#Substitute Guardian

[ferretoats]

Introducing! Momo and Guardian as Scavengers!

(pretend I didn't spell Guardian wrong in the pic) It is actually kinda hard to turn the companions into scavs- mostly because it's the clothing that makes up a main part of their design... and well not sure if it is even possible to make cloth beyond the explosive kind in rain world. I had to make an exception for Momo, cause they seem like the kind of guy to learn sewing in order to have their hawaiian shirt even in another universe.

Hats and Birds

ALSO the most frustrating thing is that these two have hats- and like- I just decided to mimic the shape of the hat with their horns. I took some inspiration from birds, Momo being a humming bird(colors) and Guardian being a canary (idk my mind went to how canaries were used in mines to detect carbon monoxide, cause they'd be the first to be effected by poisoning. So, I saw yellow on Guardian and remembered how they would be one of the first in line of defense against the rot and would probably die first- which is a bit grim).

Guardian is a master of explosives.

Also yes Guardian is actively wearing explosive/flammable fabric. Whether or not it is actually cannon I'd imagine the fabric being explosive itself or just a catalyst. But basically it is extremely flammable and upon meeting high friction would catch aflame. Gaurdian has already been burned because of this, but at the same time it has prevented creatures like daddy long legs from killing them, because they're essentially a walking firecracker, and so they'd instead be dropped a little worse for wear, but alive.

It is very possible I may change these designs in the future, but only time can tell.

[bioluminescent-obscurity]

can't stop thinking about this interaction

[tirorah]

Wait, Ami, you're...you're in her class. You are! You should know! Do you just not pay attention to who gets cleanup duty? Were you too busy going over trigonometry in your brilliant mind to notice?

Ami and Makoto never get the pronounced dynamic establishment that Usagi and Ami, or Rei and Makoto do. In fact, some scenes featuring the two of them were cut, indicating a deeper dynamic was written but didn't make it into the final product. That's not to say they have no relationship at all, but like Usagi and Rei, it's emphasised less than the other dynamics in this group of four.

But maybe that's okay. Ami and Makoto get along naturally. There's no tension here, just support. It's all very comfortable and I doubt there's much potential for drama between them, which makes it more difficult to generate interesting character moments.

Of course, I'm an old Ami x Makoto shipper at heart and so the fact that these scenes were cut is a personal attack directed at me, myself and I! Release the Ami x Makoto cut!

(There's one cut scene where they've both been working on their knitting projects in the base. Makoto's fallen asleep on the couch and somehow her and Ami's knitting have combined. It's really sweet and I want it in the show proper so bad.)

[incorrectbatfam]

Which TV shows or sitcoms do the Batfam guest star in?

(I'm a 2010s girlie if you can't tell)

Selina has a one-episode subplot as a prisoner in Orange Is The New Black where she acts like she's going to try and make a daring escape just to mess with everyone else

Luke appears in the background of a large gathering or party in Black-ish but the characters are too busy with the storyline to notice until the end when they realize it's legendary MMA fighter Luke Fox, except he's just there for the food

Bette would be one of the extras in The Good Place whose entire role is to give people the wrong frozen yogurt toppings while acting like the absolute nicest person who got into the "Good Place" for saving an endangered goat species

Alfred is a customer just doing his shopping amidst the Superstore chaos. He just occasionally appears throughout the episode and when they're like "You're still here?" he unfurls a comically long shopping list

Barbara appears in New Girl as an HR worker at Schmidt's place of work, where she slows him down with pointless bureaucratic procedures when he's trying to get something done quickly

Bruce would appear as a prospective business client in The Office and offers to buy Dunder Mifflin until he gets a tour of the place as it's literally going up in flames

Harper would be sitting in the back of the classroom in Community interjecting with her side commentary until the characters realize she doesn't even go there

Damian would be a student in Abbott Elementary who starts doing the teacher's jobs, and when the school tries to call home, he poses as his own guardian with a costume and voice training

Cass is a part-time cashier who gets hired on the spot at Kim's Convenience but quits after one day not because of the characters or storyline, but because she was just bored

Dick appears in Brooklyn Nine-Nine as a New Jersey police officer working an interstate case, and him and Jake competing for the spotlight and recognition can be summed up by "oh my God, there's two of them"

Jason also appears in the same Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode as the main suspect, and the whole joke is that he keeps insisting he and Dick know each other (being irl brothers) while Dick is like "I've never seen this man in my life"

Carrie guest stars in Parks and Rec as a very passionate (and very annoying) lone teenage activist with a picket sign who won't leave the characters alone until they hear out her (very valid) concerns

Cullen appears in Psych as another "psychic" racing against Shawn to solve a case, but really he just knows how to get the evidence he needs from social media faster than surveying the actual crime scene

Helena plays a substitute teacher in Derry Girls who keeps insisting that the characters do a dumb assignment that actually makes sense in the end

Tim briefly makes a cameo in Cobra Kai at one of the karate tournaments, where he plays a competitor from a dojo that's not part of the main cast

Kate appears in Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt for a minute as the characters trying to get someplace urgently, and she has a car or something they want to borrow but she's just like "uh, no, I don't know you"

Duke plays a tutor in Modern Family where the episode centers on school, and the session consists of him just trying to do his job while everyone else keeps interrupting

Steph cameos in Scrubs as a know-it-all med student who keeps trying to point out that a character is making a (harmless) mistake, only to get shut down until it happens and she's just like "that's what I was trying to tell you"

[ellis-the-lightguide]

-He stays silent listening to him, almost falling asleep at some point-

I'm sorry... I just... I'm so useless...

-He admits defeated and gets up. He walks towards Nocturne, showing him the two small bottles-

Which one is it?

A transmission comes in at an incredibly odd time with an equally odd request. There's muffled talking in the background between two figures. One being Nocturne's distinctive, husky voice, and the other a British female.

🏰 - Uhm... You wouldn't happen to have any recipes to spare, would you? Preferably easy ones? There have been some... Unforseen complications...

Recipes? Uh Yeah! Just tell me what you have in hand and I'll sent some to you!

-He says low, his voice sounding raspy-

Is everything fine? I'll drop everything and go if you need me.

[astralnymphh]

ugh so one idea ive always had abt succubus reader is like.. being a succubus version of a guardian angel. like u are desperately trying to get ellie laid and its just not fucking happening because shes a LOSER! you try ur hardest to get her into situations for her to finally get some but she's an idiot and fucks it up every time. and so at some point you get so fed up you just fuck her yourself because it won't happen otherwise!!

OHH, YOU'RE A GENUIS. A GENIE ASS. loser!ellie calling you forth at the crux of midnight desperately because she just can't score a girl, whining about "girls just don't like me!" this and "can't you just— make them fall for me or something?" that. so blind to the reality, barefaced in front of her own eyes, that she played a huge part in those interactions— a huge part in ruining them. so late at night, as a pivotal substitute agent, you make her whine for a completely different reason. tbh maybe some succubus strap action? giving her cunt some much needed, much appreciated— pounding. ellie going cross-eyed, rose-faced and slobbery over her own babbles and moans, "uh, uh, uh!" only racking up an aftercare debt that you end up having to repay cause you've vamped so much of her energy that she's a drowsy, limp mess after all that. yessir! ♡

i so have to write this one day.

