through them though, and he turned around to look back at the bar. Harry's eyes lit up when he registered who it was that was approaching him. "(Y/N)! So nice to see you back!" he greeted her with a large grin.

"Thanks, Harry," (Y/N) responded, her small smile still present. She didn't think that this was such a big deal, but yet she was happy to be received by her co-worker/one of her bosses so well after being gone for an extended period of time. "Me bein' back's really nothing special though. Where do you need me?" she asked, hoping to get into her duties for the day.

"Course it's special. It's been different around here without you," Harry dismissed her statement, "besides, it must be something if it's gotten Tommy to stick around," he added, nodding his head towards the door. (Y/N) turned around at the motion and saw that Tommy was still standing in the doorway, watching the interaction that was happening at the bar. When her eyes fell onto him, he nodded once before he finally exited the building, walking out backwards with his eyes hooked onto hers.

"Where do you need me?" (Y/N) asked as she turned around again, hoping that her neutral expression was doing enough to mask how she was actually feeling at that moment.

"There's some boxes that need unpacking in the back room. It'll be useful for that to get finished," he told her and she nodded, making her way around the bar so that she could go to the backroom.

On her way there, she brushed past Grace, who seemed to do a double take when she noticed who had walked past her. (Y/N) didn't say anything, but she couldn't help but snort at the other woman's surprised expression...it was like she didn't still live next door to her. She wasn't sure if she should have been surprised by the fact that Grace didn't stop in at all over the month to see how she was doing. Brushing the thought off, she continued walking to the room. The familiar smell of wood, smoke and a slight ting of musk filled her nose as she stepped into the room, and it made her smile. She was happy to be around the things that made her happy prior to that fateful day. Keeping that smile, she got started with working on unpacking the boxes.

"Oi, (Y/N), it really is you!" a voice called from the doorway some time later, making her pause her work so that she could see who it was. Arthur stood at the door with his signature grin present. "I didn't want to believe Tommy when he told me, but I'm happy to see that you're back," he said, bracing himself on the doorframe as he leaned against it.

"I'm happy to be back," (Y/N) responded, a smile forming on her face. She didn't know how much she missed these people until she was around them again.

"Tommy wanted me to get you. He's in the snug," he told her then.

"He wants to see me?" (Y/N) checked before moving.

"Yeah...wanted to talk about something," Arthur nodded.

"Ok," (Y/N) nodded back as she dropped the box she was working on and made her way to the door.

"I'm happy you're back, kid," he reiterated his previous statement as she walked past him, patting her on the shoulder when she was in reach. (Y/N) only smiled back at him before she made her way out of the room and to the snug.

After debating whether or not to knock, she turned the handle and entered the small side room. "Arthur said you wanted to talk to me?" she phrased her statement as a question as she laid her eyes on Tommy, who was sitting in his chair, smoking a cigarette.

"Yes," he nodded before motioning to the other chair in the room. (Y/N) silently made her way over to it, her heartbeat quickening as she wondered what it could be that he wanted to talk about. Was she in trouble already?

"What is it?" she asked even though she shouldn't have, the anticipation just about overcoming her.

Tommy took a deep breath before he leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on hers. "I need to ask a favor of you," he began, tapping the excess ash off of the cigarette and into the tray, "only if you're up to doing it, that is."

"What is it?" she repeated her question without much thought into what he could be asking of her.

"I need you to deliver a message to Ada..." he paused as the door to the snug opened and Grace entered the room.

"Is there anything I could get you Mr. Shelby?" she asked him, noticing that his glass was empty.

"Not at the moment no," he shook his head before focusing back on (Y/N), "she's not speaking to me, or anyone really, but I want her to be at this family occasion...you'll need to tell her that there'll be a truce," he then detailed the favor he was asking of her.

"Where will I find her?" (Y/N) asked, then taking the slip of paper that Tommy had pulled out and handed over to her.

"She goes to a bathhouse; on women only days. If she's not there, I trust that you've been to where she's living?" he answered, phrasing the second part of his statement in a question, hoping she'd give the answer he was looking for.

"I have," she nodded, not giving much more information, "I've never gone to that bathhouse before, would you happen to know wh..."

"I've been there," Grace jumped back into the conversation from where she was lingering by the door. Tommy and (Y/N) looked to where she was, a look of shock present on both of their faces. Neither realized that the blond-haired woman was still in the room.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but Tommy got his words out first. "Grace'll go with you," he decided, his tone telling that there was no point in arguing the choice. So (Y/N) closed her mouth and nodded her head. "Get the invitation to her," he reiterated his favor, making (Y/N) nod again.

"I will," she assured him verbally, silence falling in the room then. She was a little unsure about Grace making the trip with her, but Tommy seemed settled on it, and who was she to go questioning her boss on the first day back. "Should we go now?" she asked then, glancing to the door before looking back at Tommy.

"Yes," Tommy nodded, his answer making (Y/N) stand up. She wordlessly made her way to the door, nodding at Grace and waiting for the blond-woman to open it. Tommy spoke again before they could exit: "thank you, (Y/N)," he called to her, and she responded with the slightest smile.

Once the two women were outside, (Y/N) turned to Grace. "Are you sure you know where we're going?" (Y/N) asked to make sure.

"I do," Grace answered, her answer almost coming out in a scoff. There was no reason for (Y/N) to be doubting her in her knowledge. (Y/N) nodded at her response before they set off to the bathhouse.

—

"She's not here," (Y/N) stated after the two women had been looking around for a handful of minutes.

"I don't see her," Grace confirmed, her words making (Y/N) sigh.

