#What a wild time the early twenty-teens were | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amyoffline · 1 month ago

Text

It's done! The outline for—

—is below the cut. The goal of this project is to explore the following phenomena with as much context and nuance as I can manage, tracing our history over the past 15 years:

What about us, and what about Dan and Phil, drew in and continues to draw in a very specific audience. If they are a ranch metaphor, we are a pizza metaphor 🥗🍕🫶🏻

Why we were Like That™, by which I mean so parasocially invested in them that we became, at times, the most annoying people on the internet. Much of that reputation is undeserved, and the videos on the phandom to date have been strongly negative. So, uh, I guess I'm going to put my face on camera and (mostly) defend us.

Reblog, share in your Discord servers, reply, or send me messages/anon asks with feedback or resources if you have any! Especially if your experience being in this fandom community has been dramatically different from mine. There are TIT spoilers near the end of the outline, but I'm not tagging because certain individuals seem to be lurking over there. Thank you!

Chapters:

Full outline:

introduction

cold open

felt personally attacked by jonathan haidt's last press tour

showed up to the phrenaissance 11 months late

had an unexpectedly strong response to their new content, needed to find out why

what the hell are we doing here?

- phenomenology (academics are professionally insufferable) - research question 1: what drew the audience in? - research question 2: why were we Like That™?

what we're NOT doing here

- a strict content analysis or "wow we sucked" video - providing sources for things best left uncirculated, thank you

reflexivity (personal biases)

- american zillennial in public health - in the youtube audience by spring 2010 - lurking in the phandom on tumblr 2013-2015, back* since 2019 - fan behavior i did and did not engage in

(----): truly necessary background information, i swear

(pop) cultural trends, tech, and their intersection

- nerd/geek identity and the first online weirdos - broadcast tv & the music industry vs the internet - defining "emo" - blogging & vlogging - early internet comedy

broader social/economic trends

- so the U.S. economy collapsed in 2007 - a decade that sucked except for rom-coms and square enix games - the flip/slide phone + digital camera + mp3 player loadout

(05-8): early youtube and early phil

youtube: a great video uploader without a clear purpose

the content on the website

- crossposts, corporations, and creative/social outlets - omg guys it's amazing phil - contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: justin bieber

the audience of "early adopters"

contemporary social media sites and forums

(2009): origin story

a wild dan appears… in the comments

the global constant that is teenagers being messy online

daring my old school district to sue me

- "one town's war on gay teens" (literal rolling stone headline!) - epidemiology 101: rates of… ugh… "unaliving" oneself - ways kids cope when it seems no adults will help them

the earliest days of dan & phil

- hello internet + pinof - a chronically overexamined timeline - file deleted ---* so how big WAS the audience at the time? ---* acceptable funny/edgy language was just different

contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: lucas cruikshank

omg it's meeeeeee

- how amy & friends were using youtube - ways i was just destined to end up here - being in social environments with peers 3-6 years older

(2010): is it "twenty-ten" or "two thousand ten?"

youtube is a platform about to explode in popularity

- the algorithm before it was The Algorithm™, lost site features - let's take a trip through the wayback machine :3c - actual dan & phil content in 2010 - the green brothers found vidcon - contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: darren criss

social media: also about to explode in popularity

- facebook was cool at the time, believe it or not - law of equivalent exchange: 2010 amy cringe compilation - the birth of instagram and pinterest - youtube slash livejournal (the first phanfics… sort of) - shockfic and its place in the overton window

the beginning of "the great rewiring" as haidt calls it

- ways social media is about to dramatically change - third spaces become online spaces - confounding variable: changing expectations of teens

(2011): the end of an era, the start of an age

a very long tangent on fandom and pop culture

cultural exchange

counterculture and teenagers as concepts

the first british invasion: the 1960s

- beatlemania and its descendents - moral panic about the virtue of tween/teen girls - tv/film/fashion trends being imported from the uk - in parallel, star trek births the modern fandom

the second british invasion: the 1980s

- synth/new pop that came out of the punk movement (hi, emo?) - confined mainly to music and fashion - cool britannia

it's harry freakin' potter

- absolute titan of pop culture influence - the rise of online fandom: examining the horrors ---* what is "wank" ---* flaming, sockpuppeting, and general cyberbullying ---* censorship: ffnet purges, boldthrough, & strikethrough ---* other fandom shenanigans of the time (yaoi paddles, anyone?)

harry potter's over. now what?

- for those who needed coming-of-age hero's journeys ---* twilight and YA dystopia waiting in the wings ---* some pretty iconic tv shows start or hit their stride ---* the mcu's phase one ---* takeaway: the rise of "geek culture" generally - for those who just wanted to go to hogwarts ---* doctor who & the wider world of bbc programming ---* british vloggers, you say? where? on youtube? brb--

end tangent, back to your regularly scheduled programming

dan & phil in the first half of 2011

- a continuation of 2010… for now - the videos - british pancakes as a case study of bad fan behavior

streaming and social media

- the birth of snapchat, twitch, and younow - netflix starts developing original programming - multi-channel networks (mcns) - digitour

dan & phil in the second half of 2011

- and they were roommates (omg they were roommates) - fantastic foursome - youtube glitches out - the super amazing project - the first proper baking video + wait, is that the bbc?

~ baking interlude 1: christmas cookies ~

the family sugar cookie (sorry, delia)

amy's 2011

(2012): why is anyone nostalgic for this

the transition from desktop to mobile

- massive growth in smartphone ownership 2011-2015 - things one might do on mobile one might not do on desktop - non-online ways smartphones changed being a youth™

what is tumblr and why is my child using it

- how the site is meant to work - fandom, memes, aesthetics, and SOME public figures - want to be anxious and depressed in peace? come to tumblr - this site seems a little……… gay ---* tumblr's very queer, very neurodiverse userbase ---* legacy media representation in 2012: bad! ---* actual academic research on tumblr users (yes, it exists) - the tumblr experience for non-native english speakers

amy becomes a vibrating mass of panic and paranoia

- in context of the above - additional rant about the american public school system

the growing dan & phil audience

- investigating the origin of the term "phannie" - more collaborations = more viewers - more video uploads = more /invested/ viewers - younow and interacting with fans - watch time replaces clicks in the algorithm

online etiquette, or lack thereof

- mid-transition from the 2000s to the 2010s - "professional internet celebrity" is still basically brand-new - lack of boundaries - various ways to be an asshole online - unsupervised kids simply do not engage in best practices

the end of 2012

- dan and phil move to london - wikipedia vandalism - tiptoeing around a top contender for the phandom's greatest sin - super amazing project DONE, now it's BBC RADIO TIME

(2013): arguably the most important year

- wait. what's that six-second video platform over there--

[amy's curated vine compilation]

- a new wave of internet comedians (read: future youtubers) - the zillennial lexicon - other platforms start emphasizing short-form video content - magcon

emo is BACK - well, sort of

- fob hiatus ends, mcr breaks up. my god. you had to be there - more open ties to nerd/geek culture than in the 2000s - these things once again intersect at dan and phil

dan and phil in the first half of 2013

- siri, what's a "sex symbol?" why are you booing me i'm right-- - d&p are everywhere - radio shows, interviewing, hosting - youtube uploads on their individual channels

rapidly changing cultural attitudes towards queerness

- gay marriage will be legal in places other than canada soon - a lot of assimilationist rhetoric though tbh - parallels to the pop feminism of the decade

hey kids, let's talk about compulsory heterosexuality!!

- what is it and why do people do it - academic, tumblr-level, and anecdotal research - the dannies, the phillies, and the phannies

amy

- the closet™ - mental health stigma - 2013 dnp posts from my main blog

dan and phil in the second half of 2013

- subscriber milestones, vidcon - joint content before the gaming channel - phandom starts having a major presence outside tumblr

(2014): achievement unlocked!

it's time to talk about rpf

- definitions (a chance to be annoyingly pedantic) - academic perspectives and fan discourse on the ethics - when the subjects clearly aren't fine with it - so… we can acknowledge "shipping phan" was different, right? ---* sometimes the subjects are fine* with it, actually ---* how dan and phil started to handle the shipping ---* obvious differences between phan and other rpf ships ---* sharing my favorite passages as a first-time phanfic reader

dan and phil in 2014

- wikipedia vandalism 2: electric boogaloo - bbc request show → internet takeover - the 7 second challenge - youtube content, subscriber milestones, rewind - cons and award shows

tumblr reaches the peak of its influence

- yahoo's attempts to monetize the userbase - buzzfeed and aggregators steal our jokes and bait our clicks - legacy media dangles carrots and uses us for free marketing - the legend of korra breaks TV precedent, almost out of nowhere - the tumblr user experience ---* on mobile, without xkit ---* on desktop, with xkit ---* 2014 dnp posts from my main blog

gamergate and its long shadow

- trolling, renewed and revamped - algorithms push increasingly extreme content - the broad conservative backlash conglomerate - increased normalization of conspiracism in general

my greatest sin [not clickbait] [very funny]

- so, circling back to comphet… - the actual story

anyway, let's talk about danandphilgames

- a star is born: dil howlter - different types of gaming content on youtube at the time - why did 17yo amy not subscribe? well…

~ baking interlude 2: chocolate cupcakes ~

make your own frosting. it freezes well

roasting myself further

(2015): it's not queerbaiting when it's real people

facebook "pivots to video"

- mark zuckerberg lied. water is wet - causes other platforms to REALLY double down on video - the birth of musical.ly - corporate-branded creators (read: future youtubers)

queerbaiting enters mainstream public consciousness

- academic origins - early fannish and acafan writing - johnlock, destiel, and sterek - statistics 101: type i error, type ii error, and queerbait

dan, phil, and the phandom

- bbc, cons, & the brits - danandphilcrafts - phan conspiracies ---* japhan ---* body language experts ---* timeline truthers ---* floor plan investigators ---* no but seriously imagine it - regular youtube uploads ---* solo content ---* joint content ---* subscriber milestones, rewind - tatinof uk and tabinof ---* on "selling out" ---* revisiting the statistics 101 lesson: now with real people! ---* never meet your heroes (unless they're dan and phil)

amy's (temporary) exit from the phandom

- it's legal adulthood with a steel chair!! - growing discomfort with some fans' behavior - 2015 dnp posts from my main blog - the closer: final fantasy vii

(2016): season finale

vine's imminent demise

- content platforms behaving badly - content creators behaving badly

youtube after "the great rewiring" (as haidt calls it)

- version 1.0 of the modern youtube algorithm ---* deep neural networks for dummies ---* what's holding creators accountable, or not - advertising and sponsorships ---* basically every child and youth™ is watching now ---* the battle for our attention ---* regulators start to crack down on undisclosed ads - the rise of drama/tea content (and later, channels) ---* youtubers are now seen as regular celebrities ---* dan and phil as the butt of other youtubers' jokes ---* baiting the phandom for engagement

tatinof us and aus

- a proven new model for live show tours - show & documentary released to youtube red (now premium) - [sigh] the tour bus

sea change in online fandom

- the newer, sometimes queerer media in korra's wake ---* better and more representation in live-action tv shows ---* voltron (i'm sorry!!!) ---* the mystic messenger craze ---* alice oseman & heartstopper - the new dynamics of #discourse ---* proship is to anti as phannie is to phanti ---* the bad behaviors of the 00s get a new coat of paint ---* new, though: fans harassing creators ---* a personal note on ace discourse

dan and phil presence off-tour

- the internet takeover ends - regular content, subscriber milestones

so. uh. current events.