[byoldervine]

How To Always Have Writing Ideas…

For A New Story:

1. Keep a list. Any time you have one of those sudden bursts of inspiration in the middle of writing a separate story, don’t quit your current WIP or pretend you’ll ‘just remember it’, put it into a separate list. You can always go back to this later on

2. Writing prompts. Look them up, use random word generators, pick a random object you can see, whatever helps you come up with any idea at all. Write a few paragraphs. Can it evolve from there?

3. People watch. Go to a public place and make up backstories for the strangers you come across. That man in the hat is using it to hide his elf ears. That woman with the bright pink hair didn’t dye it, she’s secretly the main character of an anime trying to dodge all the tropes and cliches. That toddler is actually a guardian angel reincarnated to watch over their new baby sibling. What brings them to this place? Where did they come from? Where are they going next?

To Continue An Existing Story:

1. Act it out. Say the words aloud, act out what your characters are doing, get props or people to act off of if you need to. See what feels like the most natural progression of the moment

2. Coffee shop AU, or other substitutional one-shot. Good for establishing dynamics between two or more characters, or even just working out a lone character’s day-to-day. Just write a few paragraphs about your characters entering a coffee shop or similar appropriate establishment/ordinary location. What do they do? What do they order to eat/drink? What do they say to each other? How do they treat the staff and other customers? If all else fails, write what they do after they leave, as if it were an ordinary day for them

3. Rubber duck it. This is something programmers use to work out where they went wrong in their code, but I’ve found it can work for figuring out story stuff as well. What you do is get a rubber duck, or any other object of focus, and start explaining your problem to it out loud. In this case you can read your chapter to the duck, or even give it the full run-down of the plot so far. Warning; side effects may include getting frustrated that the problem was right in front of you and subsequently throwing the duck

For Both:

1. Writing graveyards. I talked a bit about them in a previous post, but writing graveyards are basically just the folder you store your deleted scenes in instead of yeeting them into the void. Reread those, see if they have anything you can recontextualise or repurpose

2. Combine ideas. My WIP Byoldervine is a combination of two separate plots I had that I realised I’d be able to combine - twice. I first realised I could put together my ‘angel and demon heroes protecting humans from a war between heaven and hell’ story and my ‘quest through the fantasy realm to find the ingredients to a cure for a dying god’ story into the same universe as two sides of the same story as a duology. Then I realised I could just remove a few characters, tweak a few plot points and mash them completely together into one book. Combining them works wonders and minimises worldbuilding

3. Go out with friends or family. I guarantee that the one time you’ll be flooded with inspiration is when you don’t have an opportunity to write it down

[ashdreams2023]

Hello again! I was wondering if you still do requests and if so, can I request a Severus x reader but platonic? Like we've all read Sev being like a guardian of sorts to students but what if reader is like the prof that cares for Sev when he was a student? Like Severus' favorite teacher is reader cause not only is she smart and teaches well but she has a soft spot for Sevy and is one of the profs that punishes the marauders every time she catches them bothering Snape. Snape can see her as a mother figure that even up to the point that Sev actually became a teacher he still goes to her for his problems and she just babies him lol. (Reader was once the youngest teacher to teach in Hogwarts before Snape took that role)

Alright alright gonna do this now!

Platonic Severus snape x fem reader

All my respect

Severus had a rocky relationship with adults from a very young age that’s for sure, his home life and neighborhood left little in his faith for grown ups.

It was a rocky two first years when he couldn’t even trust his head of house let alone another professor, he felt uncomfortable if he had to seek his head of house for help, he preferred to suffer in silence, even if it meant having to sit in aching bruises from his bullies until he learned how to brew a cooling balm.

No one did a thing to genuinely help him, no one, he hated how everyone overlooked him, how They saw him just as a weird kid who others avoid for no reason but that they didn’t understand him.

That continued until his third year, after a brutal beating from Sirius and his wand almost snapping in half, he remembers it very clearly he was sitting in the hall feeling the entire world was against him.

Then you came, young looking and worried, at the time you were only 28 years of age, he knew you were the new hired substitute professor for charms.

He expected to be scolded and sent to his dorm but instead you kneeled down and without even asking a question tended to his injuries self, he flinched when you first touched his face but that didn’t stop you from applying some healing balm and checking his medical chart with your wand.

He was speechless to say the least, no one ever cared this much about him…even his mother…

"Tell me who did this to you and I don’t want any lies little boy" you tried to sound firm but he could tell you were still panicked about his state and what you saw on his medical charm, he was a scrawny malnourished boy "you can tell me, you’re not gonna be in trouble I promise"

Next thing he knows points have been deducted from the lions and he’s all healed up. Although that still didn’t make him trust you that easily.

But it kept happening, you stopped whoever was bothering him, looked out for him when he seemed a little off and much more, you didn’t rest until you got the marauders suspended from hogwarts for a whole semester because of that idiot and deadly prank.

You scolded him still but always with a gentle hand checking if he’s hurt or hiding an injury like he sometimes did.

"One of these days you will kill me with a heart attack!"

"They started it!"

Heck you even helped him get some rare plants for his potion making and recommended him to higher education, even after he messed up and used that awful name, you believed him, you saw the good in him and stood by his side.

He can thank you a million times but he still feels like it isn’t enough, even now at 35 of age, you’re 50 and still working in the same school.

He comes to you for guidance, he has tea with you every other day and you sit there smiling fondly as he complains and rants about his day, just like the little boy you once knew.

"With all my respect to you mother but these kids are insufferable" it takes him a minute to realize what he just said and he blushes crazily but you chuckle.

"Oh please, you’re the son I never birthed"

Severus sighs still blushing slightly from embarrassment "Isn’t it too late for me to call my professor mum?" He used sarcasm to hide his embarrassment.

You sipped your tea and leaned back on your chair "I remember when you were just a little lad, sneaking around to brew your outrageous potions and getting burned then coming back to me with a pout and tear stained eyes demanding I give you my cooling balm"

He smirked crossing his arms "I can make it myself now, I don’t need to be babied anymore"

"Oh? So you don’t your favorite tea cup?" She laughed softly.

Severus frowned dropping his arms, his tea cup, the one you bought specially for him because the design reminded you of a cauldron, it was childish and looked out of place in your neatly organized cabin with all the good China sets.

But he still went for it, he wouldn’t pick that one round tea cup and take it for himself, you would tease him about needing a grown up one but he would defend himself saying he would do just fine with this one.

"Well, good to know some things just don’t change sevy"

"Don’t call me that I’m a grown adult! I’m taller than you!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night sevy" fighting you was useless, he should’ve known better but he always felt light, he breathed out and let a small smile creep on his lips.

[evesedenramblings]

Damon and Diana: Design Comparison

Gear up everyone because this is a LONG post. The parallels between Damon and Diana are plentiful, so this post just sticks to just their design elements or else it would never end. Spoilers beneath the cut.

