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keehomania · 23 days ago

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like him — rcm (drabble)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ i’m everything that i’ve strived to be. so, do i look like him? do i look like him? i don’t look like him

he saw it every time he looked in the mirror. he knew it was there, following him, clinging to him like a second skin. even when he tried to move on, something was always there to remind him. he was reminded of it when he saw the look in his sister’s eye, the look of fear, disdain. he saw it every time he walked by her friends, their glares boring into his skull. sometimes he’d glare back, because he was supposed to. that was him. but not today.

today, he was tired. tired of the constant weight bearing down on his shoulders, tired of pretending it didn’t exist. he leaned forward, his palms pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom sink, the sharp edge biting into his hands as if to anchor him. his reflection stared back, hollowed and harrowed, a shadow of the man he was expected to be. the room was dim, the fluorescent light overhead flickering, casting uneven shadows across his face. it wasn’t the face of a son. it was the face of a ghost.

blood was thicker than water. he wanted to change, but how could he? how could he take a wrecking ball to the dominoes he had been placing since he was a little boy? every step, every choice, every piece of who he was had been meticulously constructed to fit the image ward cameron demanded of him. and if he tore it all down, what would be left? nothing. nothing but the boy who was never enough.

“ever since you were a little boy,” rose’s words echoed in his mind, sharp and cutting, delivered with the same coldness that had made her such a perfect match for ward. “even then, you were there, sucking up to him.”

it wasn’t the words themselves that stung. no, it was the venom, the quiet disdain in her voice, the way she said it like it was a fact, a cruel joke at his expense. because she knew. everyone knew. rafe cameron, desperate for his father’s approval, clinging to the scraps of affection ward had dangled before him like bait.

he didn’t know when it had started. maybe it had always been that way. maybe he had never been his daddy’s little boy, not really. maybe he had just been a means to an end, a pawn in the game ward was always playing. but he’d wanted it to be real. god, how he’d wanted it to be real. he dreamt about it sometimes. about him.

sometimes they’d talk, just the two of them, no tension, no expectations. his father would sit across from him, his expression soft, his words kind. other times, they’d hug, ward’s arms wrapping around him in a way that felt safe, steady, the way a father’s embrace should. those dreams were the worst. because he couldn’t remember which parts were real and which weren’t. did his father ever hold him like that? did he ever look at him with pride, with love? or was it all a fabrication, a desperate attempt by his mind to fill in the gaping holes his father had left behind?

rafe swallowed hard, his throat tight, his chest heavier with every breath. the mirror in front of him blurred as his vision clouded, tears threatening to spill. he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, grounding himself in the pain. rose had been wrong about one thing. he hadn’t stopped being his daddy’s little boy. not really. because even now, with ward gone, with the weight of his father’s sins pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, rafe still wanted to make him proud. even now, he still wanted to be enough.

he looked like him. he’d seen it first when he ward had died, standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, the weight of his father’s suit draped over his shoulders. it didn’t fit him—not then, not now—but he’d thought, this is what it means to be the man of the house. to carry the weight, to wear the armor. the fabric swallowed him whole, but he’d stood there anyway, staring at himself, trying to see what his father saw. trying to see the man he was supposed to become.

but all he saw were his father’s eyes. cold. empty. they stared back at him, unrelenting, the kind of eyes that gave nothing and took everything. he didn’t have the beard yet, or the wrinkles etched deep into his face like scars from a life lived with too much pride and too little joy. not yet, at least. but the eyes were there, as unmistakable as the blood that tied them together. he looked like him. and it haunted him.

it haunted him every time he caught his reflection in the mirror, every time he passed a window and saw the faintest shadow of himself. it haunted him in the moments of quiet, when there was no one around to pretend for, no one to blame but himself. because no matter how much he hated it—hated him—he couldn’t escape it. ward had known it too.

rafe saw it in the way his father’s eyes would linger on him, not with love, but with a strange, detached fascination, like he was looking into a distorted version of himself. like he was trying to figure out how he’d gone so wrong. ward would see himself in his boy’s eyes, his own reflection staring back at him. and even that wasn’t enough. it wasn’t enough to love him. not the way rafe needed to be loved.

he had spent his whole life chasing it, that love, that approval. he’d followed his father like a shadow, desperate to be noticed, desperate to be something to him. he wanted to be seen, not as a reflection, but as a son. a boy who had tried so hard, who had given everything he had.

but ward had only ever seen the flaws. the cracks. the places where rafe didn’t measure up. and rafe knew that because every glance, every word, every disappointed sigh had cut him deeper than he’d ever let on. and now ward was gone, and all that was left was the reflection. the man in the mirror, staring back at him with cold, empty eyes. the man he had spent his entire life trying not to become. the man he couldn’t stop becoming.

he wasn’t the hero he wanted to be. not in sarah’s eyes, and certainly not in ward’s. he wanted to be. god, he wanted to be. but heroes weren’t made of cracked mirrors and borrowed shadows, and that’s all rafe cameron had ever been. he wasn’t the strong, steady protector sarah needed. he wasn’t the prodigal son ward had demanded. he was something else entirely—something broken.

he went to sleep at night carrying the weight of sins he didn’t know how to put down. they clung to him like chains, heavy and unyielding, each link forged in blood he couldn’t wash away. his hands were stained, his soul tarnished, and it was all for his father. every mistake, every crime, every dark corner he’d backed himself into—it was all for ward. and yet, it was never enough.

he knew something was wrong with him. he could feel it, an ache deep in his chest, a hollowed-out space where something vital should have been. he’d told ward that once, on a cold night by the docks, his breath visible in the frigid air, his eyes wet with fresh tears.

“something’s wrong with me,” he’d said, his voice breaking as he looked at the man he was trying so hard to become.

ward had barely looked at him. he’d brushed it off with the same indifference he reserved for inconveniences, telling him to man up like it was that simple. like it was a choice. like rafe hadn’t been trying to man up every single day of his life, pulling on that damn suit and praying it would fit. it still didn’t fit.

he lashed out. he fought, screamed, tore through the world like a hurricane, desperate to prove that he was enough. desperate to hear the words he needed, the words he would never hear. he watched ward’s love go to sarah, to rose, to anyone but him. it didn’t matter what he did or how hard he tried. it was never going to be him. but it was supposed to be. he needed it to be. he was angry at ward, at sarah, at the pogues, at the whole damn world. but most of all, he was angry at himself. because deep down, he blamed himself.

he blamed himself for not trying hard enough, for not being good enough, for not being enough. if he’d been stronger, smarter, better, maybe things would have been different. maybe ward would have loved him the way he loved sarah. maybe rafe would have felt like a son instead of a failure. but he wasn’t. and he didn’t. and so he stayed angry. It was easier that way. easier to burn than to crumble. easier to fight than to fall apart. easier to hate himself than to admit he’d never been given a fair chance to begin with.

the house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that felt wrong, like it was waiting for something to shatter. you stood in the doorway, watching him pace the room, the expensive rug muffling the sound of his footsteps. he was wearing the suit again, the one that didn’t fit right. too big in the shoulders, too long in the sleeves. it hung off him like it didn’t belong, like he didn’t belong in it.

you were the only one who saw through the mask he wore, the carefully constructed armor of arrogance and cruelty that he carried like a second skin. to everyone else, rafe cameron was the villain in his own story—reckless, unhinged, the cautionary tale whispered in the quiet corners of polite conversation. but not to you.

to you, he wasn’t the monster they said he was. he was the boy behind the mask, raw and bleeding, his soul fraying at the edges. they called him unredeemable, a lost cause, but you wondered when the last time was that any of them had asked him how he was really doing. when had they looked at the storm raging behind his eyes and dared to reach out a hand instead of casting judgment?

rafe didn’t wear his pain on his sleeve; he buried it deep, where no one could touch it. but you saw it. in the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. in the way his voice would crack, barely audible, when he spoke of things he wished he could change but never did. you knew he wasn’t the bad guy people made him out to be. he was just a boy who wanted to be loved. that was the tragedy of it all, wasn’t it? he wanted love so desperately, but love had never been gentle with him. the heart, after all, came with blood. and his heart had bled for so long, it felt like there was nothing left.