- brexit - sorry the united states is a font of chaos - ripple effects

closing out the year

- amy finally gets an anxiety diagnosis and treatment! hurray! - dapgo, rewind - bbc radio awards & the boncas - gamingmas

(2017): time for a rebrand

tangent - sit down!!! buckle up!!! today's lecture is on PSIs & PSRs!!!

"parasocial" as defined by the current zeitgeist

- summing up youtubers' and laypeople's opinions (not dan's) - an unfairly negative stance overall, imo

older academic literature

- the 1956 paper (yes, 1956) - with traditional celebrities - with fictional characters

current academic literature

- with youtubers and other content creators - positive effects on the audience - negative effects on the audience - broader societal implications

fandom spaces as a parasocial experience

- parasocial and truly social interactions with each other - phandom as a supportive, welcoming space for oddballs - what research i can find about neurospicy folks, + anecdotes - me and everyone else on planet earth move to discord

inherent transactionality

- the nature of celebrity - positive effects on creators - negative effects on creators

reexamining early phandom through a parasocial lens

- the good, the bad, and the ugly - the role audience demographics played in all of this - entering, exiting, and remaining in the phandom

end tangent, back to your regularly scheduled programming

vine is well and truly dead

- some had prepared to become primarily youtubers (smart) - some move to musical.ly, insta, facebook, or snap (less so)

the sun sets on danisnotonfire

- i am very normal about dan's hobbit hair, i swear. - the last dnp content before the rebrand - new apartment, new floor plan investigations

adpocalypse now

- youtube has become the village elder of platforms ---* increased scrutiny, increased responsibility ---* some youtubers had been getting away with !#$!#@% - the scandals ---* pewdiepie + logan paul ---* elsagate and being "family- friendly" (read: ad-friendly) - censorship and monetization ---* adsense revenue goes down as advertisers pull out ---* the glory days of posting whatever and making bank are over

amazingphil and ~daniel howell~

- youtube & younow content - that week in march - vacations and conventions - conjoined baking and the concept of a "soft launch" - daniel & depression → dan as a mental health advocate - truth bombs, ii announcement, rewind

(2018): the phandom vs the hiatus they told us not to worry about

interactive introverts

- "giving the people what they want" - in hindsight… - let's talk about dnp fans from the global south

youtuber burnout

- it wasn't just dan: (more examples than header fits) - the old model was simply not sustainable - newer contributing factors - research on burnout, plus personal anecdotal experience

other dan and phil videos

- phil's solo videos - gay and not proud - hometown showdown - other joint videos - phil's #shorts (sounds normal in american english)

panini updates

- vaccines soon, uwu??? + entrenched misinformation - pros and cons of remote work - pros and cons of remote school - pros and cons of remote socializing

you will get through this night

- younger me really could have used this book too, dan - thoughts as a professional in a related field - reflecting on some of my more unique circumstances

daring my old school district to sue me (again!!)

- updates: racism and transphobia - updates: right-wing freaks take over the school board again - residents vote against improving mental health resources

(2022): dan returns (still not on fire)

hey so politics are um getting worse

- americans lose the right to reproductive freedom ---* the quickest of histories on where these freaks came from ---* this shit kills people. - trans kids become the punching bag of culture war discourse ---* fuck off! (gently) ---* fuck off! (i have a knife) ---* checking in on terf island

we're all doooooooooooooooomed

- dystopia daily my beloved - the style, the substance, the metatextual analysis-- - not everyone loved it, though. why? - the promo - dan on tour + sister daniel

amy's 2022

- i got covid - then i got long covid: brain fog, pots-like symptoms

some more news (i will work on my warmbo impression)

- dan joins tiktok + danisnotinteresting uploads - phil: uploading less, busy doing remote crisis management - twitter is acquired by an idiot jackass - heartstopper on netflix! ---* the show and what it means to people ---* drama (revisiting "real people can't queerbait") ---* why this has anything to do with the phandom

~ baking interlude 4: cinnamon rolls ~

- lovingly, recipe changes and corrections :) - if i have an opinion about anything, it's sweet yeasted breads

(2023): the phrenaissance

phil

- joins tiktok! - youtube uploads through september - what even is phannie tiktok. i've never used this app. help.

dystopia daily b-sides

- dan memes of 2022 - the 2023 dystopia daily episodes

amy: the doctoral candidacy process

- purgatory, privilege, poverty, and free pizza - checking in on what this is like outside the united states

pretending the panini is over

- complaining about post-adpocalypse censorship standards - honest take about "giving up" on covid - who gets the short end of the stick

the youtube algorithm is BAD and UNINTELLIGENT, actually,

- unhinged rant about not hearing about the gaming rephrival - because i was offline from other platforms. like, @amyoffline.

pov: you are a phannie (not me) on october 15th

- what i was doing on october 15th - saying goodbye forever, spooky week, and november - gamingmas - phil uploads through december

(2024): fifteen years of terrible, terrible influence

hey what the fuck is going on

- dan and phil ---* joint and phil videos ---* jokes they never would've made ten years ago ---* a collection of emotional posts about how far they've come ---* people want fun and silly content again. we'll get to why ---* nostalgia, hope, and other warm and fuzzy feelings - the phandom ---* ancient parasocial attachments, reactivated instantly ---* people are way more normal now. let's discuss why ---* tumblr vs twitter vs tiktok phandom

we're all doomed, youtube version

- my thoughts - thoughts on "dan should/shouldn't" do video essays - i can't objectively evaluate anything he makes bc [gunshots]

terrible influence tour

- legally phlonde - the concept: healing one's inner child / taking it back - we gotta talk about phannies in the global south again - no but seriously imagine it? ---*ogres are like onions, they have LAYERS ---* [placeholder for whatever does(n't) happen]

anglosphere current events once again

- the likely us tiktok ban - the tories get fired - [placeholder for whichever hell americans manifest] - witnessing genocide and feeling powerless

ffx full-circle moment to the intro of this video essay

- the night i found out they came back - why i am doing this, now with context - reflections on a nearly 15-year (parasocial) relationship

whatever youtube uploads we get during fall/december

AMY SEES TIT (nov 14)

- the vibes at the phamily reunion - buying merch to apologize for eternal ublock origin use - how much should i document?? (not during the show) - phanspiracies confirmed - atlanta confessions - favorite bits - the alternate universe where i went to tatinof and/or ii

(2025): the horrors persist, but so do we

whatever 2025 content is out while i'm still working on this

our parasocial social club

- let me be philosophytube for a second ---* every interaction has a parasocial element ---* what are we obligated to do as a phandom, actually? ---* as people who parasocially care about these two dorks? ---* what else should we be doing socially to be at our happiest? - "they're my gay uncles" vs "i'm a little in love, even now" ---* riffing about the boundary/overlap between these camps ---* sibling reads me for filth in a single text (sister daniel...) ---* at least we're all in this together

what's going to continue to draw people in

- grown adults drawing our cat whiskers back on - updates on queer/nd kids - updates on anxiety/depression rates - updates on tech and the broader environment of content - world still feels doomed

tangent - the "hard launch" and why people want it

what are people referring to, exactly

- general definition and other examples - when it comes to dan and phil - maybe they hard launched already and we just missed the memo

the ludonarrative of phandom

- if you got here early on - if you got here in the mid-2010s - if you got here after they came out - if you got here post-hiatus - final fantasy comparison: ffvii's chokehold over first-timers

a rom-com for the ages

- the tropes in play - brief tangent on the evolution of the genre - queer romantic comedies - final fantasy comparison: ffviii's plot and squall/rinoa

phriends… or…

- wholesome influence, slice-of-life - projection - final fantasy comparison: ffxv's gameplay loop, the chocobros

humans don't like ambiguity

- from a media perspective (narrative tension) - research from the hard sciences - final fantasy comparison: fanille ---* the first gay final fantasy characters, actually ---* ffxiii's character development process ---* fang and vanille in the text. brb, clawing at the walls ---* so, if anyone is looking for a phyuri au prompt…

tl;dr: reality is not fiction. make peace with not "knowing"

end tangent, back to your regularly scheduled programming

the phuture

- phil's big solo project when??? - dapg is just the joint channel now - youtube has changed since when dan last "regularly" uploaded - nothing lasts forever, and that's okay

~ baking interlude 5: ranch + pizza ~

- ranch propaganda and ranch metaphors - showing off my dough and sauce skills

conclusions

- a lot has happened in 15 years - [placeholders: don't write your conclusions before you do your research]

Proof this project can only be done in consultation with Tumblr: no other platform we're on could accommodate a post of this length and formatting detail lol

#dan and phil #phan #dnp #daniel howell #amazingphil #this took so long to format oh my god please read it and talk to me #except it's 1am in my time zone so i'm going honk mimimimi soon enough #amy writes

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ladykailitha · 9 months ago

Text

Batshit Soulmates Part 3

Hey guys! More of this delicious AU.

Steve is suffering under the effects of the truebond. And things get a little dire for Max, too.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1| Pt 2|

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Steve got back to his house and immediately stripped down to hop in the shower. He turned the water to as hot as it would go. He needed to drown out his thoughts and hot water would help with that.

He washed and conditioned his hair, allowing the conditioner to do its thing while he did the rest of his routine. Once he was done, he rinsed his hair.

He towel dried his hair, taking the time to squeeze out as much of the water as he could. He stopped himself as he realized what he was doing. He was primping for Eddie. A wanted fugitive who couldn’t care less what Steve’s hair looked like. He tried not primp when he got dressed. But he still managed to put on his nicest polo and tightest jeans, anyway. He did try to de-slut himself by adding the white undershirt.

Which of course made the polo tighter and thereby defeating the purpose. Steve just shrugged. Max was waiting for him and changing now would only waste time he really didn’t have.

****

Eddie was not having a good time. He was hungry and hunted and more than a little haunted. Sleep was fitful at best. He just hoped he wasn’t screaming in his sleep. That would have really brought him unwanted attention.

He tried find ways to entertain himself. Because if seeing Chrissy die like that didn’t make him crazy, being alone with nothing to do was going to drive him the rest of the way there.

He finally resorted to tossing bottle tabs, coins, and other small items into a cup to see how many he could get in.

Eddie was losing.

Suddenly there was the crunch of tires on gravel and he was on his feet in an instant. He grabbed his broken bottle and peeked out the window. He couldn’t see the vehicle that pulled up. Was it the cops? Someone else?

The door to the boathouse burst open and Eddie was sure his heart burst with it.

There standing in the doorway looking more than a little sheepish were his rescuers. Dustin, Robin, Max, and Steve bringing up the rear. Steve gave a little hand wave and he forced himself to breath normally again. He glared at them to know that what they did was a little fucked up.

They explained everything to him as simply as possible. Steve actually was kind and walked him through each new piece of information to make sure he understood.

Afterwards when they were getting ready to leave again, Eddie pulled Robin aside.

“Um...” he said rocking back on his heels, hands on his back, “so you’re running with Steve Harrington now?”

Robin opened her mouth the say something mean, but she knew what he was really asking. “Yeah, monsters and monstrous humans tend to make for great social glue.”

“And he knows...” he said trailing off. “He knows?”