1. Names

The name Diana in Hebrew means “giving light”, “shining one” and “luminous”, but also is associated with leadership. While Diana already acts as a light for many of her classmates, Damon included, I think her leadership role will begin to bloom in Chapter 2.

Meanwhile, the name Damon means “to overpower”, “to conquer”, “one who subdues” and “to tame”, which associates him with power and control as he displayed in the courtroom. Additionally, these terms can be associated with leadership qualities. Damon can also be associated with “guardian spirit” and “loyal friend”.

When comparing the two names to each other, the parallels become clear. Each represent a different approach for how they want to lead the killing game. Diana represents a light/faith-filled and optimistic approach while Damon leads with a more cautious and pessimistic approach. Diana protects everyone while Damon protects those he needs to. Diana is unable to accuse anyone of being capable of murder, as she’s still to inwrapped in light while Damon has the swift execution of power capable to make the decisions to find the culprit, and even turn on those he trusted if needed. Both need each other- Diana’s strength lays in faith and charisma while Damon’s lays in doubt and decision making.

As of Chapter 1, the two embody each other’s weaknesses. If that will change, it could go either way! In an ideal world, the two could grow and learn from each other (a balance if you will), but I think due to Diana’s idolized version of Wolfgang, and Eva’s betrayal of Damon, the two are going to go further down their own paths, convinced that they’re right and the other is wrong.

2. Appearance

Diana’s main colour palette is primary colours, given the red is substituted with the diluted shade of pink. Additionally, the neutral colour she’s paired with is white, which again aligns her with that idea of light, or brightness.

Meanwhile, Damon’s main colour is green, a secondary colour! First and foremost, it’s outside the primary wheel entirely, creating contrast with Diana’s design. It’s also worth noting that the only yellow in Diana’s design is her bowtie above her blue shirt, right where Damon’s green tie goes. Additionally, whereas Damon’s eyes are green, Diana’s are a lighter magenta, which are opposing colours on the colour wheel. The same applies to their hair colours, as Damon is blond and Diana’s hair is a darker shade of magenta than her eyes, pushing it closer to purple, which are also opposite colours on the colour wheel. For those unfamiliar with the wheel, that means the colours, though opposite, compliment each other when paired together!

The same opposing pattern can be found with Damon’s neutral colour scheme, as a majority of his design is dark neutral colours like grey, black, or brown, which opposes Diana’s prominent neutral colour of white. However, they both do have a white undershirt which is a nice similarity between the two, and both are even wearing vests though of different styles

3. Ultimate Talents I would also argue their talents parallel each other! If Damon’s talent is to convince people of something via words (telling), I would say Diana’s talent is to convince people of something via appearance (showing), both two different ways of conveying information. Damon’s talent is pretty self explanatory. He is the Ultimate Debater, responsible for convincing action through words. Diana’s talent though, as the Ultimate Cosmologist, I don’t think has had enough spotlight. Diana’s talent is good enough to convince people she’d never been sliced with a knife- what is that if not convincing via appearance, showing rather than telling? Damon’s talent embodies telling, while Diana’s embodies showing.

Additionally, there's how the two perceive their talents and others. Where Damon is confident in his own talent but thinks everyone else's talent is useless, Diana has the opposite ideology where she downplays her own talent but uplifts everyone else's.

I think it’s really interesting how much their designs compliment each other and I absolutely cannot wait for Chapter 2 to see them interact as protagonist and antagonist.

[thewertsearch]

In the core of Derse lies Aradia’s missing, presumed-dead Dream Self, dressed in rags.

Maybe her Dream Self survived because her realself hadn't awakened on Derse when she died. Their connection hadn't been established, so Dream Aradia hadn't yet started reflecting her realself's injuries.

Actually, if that theory's correct, it means that the John from Davesprite’s timeline may have survived through his own unawakened Dream Self - and that all Future Dave needed to do to get his friend back was travel to Prospit's core.

Her dream body is consumed by Jack's First Guardian flames. This creates a feedback loop similar to the one that destroyed Jadebot, with identical results.

She's awake, baby!

And she's a fucking God Tier, which is amazing and breaks so many rules.

First of all, God Tiering is supposed to merge your realself with your Dream Self by sacrificing the former. Aradia doesn’t have a living realself, and sacrificed her Dream Self instead. Plus, the sacrifice was instantly undone!

Second of all, this is supposed to happen on your Quest Cocoon, which Aradia is many miles from. She did appear to be sleeping on a Time symbol, which may have served as a substitute Quest Cocoon, but that just raises further questions! What the hell is going on!?

The only person more confused than I am is Aradia herself, who appears to have had no idea that this was going to happen.

Theories aside, let’s take a moment to celebrate. Aradia’s been completely resurrected, and her cheery demeanor has returned in full. This might be the most triumphant moment of the Act so far!

[luxthestrange]

WHB Incorrect quotes#70 Greatest's Dad in all the realms-

What I truly want to happen...It's a Batlle Royale Between Solomon...Vs Mr.Kim...On the one hand, we got our...Ances-terror who is really into the idea of Mc/You having a Father-Daughter relationship...and then there is Mr.Kim who took care of Mc/You since day one of the orphanage...and totally doesn't already consider Mc his daughter, cuz he ships it M&M(McXMinhyeok)...Wow, Mc you got two dads-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mc*Is in need of help...from dealing with demons,Angels and needs guidence*...

Solomon:

Haha

Looks like you could use some help From the big king of kings himself Check out daddy's glowing reviews on Yelp~ (Five stars! Flawless! Greater than great!) Oh, with the punch of a pentagram I wap-bam-boom, alakazam Usually, I charge a sacrificial lamb But you get the family rate (thanks dad!)

Mc*Smiles awkwardly and nods*Thanks Solomon!...

Solomon:

Who needs a busboy, now that you've got the chef? (wow) Michelin-tasting menu, free à la carte I'll rig the game for you because I'm the ref Champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just a start!-

Mr.Kim*Pushes Solomon away and twirls You around in a silly dance*

Who's been here since day one? Who's been faithful as a nun? Who makes you chuckle with an old-timey pun? Your responible guardian?

Mc*Smiles wider and nods*That's true!

Mr.Kim:

I'm your guy, your day-to-day Your chum, your steadfast Guardian Remember when I fixed that clog today?

Ppyong*Sniffles and hugs Mr.Kim*I was stuck, thank you sir!

Mc*Looks at him with chuckle*Oh you!

Mr.Kim:

I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond~

Mc: aww

Mr.Kim:

You're like the daughter that I wish that I had~

Solomon*Looking at the two, sweat dropping*...uh, what?

Mr.Kim*Brings you in for a hug and pats your head fatherly like,smirking at Solomon*

I care for you, just like a daughter I spawned~

Solo:hold on now!

Mr.Kim

It's a little funny, you could almost call me dad!~

The two face one another with different facts they know about you: your first tooth lost,your favorite food, baby pictures. The Demon Kings just stare back and forth to the madness as you stand between the two men.

Mr.Kim

They say, when you're looking for assistance It's smart to pick the path of least resistance

Solomon: Others say, that in your needy hour There's no substitute for pure summoner power! Who just happens to also be your blood!