“rafe,” you called softly, but he didn’t hear you. or maybe he did, and he just couldn’t stop.

his movements were erratic, sharp, like he was trying to outrun something that wasn’t there. his hands twitched at his sides, curling into fists before unclenching again. he muttered under his breath, words you couldn’t make out, his voice low and strained, like he was arguing with himself. you stepped closer, hesitating when his shoulders stiffened.

“rafe,” you tried again, louder this time. he stopped.

for a moment, you thought he might turn to you, might let you in. but then his fist shot out, slamming into the wall with a sickening crack that made you flinch. he hit the wall again, and again, each impact reverberating through the room, through you. his knuckles split open, blood smearing against the pristine white paint, but he didn’t stop. his breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, his chest heaving like he couldn’t get enough air.

“rafe, please,” you begged, stepping closer, your voice trembling. “you’re scaring me.”

he froze, his fist hovering mid-air, his whole body trembling as though he were holding himself together by sheer force of will. slowly, he turned his head, and for the first time, you saw his eyes. it wasn’t you he was fighting. it wasn’t even the world. it was himself. your heart ached as you watched him, standing there in that ill-fitting suit, his knuckles dripping blood onto the marble floor. he looked like a child playing dress-up, trying so desperately to be something he wasn’t.

you reached out, your hand hovering near his arm, but he felt so far away. you didn’t know how to reach him, didn’t know how to pull him back from wherever he’d gone. so you stayed. you stayed and watched as he shook, as he muttered, as he fell apart piece by piece. and then, suddenly, it was like all the fight drained out of him.

he collapsed to the ground, his knees hitting the marble with a dull thud. his bloody hands hung limp at his sides, his head bowed, his breath hitching in his throat. you didn’t think. you just moved. sinking to your knees beside him, you wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him into your chest. he didn’t resist, didn’t say a word, didn’t even cry. he just let you hold him, his body trembling against yours.

he didn’t cry right away. at first, there was just the silence—the kind that suffocates, heavy and oppressive, wrapping itself around you like a shroud. his chest heaved against you, his breaths uneven and ragged, but the tears didn’t come. they were caught somewhere deep inside him, trapped beneath years of anger and shame, beneath the weight of a name that had always felt like a curse.

you didn’t say anything. not yet. you didn’t dare look down at him, not when you could feel the tremor in his body, the way his hands shook as they hovered near your sides like he didn’t know if he was allowed to hold on. so you held on for him.

your arms stayed locked around him, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair in slow, soothing strokes. you didn’t care that his blood was on the floor, that it was smearing against your clothes. all you cared about was him.

“rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling but steady. “you’re okay.”

the words weren’t just for him; they were for you too. a lifeline for the both of you as the room seemed to close in, as the echoes of his fists meeting the wall still lingered in the air. it was exactly what ward had said to him, but when you said it, you said it like a promise. not a platitude. not a lie. you weren't convicing him, you weren't convicing yourself. you said it like you believed it, and no one had believed in him. and that was when it happened.

the first tear slipped down his face, silent and almost imperceptible, blending into the sweat on his brow. but then came another, and another, until they were streaming freely, carving paths down his cheeks, dripping onto the marble floor beneath him.

his sobs were quiet at first, muffled against your chest, but they grew louder, rawer, until they were shaking his entire body. he was falling apart in your arms, piece by jagged piece, and all you could do was hold him together as best you could.

“i’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking on the words. “i’m sorry, i’m so—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your hand still stroking his hair, your other arm pulling him impossibly closer. “let it out, come on. you're doing so good.”

and he did, because he was. he cried for everything he’d lost, for everything he’d done, for everything he’d never been. he cried for the little boy who had worn his father’s suit, desperate to be something he could never be. he cried for the man he had become, the man who terrified even himself. but most of all, he cried because you didn’t look at him the way everyone else did, the way he did.

you didn’t look at him with fear or disdain or judgment. you didn’t tell him to man up or walk away when he unraveled. you stayed.

“you’re okay,” you murmured again, your voice soft but sure. “you’re not him.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: s1-s3 rafe they could never understand u like i do

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fairyk133 · 2 months ago

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Ruth Beautè

Minor facts:

Has a southern dolly accent, so American and sweet voice.

She was illegally emancipated, her mom and her went their separate ways when she came back from catholic school

She was homeless for two days until she met an old Italian man and took her in, making him a father figure onto her, but he died due to “loan sharks”, which was on her birthday, she owned the house all to herself ,and redecorated the whole house.

Her biggest secret was she was the daughter of the famous French Somalian actress Vivian Beau.

She is neurodivergent, and showed signs of Autism while growing up.

Loves 60s fashion, adores it, she is one of the most fashionable girls at school, even if her uniform does scream.. “50s church gal.”

She knows French, Spanish and the Somali language.

While Lola is called the Queen, and Pinky is called the Princess, Ruth is labeled the Duchess of Bullworth.

She plays electric guitar, Cello, Violin, Piano

The large rosary she wear is ACTUALLY disguised as a dagger, if you take off the silver cap of the bottom of the cross, and swing it, a sharp blade will come out. It was gifted from her past lover who died.

She calls people by their last names, which gives her a look of maturity and authority

When she’s harming a person (who deserves it) she gets violently annoyed when they start crying, she believes in equal punishment.

She works at a fancy restaurant in Old Bullworth Vale and gets tips either from lonely, weird divorced men or because she plays the violin well. The people who go to the restaurant are from rich families.

Knows Sign language thanks to her past lover. (Yes he was deaf.)

School Titles:

“Class Representative”, — Non Cliques/ People who respect or scared of her

“Villainess Nun”—Lola, Earnest

“Miss Beauty”— Jason (My Oc), Juri, Chad

“Babe Ruth”—Vance

“Doe eyes”— Vance, Gord

“Sociopathic Bitch”— Mandy, (Pre game) Gary, Earnest, Davis White

Mini Mrs.Peabody—(Pre game) Gary

Clique relationships:

Bullies: Ruth does like not bullying, at all. Considering her past lover died by suicide, because of bullying, she is a shadow dictator of the school. But, nonetheless she does use the bullies in her rule of authority. She pays them about 80 dollars to 50 in cash, to spill her the details on other students, specifically males, and to beat up perverts or anyone trying to roof girls drinks in parties. Most bullies are scared of her, but she does allow them to beat up Earnest, when she sees them attack him she turns a blind eye to it, considered later one she found out his…rather perverse picture of Mandy. (She may hate Mandy’s guts, but she’s a girls girl at heart.) Later on after her public trial with her mom, she ends up dating Tom. They actually first met bumping into one another, they had a goofy conversation, him mess in up on her last name, she liked him, but Joetta said she liked him so she killed her feelings for him immediately, only for it to fail and they end up being together.

Nerds: They see her as their, savior, at least some of them. She once saw Algie crying in a corner when she was coming from Chemistry class, and he complained to her about the jocks and their vile behavior towards him. This gave Ruth the idea for the Halloween party. She dressed up as Billy Loomis from Ghostface and seduced Casey Harris into the woods, leaving him there for awhile. Casey ended up seeing Algie’s fake dead body lying there, flies around him. It looked bloody, his stomach was cut open, which looked like the work of an axe. (Ruth gave Algie some sick looking makeup and a clay belly, and filled it with pig intestines to make it look like it was his actual organs, she even gave him some white contacts to give him that dead look). Ruth came out of the woods dressed up as the actual Ghost face, holding an axe. Before taking her mask off and yelling at him like a cinematic sociopath (she’s a good actor to be honest), he fell into a ditch, a deep one. Algie got up and revealed with Ruth to Casey he wasn’t dead, they saw his body in the ditch and left him there. (Casey also took spiked punch, so later that day, he couldn’t prove that Ruth’s a sadistic bitch.) She doesn’t like Earnest, not only he is weak, scaly, and a hypocrite, but mostly because of what he did to Mandy. Some of the nerds did want to turn on to her because she joined the soccer team and she looked more…”jockey” but she had to remind them of who she stood by, even if Earnest tried to make her seem like an villain of their midst. She uses the Nerds coding abilities to get into the teachers digital files and keeps an eye on her enemies grades and social media, along with their…dark pasts. Really dark. Some nerds even have crushes on her, so easy on her part.