She knew what he was trying desperately not to say. Did Steve know she was gayer than a May pole? She nodded. “Yeah. I know what he was like in high school, but he’s not like that anymore.”

Eddie nodded. “It’s just wild you know.”

“Having King Steve as your soulmate?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

He let out a shuddering breath and pressed his together. He closed his eyes and then opened them slowly. “How do you even deal with that?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Eddie frowned. “You haven’t found your soulmate yet?” It was just surprising. Yeah, Steve and him hadn’t found each other until their late teens/early twenties. But that was rare.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh no, I know who she is. Pretty sure she knows it’s me, as well, but she has decided that fellow band geek Robin Buckley just isn’t her flavor or such shit.”

His frown deepened. “It’s Vickie Cameron, isn’t it?”

Robin cocked her head to the side. “How did you know that?”

He opened his mouth and closed a couple of times before he said, “Look, the safest place to deal...” he gave her a pointed look warning her to keep her mouth shut.

She mimed zipping it closed.

“Is behind the community center next the swimming pool,” he explained. “I’d deal, use some of the money to cool off in the summer because my trailer ain’t great when it comes to not being as hot as the devil��s tit.”

Robin wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“The point is I saw her soulmark,” Eddie growled. “It’s a trumpet. On her shoulder. Right where I’m guessing there’s a clarinet on yours.” He nodded toward her. “What is she, homophobic or some shit?”

She shrugged. “Who the fuck knows. She doesn’t treat me badly and sometimes I even think she’s flirting with me, but she has a boyfriend who’s in college so...”

Eddie winced. “That sucks.”

Robin scoffed. “About as bad as learning your soulmate is your antithesis or whatever in the middle of another apocalypse.”

He could only agree, but they were getting off the topic at hand. “Has Steve said anything to you about being my soulmate?”

She sighed. “Only that it fucking sucked learning about it with a bottle pressed to his throat.”

Eddie sighed, too. “Look, I wouldn’t have done anything. I was scared and alone and jocks hate me. Like I thought Jason has sent him, okay?”

Robin blinked. “Oh because of the basketball thing?”

Eddie nodded.

“I guess that makes sense,” she said. “But he really fell from grace when Billy smashed in his head. He’s just this lovable goof with a heart of gold.”

She paused for a second.

“Like I think he always was.” She patted his shoulder and went to join the others.

Steve told the others to go out to the car and jogged back to Eddie.

“It’s too dangerous to move you right now,” Steve murmured. “But we’ll try to stay on the walkies, okay?”

Eddie nodded. “Just don’t forget I’m here, man.”

Steve gripped Eddie’s arms. “We won’t, but we have to find out what’s going on and we’re going to be spread pretty thin. I wish there was another way to do this.”

Eddie let out a long breath, not quite a sigh. “I’ll try, man. If you guys are right about all this shit, I’m really scared. Plus with the town thinking it was me...”

“We’ll figure it out,” Steve promised.

Eddie nodded again and settled down to wait it all out. At least he had food and drink, which was more than he had before.

****

All this running around looking for clues was shit on Steve’s nerves. He was close to screaming. He had almost taken Lucas’s head off when the kid came tearing around a blind corner at night in the high school they had just broken into.

And Robin was doing that thing she always does when faced with a pretty girl, flirt. Which considering said pretty girl was not only Steve’s ex, but already soulmated? Yeah, Steve was sure his breaking point was going to hit sooner rather than later.

It came when Max started rising in the air like some fucked up messiah. Because he could tell something was wrong he was able to get ahold of Robin and Nancy who told them about the music and Lucas was able to find her favorite song on her Walkman and play it for her, she didn’t get Vecna’ed or whatever the hell it was the kids were calling it.

Once she was safe he sat down on the ground hard and buried his head in his hands. He fought to breathe, barely making it through the gasps of sobs that were torn out of him.

How can they fight something that could take anyone of them at anytime? How is he supposed to protect the people he loves most from an unseen force?

He had to keep it together. For Max because she was the victim here. For Lucas because he almost had to watch his soulmate get ripped from him. For Eddie who was frightened beyond the pale. He had to be the strong one.

And then he felt warm arms around him.

“She’s safe now,” Dustin murmured. “We got to her in time because of you. That was scary as hell, but it would have been worse if you had listened to Lucas and me. A lot worse.”

Steve lifted his head and nodded. “Thanks, bud.”

Dustin helped him stand. “We have to get everyone together.”

Steve nodded. “I just wish there was to include Eddie without telegraphing to the asshats in town where he is.”

Dustin grimaced. “Yeah, but there isn’t.” He looked at Steve a moment. “How are you doing? I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before.”

Steve showed him his soulmark. It was black and angry.

“Why does it look like that?” Dustin nearly screamed.

Lucas and Max came running and they looked down at Steve’s mark, too.

“Shit,” Max hissed. “That’s not good. Why didn’t you tell anyone you and Eddie were true soulmates?”

Lucas and Dustin looked at her in shock.

“A what now?” Lucas asked, looking back and forth at Steve and Max in confusion.

“True mates,” Dustin said slowly in disbelief. “I’ve only read about those. They’re super rare.”

“It means,” Max hissed, “that Steve can’t be separated from his soulmate for long otherwise he gets super sick.”

“But only after they touch each other’s marks,” Dustin finished. “Why did you that? Why did you touch each other’s marks if that was going to happen?”

Steve huffed. “Because Dustin, you don’t know you’re true mates until after you touch.”

“Oh,” Lucas and Dustin said together.

“This is bad, Steve,” Max huffed ignoring the boys. “You have to get back to Eddie.”

Steve shook his head. “I can last a little bit longer. You’re in danger, Max. That’s more important than me.”

“But what about Eddie?” Dustin asked. “Won’t he get sick, too?”

Steve threw back his head and groaned. “I can’t take care of everyone at once. Plus, if I keep going back to the boathouse someone will see and come to check it out. That would do far more harm to Eddie than being a stupid true mate to someone like me.”

Dustin and Lucas glanced at each other and then each held out their hand to Steve. He took each of their hands and allowed the two boys to haul him to his feet.

“How close do you think you have to be to stop it from burning?” Dustin asked Max.

Max shrugged. “My mom and Neil aren’t truemates so I don’t know for sure. But a hell of a lot closer than cemetery to the lake.”

Dustin nodded. “Would Skull Rock be close enough?”

“Or even just driving past the lake might work,” Lucas suggested.

Steve hugged them both. “I’ll visit him tomorrow, we just need to get everyone else together to discuss what happened to Max.”

They all nodded.

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @oxidantdreamboat @mogami13 @samsoble @xandriumbat @ellietheasexylibrarian @lololol-1234 @y4r3luv @disrespectedgoatman

#stranger things #my writing #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au #alternate season 4 #byler #lumax #jancy #dustin/suzie #robin/vickie

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moonyhasmanyanimals · 8 months ago

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I like to think the links would give you cute gifts. So here are the little things they would give you as said gifts.

Sage- I think he would give you either apple seeds or make you a stuffed animal. Like take up sewing just to make you one

Wild- Silly little earrings, Because I like to think he loves to match clothes. I think matching earrings from Gerudo Town. Or maybe like sage a stuffed animal but make it a little wolf.

Time- He would totally make you something, He's a total romantic guy. He would get you flowers or get you chocolates. Bonus if the Kokiri helps him make the chocolates (Yes I headcanon that those kids can make some good ass chocolate)

Twilight- Why do you want to know? Ok but for real. He would go into his wolf form whenever you ask. Because I bet Wolfie is stupidly fluffy. But if that doesn't satisfy I think he would get you A necklace from Zora's Domain.

Four- He makes you gifts, My man is a blacksmith. He would make you branclets or earrings of whatever you want. But if you want he'll take you on a date under the starry sky.

Sky- Speaking of skies. I think his gift would be to show you how to ride a loftwing in his Hyrule. Or get you a Remlit. Because have you SEEN those little cute monsters. He is also very romantic like time so he would get you Flowers or Chocolate or any candy you want.

Wind- Like I stated he's romantic for you while you see him as a little brother or your kid. Would get you flowers from the field and bring them to you. Maybe ask Time or Wild for some money to go get you some fruits in Kakariko.

Hyrule- While I would like to say he's in his late teens or early twenties, he doesn't have experience like twilight or time. I think he tries really hard with his gifts. He kinda goes off everyone else so maybe just a little date with some roses.

Legend- lovely hoarder of a man, he's such a loser and I love him so much for it. I think he's a little classy, Roses and chocolates yes. But also gets you a ring. He would take you to Lorule with enough begging.

Wars- Imma make it easy because i don't know much about him yet, So imma say that he gives you his clothes or let's you wear his scarf. Likes your time more then having gifts

Bonus

Fierce deity- He seems to follow you around a bit. He likes your time and your hugs but if he were to give you something it might be a little spirit he has in his pocket (another random headcanon I have)

Dark Link (Dink? idk what his LU name is)- One of those cool skull horses. You know? He would teach you to ride it. He also would give you black roses or get matching outfits.

Ravio- anything you want. It doesn't matter. But he would also get you a stuffed animal.

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jamneuromain · 11 months ago

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Wild Child Chapter. 5

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

It was not the first time that he met you, while on the plane. Ari jogged his memory by going through the photobooks (back when printed photos and digital cameras were a thing, Christ, he sounded like someone from the 70s). He stared at a small photo which had you and him on it. It was the only photo of the two of you, at the start of the royal ball, where he was ordered by his family to act like a prince and agree to all photos taken for him.

Ari flipped to the next page, where people gathered at the end of the ball to take a picture together. He saw your father right next to his father, both smiling as fake as possible. But he couldn’t find you in this picture.

Where had you been?

That ball happened a decade ago, when you had just reached your teen years and he was ending them. Looking back at his early twenties, He wrote essays about the burden of the king, and why people should vote for a functioning government rather than rooting for the royal family. Ari knew that he despised the monarchy back then, even though he was a prince.

Naturally, he was just as obnoxious regarding the planned marriage. Attending his coronation and the celebration ball with reluctance, he tried his best to maintain a stoic expression when his parents – the King and Queen – nudged him to smile and wave.

“I need a breather.” He grumbled as soon as the guests started dancing, ducked from his mother’s hand and slipped out from behind the curtains, turning a blind eye to his mother’s warning glare, stepping into the royal garden.

He hated the fucking crown. He hated the photo shoot before the ball that made him look like a monkey up for display. He hated the first dance with his mother which made him feel like he was a 6-year-old boy. He hated his fiancé who was allegedly six years younger than him, which means when he was starting his sophomore year at the University of Ancetol, she had just finished her 8th grade.

How on earth could he marry a fucking child?

He mumbled these questions to himself, but they travelled in his head and returned with no answer as he ventured further into the royal garden, surrounded by bushes and trees, in the middle of a small track.

“I know. It’s unimaginable.” Spoke a voice from his left softly, “You’re Ari, right? I’ve heard about the plan to arrange a marriage between you and the Y/L/Ns.”

Ari turned his head in your direction. He vaguely remembered you had taken photos together, meaning you were either a daughter of the ministers and ambassadors, or one of the young kids from the noble family.

Ari hummed, neither confirming nor denying what you said.

You didn’t look rejected by his indifferent gesture, merely opening the little purse in your hand and extending it to him, “Want some mini-burgers? I snuck them from the tables just now.”