Mr.Kim Sadly, there are times a birth family member is a dud They say the family you choose is better~

Solo: what a bunch of losers...

Mr.Kim: Can you butt out of my song?

Solo: Your song? I started this!

Mr.Kim: I'm singing it, I'll finish it!

Solo*Veins popping and grabs the man by his collar* Oh, you tacky piece of–

Before the two men can get into a fistfight, the door opens, and...a strange man with a bird mask, top hat, and a cane appears

Crowley:

It's me, yes, it's me I know you were all waiting for me I'm here, what a gas Took a while, but I'm present at last It's me, it's me CROWLEEEEEEEEEEY!

Mr:Kim:....Who?

Crowley*Looks around,back away out the door*...Whoopsie wrong fandom and wrong mc~...pardon me~

[separatist-apologist]

What Died Didn't Stay Dead

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara has been promised to a brutal prince who imagines himself a god. Setting sail across pirate infested waters, she and Nesta Archeron hatch a plan to escape her arranged marriage before they arrive.

A gift for @alohaangels, whose kind words softened some of my grief.

Read on AO3

TW for depictions of sexual assault- reminiscing on the event, but it is graphic so please take care of yourself.

--

It was a mistake.

Surely some sort of joke. 

Gwyn’s eyes scanned the piece of paper before her, looking for some tell-tale clue that would mark the missive as some kind of cruel joke. Some nobleman’s idea of amusing himself with a ruined man’s daughter. 

Lady Berdara,

I have made my intentions plain to your guardian, and with her blessing, I intend to make them plain to you as well. I have been unable to stop thinking of you since the ball, hosted now several months previously. Your beauty follows me, an ever present guest I would not be rid of, distracting as your visage is. 

Allow me to speak freely—I would like to be wed with haste if possible. I have enclosed two tickets to Alsfeld for you and a lady of your choosing. Send word, make the passage, and I will meet you at the Port of Alsfeld.

Say yes. I will accept no other answer.

Yours, faithfully,

Prince Edward II

Gwyn looked up at Merrill with disbelief, immediately frustrated to find her guardian looking back with a look of supreme smugness. 

“I told you,” she said, rising from her chair to walk toward the window. Gwyn had been living under care since her family had been slaughtered, casualties of the ongoing and bloody war being fought by Edward the Senior. She’d been minor nobility, then, though part of the landed gentry all the same.

“This is a joke,” Gwyn replied, pushing away the rising tide of memories. She wished she had perished, then, and often cursed the unknown, faceless man who had spared her a bloody death right at the last second. 

“It’s not,” Merrill replied, smoothing out the folds of her heavy cobalt gown. “He was taken with you at the ball, and he’s taken with you now.”

“I have no dowry,” Gwyn reminded Merrill, who must have already thought of that. “I work for my keep.”

“Money was set aside for you. I have been safe guarding it,” Merrill told her. Gwyn didn’t know what to say to that—she’d been told for years that her father had squandered everything, that the only way to continue living under Merrill’s grace was to work. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You have an education, don’t you? Room? Board? Fine clothes and regular meals?”

“I…am grateful,” Gwyn forced herself to say, hardly grateful at all. She was angry—always so, so angry. The feeling was nothing new, just as swallowing it wasn’t, either. She knew all the right words, steps to a dance she’d long memorized. “I am so grateful for you.”

Gwyn wasn’t, though. Merrill had never been kind—a poor substitute for her already flighty mother. At least then she’d had Catrin.

Now she had no one and nothing but memories tainted in blood, smoke, and so much fear. And, apparently, a marriage she could not wiggle free from. Gwyn wracked her mind for anything that might save her—Edward was a prince twice her age who’d ordered her into several dances. His breath had smelled rank, his fingers tight and clammy, and he’d leaned in too close for her liking as he droned on and on about his many war victories.

Did he even know his family’s war was the reason she had to rely on the charity of others?

Gwyn doubted he cared. 

“What about his last wife?”

“The Catholic?” Merrill scoffed. It was a rumor, of course—meant to discredit a woman so he could have a divorce without upsetting the general populace that loved her so. “Locked in a convent, last I heard. She gave only daughters and  he needs sons.”

“I’m supposed to do that?” Gwyn gaped, blood turning to ice. She had to swallow against the torrent of memories rising through her, threatening to spill over the ornate cream rug in the form of her breakfast. She’d promised she wouldn’t—that a man would never again touch her like that, certainly not if she invited him to, and even that was questionable.

It seemed she had no choice. 

“You’ll be his wife,” Merrill said dismissively, clearly tired of the conversation. It was the longest they’d had in waking memory, which meant at any moment Merrill was going to give Gwyn a verbal order to do as she was told, and a silent order to shut her mouth and be grateful.

Gwyn had no gratitude left in her. Certainly not for a man who intended to use her and then discard her if he tired of her. 

“He has a wife—”

“He doesn’t,” Merrill snapped, tossing a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder. Was she bitter it wasn’t her? Gwyn would trade her. “Nesta Archeron has agreed to accompany you to Alsfeld and I expect you to go upstairs, pack appropriately, and smile at your good fortune. Not many men would consider marrying you given your past.”

“My past.” Gwyn dropped all pretense, her words hollow, voice flat. 

“Yes, Gwyneth, your past. You should be overjoyed that a man wants you at all, let alone one so esteemed as the prince.”

“You told him?” Gwyn felt betrayal clawing at her neck. “That wasn’t yours to share!”

“The dowry he demanded was impossible to meet,” Merrill sniffed, eyes icy and unforgiving. “He was entitled to less knowing you were ruined.”

Ruined.

Gwyn rose from the chair she’d been sitting in, skirts ruffling loudly in her ringing ears. How Gwyn hated when Merrill said that to her—as if she were little more than a lamp that had broken and not a whole person that had been stolen from.

She couldn’t speak—she knew she’d cry, her anger making a mockery of her. Inclining her head, Gwyn merely made her way through the parlor, past the servants she’d once been close with. They wouldn’t meet her gaze, though she swore their mouths twisted with pity. She was the last to know, as usual, and it showed. 

Making her way to her small bedroom, Gwyn flung herself onto the padded window seat to peer out at the sea. How long before she was on one of the ships in the harbor with only the wretched Nesta Archeron for company? She’d only met the woman once and Nesta had been so wildly unpleasant that Gwyn had immediately dismissed her without another word.

Now they’d be trapped aboard a ship together. Gwyn sighed, turning toward her dresser. She had a large carpet bag and a trunk—she’d put personal things in the bag and the rest in the trunk, assuming someone was going to rifle through the items in the trunk. Better to not give anything away.

Truthfully, Gwyn had very little. Merrill had never deigned to give her anything of value, always with the admonishment that she ought to be grateful. Gwyn’s gratitude died with Catrin, leaving behind only her rage. How a prince had found her fascinating enough to marry was beyond Gwyn—the night they’d danced, she’d been wearing one of Merrill’s gowns, promptly returned while it was still warm. 