Jocks: Due to their actions, Ruth sees them as, brainless animals. The weak ants to her. But, Mandy Wiles was an huge problem to her. Mandy was jealous of Ruth to most extent. Ruth has beauty, hell, her last name literally means beautiful, she’s smart in academics, getting complements from the Head, and the teachers. Mandy did try to befriend Ruth, but once she had showed her true colors by purposely tripping Bucky at lunch, Ruth immediately told her to stay the hell away from her. Mandy also made fun of Ruth for being a “virgin purist girl”(Internalized misogyny), so Ruth felt cheeky and mischievous , she exposed the fact Mandy had been with Jason….which wasn’t good to explain to Jason in the nurses office. And because Mr. Burton is weird and didn’t give a damn about Ruth’s feelings of being uncomfortable, Ruth’s soccer shorts were tight on her, showing her hips were more… wider than most girls and Ruth is a mostly modest person— so obviously this didn’t turn out so well. Wiles gave Ruth the nickname, “Ruth Bootay”. And because Ruth had a “purity” complex this gave her a deep state of discomfort and depression in how her body looks, even the male jocks talk about her body, which made her feel like a “hoe”, but that feeling went away fast when she realized she can ruin Mandy’s life by tormenting her back, you know— the norm? This was by telling girls what Mandy has said about them, isolating people she found close to her, ruining her face till she broke out by sneaking in her dorm, messing up face cream etc, getting help from her best friend Joetta, to write nasty articles on her, calling her whore, and snitching on her vaguely, claiming she was mentally ill, (Guys this is Bullworth, okay?) but sooner or later, they got their issues worked out when the Headmaster assigned them together to get their act together. Bo Jackson is the only chill guy she can stand, a few jocks stopped talking about her body when they knew who serious she was in soccer, along side Jason. (Soccer ain’t even her passion.)

Preps: Ruth gets respect from them because she handles her situations well in mock trial, she even won against Derby in many trials, which eventually leads Derby feeling considered of his title of being a Harrington, “they never lose”, this leads him to buy a win from the holder of that club, Mr. Hatwick, this makes Ruth have an internal hatred for him. He reminds her of “Donna” a girl from her past in catholic school, she’s also the reason why Ruth was ashamed to be rich in the first place. Due to superiority complex, Ruth and Derby weren’t the best at being civil with one another. Each room they were in gave tension, you’d need a chainsaw to cut that tension. Chad and Gord along with Parker had admitted into finding her attractive, but the guys do find her “scary” especially since she had made witnesses cry and have emotional reactions. Pinky and her had minor tension because of all the good things people said about her, but they are decent friends since Ruth also shops at Aquaberry from time to time, Parker did ended up dating her and that’s when Pinky and her both ended up getting closer as friends. Ruth has been invited to Harrington house over some club discussions, mostly to see Parker when they were together, and she wouldn’t mind playing the piano for them. Ruth in my roleplay saved Derby from Raymond Chester, a politician’s son, who was trying to get Derby’s Harrington name ruined, including his family, Ruth exposed them in a special event she was invited to, which made her and Derby be…somewhat decent.

Townies: She barely knew them, but she began to know a few of them, when she saw Jason hanging out with them, that’s when she knew about Jason a little more…the townies only become a serious topic when Ruth got fully and properly adopted by a sheriff, she asked them for clues and ask them what happened on things, since her present self is in her “riverdale” era and helps her foster moms cases. ;)

Greasers: Ruth at first they were just some Outsider/Grease wannabes, but couldn’t be hypocritical since she dresses like she’s from the 50-60s, she was sadly forced by the head to tutor most of them. She believes the most attractive greaser of them all isn’t really Johnny Vincent, but more so Ricky. But she doesn’t have a crush on him, just thinks that way. She and Vance get along fine, he’s helps her with guy troubles, and when I mean “guy” troubles, more so on Jason because of the fights they have on his…living situation. Vance and her poke fun at Ricky and Johnny sometimes, they act like annoying siblings to them sometimes. She ignores Lola and Johnny’s problems because their relationship isn’t worth any fixing or respect they don’t really intimidated her. Her rep is somewhat debatable with them, she doesn’t snitch on them if she sees one of them egging Harrington house. And since she has the preps moral respect, the greasers between trusting her, but soon they realize this girl really doesn’t give a damn and wouldn’t snitch on them, even when she got adopted by Miss Rodriguez.

Outfit models:

Based off of/ Mentality:

Beth Harmon - Queens Gambit

Blair Waldorf- Gossip Girl

#bully game #bully scholarship edition #bully canis canem edit #bully cce #bully oc #bully rockstar #bully se #bully #canis canem edit

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sundove88 · 5 months ago

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Maestro Lance (Beetlejuice Casting Parody)

After Alma Madrigal and Dru Gru die in a car accident, they find themselves stuck haunting their country residence, unable to leave the house. When the unbearable Minatos and their teen daughter Yukina buy the home, the spirits attempt to scare them away without success. Their efforts attract Lance, a rambunctious Maestro whose "help" quickly becomes dangerous for them and innocent Yukina.

Three generations of the Minato family return home to Winter River after an unexpected family tragedy. Still haunted by Maestro Lance, Yukina’s life soon gets turned upside down when her rebellious tweenage daughter discovers a mysterious portal to the afterlife. When someone says Lance’s name three times, the mischievous maestro gleefully returns to unleash his very own brand of mayhem.

In honor of Beetlejuice Beetlejuice!

Lance as Beetlejuice (Balan Wonderworld)

Yukina Minato as Lydia Deetz (BanG Dream)

Okabe Rintarou as Charles Deetz (Steins;Gate)

Bayonetta as Delia Deetz (Bayonetta)

Dru as Adam Maitland (Despicable Me)

Alma Madrigal as Barbara Maitland (Encanto)

Malva as Jane Butterfield (Pokemon)

King Dedede as Otho Fenlock (Kirby)

Mama Imelda as Juno (Coco)

Canele Cookie as Maxie Dean (Cookie Run)

Millie Feuille Cookie as Sarah Dean (Cookie Run)

Starscream as Bernard (Transformers)

Mashiro Kurata as Grace (BanG Dream)

Aya Maruyama as Beryl (BanG Dream)

Byron as The Preacher (Brawl Stars)

Bruce Stone as The Janitor (Balan Wonderworld)

Lt. Surge as Road Kill Man/The Messenger (Pokemon)

Lola as Miss Argentina/The Receptionist (Brawl Stars)

Gray as Himself/Miss Argentina’s Co Star (Brawl Stars)

Shadow!Lance as Snake!Beetlejuice (Balan Wonderworld)

Colt as Harry The Hunter (Brawl Stars)

Knockout as Char Man (Transformers)

Gooey as The Minister (Kirby)

Marina Tsukishima as Magician’s Assistant (BanG Dream)

Various Characters as the Netherworld Ghosts

Yuri Brand as Astrid Deetz (Balan Wonderworld)

Sam Witwicky as Rory (Transformers)

Mistress Nine as Delores (Sailor Moon)

Ryotsu Kankichi as Wolf Jackson (Kochikame)

Anxiety as Bob (Inside Out)

Ghetsis as Jeremy Frazier (Pokemon)

Vaati as Richard (The Legend of Zelda)

Here’s your hint for the next casting (It’s Pixar):

💀🎸🥀

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sgiandubh · 9 months ago

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Speed Bonnie Boat

The irony has not escaped me, that Baby and I finally made it back home on the 278th anniversary of the Battle of Culloden. Of course, nothing of this was planned - how could we? it's way above our heads, literally -, but didn't we laugh, Baby and me and Shipper Mom, finally content to have all the menagerie in one place, now cracking at its seams with unpacked boxes, tchotchkes, and irrelevant shite (why did I even pack this?).

You know this land is your land, when you finally start to see this, through the windshield: the glorious canola fields of the Deep South, near the Danube - my grandma's feisty, quick-witted and generous people's territory.