Ari led you to a stone bench in the corner, facing the roses and tulip bushes, where you shared the slightly squished mini-burgers in your purse in silence. Faint music of the ball could be heard, but people were too busy to mingle, he guessed, that no one bothered to enjoy the clear moonlight and the beauty of the Royal Garden.

You patted the crumbs from your sparkling dress and stretched your arms and legs, untangling the buckle from your high heels before landing on the pebbled ground with your bare feet.

A few simple movements made Ari close to smiling. Glad to know he was not the only one who found the royal rules a huge pain in the ass – or in your case, feet. You looked like a kid, really, no younger than ten but definitely not as mature as a 20-year-old. Maybe somewhere around 13?

“Your parents set you up with someone else too?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed, “My father said it’s all for the best, but…”

“But?”

“He’s full of bullshit.” You swatted the invisible dust from the hem of your pink fluffy dress, “And I don’t believe him.”

Perhaps it was the food that you shared, having Ari feel like he was some kind of big brother, somewhat obligated to help, to resonate with your worry, “It’s probably wrong for me to say this, but have you thought about running away?”

You scoffed, eyeing him with a strange expression on your face, “I have no money, no skill to support me, and no connections that I can use and get away with. I’m 15, you can’t be serious about trying to persuade a teen to run away from her home.”

Damn, he sounded like a creepy kidnapper.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked.

“All the time.” Ari let out a dry chuckle, “Can’t, though.”

“Let me guess, your skill set is too custom-made for being a Prince?” You cocked your head to your side, lifting the corner of your lips.

“Something like that, yeah.” Ari spared a glance in your direction. He didn’t notice that he was smiling too, which was … weird.

It felt odd, to have his spirits lifted so easily. Like you were meant to be close.

Ari felt like you were meant to be family. Brother and sister.

He’d love to have a sister like you.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” You flipped your carefully styled hair to the back, looking into his clear blue eyes under the moonlight, “Go ahead.”

“Do you know Y/N Y/L/N?”

His face burned for a moment. Deep down, he knew he should have met his fiancé and not probing answers from someone he had just met for fifteen minutes. But he’d rather have a fresh pair of eyes who could provide something more than the standard answer, “a proper lady”.

“Yes.” You lowered your head, so that he couldn’t see your widening eyes, filled with panic. If your thoughts could make noises, it’d be blasting sirens all over the Royal Palace by now.

“What’s she like?” His question grew more hastened. It was rumoured that his fiancé spent most of her childhood on the outskirts of Ancetol, and had recently moved back to the family house downtown. He missed the first few balls and banquets in which she took part, resulting in never meeting his future wife in the 20 living years of his life, and he was frightened over the possibility that his fiancé was indeed a “proper lady”, which scared him more than if his fiancé has eight legs like a spider (Don’t laugh, he once had a terrible nightmare about his spider-fiancé when he was 15).

“Do you want the truth or a lie?”

Your question caught him off guard. Noticing that you were not looking at him, Ari furrowed his eyebrows and answered, “Truth, please.”

Hope Mr. Prince will like the truth then, “She’s … stubborn. A thick-head, if you will.”

“Sounds like you don’t like her.” Joked Ari.

“I don’t. And she’s not a Princess material.” The first two words sounded heavy in your mouth, which was why you lowered your voice and continued the vile comments you plastered all over your image – your image as his future wife.

“What, you are?” Ari threw the question back to you.

“No.” You sighed softly, your nails fumbling with the diamond necklace around the base of your throat.

“Then what are you?”

Call Ari intrigued, but he did want to know you better. At least he wanted to know you better than his future wife. Hell, maybe he would ask you for your company at later events such as royal dinners and celebrations.

Considering that he still had zero clue as to who you were, you answered with sincerity, dropping a slice of sarcasm here and there, “A rebel, a black sheep, a wild child.”

“Wild?” Asked Ari in a tone of disbelief.

“My parents want me to study Art History – Hey, don’t get me wrong,” You raised your hands, a gesture of peace-making, when you heard him snorting out a laugh, “I love art and painting and stuff, but I love debating more. I want to be one of those sharp-minded broadcasters in the future, or reporters, taking down bad guys.”

The faint music of On the Beautiful Blue Danube reached Ari’s ears. As reluctant as he was, reacting to this music, knowing that it signalled the ball coming to an end after the next song, he must put this lovely conversation to a halt.

“I’m afraid that’s my cue.” He grimaced at the waltz piece, standing up from the stone bench. His legs were slightly numb from sitting still in the same position for too long, but he didn’t mind. The little fragment of time where he could let go of the prince’s duty was precious and worthwhile. Sadly, he had to pick the duty up again. “Would you like a dance?” His eyes lit up, and he extended a hand to you. It would be a brilliant defiance to his father and mother, dancing with someone who was not his fiancé.

“Maybe next time.” You shook his hand as if turning a blind eye to the gesture of starting a waltz, “Nice to meet you.” You lifted the hem of your dress and made a curtesy, “Your Royal Highness.”

After that, you turned your back towards him, put on your heels, and disappeared into the trees and bushes of the Royal Garden.

He hadn’t seen you since.

Ari knew now that while he was studying at the University of Ancetol, you had applied for your undergraduate programme abroad. After that, he was dispatched to the Army to serve the country and also learn about the skills to command soldiers during battle.

By then, you had started your graduate programme at UCLA.

He seemed to have missed every event you attended, and vice versa.

Until now.

Putting the photobook back into place, Ari strode to the full-length mirror in the closet room, checking the two suits he had in mind to wear for today. Your text had sprung on Ari last night, informing him that your father has requested to see him, catching Ari completely off guard.

The business casual navy blue one, or the formal black one.

He did not want to intimidate your father, though that was what he preferred, knowing that your father treated you terribly because of this engagement. And the sudden “meeting” your father demanded was, without question, not your idea, or you would have warned him.

Or was that your purpose all along?

Maybe your father, after Ari called, thought you were joking about the new boyfriend? Maybe your father did not buy your carefully woven lie after all?

Ari threw these doubts to the back of his head, and finally decided upon the business casual one.

By the side of the large mirror stood a small table with a few things on it. His family ring - the golden crest with a lion, spear, and shield, a bottle of cologne he preferred, a folder with almost all of your information since birth (it might sound creepy, but you gave it to him), and last but not least, the to-be presents he had for you.

A small bouquet of roses, or a sapphire necklace.

The problem was, that he could not hold both gifts at the same time, while he was hoping that he would deliver his gift as a surprise.

A blonde emerged by the door to this closet space, clearing her throat, indicating her arrival.

"Do you think she'd appreciate the flowers more? Or this sapphire necklace?"

Ari consulted Rachel, his head security, who was standing by the door with her hand crossed. She could easily be mistaken as a statue if it weren't for her breathing.

"I think she would appreciate whatever you prepared for her, Your Highness."

"Less official answer, please." Ari shot her a pointed look.

Rachel sighed deeply.

Ballenia was going to be ruined by this hopelessly romantic and that cluster-fuck of a noble family.

"Based on the intel - the more sparkly one." Rachel pointed towards the velvet box on the table.

Despite the fact that you were raised away from your father and grandfather, you never lacked any material upbringing. You went to the best schools, the best universities, and had some of the best teachers the royal family could find for your education as a future Princess. Whenever you went out shopping for some gala, banquet, or ball, the jewellery store would be the first stop to visit – you liked sparkly gems and stones indeed.

And this necklace that he chose, with a dewdrop-shaped sapphire pendant and a ring of diamonds surrounding it, would look marvelous to go with your dress.

Still, he could not shake the feeling that you would appreciate the roses as well.

The roses seemed cheap and cliché, while the necklace seemed sparkly and expensive.

He should have gone with the necklace, right?

To guarantee his safety, Rachel had two other cars escorting His Royal Highness’s vehicle while she flew a helicopter over his head. Due to Ari’s protest, she did not come along as she was supposed to – in case you recognized this dutiful Royal guard, and as a result, him, Ari argued – but chose her dutiful second-in-command, a man named Ethan to be Ari’s temporal bodyguard slash driver.

Ethan was just as quiet as Rachel on the way to your home.

It was an ancestral building since the 1800s and took quite a few renovations to be as modern as it could. However, your family was on the verge of losing the house around the 1950s, until your grandfather made a deal with Ari’s grandfather, helping him to stabilize the Upper House, and in return, asked for a marriage for one of his children.

You were waiting by the fountain in front of the house when Ari stepped out of his car, wearing a blue dress tailored to your shape.

“Morning.” You welcomed him with a warm hug, whispering, “Have to keep up the pretences. My father is probably watching by the window right now.”

“Morning.” His hand landed on your back with a soft pat, chuckling, “What do we have today, Miss. Girlfriend?”

You took a step back, quickly shoving a velvet box into his pocket, “The usual. Family drama, that sort of thing.” You eyed his bulging pocket as subtly as possible, “A watch. Give it to me after we meet my father. Shall we?” You gestured towards the house.

“One second.” Ari returned to his car, fishing the rose bouquet and the necklace from the backseat, and presented you the necklace first, “A gift.”

Ari popped open the larger velvet box with care, dazzling you with the necklace.

You blinked, stunned at first but quickly shook your head, refusing the gift, “You really don’t have to. We agreed that-”

“But I want to.”

The answer slipped out way faster than his brain could process, Ari added hastily, “I know what we agreed upon, it’s just that…”

After spending years learning how a diplomat and a proper prince would talk, Ari, for the first time in his life, was speechless, in front of someone he barely knew.

He wanted to give her something that could belong to her, not that the watch she prepared couldn’t, yet there was a minor difference that he perceived. The necklace was something he could have a say, something that looked good on you, he was certain, but different, from the watch.

He wanted you to have it, no matter if the marriage works out or not, even though this piece of jewellery could be interpreted by you – supposedly his real identity was unmasked – as bribery.

… a faint proclamation that he cared. He cared about you.

Thousands of thoughts ran through his head, but Ari simply said, “Considering what you offered, I’ve been taking your advantage.”

You raised your eyebrows, dragging your tone lazily, “So this is your getting even?”

“This is my thank you.” He murmured, making up his mind to shove this stupid necklace into your bag if given the chance. Or throw it in the darkest corner of the Palace. Whichever comes first.

Not intending on dwelling for long, he pulled the bouquet of roses out of thin air, twitching the corner of his lips.

“And the other thank you.”

You gasped in surprise, the twinkle in your eyes was visible like the sun in the sky, shining brightly.

You hugged the roses into your arms, dipping your chin to feel the soft pedals caressing your skin, blooming a large smile on your face.

“I like it.” You watched as he reciprocated your smile, your voice faint as the teary glint in your eyes, “I like it a lot.”

A sharp inhale and the water in your eyes evaporated. You held the roses in your arm, and made sure every hair on top of your head stayed in place, trying to present the best in you before your father.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocked his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you waved your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

“Where have you been?” Queen Olivia, his mother, hissed in his ear, “You got me worried sick – Hello, thank you for coming. It is a great pleasure to have you here.” Forcing her face to form an impeccable smile as another guest approached and bid her and King Victor good night.

“A stroll in the garden. I came back, didn’t I?” Young Ari challenged her nerves when the Queen clenched her fists, “Anyway, I met -”

Fuck, he forgot your name. He forgot to ask. Well, he’d ask when you come up in front, to bid the King and Queen good night.