What would he do when he realized she was practically a servant? Maybe it didn’t matter—perhaps he’d outfit her in finery and remind the populace that, technically, her father had died a decorated war hero. Nevermind he’d been cowering in his final moments, on his knees begging not for the lives of the daughters being dragged away by laughing soldiers, but his own.

Gwyn’s anger grew hotter. She threw her items in the trunk, not caring if they were wrinkled. She let it consume her, balling up gown after gown so she could throw them with force into the trunk until she felt a little calmer. Less fury. She reminded herself to breathe, the same exercises she’d once done with Catrin.

It had been Catrin who’d once been filled with anger and Gwyn who had peace. She’d find her sister, raging about some injustice, and remind her to breathe until they were both smiling again. Catrin’s rage had sent her running from the house to try and save the children next door—and she’d been the first of the two of them to die. Wherever she’d hidden them, however they’d escaped…Catrin refused to say.

Gwyn, trembling and scared, a mere three minutes younger though sometimes it felt like three years, had obeyed when Catrin ordered, don’t say a word!

“We can break you,” the soldier had laughed, reaching for his belt. Catrin had turned her head, arms held over her head by another soldier. She’d screamed and fought, writhing like a wild, desperate animal while Gwyn silently sobbed, watching—knowing she would be next.

Tell us, the soldier had ordered, turning to Gwyn.

Don’t, Catrin had ordered again, fiercer than before. They’d placed a blade to Catrin’s neck and demanded again. Gwyn had looked at her sister, but Catrin only widened her eyes.

“Be brave,” Catrin had whispered.

The last words ever spoken between them. They’d laughed as they cut her throat, and laughed louder as Gwyn screamed, dragged to the same bed her sister bled out on. Gwyn hadn’t been brave at all—she’d begged them to kill her, too.

And they would have, had that man not come kicking in with that lethal looking sword. Walking to her dresser, she found the cloak he’d draped over her folded up at the bottom. Throwing it away would have been the better thing to do, but in the aftermath of what had happened, she’d simply tossed it in the back of her wardrobe. Afterwards, she’d had it washed, unable to stand the smell of whatever cologne that man wore mingled with blood and sweat. She could have thrown it away then, too.

She picked it up, admiring the well-made fabric and the heavy, silver and cobalt clasp that would have kept it pinned around her neck. Gwyn hadn’t dared to wear it, but it felt…wrong…to be rid of it, now. It was a relic of the worst moment of her life. She hated that stranger, his face concealed by a mask, though what little she might have seen had been blurred by blood and tears. He’d carried her out after brutally, and mercilessly, slaughtering every man who’d come into her house. 

He’d tried to take her somewhere, but she’d started screaming again and so he’d left her huddled in a heap beneath a tree with a silver dagger laid at her bare feet. He hadn’t said a word, merely vanished back into the ether. Perhaps he’d been a long forgotten god come to seek vengeance. Or perhaps he’d simply been a mercenary unable to witness his brethern pillaging and raping. 

She’d never know. 

Still, sometimes she caught herself thinking about him, wondering where he was and why he’d intervened in the first place. Gwyn had the dagger, though she didn’t know how to use it, and tucked that into her bag along with a necklace that had belonged to Catrin she didn’t dare wear. She hadn’t been brave.

She didn’t deserve to.

Gwyn skipped dinner that night, which caused Merrill to rant through the halls about how spoiled and ungrateful she was. Gwyn blocked it out with a book, curled back in the window seat as she waited for the inevitable. She couldn’t sleep, chasing the sunrise with drooping eyelids. Merrill wasn’t far behind, bursting in with more energy than Gwyn was certain she’d ever had in her life. 

Gwyn had never liked the small city she’d been isolated in. It was just big enough to give the illusion of privacy but small enough that everyone knew everything. Busybodies to the very last, which meant that as Gwyn was paraded through the busy early morning, all eyes fell on her, even if just for a moment. They’d flit in her direction before fans extended and women began chattering behind them, their peals of laughter echoing over the sounds of horse drawn carriages and booming voices announcing the prices of fish and produce. 

Gwyn wanted to be the kind of person who’d stare back, eyes shooting daggers as she did. She wasn’t, though, even as her anger and humiliation seemed to reach a writhing fever pitch in her chest. She imagined all the things she’d say, should she have the opportunity—the way she’d cut them into ribbons until they felt as small as she did—but she kept her eyes trained on the muddy cobblestone streets before her. Causing a scene would only result in more problems for Gwyn, who always seemed to be blamed, regardless if something was actually her fault. Merrill simply did not like her, and resented being vaguely related to her father and therefore, responsible for her care. 

Gwyn might have liked the docks and the quieter bustle filled with mostly men who didn’t seem to care a single jot about her, were it not for the icy stare of Nesta Archeron. She was alone, standing on the curb with her arms crossed over her chest. 

Great.

Gwyn did look at Nesta, hoping her expression conveyed a do-not-try-it-with-me,but who knew how Nesta took it. Nesta was a Duke's daughter and came from wealth so obscene, Gwyn didn’t dare think about it. What horrible lord was waiting for her in Alsfeld—and who was worse, Gwyn mused privately.

It was fun to watch Merrill dip into a respectful bow while Nesta stared down her nose, unimpressed and maybe even bored by the whole display. “Lady Archeron,” Merrill demurred, looking as if she’d prefer to be anywhere else. “You’re looking well.”

“You don’t,” Nesta replied in that brutal way of hers. Gwyn had to bite back a laugh, reminding herself that once Merrill left, Nesta would turn that mannerless behavior on her. 

“Well,” Merrill said as the salty air tangled a strand of her hair. “Take care of yourself, Gwyneth. If you have need of me, please write.” Gwyn nodded, certain Merrill would never respond to any letter. This wasn’t goodbye—it was a washing of the hands. Merrill had done her duty and now she was free of it. 

“Remember duty,” Merrill added, perhaps guessing the slant of Gwyn’s angry thoughts. Nesta arched a brow but said nothing, lip curling over perfectly straight teeth as she watched Merrill flounce off.

“Her hat was ugly,” Nesta declared the moment Merrill was out of earshot. The own hat, perched neatly atop Nesta coiffed golden brown hair, was very fashionable with its light pink feather and the way it tilted ever so delicately. It paired well with the deep plum of her gown that seemed out of place right before the docks. Gwyn certainly felt underdressed in green, her gown from two seasons earlier and just a tad too big. She felt inadequate in new and frustrating ways.

“So is yours,” Gwyn snapped, stepping around Nesta as two burly armed, barrel chested sailors took her trunk toward a wooden ramp that led to the ship she supposed they would sail on.

Nesta blinked. “I told Elain it was ridiculous,” she grumbled, though she didn’t remove it. Nesta merely marched in step with Gwyn, following the men now charged with their care. Gwyn had expected a sharp tongued insult, not agreement.

“Why did you let her talk you into it?”

Nesta shrugged delicate shoulders, spine impossibly straight as she walked. She looked like the one who ought to be marrying a prince—not Gwyn. Gwyn looked like her maid at best, which annoyed her further. There was something she was missing to this whole arrangement, something that would come back to harm her before she pieced it all together. 