Uncharacteristically, I realized I came to Athens on a very unlikely Dubliner autumn and went back home on a very unlikely early summer April. Helps with the overall surreal impression:

All the roads leading to Rome, we can almost say "Hello, the house" in this pic. Smack dab downtown, where everything happens:

And then, the Jihad, between Lola the corgi and Baby the 'beige' (Greek passport says so) lab. This old lady is not really thrilled:

And for much of the rest of the tired, yawny human evening, the state of play was protracted war and a difficult Yalta negotiation of sorts:

Pasha ran in the shadows of the kitchen corridor. Nothing to report yet and unable to document properly: at night, all cats are black, says the Chinese proverb.

I have roughly two months to make this happen. For now, they can work with staying together in the same room and I think the one who's going to offer a truce is the Greek. With all this, I forgot to pour myself that Laphroaig. #Silly

'Carried the lad who's born to be king/Over the sea to Skye...'

PS: To all of you who offered their warmth and thoughts and even prayers, let it be known you are deeply loved by all of us. This land is also yours, my house is your house. No questions asked. We're good people. You will always find a spot for the outlander at a Romanian table and we like them long and boisterous. Mark me.

#psa #life as is #Diplodog

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peppershark · 7 months ago

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WOLFER --- The real California history behind the Tomione Fic

Convict Lake Camp (OwensValleyHistory.com)

When I was a kid, my family frequently visited Bishop, California. I can still feel the light-headed enchantment of hopping out of the van at a relative's green, creek-watered ranch shadowed by towering granite faces of the High Sierras. The dusty road and sage-sharp aroma propelled my imagination two hundred years into the past.

Wolfer is set in 1890 Bishop Creek, and while some of the location names are changed to fit the story, the town really had ranching barons like the Sacred 28 families, churches which exerted certain levels of social power with the well-to-do folk, boarding houses for mill workers and on-farm worker housing for fruit pickers and cowboys--or perhaps the odd wolfer.

It's amazing what you can dig up when you're procrastinating working on your WIP, lol. I did a lot of initial research while writing a Gingerrose fic set in post Civil War Bishop Creek.

Here are some things I found.

Main Street, Bishop Creek 1880 (OwensValleyHistory.com)

In Chapter 1, Tom rides down Main Street to the marshal's office (played by a grudging Severus Snape) and runs into Hermione.

Way off into the upper right you can see the steeple of the First Baptist Church on Main Street.

East Line Street, Bishop Creek (OwensValleyHistory.com)

Tom chases Hermione to Line Street, where he pushes her up against the Brown's Machine Shed, which is of course re-named to fit Lavender Brown's family.

(OwensValleyHistory.com)

Check out that snow! Sitting at 4,000 feet of elevation in the foothills of the East Sierras, the snow can get quite voluminous.

W.D. Roberts Ranch, Round Valley (OwensValleyHistory.com)

The ranch near the dry saltbeds of Owens Lake where Draco visits Harry, (by way of Mad Eye Moody) might have looked like this.

Cerro Gordo photo taken some time between 1871 - 1879 (OwensValleyHistory.com

We get a brief glimpse of the Cerro Gordo silver mine when Draco and Harry ride off into the sunset together for a night of wild debauchery. The brothels and bawdy houses within these sprawling mining towns would have perhaps been some of the only public places for late 19th-century gays to be themselves. Miss Lola's was among the more famous, and I'm struggling to find the website where I originally learned this this but I believe she hosted queer sex workers and provided space for an early LGBTQ+ scene.

The silver mine itself brought together a richly diverse group of fortune seekers. I accessed California census documents and found that while Bishop Creek was mostly white, Cerro Gordo had a much more diverse population (interestingly all marked with 'I', even Latinx names).

I did a phone interview with the Inyo Historical Society and chatted for an hour with a local historian, telling him I was getting context for a novel. (He didn't need to know that my novel was also a fanfic, hahaha.) The historian told me the mine had Mexican, Black, Chinese, and Indigenous populations working as miners, teamsters (people who drive wagons), cooks, brick masons, farm laborers and all kinds of interesting jobs related to running the mine.

Main Street in Bishop Creek, 1878 (OwensValleyHistory.com

One thing that sticks out in my mind from the conversation with the historian is how the white and Mexican ranchers demolished the irrigation canals the Numuu Indigenous tribes had dug to create a green landscape in Owens Valley. Native Americans have been 'farming' America's landscape for thousands of years in a low-impact way. In Chapter 4, Tom muses on this detail as he's setting a wolf trap on Rosier's ranch.

Perhaps the most illuminating account of the region comes from Sarah Winnemucca, daughter of Chief Truckee (after whom the town is named). Sarah travelled as an advocate for Indigenous rights and cataloged her experience and the story of white settler colonization in her book, Life Among the Pauites: Their Wrongs and Claims which you can read for free here.

Thank you for diving into California history with me!

Read Wolfer here.

#wolfer #tomione #historical fiction #historical fic #hermione x tom

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gemmaswriting · 5 months ago

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I've had a really shitty day - any chance of some happy family Anidala to look forward to?

Bless you! I'm so sorry you've had a crap day. Here's some happy family Skywalker fluff!

The moon’s soft glow filtered through the soft, gauzy curtains, casting gentle patterns of light and shadow along the bedroom walls. The evening’s cool air carried the scent of meadow flowers and the sounds of water lapping distantly against the shore filled the room with a soothing rhythm. It was a peaceful night, one of those rare moments of stillness that Anakin Skywalker cherished more than anything. Especially lately, when his nights and days were filled with the chaos only children could create.

Unable to help himself, the Jedi Master smiled from the bedroom’s doorway. Hell, if he was being honest, he was grinning. He couldn’t help himself. Padmé lay in their large bed with her back against the headboard, her beautiful dark curls spilling over her shoulders exactly how he liked. Tonight she wore a simple, loose robe over her silky blue nightdress – a favourite of Anakin’s actually…

But it was her expression, so relaxed and serene that made him smile. She was so happy. They were so happy. Luke and Leia, now nearly five – force, when exactly did that happen? – were nestled on either side of her, their small bodies curled up close. Luke clutched his favourite stuffed bantha, his blond curls tousled from play and sleep, while Leia had snuggled up with her precious companion, the little one-eyed animatronic droid he built for her birthday gift last year.

Everyone needed their own droid companion in his opinion. Padmé had Threepio, Leia had Lola and Luke was already making moves to steal Artoo away from him. He felt a little hard done by, actually.

“You look comfortable,” he murmured from the doorway, folding his arms as he leaned his shoulder on the framing.

Padmé glanced up from where she’d been watching the twins sleep on either side of her. He could hear the quiet hum of whatever holo-show she’d been half-paying attention to. “My arms fell asleep about a half-hour ago,” she smiled softly, “but I can’t make myself move them.”

“They’ve had a big day,” he nodded. “I can’t believe they’ll be starting school in a few months.” Luke and Leia were still babies in his eyes, sweet, helpless little infants who needed their parents for everything. But somewhere along the line they’d shot up into two remarkable, incredible children. How did he get so lucky?

“I know… It’s making me feel incredibly old…” Padmé sighed but her smile never dimmed.

“Well you know, you are the oldest person in this house…” He chanced a wink, loving the outrage that poured into her force signature. Anakin couldn’t help but grin as she glared, carefully lifting her arm from Luke’s back to toss a soft pillow at his face. In the spirit of being a good husband, he let it smack his face before tumbling to the floor. He probably did deserve it.

“That is not nice!” Padmé scowled, “You’re making me feel like an old crone!”

“You’re a goddess in my eyes,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Letting his attention drift back to his sleeping children, Anakin felt like his heart might burst as he watched his son’s chest rise and fall with every breath. How was it possible to love something so much? “They’re perfect. A perfect mix of us… I never thought… I never imagined we’d have this.”

Padmé shifted slightly, careful not to wake the twins and reached out her hand in invitation. Anakin accepted at once, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “There was a time where my faith wavered,” she admitted. “But we’re here, Ani. We made it and the galaxy is a better place for it.”

Anakin’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand, gentle and reassuring. He didn’t like to think about that time. Those days which tested him to his very limits in the battle against darkness, a battle he’d come painfully close to losing. “So did mine,” he whispered. “It was my love for you that kept me in the light, Angel.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, simply watching their children sleep as they reflected. It was these quiet, intimate moments that Anakin treasured the most – moments where they could just be a family, free from the weight of the galaxy’s troubles. He kicked off his boots and shifted, leaning back against the headboard and beside Padmé, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed so contently, his heart throbbed.