"We'll have to go to her apartment," (Y/N) stated as they made their way to the doors of the building.

"She lives in an apartment?" Grace questioned as the two began walking.

"Yes...she lives with Freddie," (Y/N) answered, her eyes focused on the street signs as she tried to look for those that were familiar. Grace said nothing in response, just nodding her head as they walked down the street.

—

Once they got to Ada's apartment, (Y/N) knocked on the door thrice. She waited a few minutes on bated breath, hoping that Ada would open up. If she truly wasn't talking to anyone, (Y/N) of all people knew how slim the chances of her actually coming out would be. She kept her eyes focused on the door as she waited. Grace seemed to be more interested in the hall of the apartment and was making sure to take in all of her surroundings.

After knocking three separate times, (Y/N) turned to Grace with a sigh. "I don't think she's here either," she stated, a bit of defeat present.

"That's fine, we'll just go and tell Tommy that she wasn't present," Grace responded, not much of a care for the situation shining through in her words.

"Yeah, but don't you think..." she couldn't finish her statement because a voice came from the hallway behind her.

"(Y/N)?" it was the all too familiar voice of Ada Thorne.

"Ada," (Y/N) said as she turned around to see just the person she was looking for, "I was hoping you'd be home," she added, a smile on her face.

"I was at the bathhouse...it was women's only day there," Ada responded, her answer making (Y/N) furrow her eyebrows.

"Hmm..." she said aloud, turning her head slightly to look back at Grace, "Grace and I went there. We didn't see you," she said, noting that the blonde woman was looking anywhere other than at her.

"Maybe you just didn't see me," Ada stated, brushing the confusion off, "why are you here?...I'm happy to see you again," she moved past the previous topic, stepping forward to give (Y/N) a hug.

"I'm happy to see you too," (Y/N) said as she accepted the hug, "Tommy wanted me to extend an invitation to you; for a family occasion," she then delivered the message she'd been tasked to bring, "he said that there'll be a truce."

Ada's face dropped slightly at the mention of her brother, and (Y/N) wondered if a fallout had occurred between them while she was secluding herself. "What occasion is this?" she asked for more details.

"He didn't say. He gave me this to give to you though," (Y/N) responded, handing the slip of paper she was given over to Ada. The other woman looked down at it for a moment before an unreadable expression formed on her face. "I can't sway you either way. I'm sure they'd be happy to have you at this event...whatever it may be," she ended her statement with the smallest smile.

Ada nodded her head as she took in (Y/N)'s words. "I'll think about it," she gave a vague response, one that made (Y/N) nod.

"Good," she affirmed, her smile growing slightly, "it was good seeing you again, Ada," she said then.

"It was good seeing you too. Please don't go hiding on us again, ok? I'll be here to help you through whatever you're going through."

"And I'll be here to do the same for you," (Y/N) flipped it around, remembering what Tommy had said about his sister. Ada only smiled and pulled her into another hug, one last gesture before the conversation ended and all three women went their respective ways.

——

(Y/N) showed up at the Garrison later that evening, hoping that Tommy was still around so that she could let him know how her errand had gone. Luckily, she found him in the back office. She knocked on the door, making him look up from the book he was looking over.

"How'd it go?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"I gave her the invite. The decision's up to her now," she answered, her response making Tommy nod. She then took a step out of the doorway, feeling that the conversation was over. She was about to leave when something else came to mind. "Can I ask you something, Tommy?" she asked, a hopeful tone filling her words.

"Ask me what?" he asked her, his way of telling her that she could.

(Y/N) stepped into the room before speaking, deciding to move closer to his desk. "Has anything come from the move you were intending to make on my brothers?" she asked him, her voice softer now.

Tommy didn't respond right away. Instead he thought over everything that had happened over the month in hopes that he could give her a concise summary of it. "I've sent men to Sheffield. They've been keeping track of your brothers' moves for me," he decided to keep it vague.

"They're still both alive?" she asked another question while still unsure of what she wanted the answer to be.

"Yes," he didn't cut corners on the response. There had only been one opportunity to take out Grant, but it was a risky one, and at the end of the day, Tommy wanted to be sure of it...and he wanted to make sure that (Y/N) would be alright with it happening. They were still her family regardless of what happened. He shouldn't have the final say in what happens to them.

"Ok," her answer came out like a breath. She wasn't sure if it was in relief or hindrance, and she couldn't shake the feeling of the knot growing in her throat. "Thank you," she said to him before she turned and began walking to the door.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy called out before she could leave.

"Yeah?" she turned to face him again.

"I'd like for you to come to this event my family's having," he said to her, his words catching her off guard.

"I...I'm not family," she stuttered out.

"You're family enough, love. I'd like to have you there," he insisted, a look that (Y/N) couldn't decipher flashing across his face as he spoke, "besides, I'm sure Ada wouldn't mind your company...if she comes that is," he added.

(Y/N) thought about his offer for a moment, weighing out what he said to her in her mind. It would be good to see everyone again, she thought to herself, and this would surely be a good place to do it. After a few seconds passed, the slightest smile formed on her face. "I'll come," she told him.

A similar smile formed on Tommy's face as he heard her answer. He tried his best to mask it though. "Good," he nodded, hoping the response didn't sound too stiff, "I'll tell you more about it tomorrow."

"Ok," (Y/N) nodded her head, taking a step towards the door then. It was late and she was starting to feel tired. "Goodnight, Tommy."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he echoed her statement, letting his smile appear as he watched her finally walk out the door. God, why couldn't he get her off of his mind?

Next Part

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