“She can be very bossy when she sets her mind to something,” Nesta said, as if Gwyn knew anything about the Archeron sisters. They were sheltered and spoiled, appearing in the city only when something grand was happening. They otherwise kept to their estate, though there were rumors about how wild the youngest of the three were.

She sounded like more interesting company than the scowling Nesta. One thing, Gwyn supposed, was how unafraid Nesta was to give orders.

“Take us to our cabin,” Nesta demanded the moment their feet were on the softly swaying deck. Two sailors exchanged a glance but otherwise said nothing at all—they merely gestured for the pair to follow them.

“We’re not to be disturbed,” Nesta began, her words seemingly well-practiced. “You may bring our meals to us directly, but otherwise no man is to enter our chamber.”

“Who would stop us?” one of the sailors asked, clearly bitter about being bossed around by a woman.

Gwyn’s own temper got the better of her. “I will.”

Whatever they saw on her face kept them from saying much more. Gwyn waited until they were taken into a large stateroom they were clearly meant to share. Nesta turned, and the sailor, guessing her irritation, threw up his palms in defense. “You can share, or you can sleep in the bunks with everyone else. Your choice, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed before slamming the door in his face. “Must you be so…” Gwyn trailed off, unsure what she even meant to say. Nesta understood, though.

“Because otherwise they think they can take liberties. That we’re helpless and soft and sweet—that we won’t say anything if they touch us. Now they know we’ll scream, and when we arrive at port, we’ll tell someone. They’ll think twice.”

“And with Merrill?” Gwyn demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

“Her presence offends me,” Nesta said with a shrug, as if it were a given. Gwyn couldn’t help but laugh, one hand on her stomach to keep herself from doubling over.

“Mine, too.”

“She thinks herself a great humanitarian, but she’s not. She made a lot of money taking you in, for all the good it did. Look at your dress,” Nesta said, reaching for Gwyn’s sleeve. Gwyn slapped her hand away, embarrassed and self-conscious.

“What are you talking about?”

Nesta stared for a moment, hand cradled to her chest. Those icy blue eyes seemed to be a little sad for only a moment before the emotion vanished, replaced with her usual steely gaze. “Lord Rhysand paid her a hefty stipend for your education. His father and your father were friends, I suppose.”

“No one…no one told me that,” Gwyn managed as anger and betrayal clawed up her throat. “I was working.”

So a Duke paid for Gwyn’s education, and her father had left an inheritance, all pocketed by Merrill. Gwyn turned for the door, ready to march off the ship and throttle Merrill but Nesta grabbed her wrist.

“There is no point. She’s not capable of shame.”

“So she gets away with it?” Gwyn demanded with outrage. “Does no one face consequences except me?”

“She doesn’t have to get away with it,” Nesta said slyly. “I overheard father talking, and he seems to think your marriage will elevate Merrill in a way few ladies ever achieve.”

“Of course it does,” Gwyn grumbled, sitting despondently on the floral patterned bed. “She probably orchestrated it herself.”

“I’m sure. That doesn’t mean you have to marry him,” Nesta continued, holding Gwyn’s stare. 

“He’s a prince—”

“So?” Nesta demanded. “When we arrive, simply say no and stay with me and my aunt. With the new laws that require a ladies consent, you can simply decline.”

“He’s not just some spoiled lordling,” Gwyn whispered, though the idea was spreading through her like wildfire. 

“He’s only a man,” Nesta replied, sitting beside her. “He’s not a god.”

But Gwyn knew what men could do when they didn’t get what they wanted—when they felt thwarted, especially by a lesser woman. It would become a matter of principle to punish her. To control her. He had a navy at his disposal, an army willing to kill on command, and more gold than anyone in the realm. If he wanted to find her, he would. 

And when he did, he’d punish her for daring to defy him.

Still.

The idea had roots.

—-

Azriel heard the sound of boots echoing off swaying wood before he saw Cassian in the doorway. His friend flashed a grin, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ship sailed this afternoon.”

Azriel shifted in his chair, boots reclined on his desk while he toyed with his favorite dagger absently. Turning his gaze from Cassian, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Armed?”

“Barely,” Cassian replied, his amusement plain. “It’s a merchant ship.”

“Whose?” Azriel didn’t want to make too many enemies of the merchant class, some of whom paid money for safe passage and protection from other privateers. 

“Archeron,” Cassian said. Azriel frowned, though it changed nothing. Rhys wasn’t one of them—not really. He could make his demands, could provide them with funding, could play pirate lord when it suited him, but he wasn’t out there day to day.

He didn’t know how hard Azriel had worked to organize this ambush. How he’d intercepted that letter. The spying he’d done, the dominoes set into motion. It was now or it was never. The walls of the palace were impenetrable, even to him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Azriel decided. It didn’t. He’d rather beg forgiveness than ask permission—Rhys would do the same, were he in Azriel’s position. “Sink the ship.”

“Aye, Captain,” Cassian said, his grin returning.

Azriel’s gaze turned toward the window overlooking the sea. With a soft exhale, he smiled, too. 

Soon.

[3hks]

Family Dynamics to Substitute for Dead Parents II

Does your character need something other than dead parents? How many orphans have you created at this point? Writing a family might seem like a hassle, but they're definitely worth it--after all, most everyone can relate to familial struggles, and they're one of the greatest character builders!

✒ "Responsible Sibling" - The case where the older sibling (typically) steps up to act as the guardian for their younger sibling(s).

✒ "More Stepparents" - Where one parent is gone and the other continuously brings home "a new parent". It seems fine after one--or even two stepparents--but by the fourth one, it becomes a huge problem.

✒ "Middle Child Syndrome" - When no one in the family particularly cares about the child, letting them do as they please. It's sometimes a good thing and sometimes not.

✒ "Helicopter Parent" - The opposite of the previously mentioned idea. This is where the parent(s) is so overprotective of their child that it becomes controlling and suffocating.

✒ "Ever-so-slightly Toxic" - Where the parent(s) are usually pretty normal, but occasionally get a bit toxic, confusing the character about whether to believe their guardian or not.

✒ "Picture Perfect Family" - A family that looks perfect to the outside world but could not be more flawed in reality (distanced, abusive, toxic, etc.).

✒ "Two-faced Parent" - A situation where the parent(s) hate their child, but their child has no clue. Great for (painful) dramatic irony!

✒ "Family Pressure" - When the character feels overwhelmed by the pressure to do well for their family. The stress could be directly or indirectly formed by their guardian(s).

✒ "You're a Disappointment" - The case where the parent(s) is always disappointed in their child, letting them know through subtle, double-sided, and passive-aggressive comments.

✒ "Exploiter" - Where the parent(s) raise a child purely to use them later on. (For money, to look good, etc.)

✒ "Influencer Parent" - The parent(s) is obsessed with social media, filming anything and everything, including their own children.

✒ "Parent(s) with Dementia/Alzheimer's" - If you're looking for (usually non-toxic) PAIN, this is definitely the one here... It's incredibly difficult to watch someone you admire turn into someone who struggles to recognize you.

✒ "Distanced" - A situation where the family is so distanced that it might as well be a bunch of strangers living in the same home.