Anakin pressed a soft kiss to her hair, enjoying the soft floral scent of her. “Do you ever wonder what they’ll be like when they’re older?” he asked quietly.

Padmé smiled, her eyes half-closed. “All the time,” she replied. “I wonder what they’ll love, what they’ll dream about… who they’ll become.”

Anakin’s gaze drifted to Luke’s peaceful face and then to Leia’s and he felt a sense of awe. They had come from him… He hadn’t thought something so beautiful could ever come from him and yet here they were. “Whatever and whoever they become,” he murmured, “they’ll be amazing. They’ve got you as their mother, after all.”

Padmé laughed softly. “And you as their father, Ani,” she added. “That’s quite the combination. I only hope the galaxy is ready for them.”

Anakin’s smile was soft and he tightened his hold on her slightly. “I try be the father they deserve,” he confessed, a vulnerability in his voice he wasn’t fully comfortable with.

Padmé turned to face him, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “You don’t have to try, Anakin. You already are,” she said firmly, her brown eyes meeting his blue ones. “You’ve given them so much love. So much joy. You’re everything they could ever need. Everything I could ever need.”

He closed his eyes briefly, letting her words wash over him. “And you,” he whispered, “are everything I ever needed.”

She leaned up and kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his for a long moment. When they pulled back, they both turned their gazes to the twins again, content to just watch them sleep for a little longer before the dreaded move to their own rooms.

Luke shifted slightly in his sleep, his little fingers clutching his stuffed toy tighter. Leia, as if sensing her brother’s movement, snuggled closer to Padmé, her small body pressing against her mother’s side.

Anakin chuckled quietly. “I don’t understand how they’re so big. I swear they were just babies yesterday.”

Padmé laughed softly, nodding. “I know… they’re growing up too fast.”

“We’ll just have to cherish every moment,” Anakin whispered. “Even the tantrums and force-throwing of toys, I suppose.”

Padmé nodded. “Every single moment,” she agreed.

As they settled back into the pillows, Padmé’s hand found Anakin’s again, their fingers intertwining. Luke and Leia slept on, their soft breaths filling the room with a gentle, rhythmic sound. The moonlight danced over them all, casting a warm, silver glow across the room.

And in that quiet, peaceful space, Anakin knew that, no matter what the future held, he was always going to have this — their family, their love, and these simple, beautiful moments that made life worth living.

He was a lucky man indeed.

#anidala #anidala fanfiction #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #Happy Skywalker au

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yaboirezzy · 1 year ago

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Oh damn...I forgot I had an inbox

Okay so let me remember how many:

Amphibia

-Sashannarcy/Calamity Trio (Anne x Sasha x Marcy)

-Spraddivy/Chaos Trio (Sprig x Ivy x Maddie)

-MechanicFighter (Polly x Pearl)

-Yulivia/Gown n' Dagger (Olivia x Yunnan)

-IT Romance (Ally x Jess)

-Grimesylvipop/Old Timer Trio (Hop Pop x Grime x Sylvia)

-Barrelleifdrias/Divorce Trio (Leif x Andrias x Barrel)

The Owl House

-Lumity/Sweet Potatoes (Luz x Amity)

-Huntlow/GoldenFlora (Willow x Hunter)

-Raeda/HarpyMelody (Eda x Raine) + Camilraeda/Mom Trio (Eda x Raine x Camila)

-Veesha/RavenSlug (Vee x Masha)

-Gustholomule/GusMatt (Gus x Mattholomule)

-Skarney/Melody and The Beast (Skara x Viney

The Ghost and Molly McGee

-Mollycule/MollyPoly (Molly x Oliver x Libby x Andrea)

-Scrinx/Ghostly Exes (Scratch x Jinx)

Hilda

-Frilda/AdventureWitch (Hilda x Frida) + Frildavid/Trollberg Trio (Hilda x Frida x David)

-Kaisanna/Sketchbook Ship (Johanna x Kaisa) + Kaigerdanna/Trollberg's Mom Trio (Johanna x Kaisa x Gerda)

The Loud House + Casagrandes

-Ronniecoln/OrangePurple (Lincoln x Ronnie Anne)

-Slyde/Bestie-to-Main Duo (Clyde x Sid)

-Clidonniecoln/Chaos Squad (Lincoln x Ronnie Anne x Clyde x Sid)

-Lobby/Eldest Duo (Lori x Bobby)

-Chazni/Mall Duo (Leni x Chaz)

-Saluna/Rockstars Duo(Luna x Sam)

-Lubenny/Comedy Duo(Luan x Benny)

-Lynncisco/Athlete Duo (Lynn x Francisco)

-Lucky/GingerRaven (Lucy x Rocky)

-Skiana/Toolbox Duo (Lana x Skippy)

-Lolinston/Majesty Duo (Lola x Winston)

-Livid/Science Duo (Lisa x David)

-Carldelaide/Double Trouble (Carl x Adelaide)

Little Witch Academia

-Diakko/Starlight Magic (Akko x Diana)

-Sulotte/SpiritMushroom (Sucy x Lotte)

-Hamanda/Her Rebel (Amanda x Hannah)

-Barblotte/Nightfall (Lotte x Barbara)

-Consucy/Shroombot (Sucy x Constanze)

-HannahBarbara/Diana's Emotional Support Witches (Hannah x Barbara)

-Poly New Nine/RGB Team

Naruto

-Poly Konoha 12/The Leaf Pile

My Hero Academia

-Poly Class 1-A/Fam 1-A

Spooky Month

-Goldenlavender (Lila x Jaune)

-Candybats (Kevin x Streber)

-Sketchhatz (Susie x Robert)

Erma

-Connerma/GingerYokai (Erma x Connor) + Connsiderma/GingerRatYokai (Erma x Connor x Sidney)

-Terramy/Amerry (Amy x Terry)

-Samiko/YokaiBooks (Emiko x Sam)

-FumiHaru/The Princess and The Kappa (Fumiko x Haru)

-EnaKenji/FloatingCyclops (Ena x Kenji)

-Amitsu/Amomo/GoldenYokai (Amy x Mitsu/Momo)

Sonic

-Sonadow/'See Sonic Prime' (Sonic x Shadow)

-Knuxouge/All Because of An Emerald (Knuckles x Rouge)

-Tailsmo/Wholesomeness in 'X' (Tails x Cosmo)

Yes I am perfectly fine why do you ask?

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vicciouxs · 1 year ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀Hannah Doyle, 24. she / her now listening to she's a monster by exhibit decay...

⠀⠀⠀Hannah is the middle daughter of 7 siblings and they lived, with her parents, on a farm located in a small town. Her parents were extremely religious, as was the town, so Hannah grew up in a conservative, closed environment, where she didn't feel accepted. In the same way that being the middle child she felt that no one paid attention to her, she felt like a shadow or sometimes even like a ghost that you only notice when she does something wrong. In conclusion, her childhood was mostly solitary, which led to a personality that was somewhat closed and complex to access, because in the town she didn't have many friends, except for a neighbor who spoke with her out of her parents' obligation, but she didn't consider her either a friend. However, when Hannah was around 8 years old, her parents hired a maid from the church who would later become quite close with Hannah.

⠀⠀⠀Throughout her growing up Hannah showed a certain fascination with food, she loved to eat and was always hungry; but soon that hunger would turn into something more, something more twisted and deeper that she couldn't explain. Food was beginning to seem boring to her, she loved it, but it was boring, it satisfied her physically, not emotionally, and that frustrated her. How could something she loved so much make her feel so empty? Her response to that was to eat more, in the vain hope that if she was full she wouldn't feel empty. For religious reasons, her family used to practice fasting and they were very strict with food, so she had no choice but to beg the maid, Lola, for something to eat, she didn't care what it was, she just needed something else. But when her parents sent Lola away, Hannah began to feel more and more anxious, sometimes even acting aggressively toward her parents or siblings because something inside her desperately needed to eat and she couldn't control it.