A servant whispered by the queen’s side. His mother glared daggers at him, announcing with a tone sharper than usual, “… Prince Ari’s suit has been stained; therefore, he went to another room in the palace to clean up just now.”

Behind one of the pillars of the ballroom, masked by the loud waltz, where the Royal family could neither see nor hear, your father slapped you hard across the face, “Filthy little liar. You heard that? The prince was changing his outfit just now. God knows what pig you have been flinging yourself to. Fucking imbecile, I gave you one simple task…”

He ordered one of the servants to bring you to his limo, for you had nearly disgraced and embarrassed him, while he straightened his tie and went greeting the Royal family.

Taglist (also tagging those who might be interested: @irishhappiness @patzammit @identity2212 @lokislady82 @petalj @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @magnificentsaladllama @xx-rennyxx @cringeycookies @autumnrose40 @hawkeyes-queen @vonalyn @theliheat @boo8008 @mrsevans90 @bradfordmyworld @delldenaro @molisighs @otpcutie

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fluff #prince!ari levinson #royalty au #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson #wild child

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givemewallywestorgivemedeath · 2 years ago

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figured i'd ask you since you're like, The Flash Fam Expert, but do you happen to know the rough ages of the flashfam? like i know irey and jai are nine, ace is somewhere in his late teens, and wally has to be late twenties at the youngest but i can't find many specifics on other characters and wasn't sure if you might be able to help!

OOF. That's a rough one buddy. You don't understand what you have just unleashed upon the world.

God. Alright.

Irey and Jai are nine physically and mentally. Chronologically speaking, they're still toddlers but don't worry about it.

Ace is around 17? Not yet 18 but older than 15. I would bet on 17 but 16 wouldn't be crazy either. Avery is the same age.

Jay and Max are over 100 but by how much, I couldn't tell you. They play their age close to the chest. Physically they look 50-60 though.

Here's where it gets tricky.

Barry, Wally, Jesse and Bart.

So, Wally would've been in his early 30's when his children were born. Definitely by the time Barry came back Wally would've been at least 30.

However, during the N52 reboot everyone got deaged around a decade younger, Wally included. Wally came out of the Speedforce wearing his Kid Flash costume, indicating that he was physically 19 at the oldest. It's been a few years since Wally emerged, so physically he would have to be around 21 at this point.

Wild! I know!

So yeah, Barry would've been... late 30's? Ish? When he died. He came back at roughly the same age and chilled for a bit. He would've had to have hit 40 at least by that point. But speedsters also don't really physically age? So he looked like he was in his early 30's.

The N52 reboot hit, putting Barry at... late 20's- early 30's. I would say, by now, that the man is at least 30. Potentially even 35. But he looks 25 because speedsters don't age. (Iris would be around 30)

Bart is going to be the most wild one here. Alright. I'm speedrunning this one, so if you don't understand what is happening, I'm sorry but it is too late for you.

He exits the time portal at physically 12, ages to 14 before stabilized. He ages to 16 at which point he disappears. He comes back as an adult for a year but is killed. He comes back, again, back at 16 and is allowed to chill for a bit (potentially a year), bringing Bart to 17 years old (physically) when Flashpoint and the N52 reboot hit.

Bart was somehow spared the ~10 year deaging but he wasn't spared the deaging entirely. Bart pops out looking around 12-14 years old again. He runs around for about a year ish, which brings Bart to physically 13-15 years old currently in comics.

HOWEVER, it must be stated that, like Wally and Barry, Bart's mental age has never been reset. His mental age did not reboot with his body, so mentally Bart is around 19-20 years old.

Jesse... Jesse is weird. DC likes to keep Jesse ambiguously young. When in doubt, Jesse is around the same age as Wally. So, currently she would be around 21. The same applies to Linda.

So yeah. It's weird because Barry was a guy in his 30's with a little baby ten year old Wally and there was at least a 20 year age difference there. And now it's maybe 9 years? But also Barry looks 25 because he's a speedster, so it looks like Barry is only 4-5 years older than Wally.

Honestly if you went off looks alone, it'd be Jay (50), Max (50), Barry (25), Wally (21), Jesse (21), Avery (16), Ace (16), Bart (14), Irey (9) and Jai (9). Which is WILD?! Their family looks like two gay dads adopted 8 kids. Other than Max and Jay, they all look within five years of each other. It's wild.

Speedster aging man... They just... don't. They don't age. They live on Neverland time 24/7.

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batrogers · 7 months ago

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Linked Universe Time with PTSD

My friends have gotten the brunt of me going on these rambles at them directly, so I decided I’d make this everyone else’s problem as well. Especially after the recent update and the somewhat... questionable words exchanged between him and Twilight, I figured this could be a salve for people like me and a few friends going “What the fuck” about how out of the blue it feels.

A comment on my approach to canon: I am aware there are things shared in the Discord that are creator content, and on the Patreon to which not everyone has equal access or can even manage to relocate again with any ease. As such, like I do with most fandoms, I will be discounting those as “extra-canon” only referenced to augment the “core materials” which I am treating as the Tumblr account archive, because that is available to everyone, without an account and without paying.

I am, of course, including all base canon of the games in this analysis as well, which is to say all the canon directly included in the games and not including the Ocarina of Time or Twilight Princess comics. Interviews and so on are considered "extra-canon" here as well.

(Also I am in the Patreon and at the moment none of the “bonus” content is relevant to this anyways, for the curious. I am not, and have never been, in the Discord.)

Approx 1500 words.

IIII

I’m going to start from the comment everyone is making about this update: that Malon must be pregnant. Obviously nothing can prove or disprove that in and of itself, but I would argue that’s both not a necessary read of this and the mere question is actually part of my analysis: Link and Malon are, by word of god and how they’re drawn, in their thirties. They’ve been a couple since they were late teens to early twenties, and they very clearly want to have children from how they react to Twilight!

So why don’t they?

Infertility is suspected after two years of a (presumably) reproductive capable couple having unprotected sex without a pregnancy. If Time and Malon have been trying for ten to twenty years to have children (assuming their relationship started between 15-20, and currently are 30-35), they are incredibly infertile. It’s not out of the question, and a wild stroke of luck could still occur (my own cousin conceived unexpectedly after ten years of trying) but it does serve to investigate other reasons: maybe they had some reason they weren’t trying, either on purpose or because something was keeping them apart.

Something, perhaps, like a war.

The base game of Ocarina of Time does not leave Hyrule in a good state. We are told, in-game, that Hyrule was in a civil war when Link was a baby. His mother died getting him into the Lost Woods, where he was raised as an orphan. The Shadow Temple explicitly states it was used to imprison (and, strongly implied, torture) the enemies of the Hylian royal family. Ocarina of Time is the only game to use its unique script for Hylian, which suggests it wasn’t the original language and did not last into Twilight Princess later on.

Lon Lon Ranch itself is both very protected by location (very close to the Castle, close enough it supplies it with food and other supplies) and by a twelve foot log palisade. The castle grounds themselves have two guarded gates between it and Castletown (do they not trust their own populace?) and a vast number of guards on the hills around it. Kakariko also has guarded, gated entrances.

(This all has a game mechanics explanation, of course. Closing off each section with “gates” and high walls permits loading screens to feel justified and more immersive, and saves game data and space. It creates clearly defined, restricted areas for the console capabilities at the time. But they can still be interpreted this way, because that is ultimately still the world they built in the end.)

In addition to that base of implied precarious stability at home, we have the question of how the matter of Ganondorf was resolved. Time very briefly references pointing the finger at him and causing something to happen, but ultimately there is no result that would not have made the situation politically volatile for some time after. Even if they executed Ganondorf immediately, the bad blood between Hyrule and the Gerudo would’ve festered under Koume and Kotake as potential leaders. If they didn’t, and simply threw him out or banished him, the same would apply this time with Ganondorf still alive... and, if we assume that the Twilight Princess Ganondorf and this one are the same, he looks much older in-model than he does in Ocarian of Time which suggests this interpretation holds more weight.

It’s not really a question of “if” things devolved again after these events, but when and how badly. Remember, again, my comment that the script of Ocarina of Time is gone by the time of Twilight Princess. In addition, I've done an analysis of Twilight Princess game implications that do not imply Child Timeline has been peaceful, either.

But, of course, the question of what the games themselves leave us with doesn’t answer if Jojo went with this position within the canon of the comics. There is of course the potential to disregard this if someone doesn’t want to go the route of war post-game for Ocarina of Time. Many people just don’t want to write it, and that’s valid! I honestly don’t think Jojo really considered it.

But, there is evidence that could support it if you wanted to go there.

First of all, we have Time’s platemail. This is based off of the Hero’s Shade platemail in Twilight Princess. Disregarding all other factors, platemail directly implies a few things about Time’s social position at the start of Linked Universe: he has enough money, influence, and reason to have suffered the cost and length of time required to make what is extremely high-level, personalized (in size and design) armour. This means several things:

Time has social status. That armour is meant to be seen and noticed; it’s something that either was made for show (a “jewel of the crown” level of regard), or because he wanted people to notice it personally. He has money, or political favour: that shit’s expensive. He either paid for it himself, or someone paid for it for him. And he has cause to want the level of defense offered by platemail over chainmail or hardened leather. Platemail is uncomfortable. It's heavy, and reduces agility. You wear plate because you expect to get hit, and hit hard by something that could surpass chainmail or hardened leather. Something like a moblin... or an iron knuckle.

Malon directly references this in their visit to see her: “You’re in danger if you took your best gear.”

Time chose to wear his platemail to go after Dink, but this is armour he already owns before Dink ever entered the picture. In that same chapter, Malon directly states “all the times you’ve come home beaten and bleeding.” While they also joke that Talon doesn’t believe him, remember that Lon Lon Ranch is in a very protected place within Hyrule. A war that takes out the castle and central city is a war that’s very nearly lost. (Hyrule Warriors losing Zelda AND the castle was a devastating, near-lose condition and his Hyrule is probably in severe condition.) Talon can afford to consider the affairs Time gets up to none of his business.

But that doesn’t make them perfectly safe. Malon can fight, she’s been drawn with bow and arrow before. Lon Lon Ranch, as noted, is behind a tall palisade and there’s the implications that Talon’s deceased wife might’ve been a Gerudo. He’s also old enough that he was a young adult at least during the Civil War that killed Link’s mother.

And, somewhere between that picture of Time at sixteen or seventeen, when Malon promised she wanted to know what had happened to him, and the start of Linked Universe (a gap that directly implies that this was not the result of Majora’s Mask!) Link lost an eye and gained the markings of the Fierce Deity mask. And, with it, he gained what we’re told by Jojo (in a VERY old ask) is a terror of using it again.

I’m not going to presume to say what exactly his trauma might or might not look like. PTSD and similar things manifest differently for a lot of people. But it could make Time react badly to the visceral reminder of going back into serious combat. A reminder like, say, a long wait for someone to recover from a nearly-fatal injury. Add in that on long campaigns, letters from Malon may have been his only piece of home, letters that likely carry her terror for his safety with them nevermind the specific news they contain and...

He might not be in a good state of mind when setting out once more with one of the young men he’s pulled into this fight with him. He might struggle to think clearly, when he feels so responsible for their safety and remembers how Malon reacted to Twilight, all because of what he told her.

He might say things in a poor way, with fear weighing more heavily on his mind than reason.