Happy writing~

3hks :)

[tvslashers]

i guess i just still can’t get over that she apologized to me. in a moment of talking about my dad of all things. Bc i was venting to her about how i feel like it’s my responsibility to keep his sanity under control and it’s always felt that way bc i knew she would at least kind of understand bc well. she knew him. And then she apologized for me having to grow up so fast. And how it was her fault a lot of the time. And blatantly admitted to choosing drugs over me when i was a kid. And how messed up that was. And how she’s glad i even talk to her at all and if i never wanted to see her she would understand. Not even in a guilt trippy way just matter of factly. It’s just such a 180 i feel like when I was in highschool she was smothering me over the phone every week trying to get me to live with her bc she knew my dad had completely lost control. I guess she was just scared but she has terrible ways of showing concern. It always comes off as frustration and anger. I’m still not over her not helping me monetarily when she could have. She has a very bootstraps mentality too which has always caused problems between us (im her only disabled kid). Well there’s a lot of stuff im not over but that’s just what’s bugging me the most in my adult life I guess. And i guess i hate hate hate that the person i wanted to spend the night with me the first night in the hospital was my mom. I hate so much that something in me craves her love and presence. I thought not having it for years and years would make me not care but it doesn’t matter. When im sick and scared I still want my mommy. Makes me soooo fucking mad.

thinking about my mom

[tomorrowusa]

« In a country defined by the ongoing existential battle over whether this will be a white nationalist society or a multiracial democracy, the majority of people reject the idea of making America white again. Most people in America prefer the Democrats’ vision of a multiracial America (however halfheartedly it may be expressed at times) to the raw, unapologetic white nationalism espoused in coded and not-so-coded ways by Republicans. With the sole exception of the 2004 presidential election, the Democratic nominee has won the popular vote in every single presidential election over the past 30 years.

Republicans understand this reality better than Democrats which is why they ferociously focus on suppressing the vote far more than Democrats emphasize expanding voting. »

— Steve Phillips at The Guardian.

Republicans will use every trick they know to suppress the non-MAGA vote. In addition to legal methods such as restricting voting hours and making absentee voting more difficult, they will work with their partners in Russia to spread disinformation to discourage moderate and liberal voters from casting ballots.

We need to do more grassroots work to get out the vote. There's no substitute for person to person contact to identify potential supporters and to make sure they vote. And the earlier we get started, the better.

At the very least, we need to be certain that like-minded people are properly registered. We should not be reticent about asking others whether they're registered.

Because voting is highly geographic, it's necessary to remind people that they need to register at their new address after they move. Even if you move across the street, you need to register at THAT address. After you've reminded the people who have moved, follow up two weeks later to make sure they've done so.

If friends think that voting is important to you, they are more likely to vote when the time comes.

I Will Vote

[alittlebitofloveliness]

idk if your requests for the numbered ficlets are closed but could you do #4 for ponyboy? Only if you have the time, don't wanna be a burden.

Outsiders Prompt Fic #10- No it ain't! It ain't ok!

HI hon! Not a burden at all, I had so much fun writing this one and I hope you enjoy reading it as much and I enjoyed writing it. (For those of you paying attention, yes, I know this is not the order I said I would write these in in but what can I say, inspiration struck.)

*************************

Something is wrong with Ponyboy.

He’s doing his best to hide it- talking with Johnny, goading Steve, laughing with Soda-  and if Darry was still just his big brother instead of his guardian he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but he’s been the kid’s primary caregiver for almost a year now and he’s learned Pony’s tells.

His brother’s face is a bit pale, and he’s leaning into Johnny's side a bit more than he usually would. He’d eaten a decent amount of dinner, so Darry’s hoping he isn’t coming down with the stomach flu, but at this point in time he isn’t ruling anything out. He also isn’t about to make any rash decisions. Keeping a cool head had taken some practice after first becoming Pony and Soda’s guardian. At first, the barest hint of a sniffle had left him panicking, all too aware that mom and dad were gone and his little brothers being sick was his problem to deal with. The free clinic must have been sick of him calling those first few months, he’s sure of it. Now though, he’s learned to calm down some, and take things as they come. 

He’s supposed to be going out this weekend. Tim Shepard of all people had talked him into it, mentioning he was heading down to Texas of all places and invited him along. He’d been hesitant at first, unwilling to get involved in any of the Shepard gang’s shenanigans, but Tim had assured him none of his gang was coming along and it didn’t have anything to do with his business, so Darry had eventually caved. Strange as it was to admit, he and Shepard had grown remarkably close over the past year. If you’d told him back in high school that in three years time his closest friend outside of the gang would be jailbird Tim Shepard, he’d have laughed in your face. Now though, now that he’s gotten to know Tim better, it makes sense. They’re two sides of the same coin, and Tim had been remarkably helpful when he was figuring out the whole parenting thing. Anyone who could keep Curly Shepard alive for fifteen years was someone Darry wasn’t ashamed to ask parenting advice from.

So he’d been looking forward to this weekend. Tim had sworn it would be a good chance for the two of them to relax and get away from their kids, and as anxious as he was to leave Soda andPpony by their lonesome, he also couldn’t deny the lure of a holiday with no responsibilities was incredibly appealing. So he’d agreed, and Tim was supposed to come by in the morning to pick him up.

If Ponyboy gets any paler though, Darry knows he’s gonna have to call and cancel. He’d never be able to relax if he knew Ponyboy was sick, and the last thing he’d wanna do is stress Tim out on his holiday. God knows Tim deserves a break even more than he does. 

Besides, Pony gets clingy when he’s sick, always has, and Darry knows it’s been hard for him since mom and dad died. He himself notices their absence the most when he’s sitting at the table, filling out bills, or when one of his brothers has a problem he doesn’t immediately know how to solve; but Pony and Soda miss them most when they’re sick. Pony wakes up from dreams calling out for dad, and Soda still cries for mom when he’s delirious from fever. He can’t leave if Pony’s getting sick, he just can’t. He’s no substitute for mom and dad, he knows it, but it’s his job to look out for him now that they aren’t here and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do his very best- and that includes being around for Pony to cling to when he isn’t feeling well.

Still, there's no need to catastrophize yet. Maybe Pony’s just tired from track practice and needs a good night’s sleep. He keeps an eye on his youngest brother as he passes back and forth through the living room, packing his bag. Pony seems to be holding his own. At the very least he doesn’t seem to be getting worse. 

He finishes packing around 9:30, and parks himself in the recliner, watching as Johnny continues to trounce his brothers and Steve at poker, despite Soda’s many attempts to cheat. Pony yawns more and more the longer they play and gives up around quarter past ten, using Johnny for support as he shakily climbs to his feet.

“Think I’m gonna’ turn in before Johnny steals all the smokes I have.”

“You might have the right idea kid,” Steve glowers, always a sore loser, “we’re gettin’ cleaned out.”

Johnny’s ever so slightly smug grin doesn’t quite fit behind his hands of cards. 

“What’s the matter Steve? Scared you’ll lose again?”