⠀⠀⠀During one of the meals, one of her older sisters, Elisa, gave Hannah her food when she saw that she had even begun to trim her nails; and that's what they did day after day, during every meal, until their parents noticed. From that moment Hannah barely remembers anything, everything is blurry in her mind, she only remembers the sound of the plate crashing against the wall and her mother's screams just inches from her face. They were ashamed of her, she was clear about it and that's why they took her out of the house, so that she could reflect on her behavior; but she did everything but that.

⠀⠀⠀She wandered around the farm like a lost soul, listening to her stomach growl and her head spin, she had to eat, she needed to eat and suddenly a heavy breathing caught her attention. It came from her neighbors' farm and as if that breath was calling her, Hannah sneaked into the plot through a hole in the fence. She walked for a few minutes until she ran into a small rabbit, that was on its deathbed, perhaps because it had tried to escape and had been injured in the process, not knowing that this would cause its death. Hannah knew very well that when an animal was injured it was best to sacrifice it, so she crouched down next to it, ready to do the same thing she had seen Lola do with the chickens many times, but this time it was different. She barely remembered what happened, everything became dark when she began to feel the hot blood descending down her throat and how the small animal was losing heat between her hands. What came next were the horrified screams of her neighbors and the widening eyes of her parents; but none of that mattered to her, the important thing was that she no longer felt hungry, she was satisfied.

⠀⠀⠀Her parents didn't know what to do with her, they tried to take her to priests, use penance, punish her, they even tried to perform an exorcism on her, but nothing worked, Hannah didn't seem to regret her actions. So his last option was to put her in a convent, where her life would change forever. There she ate once a day and if she dared to escape to look for something else they punished her with lashes and even more fasting, on one occasion they even locked her up which caused her to completely embrace madness.

⠀⠀⠀She was isolated, she didn't talk to anyone, no one talked to her, the only thing that accompanied her were the voices in her head and the roar of her stomach that made more and more noise with each day that passed without eating. But as if something had heard her hunger, a young novice, who took pity on her, tried to help her, a big mistake. Her name was Sophia and she would always remember the fear she saw in her beautiful blue eyes. The young woman opened the door to give her something to eat and when she did, Hannah, who was bigger and stronger, pounced on her. She began to devour her by the throat, so that she wouldn't scream and what happened next is in black, she doesn't even remember what she did with the blood or the body, but once the door was open, Hannah escaped from there and again she felt satiated, she was no longer hungry.

⠀⠀⠀She left a note behind her, she and Sophia were lovers who had escaped together and so no one would deign to look for them beyond that horrible convent.

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angelhotchner · 2 years ago

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roze & twine

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Style: Multi-part Fic Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [named] Fem!Reader [non-descriptive OC] Timeline: Post ep100 Fic Content: Pining, eventual friends to lovers, smut Chapter Warnings: None

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Prologue

Everyone had their own outlet. Morgan loved to renovate houses - he was on his sixth property now, each one different from the others but all built with the same fervour: every wall holding secrets of the sight of the agent breaking down, letting his anger leave him, allowing hope to enter his soul once again. Garcia had literally everything. Knitting, ukulele, clay models - you name it, Penelope had tried it and created something adorably loud and vibrant, then displayed it in her cave if she could. The goodness of the world penetrated the disgust and heartbreak that she saw on her screens every day and it kept her outlook fresh. Reid was similar to Garcia...his interests were seemingly endless, but specific. As long as it was knowledge that he hadn’t gained yet, he was interested in it. Magic seemed to be his number one though - if it had been a particularly bad week, he’d arrive on Monday morning with a set of new tricks he’d learned. Prentiss...she had weekends away. No-one really knew what she was doing, although JJ had the best idea, but she always came back refreshed and focused. Her outlet usually landed her in Atlanta for two days - that’s all she’d ever given away to the team. JJ had her family - most importantly, Henry’s Sunday soccer games. Watching her son run around the field, dribbling the ball between his feet with his little face scrunched in concentration warmed her heart so much that she could forget the week she’d just had and the week that was waiting for her the next day.

Hotch shared the same outlet - his son was the light of his life and the only thing that really kept him going. Raising his son in the shadow of his passed wife was a hard feat, but when the little guy said something so pure and innocent it touched Hotch’s heart deeper than he’d let on, pulling the dark clouds in his mind away for a little while. Rossi had company. Whether it was hosting a dinner party for old time friends or enjoying himself at another charity banquet, he found solace in the people around him and their stories. Meeting new faces, listening to their own wisdom - it granted him a better outlook on life, a more peppered perspective on the world. The team teased that his outlet was finding another wife, but they knew that Rossi had almost given up hope on marrying again. Harris had bracelets. Seriously. Ever since third grade queen Lola Grey had taught her how to braid tiny strings of wool and what the best colour combinations for beads were, Harris was obsessed...even when Lola rejected the bracelet that she’d spent hours creating for her. When Lola’s friends threw it into the muddy puddles on the playground and laughed, Harris saw that as a challenge to do better. That kind of thinking followed her as she grew up, straight into the FBI Academy and into the hands of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Never quit, do better.

It was no surprise that this case had taken a toll on her. The unsub had suffered the same upbringing as her - the only difference was their responses to it. Harris had channeled all of her hurt and frustration into making her life better, the unsub had channeled his into ending other lives. She had been the one to know the most, to understand him the best, and ultimately tackle him into an arrest with just a small scratch on the side of her cheek. Now, she sat quietly at the back of the plane, her hands twirling and knotting the burgundy yarn until it began to take shape. She didn’t need to look down and concentrate, the muscle memory of her fingers took over as she gazed out of the window. Hotch glanced over. He studied her face for a few seconds, ready to focus his attention back to the file in front of him but his eyes drifted down to her hands, catching the movement. He watched with curious amusement, flickering his gaze between her face and her hands, noticing how her eyes seemed to droop a little further with every twist of the wool. Her shoulders were beginning to relax, her mind becoming easy. He smiled gently, although he wasn’t sure why, and turned his attention back to the paperwork. “Aaron Hotchner, did you just smile?” Hotch’s cheeks felt flushed as he dipped his head slightly, realising he’d been caught out. Of course he had. Harris never missed anything. He raised his head and looked at her, finding her still twirling the wool but looking directly at him. Her cheeks were lifted with a small smirk, her eyes shining with devilment. She seemed cool and mischievous, but Harris’ mind was freaking out like a teenage girl. Hotch just smiled at you, she thought. For no reason. He never smiles. He smiled at you. He cares...no, no. Hotch doesn’t care about you like that. Maybe it wasn’t a good smile. Maybe he was laughing at you. The bracelets. He thinks you’re childish. He- “It happens,” He shrugged, knocking Harris from being locked in a battle of her own thoughts. “Your work on this case was exemplary, Roze,” She felt giddy with hearing the praise, but maintained her cool expression. “Thanks, Hotchy,” The nickname awarded her with another small smile. Hotch wasn’t sure when she started calling him that, but he welcomed the playful nature. He knew he shouldn’t be revelling in the fact that she hadn’t given any of the other team members a nickname, it probably didn’t even much to her, but he savoured the idea of being someone that stood out more than anyone else to her. She nodded at him and turned back towards the window, her brain dangerously close to overdrive. God damn praise kink. ══ ⋆☆⋆ ══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════ ⋆☆⋆ ══

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x you #hotch x female reader #hotch x fem!reader

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singingvio · 1 year ago

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@adel-memes okay I’m gonna start listing random tidbits I can think of for you

- Blue is bi-gender he/her, and bisexual

- Blue is Australian

- Blue is OCD! I’ve got OCD, and this is gonna be my first character who’s diagnosed with it. He will suffer just like I have. :)

- his voice claim is Hunter from The Owl House, but add an Australian accent.

- 16 years old and 5’9”, Blue is one of two people in the party with a driver’s license. She cannot parallel park to save her life, and failed her test 3 times because of this. She’s more trustworthy behind the wheel than Shadow is, though.

- He’s been friends with Shadow the longest, since elementary school, and this is because you, Adel, had me sold for a long time on the incredible potential a Blue and Shadow dynamic would have

- Blue likes patterned clothes, sweaters, and, in terms of dresses, anything that flows or billows out! She loves to twirl!