#Linked Universe #LInked Universe Meta #LU Time Meta #long post #my writing #heavily influences my read on him in fanfic #LU Time #cw infertility #cw war #Like I'm not for or against pregnant Malon #I just have a knee-jerk reaction to it as a default expectation #And have been considering posting this for a while

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luke-shywalker · 2 months ago

Text

he’s still a baby to me

I thought only girls did this sort of thing, Leia thought to herself as she navigated Han’s electric clippers around Ben’s head. Her fourteen-year-old son sat there, stone-faced, his knuckles gripping the edges of the kitchen chair.

Leia was currently performing damage control on a self-inflicted haircut. Ben had grown out his hair long enough to brush his shoulders, and he’d worn it like that for a few years, irritating Han to no end—but Leia knew Ben hadn’t cut it to please his father.

“Is everything going alright at school?” Leia asked carefully, sweetly, the same way she would on any other Friday night. But she knew that Ben saw right through that in an instant.

“Yes,” he muttered curtly.

“Are you feeling all right, sweetie?”

“I’m great.”

Leia paused, considering her next move like it was a game of dejarik. Honestly, sometimes it kind of was. Teenage boys were an unfathomable mystery.

Ah—she had it.

“I cut my own hair, once, too,” she said lightly. “When I was about your age. Women on Alderaan would always grow their hair so long—because of the traditional braids. I chopped all my hair off one day, just to give my attendants a heart attack, and had to wear hairpieces whenever I was out in public for the next five years.” She chuckled at the memory.

No response.

Gee, tough crowd, Leia thought.

Ben tugged at his long sleeves. These were the last days of summer, when school had already started but the air was still hot—not like the cool autumns of Alderaan, which had always seemed to come early as if to usher in the winter festivities as quickly as possible. But all summer long, Ben had been living in that same disgusting sweater, oversized and pilling—she had to force him out of it once a week to get it into the wash, and yet it still wasn’t enough to keep that old hand-me-down of Han’s from smelling distinctly of boy—

But a new thought had occurred suddenly to Leia, and her motherly instincts kicked into overdrive—teen angst—haircuts—scissors—blades?—and she found herself seizing his arm and rolling up his sleeve in one quick motion. “Mom!” he yelled.

But there was nothing to find. Only a pale, skinny wrist that hadn’t seen a single ray of sun all summer. She relaxed.

Kind of.

“I was…checking your eczema,” Leia fibbed. “Do you still put your cream on every night?”

“Yeeees.”

“Good boy.”

Nothing.

I wish I knew what went on in his head, Leia thought.

And then: …No. No, I don’t.

She remembered having her own share of teen angst, at his age—but, it had been quickly replaced by some very real trauma that had turned her forty years old at nineteen.

She had had some wild thoughts in her time. Scary thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Did everyone, she wondered? Or, was it just her…?

Anyway…she had to trust that Ben would turn out okay. Just like she had.

…Force, she thought to herself as she turned off the clippers and dusted off her kid’s shoulders. Did I turn out okay?

She stood there a moment, staring at nothing, trying to figure out whether or not she had turned out okay, whether or not she was raising her son okay—but Ben interrupted her racing thoughts.

“Mom, can I go now?”

Leia blinked rapidly. “Yes, yes, of course, sweetie. Come back downstairs for dinner around six, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Ben, even though both of them knew he wouldn’t be coming down until twenty-seven “Ben, dinner”s after six-thirty. “Can I play hologames with Poe?”

“Are they appropriate?”

“You’ve literally killed people, Mom,” said Ben, and bounded upstairs, nearly tripping himself over his too-long legs. “You don’t get to tell me what’s appropriate.”

“Ben Solo, where did you pick up that attitude of yours?” Leia yelled up the stairs.

But that, of course, was a ridiculous question in this household, and one that didn’t necessarily require a response.

Leia sighed and stooped to sweep up the hair trimmings by hand. Her knees ached a little. The short locks of black reminded her of the thin wisps of hair she had saved, in a little traditional chest she had received from another Alderaanian ex-pat at her baby shower. She stood up again, and remembered how it had felt to carry him.

He’s still a baby to me, she thought, fingering the strands.

#my writing #solo family #leia organa #ben solo #star wars #star wars fanfiction #hanleia

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #7

(This was inspired by this post here and the following fic Like Betta Fish Do, except I'm once again feeling angsty. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.)

✦

Red Hood was patrolling his territory when he feels a sensation similar to someone stumbling over a tripwire. He's immediately on high alert and goes searching for the disturbance, the Pit practically growling in the back of his head. He feels a physical pull that seemed to be guiding him through the dark streets of Crime Alley. He listens closely, completely silent, until he hears it.

Sharp breaths, bare feet slapping against the rain slick pavement, and a sharp, acidic scent wafting through the air as his target moves closer and closer. Once the person is almost right on top of his position, he sticks his foot out and yanks their feet backwards out from under them and immediately has a pistol aimed at them. Something makes him freeze though.

The intruder didn't just go down with a surprised yelp, but an agonized scream and sharp wheezes that sounded painful even to him as they hit the pavement. Now that the intruder was in front of him, he could identify them as an average sized male, late teens to early twenties, with wild, pitch black hair. Once the guy flipped around on the pavement and looked up, Jason could also see icy blue eyes with a slight green tint to them that shouldn't be so noticable at this time of night. The guy's eyes were practically glowing.

Speaking of glowing, the guy had a hand splayed protectively over his chest where a toxic green substance was steadily seeping through the thin white material. The Pit stirred uneasily at the sight. Before he could ponder much more on the guy's current state, he started talking in a rushed, panicked babble.

"S-Shit. Sorry. I didn't know this was your haunt. I'm only passing through, I swear!" With how fast the guy was breathing it was a wonder how he was able to spit the words out so fast. He was nearly hyperventilating at this point. It was kinda making Jason feel bad.

"Please don't shoot me. I'm already dangerously low on blood as it is. I don't think I could handle another wound on top of what I already got."

Now that immediately set off multiple alarms blaring in his head. Coming to a decision, he holstered his pistol and crouched down to the stranger's level. He raised a placating hand when the guy was about to say more.

"Sorry about that. I'm not used to feeling like someone's throwing rocks at my window when they enter my territory. Did I open any stitches under there?" He asked, pointing to the noxious green substance he can only assume is blood that was continuing to seep through the guy's shirt. It uncomfortably reminded him of the Lazarus Pits.

"I'm Red Hood by the way." He turned his raised hand over in offer of a handshake, trying to be friendly. Clearly he must be doing something right since the guy reciprocated the handshake, though a bit hesitantly.

"U-Uh. Danny. My name's Danny."

"Nice to meet you, Danny. Are you gonna answer my question?"

"Oh! U-Um. Stitches, right. Yeah, might've popped a few on the way down." He stuttered as he gestured to the ground.

Jason winced in sympathy, and offered to help him up. It was a bit difficult to do, considering Danny's wound, but he was back up on his feet in no time. Looking Danny up and down, cataloging any other injuries and noticing how dirty his clothes were. They suspiciously looked like patient scrubs. Jason's eyes narrowed to slits under the hood, not liking the conclusion he was coming to.

"Mind telling me what exactly you were running from?"

The question immediately set Danny off. His pupils dilated in fear, sweat started beading on his forehead, and his hands started to shake as he wildly looked in every direction. His eyes landed back on Jason and the fear nearly tripled in intensity. Danny took a hurried step towards Hood, almost startling him into taking a step back.

"It isn't safe." Danny practically hissed out from between his teeth, eyes now glowing uncontrollably in the darkness of the alley. "I don't know how you've managed to fly under the radar so far, but you need to run. They're coming."

Danny's fear was starting to jump-start his own fear response, but he violently pushed it down. He needed to be clearheaded.

"Who's coming? Listen, if you're in trouble I can help-"

"No-" Danny has a tight grip on either of Jason's biceps now, hands still shaking uncontrollably. "You can't help. They have every right to do anything they want to us under federal law. The only thing we can do at this point is run-"

The sound of something whistling through the air catches Jason's attention as a dart lands in Danny's arm, causing him to jerk away to yank it out. The dart is white with a strange logo partially covered by Danny's fingers. The guy barely has enough time to look back up at Jason, pleading for him to run, before his eyes roll to the back of his head as he pitches forward.

✦

I do have a bit more to add on to this, but I'm stopping here for now. Check back in a few hours for a highlighted next → button of you want!

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thewriterowl · 1 year ago

Note

Since many of us agree that Din is demisexual, how do you think he dealt with the sexual awakening when he and Luke started to form a romantic relationship and he thought that would be it and then he is suddenly hit with the hormones?

Oh it would be glorious. I think Din has had some moments here and there, primarily when he was late teen to early twenties, where he may have something of a crush or gets a lustful feeling but they are really not very intense nor passionate and most all the crushes soon become "oh...I got friendship and romance mixed up again, lol" (some were still crushes, Din)

But then he meets Omera and he is thinking "i think I like her...like, romantically. But, I dunno, this also doesn't feel quite right." He was pulled too much away; he wanted his life as a Mandalorian, he didn't want to be tied down, he wasn't ready for the emotions and connections and how open he needed to be--he wasn't even ready to look after Grogu at this point as proof.

Then he grows and starts to make more connections outside of Mandalorians, he starts to love with this personal connection with Grogu and what it means to have something like this, and understanding what it means to be open and happy with others.

Finally, he meets Luke. At first, he doesn't really notice him. He's more focused on his boy and their separation. But then he is allowed to come to the planet and meet up with Luke and Grogu and talks and realizes, "huh, the Jedi is actually...pretty?? Weirdly pretty? Makes my heart go doki-doki pretty?" but he has seen beautiful people before (he has traveled everywhere after all) so he doesn't think about it. Then he starts to connect with Luke, learn about him, sees him more than being a Master Jedi and just a goofy guy with a big heart who is trying to learn to balance who he is.

A few months later Din is all "uh-oh" but is all good cause Luke is the same and they timidly, almost shy, come together to find who they are and what they are to each other until they are confident to confirm they want something more.

It's wonderful and great, a bit vanilla but both want that for now, and then...welp...

I think Din would be a bit confused at how much he is burning for Luke. How everything Luke does gets some sort of intense reaction that just makes him itch and needy. He grabs onto Luke so often, needing to nuzzle and press his nose against his neck and hair and just take in his scent and wonder why it almost feels like Spice.

There is something weirdly addictive to Luke and he is growing uncomfortable all the time.

When they finally have sex, Din just sort of lets himself go wild. It was a nice way to just unleash a lot of things pent up.

Both are very happy in discovering these bits about themselves.

#owl inbox #dinluke

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nikethestatue · 1 year ago

Text

A Match Baked in Heaven

Chapter 4 Here

Part V

My Girl

Nuala W. Raith.

27 years old. A cyber security senior analyst at the New Scotland Yard. Graduated from the London School of Economics. First job was with Accenture, but was quickly recruited by the government due to her phenomenal computer skills. Fairly successful modelling career in her teens and early twenties. Longest relationship was with a Canadian hockey player. Their engagement broke up when he was photographed with a scantily-clad stripper whose head was buried in his crotch.

Hobbies: gaming, football, rugby, cooking, live concerts

Competitive swimmer throughout her uni studies

Elain printed out the profile and placed the page in her bag. She slid her IPad into it as well and then went on to put on her coat.