Steve lunges at him and they start tussling, knocking into Ponyboy as they do so. Pony stumbles a bit- more than he should, considering the boys' play fighting isn’t anywhere near properly rough.

Catching Soda’s eye, Darry can tell he isn’t the only one who noticed.

“Pony c’mere a minute.”

If he couldn’t tell something was up with Pony before, the kid’s badly disguised deer in headlights look would have given it away right now.

Beckoning him closer, Darry brushes his baby brother's mop of hair out of his eyes, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.

Hm. Warm, but not as bad as he’d expected. 

“You feelin’ ok?”

Pony bats his hand away, “I’m fine Dar.”

“Let’s get a thermometer to prove that, huh?” Darry shook his head, “C’mon little buddy.”

He wraps an arm around his youngest brother’s shoulders, answering Soda’s concerned look with a reassuring smile as he carefully sidesteps Steve and Johnny’s wrestling match.

“I’m fine Dar, I mean it, just a little tired is all.” 

The heavy way he’s leaning against him tells a different story, as did the thermometer a minute later when he pulled it out of Pony’s mouth.

“You’re runnin’ a fever,” Darry tells him, like he hadn’t seen the result himself, “what else is up? You’re dead pale. Is your stomach hurting?”

“No.” Pony crosses his arms mulishly. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Oh so he’s going to be stubborn. That’s fine. Two can play at that game, and Darry always wins.

“You got a headache?” 

“No.”

“Are you lyin’ to me?”

“...yes.”

He looks so young, all lost and grumpy sitting on the edge of the bathtub where Darry had pressed him when he was taking his temperature. Darry can feel himself soften, is sure it must show in his eyes. His eyes have always betrayed him when it comes to emotions.

“What else kid? You gotta let me help you.”

“Just my head,” Pony mumbles, “and I’m a little dizzy but I think it’s just ‘cause I’m tired.”

“I’ll get you some water and some aspirin,” Darry promises, “you get ready for bed ok? I’ll bring it to ya.” 

He ruffles his hair, wincing at the heat radiating off his forehead, and goes to get a glass from the kitchen.

“Ponyboy alright?” Soda asks as soon as he steps into the living room, eyes bright with a specific kind of worry only their baby brother can draw out of him, and Darry claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Just has a bit of a headache is all. You keep playin’ your game, I got him.”

Soda only hesitates a moment before nodding, dropping back down beside Steve. He’s gotten a lot better about that lately, about letting Darry and Ponyboy figure out how to get along better, and letting Darry do some of the more nurturing stuff Ponyboy needs. Darry knows it isn’t easy for him- Soda doesn’t like to share, especially when it comes to Ponyboy, even more so when it comes to taking care of him- and he appreciates it more than he can say. It’s far easier for him and Pony to get along and settle into their not-just-brothers-but-not-quite-a-parent dynamic, when Darry doesn’t always have to be the bad cop.

He fills a glass with water and makes his way to Pony’s room, where his brother is asleep already, auburn hair mussed and cheek smushed into his pillow. Darry smiles a moment, a strange feeling he’s had since becoming Pony’s guardian swelling in his chest, that isn’t quite parental but is somewhat stronger than simply brotherly swelling in his chest. Pony looks so sweet like this, so soft and young. He’s getting mighty big now, but it’s at times like this that Darry remembers how young fourteen really is.

“Hey baby,” he hates to wake him, but the kid needs meds, “up you get, I got you some aspirin.”

Ponyboy’s eyes blink open before he can shake him.

 “I wasn’t asleep” he says, a note of petulance in his tone, ”I was just resting my eyes.”

“Ok.” Darry isn’t gonna fight him on that, just cradles his head while he swallows the pills and gulps down his water.

“There,” Darry takes the empty glass from Pony’s hand and sets it on the nightstand, “get some sleep alright? I’ll check on you before I go to bed, and if you’re not better in the morning I’ll call the clinic.”

“You’n Tim are leaving in the morning.”

“Ponyboy I ain’t goin’ anywhere if you’re sick,” he ignores the slight disappointment curdling in his stomach. He knew what he was doing when he signed those guardianship papers, knew what he was giving up. Doesn’t regret it either. “I’ll call Tim in the morning and cancel.”

Tim would understand. He’d never admit it, but Darry know’s he’d do the same if Angela or Curly got real sick last minute,

“No!” Ponyboy sits up so fast he nearly headbuts Darry in the nose. “No, you can't!”

“It’s ok Ponyboy-” he starts, reaching to try and soothe him, but Ponyboy squirms away, tears welling in his eyes.

“No it ain’t! It ain’t ok!”

“Hey, hey,” he reaches for him again, and this time Pony allows himself to get tucked into Darry’s side, “what’s goin’ on? Where’s this comin’ from? How come you don’t want me to stay with you?”

“It ain’t that!” Ponyboy gives him a wounded look, and Darry has never been so confused and worried in his life, “You just- you never go anywhere anymore and I know you were looking forward to this weekend away. More than that you deserve it, you’re always workin’ so hard and keeping track of me and Soda-”

“Pony, I don't care about all that. If you’re sick-”

“I ain’t gonna be the reason you miss your holiday.” Ponyboy crosses his arms, his face back in that godforsaken stubborn pout Darry loved and hated in equal measure, “I ain’t.”

“Ponyboy, listen to me,” he takes him by the shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact, “I am your guardian. More than that, I’m your big brother. It’s my job to make sure you're alright, and that’s gonna mean missing some things sometimes. I’m okay with that. It's part of the whole bein’ responsible thing.”

Ponyboy finally meets his gaze, stubborn expression melting away as his lip wobbles and his eyes fill with tears, the water a gloss over such a deep well of pain Darry feels his heart break before Pony even opens his mouth.

“I’m ruining your life,” his brother whispers, sounding so broken Darry can’t stand it, “You could’ve gone to college if it weren’t for me. You coulda gone somewhere and done something, and now you can’t even have a social life without me getting sick and fucking everything up.”

“Ponyboy,” he doesn't know what else to do but pull him into a hug, rocking him gently, “You aren’t ruining my life at all. You are my life, don’t you get that? You and Soda. I’d be miserable if I went to college or did any of those things because it would mean I’d have lost you guys, and I can’t even think about that, ok? And I still got a social life, I’m just lucky enough now to have a buddy who knows what it’s like to have to reschedule stuff and not get all pissy about it.”

“Tim gets pissy at everyone.” Pony mutters into his shoulder, but Darry can feel him grinning and knows he must've gotten through to him. 

“Not at me.”

“That right?” Ponyboy pulls away, familiar sass returning, “you must be pretty special then, huh?”

Darry feels his cheeks flushing.

“Ok, y’know what little buddy? You’re sick, go to bed, sleepy time now.”

He ruffles his brother’s hair and flees the room, waiting in the hallway until the telltale rustling of Pony getting settled ceases, then peeks back in.

Ponyboy is curled peacefully on his side, eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly. 

Sure he’ll be ok, Darry creeps back to the living room. He’ll call Tim in the morning, but for now he’ll wait up a little longer so he can check on Pony once more before he goes to bed.

After all, this is what he signed up for, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.