- has worn the same incredibly worn out combat boots since age 12. The soles are falling off. Duct tape is their only saving grace.

- He takes mixed martial arts classes with Shadow (and Zelda! She’s in the kid’s class). He’s a brown belt, and Shadow is a black belt.

- Blue plays a half-orc fighter in DND named Bugg. Pronounced Bug.

- She’s in the school band, and very aggressively plays first chair clarinet.

- Blue has a pet rock. Her name is Lola. She was a showgirl. But that was 30 years ag

(Four Swords DND AU)

#four swords #blue link #el rambles #dungeons and dragons #four swords dnd au #Adel-memes #legend of Zelda

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azaisya · 9 months ago

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2.3k of Lyney and Lynette watching out for each other. Lyney wears himself thin, and Lynette wants him to stop being stupid. [ao3]

Thunder boomed outside the walls of the Hotel Bouffes d'ete, and rain lashed its windows. But inside it was warm and cozy, the lights dim, and the children still young enough to be scared of the storm were gathered in the sitting room, tucked onto couches and on mattresses on the floor. All of them had fluffy blankets and soft toys and bright smiles on their faces, thunder forgotten.

Lyney, standing in front of them, framed by the gentle light of the fireplace, grinned at their enraptured expressions and shut the storybook in his hand with a snap. “Well!” he said, voice bright, “That’s the last story for tonight.” He made to put the book away and smother the fire, but he knew he wouldn’t get far. They were sleepy, but not sleepy enough yet.

Sure enough, small voices immediately began to protest, begging for another, and Lyney laughed and darted down to tousle the hair of those closest to him. The movement pulled at wounds still healing from his last mission, but he let neither his face nor his movements betray the pain.

“I don’t know— It’s getting pretty late.” He affected sternness, vanishing the book with a flick of his wrist and propping his hands on his hips. “All of you need to be awake and alert at your lessons tomorrow!”

Little Lola, one of the more outgoing children, immediately cried, “No! You promised us stories, Lyney!”

“Shh,” he urged, “Your other siblings are sleeping!” More protests arose, and he sighed, seemingly reluctant. “Alright, alright! How about a deal, then? I’ll read you one more story, and then you'll all go to sleep.”

“Promise!” Lola said, delighted to have gotten her way. Lyney waited until more voices piped up, nodding briskly at the general agreement.

“Good! And remember: the House rewards those who keep their promises.” It wouldn’t do to reward Lola for speaking out, and so he cast around and spotted one of the shyer boys, new to the House of the Hearth, curled up in an armchair near her. “Valere, it’s your turn. Why don’t you pick a book for me to read?” Immediately, Lola leaned over to Valere to whisper suggestions; Lyney hoped her friendliness might encourage the boy to come out of his shell a little.

With the children’s attention finally drawn—temporarily—away from him, Lyney let his eyes fall on the one person who hadn’t stopped watching him all night.

Lynette was sitting in the back of the room, half-hidden in the shadows. Freminet was lying on the bench beside her, fast asleep with Pers tucked under his arm, but Lynette’s dark violet eyes were open and watchful. Lyney could tell from the tilt of her ears that she was overwhelmed by the thunder and the children’s exuberance, but she still hadn’t left.

Ever since she’d gotten her Vision, ever since Lyney had almost died, she’d refused to be parted from him. Lyney could understand her anxiety; wasn’t he the same, after all? How many days after her kidnapping had he insisted on holding her hand as they went about their day just to remind himself that she was there?

But it was silly for her to worry about him. He was her older brother, after all. Worrying was his job.

Stepping lightly, he made his way across the room, smiling and gently assuring anybody who reached out to him as he passed. By the time he stopped in front of Lynette, she looked flatly at him and said, “You just like basking in their attention.”

He pouted, like he always did whenever she teased him. “You’re so cruel to me.” But she was too wired up to smile—her own small, barely-there smile that he could read in the softness around her eyes—and he let his mask slip sideways until the pout was pleading. “The kids want me to read another story, but I was supposed to check the mail after dinner. Could you do it for me, Lynette? Please?”

Lynette hesitated, understanding immediately that it was just a ploy to send her away from the too-loud room. Displeasure flattened the corners of her lips. “You should do your own work.” I don’t want to leave you.

He took her hands in his. “Please, Lynette? For your favorite older brother?” He squeezed her hands, letting her know that he was alive and fine and here. “I’ll even make you the new tea that Freminet brought home and bring it to you in bed.” I’ll be there soon.

Another boom of thunder sounded overhead, and Lynette’s ears flattened against her hair. Unhappily, she said, “Fine.” She extracted her hands from Lyney’s and gently shook Freminet.

The younger boy blinked sleepily. “Hm? Is it time to go to bed?”

“Bedtime,” she agreed, getting to her feet. As she and Freminet left, her tail flicked across the back of Lyney’s bare hand.

Without anything to immediately occupy his attention, Lyney had to fight the urge to sway on his feet. He was so tired. His body ached.

Shaking himself, he turned back to the children. Valere was standing behind him, shuffling his feet. “Um,” he said, voice soft, “Can— Can we read this one?”

Lyney grinned. It was even a genuine one, now that he knew Lynette was free to put on her headphones and curl up in bed away from all the noise. “Of course!” He took the book and flipped it open. With all the panache of a real performance, he turned the book so that the children could see the pictures and began to read.

By the time Lyney finally got all the children to bed, the pain and exhaustion were bad enough that he was nearly tripping over his own feet. But it was worth it; the stories and camaraderie of the makeshift sleepover had calmed any terror caused by the storm, and he thought that he’d seen Valere giggling with Lola towards the end. That was good. The boy needed friends.

Muzzily, he found the tin of tea that Freminet had stolen from a noble’s manor on his last mission and began to brew it. Lynette normally made all the tea, and he fumbled one-handed through the process until he managed to produce a passable cup of it.

Breathing carefully through the newly sharp pain in his side, he made his way up the stairs to their shared room. He was so sick of being injured. He wished he would heal faster. How was he supposed to carry out missions if he didn’t heal?

The door to their room was unlocked, and Lyney opened the door as quietly as he could.

Lynette was curled up on her side on the bed, the headphones that Freminet had customized to be noise-canceling and as low tech as possible over her ears. Alarm bells immediately went off in his head; alone and in the silence, Lynette should’ve been able to enter standby mode and start recharging, but there was still tension coiled in the line of her spine. She was upset.

Lyney quietly shut the door behind him and put the cup of tea down on the bedside cabinet, next to Lynette’s gently glowing Vision, so that he could sit on the edge of the bed. Lynette’s eyes snapped open, and her tail immediately curled around his ankle. “I brought the tea,” he said, smiling. It was better to talk around the issue until Lynette felt like bringing it up. She didn’t like it when he fussed.

“Mm.” She pulled off the headphones and waited a beat, head tilted. Satisfied that the storm had abated, she sat up and reached for the tea.

“Did Freminet get to bed alright?” Lyney asked.

The line of her mouth flattened. “Yes. Father says we’re supposed to check the mail every day when she’s not here.”

Lyney winced. He could see the mail, piled into loose stacks on the cabinet across the room. “I forgot yesterday.” The downstairs bathroom had flooded, and Freminet had been out diving, and so it’d fallen to Lyney to temporarily fix the problem until someone could run out and fetch him. It’d been a mess.

Lynette sipped the tea and made a pleased sound. “Mm. Yes. You did.”

“Well. We’ll hand it out tomorrow at breakfast, and I’ll apologize if any of it is late.”

She didn’t say anything. He’d normally be able to keep talking, to tease out the root of her discontent, but he could barely even think anymore. The silence lingered, broken only by the sound of Lynette drinking her tea. Darkness encroached at the edge of Lyney’s vision, and when he blinked he found himself slumped against the pillows, half-under the blanket.

“I should change into pajamas,” he mumbled. He’d lost the thread of what he’d been doing.

Lynette nodded, and he reluctantly got to his feet. The left half of his body—the side that had suffered the brunt of the impact from their crash—immediately screamed in protest, and he staggered and would’ve fallen if Lynette hadn’t leaped to her feet and caught him.

“Sorry,” he said, automatically.

Her tail flicked with displeasure. “Let me help.”