She just received a message on her phone stating ‘come out, matchmaker!’ That was exactly what she expected from her wild and untamed client.

Piglet was freaking out at the door, snorting and grunting and giving a few pathetic little barks, while he clawed at the door, impatient to leave.

“Will you calm down?” Elain muttered, and opened the door for him and he sprinted out like his arse was on fire.

There was a Bentley idling at the curb and the moment Piglet rushed out, the car door opened and Azriel Night stepped out.

Elain Archeron paused in the doorway, watching her client and marvelling at his ungodly handsomeness. Unlike his usual uniform of jeans, boots and some kind of basic shirt, today, he was wearing a dark suit, which hugged his tall, slender, muscular form to ridiculous perfection. The white shirt that was open to the chest didn’t hurt either. The dark tattoos that snaked from under his shirt and spilled over his neck and his hands made him look dangerous and desirable. It was the dichotomy of his whole being in a handsome dark package–he was a combination of dangerous and damaged, aggressive and gentle, thoughtful and mannerless, inelegant and stylish.

Suddenly, he squatted right on the sidewalk, and opened his arms wide, while Piglet leapt at him, nuzzling at him wildly, and Azriel hugged him and stroked him.

“I missed you too, my little matey. How are you doing?”

Piglet stood on his one hind leg and placed his paws on Azriel’s shoulders, going in for a full body hug.

“How’s our girl? Is she wearing purple today, since you are rockin’ your purple tie?”

Azriel already knew the drill–outside, Piglet wore coats, ties or scarves. Today, he had on a Burberry jacket and a purple scarf that matched his coat. At home or inside, he wore his stylish bows.

At that moment, Elain stepped out of the house, and Azriel looked up and whistled loudly.

“No...she is wearing a trench coat…nice touch. I hope there is nothing underneath it…”

“Mr. Night!” Elain snapped at him, blushing profusely. “You are being scandalous and utterly inappropriate!”

He laughed, watching her, as he stroked Piglet’s back.

Elain seemed to look rather sensible, in her camel knee-length trench, a large leather tote over her shoulder, and sexy brown leather booties, but somehow, she made it all look incredibly elegant, and dare he say, sexy. Elain never went for ‘sexy’, but somehow, she made all her pristine, somewhat old-fashioned outfits look alluring. The fact that she was wearing subtle, nude fishnets didn’t hurt either. Azriel always found himself intrigued by what she was going to wear, and so far, he distinctly recalled each and every one of her ensembles. Now, he was actively pondering if the fishnets were stockings?

“She is mad at me already! I think it’s our record time,” he whisper-shouted to the dog. “Is it my fault,” he addressed her, “that trench coats look good on sexy women and make me wish that there was nothing beneath them. It’s every man’s fantasy, you know.”

“I am not here to fulfil your fantasy,” she cut him off. “I am simply wearing a coat.”

“Mmmm.”

He waited for her to come down the stairs and then extended his hand to her. She shook it reluctantly and he smiled brightly at her, his expression teasing.

“Did you watch the game?” he asked immediately.

“Hello to you too,” she said, while Azriel opened the car door for her and Pinky leapt in eagerly, ready for a new adventure.

“Well, hello then Ms. Archeron,” Azriel murmured, leaning so close to her that his nose almost skimmed her cheek. ”Allow me to help you inside.”

She frowned at him, as she slid inside the car, and Azriel followed her right after.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” the driver greeted her.

She greeted him back and then looked at Azriel, a bemused expression on her face.

“Where is Mr. Night? What did you do with him? And who are you?”

He laughed, throwing his head back and she looked at his thick throat, swallowing audibly.

“I mean, a car, you are being almost polite, dressed in a suit…that’s not the Mr. Night that I know. Usually he curses, argues and taunts me relentlessly.”

“Aw, Ms, Archeron,” he ran his index finger over her long lock. “Day is still young. There is time for all that.”

“Oh, phew,” she pretended to wipe her brow. “I was getting worried.”

“You shouldn’t. The arsehole is still here and happily present. So, back to my previous question?”

“Which is?”

“Are you wearing anything under the trench?” he teased and she seethed at him as usual, crossing her arms on her chest and glowering at him.

He raised his hands in mock surrender and said, “Okay, okay. I’ll behave. But…are you?” he whispered quickly.

“One more word, and I am leaving,” she warned.

“Dev, drive fast,” Azriel ordered and the driver smiled, as he sped down the road.

Meanwhile, Pinkly crawled over Elain and landed on Azriel’s lap, totally disregarding Elain’s displeased hiss. Azriel chuckled, while Pinky pressed his flat face against the window.

Elain reached into her bag and took out a pretty box with a scowl on her face. She pushed the box into Azriel’s lap without saying a word and then turned to the opposite window.

“What’s that?” he pondered.

“For you,” was all she answered.

Curious, very, very curious, he opened the box, while Pinky tore his attention away from the window and was now panting with anticipation.

“Is that for me?” Azriel gasped, but it was genuine surprise, and not mockery. Surprise and utter delight.

The box was filled with biscuits of all kinds. Homemade.

“I said it was for you,” she shrugged like she didn’t care.

“You baked? For me?” he whispered in disbelief.

“Well, not just for you,” she argued quickly. “We had Sunday lunch at my sister Feyre’s. She served some very dodgy salmon,”

“How dodgy?” he smirked.

“Dodgy enough that we mostly ate mash and these biscuits that I brought. I had baked entirely too many. So,”

“I am getting the overflow. Thanks, pretty matchmaker!” she elbowed her gently. “I can’t believe you thought of me and made me a box!”

“Well, these are lemon,” she began pointing at different varieties of biscuits in the box. “These are almond horns. Those are orange and hazelnut,”

“Oh my god,” he marvelled in appreciation.

“Chocolate and coffee nibs. And plain shortbread.”

He looked at her. Really looked at her. Her old-fashioned, picturesque beauty, the enormous eyes, the beautiful hair, and for once, he saw someone special. Someone who didn’t fit any moulds that he was familiar with, and once again, he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to make of her.

“Elain…” he said softly, and then immediately corrected himself, “Ms. Archeron. This might be the most thoughtful and kind thing anyone’s ever done for me. I thank you. Truly.”

“You are welcome. It’s not a big thing, but you seemed to enjoy them.”

“More than you think. You baked for me. Made something with your hands…That means a lot.”

“Well, enjoy it,” Elain said gently, while Pinky was growling with impatience.

“Can I give him one?”

“Just the plain shortbread,” Elain allowed, and Azriel fed one of the biscuits to the overexcited dog, who chomped on it noisily and messily. “He is perpetually hungry and if he could, he’d eat the whole box. He climbed onto the chair and then somehow got on top of the table and ate a whole bowl of raspberries. That was yesterday. A couple of days before, he somehow snuck into the open drawer of the refrigerator, stole a bag of sausages, ate them all, and promptly got diarrhoea…So there is that.”

Azriel was laughing silently, his whole body shaking.

“Oh no. Why did he get the shits?”

“Because he ate like 7 or 8 sausages. He is a smallish dog. It would be the equivalent of me eating maybe 15-20 sausages. I’d get diarrhoea too!”

“Valid. What else?”

“He ate three bananas, peel and all, again by way of stealing. Then, when I wasn’t looking, he grabbed half of my cheese and onion sandwich, and ate all of that too.”

“What about the dodgy salmon?”

“Even he wouldn’t eat that!” Elain laughed. “He did eat a good heap of mash and gravy, a bread roll with butter, then proceeded to steal my sister Nesta’s steamed tofu,”

“Jesus Christ,” Azriel gasped in horror.

“Immediately spat it out,”

“Not blaming him at all. I’d spit it out too!”

“And then went to my father and cried fake pug tears to him because he was so upset that he stole and ate the wrong thing. Of course my father then had to feed him cheese and ham. As compensation of some kind. Emotional distress I am assuming?”

“My god I love him!” Azriel groaned. “I might have to steal him from you.”

“Well, then you’ll die,” she warned placidly. Azriel was laughing loudly now, considering her nonchalant tone. When he finally came to, he prodded,

“So?”

“I watched the game,” she confirmed. “You did well–one goal and two assists.”

“What about Pink?”

“Piglet watched it too. Now I can show him reruns of football games–he seems to enjoy watching things run.”

“And I am a thing that runs?” Azriel chuckled.

“You certainly are. You have incredible stamina,”

His mouth quirked and he crooned, “You have no idea…”

Elain gawked at him, and then realised what she had said, and rolled her eyes.

“You do remember, Mr. Night that I am not the one who is auditioning to be your potential wife?” She reminded him primly. “I am not the match. I am the matchmaker.”

“How can I forget? Unless you finally change your mind and just go for it,” he proposed. “You already know what you’d be signing up for with me. I have a pretty good idea about you as well. I don’t know why you are fighting this so hard?”

“Yes. I wonder why indeed.”

They were driving through the city and Piglet was panting with enjoyment, looking out the window.

Azriel gently rubbed the dog’s furry neck, relaxed against the back seat, manspreading widely. Elain threw inquisitive glances when she thought he wasn’t watching, and they mostly landed below his waist. As was his usual manner, Azriel let her look as much as she wanted. The car was big enough–even with his height and spread, there was plenty of space. So it was her choice to look, and it would be rude of him not to let her.

“I don’t want you to get so close to him,” Elain said suddenly.

Azriel looked at her quizzically.

“Piglet,” she clarified. “He is getting attached to you. He waits for you at the door,”

At that Azriel smiled, but Elain continued,

“He thinks of you as a friend.”

“I am his friend,”

“But this is all temporary. You understand that, don’t you? Once you are matched with the right person, our relationship will end. And I don’t want Piglet to think that you’ll be around, coming to play with him or be present in his and my life,”

Azriel chewed the inside of his cheek for a long while, thinking about what she said.

“It doesn’t have to end,” he said at last.

Please don’t.

Don’t end it.

“You are a client, Mr. Night,” Elain added, “I can’t imagine you’d have time for me once you are getting to know your future wife and getting married.”

“That’s it then?”

“Couple of months, maybe three, at most,” she confirmed. “That’s how long most of my associations with my clients last. One lasted a year, but that’s highly unusual. Besides, you are under a time constraint. I imagine that by January, we will be done.”

“I am sorry, but I disagree, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel said firmly. “Perhaps this is how things have gone before, but I cannot accept it. Let’s come up with a new agreement then…a new plan,”

“What sort of plan?”

“Something that would allow us to keep in touch beyond this initial agreement,”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, scrubbing his hand over his chin.

“Teach me manners?” he proposed. “Proper manners. Like a gentleman.”

Elain laughed, “I am not a miracle worker, Mr. Night. I am not sure I have the capability to do something like that.”

“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit. But for now, why don’t we just leave things as status quo. Three-four months is a long time. Lots of things could happen in that timeframe. Meanwhile, I’d like to keep meeting with you and Pinky.”

“Yes, I suppose,” she agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

“Do you not like me, Ms. Archeron?” he queried, no hesitation in his question.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” she admitted. “But you are an usual client for me, and I struggle with reigning you in,”

“Perhaps you shouldn't try? And just let things be as they are?” he suggested. “Maybe I am not meant to be reigned in?”

“It’s beginning to look like that,” Elain sighed. “Now, where are we going? Why couldn’t we meet at my office?”

“Where is your sense of adventure?” he smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Hmmm…Very, very marginally.”