His first instinct was to protest. He was fine, really, just temporarily shaken. But his head was spinning and he was sure he’d just embarrass himself further if he tried.

And tomorrow evening Father was supposed to get back from her mission and he needed to be the best that he could.

Lynette read his consent in the dropping of his shoulders, and she pushed him back to the bed and went to fetch his pajamas and the bruise cream for his injuries. He was a poor patient at the best of times, he knew, but he tried to stifle the instinctual flinches and protests as she helped him change his clothes and redress his wounds. He was pleased to see that the tension in her slowly unwound as she did her work, but when she went to go put away his day clothes a new anxiety stirred in his gut.

She’d hardly stepped back into the room when he blurted out, “Are you mad at me?”

She stopped. He flinched, horrified at the rawness in his voice. His lips started to smile, hoping to soften the question, but then she strode forward with a single-minded intensity and the smile died. She planted her hands on his shoulders—gentle as ever with his injured one—and leaned close to his face, her dark purple eyes blazing. “You’re very stupid.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of his throat. “Ah—”

She shook her head irritably. “What did you do yesterday, Lyney?”

Off balance as he was, Lyney could do nothing but reply truthfully. “Crawled around in the basement trying to find the leak.”

“And today?”

His eyes dropped. “Help clean up the water damage.”

She saw that he could see where she was going, just as he saw that she was intending to make him say it anyway. “And what were you supposed to be doing?”

He mumbled, “Resting.” She nodded, stepping back, but he couldn’t help but add, “But how was I not supposed to help? They needed me.” She glared at him, and he couldn’t help but flinch again. He shouldn’t, not when she’d so tactfully avoided answering the first time, but the words spilled out without his control again. “Are you mad at me?”

Lynette sighed. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

The words sent an irrational bolt of terror through him, but she sighed again and gently nudged him, arranging him until he was lying on his uninjured side and she was curled up with him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and they both pretended he wasn’t crying.

She petted his hair, but she didn’t reassure him. It wasn’t really about her being mad at him for not resting. It was the way he’d failed to bounce back from the injury, the mistakes that lead to the fall in the first place, his own frustration with being unable to perform at his usual capacity.

And Lynette had healed so much faster than usual, now that she had a Vision. The fear of being left behind was irrational and silly—Lynette would never—but that didn’t stop the thought from keeping him awake at night. He needed to be stronger. He needed to be perfect.

Matter-of-fact, she said, “You always say it’s your job to take care of me. I don’t want to have to take care of you.”

He laughed, wetly. “You’re so mean to me.” But he understood the meaning behind her words. “I can’t promise to take care of myself better. I need—” He trailed off, but she knew.

“I mean, I’ll do it.” Her fingers curled around the pulse point at his wrist. “But that’s why you’re stupid,” she added, long-suffering, “I’m not telling you not to work when you should rest. I’m telling you to be smarter about working when you should rest.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling very small and very seen. He’d been tense, afraid she was about to ask for something he couldn’t give, but he should’ve known better. There was nobody in this world who knew him better than Lynette. And she was right; pushing himself through an injury as severe as this one when he had no motive but his own anxieties, had been a stupid, reckless thing to do “Okay. I can do that.”

“I know,” Lynette said simply.

He wriggled, pulling away far enough to see her face. She wasn’t crying, but the exhaustion in her eyes matched his own. “Are you okay?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Of course.”

He’d always been able to see well in the dark, and her face was as familiar as his own. She was calmer now, her worry lessened if not entirely dispelled. She wasn’t completely fine, not yet—but then neither of them were.

She saw him looking and raised her eyebrows. “I’m fine.”

And she would be. Both of them would.

He grinned, abashed, and said, “You know I had to check.”

She nodded; of course she knew. Without another word, he pressed himself back into her side and closed his eyes. They stayed there, curled up like two pieces of the same puzzle, until sleep took them.

[this fic is on ao3!]

#lyney #lynette #lyney and lynette #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfic #fontaine #candleswriting #i haven't posted fic in so long #i dont even remember my genshin tag #out of resin #i think that was it #i would actually love to write more of them but i have no ideas so feel free to send some!#no promises on if i'll write them but i'd love to do something either whump-y or character study-y or both

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caracarnn · 10 months ago

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ROLEPLAY HISTORY!

The rules are simple! Post characters you’d like to roleplay as, have roleplayed as, and might bring back. Then tag ten people to do the same (if you can’t think of ten, just write down however many you can and tag that number of people). Please repost, don’t reblog!

CURRENT MUSE(S): (canon muses)

Rand al'Thor (the wheel of time)

Elayne Trakand (the wheel of time)

Andraste (dragon age)

Asmodean (the wheel of time)

Ciri (the witcher)

Daenerys Targaryen (asoiaf)

Dalinar Kholin (the stormlight archive)

Deirdre Mayfair (anne rice)

Elend Venture (mistborn)

Galad Damodred (the wheel of time)

George Villiers (mary & george)

Geralt of Rivia (the witcher)

Jon Snow (asoiaf)

Julien Mayfair (anne rice)

Kaladin Stormblessed (the stormlight archive)

Kelsier (mistborn)

Mona Mayfair (anne rice)

Padme Amidala (star wars)

Perrin Aybara (the wheel of time) Renarin Kholin (the stormlight archive)

Robb Stark (asoiaf)

Rowan Mayfair (anne rice)

Shallan Davar (the stormlight archive)

Spook (mistborn)

Stella Mayfair (anne rice)

Tyrion Lannister (asoiaf)

Empress Tuon (the wheel of time)

Yennefer of Vengerberg (the witcher)

Anne of Austria (the musketeers)

Arno Dorian (assassin's creed)

Cesare Borgia (the borgias)

Daryl Dixon (the walking dead)

David 8 (alien)

Eleanor Guthrie (black sails)

Ellie (the last of us game)

Sir Gawain (the green knight)

Hannibal Lecter (hannibal)

James Flint (black sails)

Jamie Fraser (outlander)

Jesper Fahey (six of crows)

Katrina van Tassel (sleepy hollow)

Klaus Mikaelson (tvd)

Louis Pointe du Lac (anne rice)

Lucien Grimaud (the musketeers)

Magneto (xmen)

Obi Wan Kenobi (star wars)

Philippe d'Orleans (versailles)

Ragnar Lothbrok (vikings)

Rebekah Mikaelson (tvd)

Richie Gecko (from dusk till dawn)

Rick Grimes (the walking dead)

Sam Bridges (death stranding)

Ubbe Ragnarsson (vikings)

Victor Frankenstein (penny dreadful/novel)

WANT TO WRITE:

idk? lol I mean I always happen on someone new everyday so --- there are tons. I was looking for someone from the Dune novels but idk. Lestat? DONT KNOW

HAVE WRITTEN: (these I only write for strict people still but usually nope)

Steve Rogers (mcu)

Athos (the musketeers)

Porthos (the musketeers)

Loki (mcu)

Natasha Romanoff (mcu)

Doctor Strange (mcu)

Lanfear (the wheel of time)

Dr. Thresden (ahs)

every sarah paulson ahs character ever lol

mark (orphan black)

John Constantine (dc)

Oliver Queen (arrow)

Sylar (heroes)

Claire Bennett (heroes)

Sara Howard (the alienist)

Lucius Isaacson (the alienist)

Freydis (vikings)

Katia (vikings)

Aslaug (vikings)

Thor (mcu)

Edward Kenway (assassin's creed)

a bunch of other assassin's creed characters lol

Alina Starkov (shadow and bone)

Genya Safin (shadow and bone)

Luke Crain (Haunting of Hill House)

Eva Villanueva (high seas)

Lola ( reign)

Bash (reign)

Henry & Catherine (reign)

Michael Curry (anne rice)

Every Mayfair character ever lol (anne rice)

Santanico (from dusk till dawn)

Clarke Griffin (the 100)

Quicksilver (mcu)

Jensen (the losers)

Aragorn (lotr)

tagged by: @luckhissoul & @stcrforged tagging: @ofprevioustimes @adversitybloomed @malumxsubest @uncxntrxllable @forwardlion @depictedblue @qanedanegros @theasteria @revelour

#.ooc #long post for ts #help i dk when to stop #there's more too that I can't remember

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