“Aw, you wound me, Ms. Archeron! But I will take you to a place you’ll undoubtedly enjoy.”

Elain looked outside the window and suddenly felt Azriel’s large, heavy palm cover her hand. He was silent, but he threaded their fingers together and held her hand firmly in his.

She turned her head and breathed, ‘Mr. Night’.

He looked straight at her, his face emotionless as usual, but said just as softly ‘Ms. Archeron’. He almost dared her to say something, or tug her hand away from his, but he wouldn’t allow it, and just kept her in place. To her credit, she didn’t attempt to either.

Piglet turned his head and looked at them, assessing the hand-holding. Then, bouncing with a surplus of excitement, he jumped on Azriel, bucking and shimmying wildly, before rolling onto Elain’s lap, waiting for a belly scratch, and then slithering back on Azriel.

“See, he is on our side,” Azriel chuckled, scratching the supple rolls of fat on the pug. “He is team Elriel.”

“Team what?”

“Elriel,”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“El–for Elain, and Riel for Azriel. Duh? Do I have to teach you everything?!”

“Where do you even come up with this nonsense?” she looked at him, perplexed.

“Elriel is not nonsense, Ms. Archeron. It’s our ship name. Pinky is the first shipper.”

“My god. You’ve read too many romance novels, Mr. Night.”

“Yeah, well, it gets boring on the road,” he shrugged. “So I read.”

“Romance novels?”

“Fantasy. Dark romance. Romantasy. Whatever.”

“Romantasy?”

“Are you judging me?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she shook her head, stifling a laugh.

They crossed the river, and Elain looked around, trying to figure out where they were going.

At last, she exclaimed, “Borough Market?”

“Nope,” he popped his lips.

“Where then?!” she whined.

“Patience.”

“I want the apple crisp!” she begged.

“You always seem to want some kind of apple crisp,” he teased.

“It’s my favourite. This one has bruleed custard on top. It’s so goooddd,” she moaned.

“Maybe next time,” he promised, smiling to himself.

The appreciation that he had for Elain’s unabashed love for food and eating was hard to describe. All the other women he ever went out with insisted on salads, pretended like they weren’t hungry, opted for tofu and seaweed, and in general, avoided eating as much as possible. Elain was about tea, and custard, and cake, and hearty stews.

“We are here,” he said at last. The car parked and he went to open the door. Pinky hopped out first, and then Elain climbed out and threw her head back.

“We are going to the Shard?” she asked.

“We are!” He curled his arm offering it to her and she took it.

Elain seemed surprised, but she followed him nevertheless, while Pinky stepped in front of them with his usual self importance, like he knew where he was going. Azriel could only dream of having this dog’s confidence!

The three of them took the lift up to Shangri-La hotel and were immediately greeted by an obsequious female hostess, who looked at Azriel like he was a dick-on-a-stick.

“Mr. Night, please follow me,” she flitted about, swaying her hips, as she paid no attention to Elain, and ushered them to a table in front of the windows, which overlooked the stunning vistas of London. It felt as if they sat right on top of Tower Bridge. Piglet plastered his face against the window, snorting with amazement. Whatever he was seeing, he was very impressed.

“He is a support animal. We have all the documentation,” Azriel told the hostess, but she waved her hand at him.

“Of course, Mr. Night. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“He is very well-behaved,” Azriel assured her, while observing Elain’s pinched little face. She wasn’t liking what was happening here.

Finally, the woman left, and Elain muttered, “Why even ask me for help? You have a ready-to-go wife right here. Wives on tap, I am sure.”

Azriel laughed at her.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would’ve thought that you were jealous, Ms. Archeron.”

“Jealous? Hardly,” she scoffed.

“Phew, I was beginning to worry that you were developing feelings for me and my company,” he snickered. “Allow me,” he offered to take her trench–something the hostess should’ve done, but apparently, she was too star struck.

Elain unbelted and shrugged the coat off and Azriel looked her over with interest that he wasn’t even trying to hide.

“Blimey,” he exhaled.

Elain wore a form-fitting nude jumper and a knee-length skirt with brown and purple abstract pattern. Frankly, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the round pair of glorious tits that the jumper did all kinds of favours for. He even liked the one strand of fat pearls around her neck.

“None. Don’t worry. But,” she looked around, “this is nice. Thank you, Mr. Night. I appreciate the thought. Imagine–I’ve never been here before. It’s been on the list of places to go, but we never could make it. So, thank you! I’ve just checked an item off my bucket list.”

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Archeron,” he included his head. “Care to share what else is on your bucket list?”

“No,” she told him immediately, as she pulled out her IPad from her bag. “We are here to talk about you.”

He held the chair for her and she sat down.

“And here I thought that this Pink Afternoon Tea will thaw you a bit! Champagne at least?”

“I’ll have a glass,” she agreed graciously.

“You are not pregnant or anything like that, right?” he goaded her.

She rolled her eyes and told him, “Not that I am not aware of.”

“So. There is someone in your life to get pregnant by?” he pressed.

“I’ll be asking you a series of questions,” Elain said, ignoring him and his probing. “Please answer truthfully. I am building your profile. There are no right or wrong answers.”

“May I tell you something meanwhile?”

“Sure.”

“You look sexy as fuck, matchmaker. It’s dangerous.”

She sucked in her breath and nervously picked at her pearls.

“Mr. Night…”

“Ms. Archeron. I see what I see.”

At that moment, their champagne was delivered, followed by waiters with the tea service. Elain exhaled a relieved breath.

It looked spectacular–Reuben sandwiches, Truffle Egg and Cress, Smoked Salmon, Coronation Chicken–all done in various shades of pink. There were chicken liver parfaits, and tiny burgers. Pink scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam. And a variety of little architecturally-impressive pastries–a layer cake with pistachios and cherries, raspberry plum cake, something called shang mont rose, and the Pink Sphere.

The Pink Afternoon Tea at the Shard (Shangri-La Hotel, London)

They even brought a bowl of water and a bowl of whipped cream for Piglet.

“It’s beautiful. Almost too beautiful to eat,” Elain commented, inspecting all the offering.

“Almost,” Azriel raised his champagne flute. “But not quite. To us, Ms. Archeron. To our tenuous friendship. Maybe it will grow into something more.”

Elain glanced at him and whispered, “maybe,” before sipping her champagne.

“I won’t be able to train properly after all this,” Azriel commented, as he bit into one of the sandwiches, “but you only live once, yeah?”

“Your first concert?” Elain asked, looking down at her IPad.

Piglet already polished all the cream off, and was now snoring softly under the table.

Azriel thought for a second, and said,

“Eminem. I was fourteen. Cass and I snuck out and slept outside all night, but we got in. It was incredible.”

She smiled and whispered, “that must have been amazing…”

“It really was.”

“Favourite movie?”

“Fight Club.”

“Favourite singer or band?”

“Led Zeppelin.”

“I could’ve guessed. You seem like the type.”

“Oh, and what type is that?”

“Old-fashioned, but rebellious.”

“What about you? Tay Tay? Adele?”

Elain wrinkled her nose.

“If we are talking singers, then it’s Amy Winehouse,” she said. “Band–it’s always the Rolling Stones.”

“Ahhh…well, that’s to be expected.”

“Why?”

“You like the classics.”

“Look at us, figuring each other out.” Her tone was vaguely sarcastic. Then she asked the next question, “First celebrity crush?”

Azriel took a while to think about that one, sipping his tea, and finishing up his little burger.

“Brad Pitt.”

“Oh?” Elain smiled. “Really?”

“He is a beautiful man. What can I say? In ‘Troy’ I think.”

“First thing you do when you wake up?”

“Think about football,” he told her instantly. “I am dedicated to my game, my team, my city. I work hard for what I do.”

“What was your dream job when you were young?”

“I didn’t think I’d have one at all,” he told her honestly. Elain didn’t know how to follow up on that statement. “Thought I’d be in a gang, or something. Maybe in prison. Maybe dead,”

“That’s…very grim,” she frowned.

“That’s the reality of those lads who I grew up with. My reality. I just happen to run well with a ball.”

“How do you think others view you?”

“They either like me or hate me. I am good looking, so some respond to that. Others cannot abide my character. I don’t care, to be honest. I only care about the opinions of very few people.”

“Who?” she asked quickly, though he suspected that it wasn’t part of the questionnaire.

“Cassian, I suppose. Rhys. My team. Coach. You.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Elain hid her face behind her cup, aimlessly picking at her sandwich, but Azriel watched her closely.

“You can’t ask questions like these and not expect uncomfortable answers,” he reminded her simply.

“Why me though?”

“For a posh, prissy bird, you are surprisingly accepting. I suppose I appreciate that, so I don’t want you to think of me…badly.”

“I don’t, you know.”

“I do. And that’s what’s so surprising. You are a nice sort of person.”

Elain adjusted her hair, trying to make herself comfortable, and asked,

“What do you not tolerate?”

“Disloyalty. Random cruelty.”

Her eyes fell on his scarred hands, while he spread some jam on his scone and popped it in his mouth. Despite the scars, his hands were attractive. Big and strong and sure.

“Where do you want to live?”

“London. It’s home. It understands me.”

“Biggest fear?”

He didn’t say anything for a while.

“I’ll tell you,” he drummed his fingers on the table, “but we say it together. You say yours, and I’ll say mine.”

“Mr. Night,” she began, but he interrupted her.

“No, Ms. Archeron. This is the way we do it. If you don’t like it, move on to the next questions.”

Elain sighed and murmured ‘fine’.

“On three then…One, two, three.”

Loneliness.

Both of them blurted the same word at the same time.

Loneliness.

Elain stared at him. A little shocked. Azriel only chuckled.

“Well then…”

He smiled again.

“I might need more Champagne.”

“I'll ask lighter questions,” she promised quickly, not commenting on their shared fear.

“Please do, before I get black out drunk at Afternoon Tea at the Shard. Do they have whiskey here?”

“Mr. Night, you aren’t drinking whiskey!”

“Not yet. But I might soon. Are you eating your burger?”

“No. You can have it.”

She typed something in her notebook and he meanwhile ate her mini burger in two bites.

“Do you wear pyjamas to bed?” came the next question, and Azriel huffed at it.

“No. I sleep completely naked.”

She cleared her throat and went on,

“Boxers or briefs?”

Azriel grinned and leaned back in his chair, as was his manner when he got comfortable and amused.

“Well, well…Boxer briefs, Ms. Archeron,” he answered with a wink. “I normally like everything to be tucked in there, and not flop in the wind.”

Elain snorted a laugh.

“You see,” he continued. “The Lord hath endowed me well in that region. There is much to hold in place. It’s like wrestling a python into my poor drawers every morning…”

“Oh, how tragic. It must be very difficult for you,” she mocked.

But Azriel didn’t miss the lovely blush that spread on her cheeks.

“It is a struggle, but one that I accepted humbly. Wouldn’t be surprised if they could see it all the way in America. Makes our American cousins all kinds of edgy seeing a British cock in all its glory.”

“Oh my god,”

Leaning towards her, he whispered conspiratorially, “don’t tell Cassian. He gets a bit…competitive.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Elain promised.

“Hardly a secret. Anything else you’d like to know, matchmaker? Or see?”

“The most significant of your tattoos?” she hopped over his proposition just like that.

He rubbed his chest, and said, “A Churchill quote: It is the time to dare and endure.”

“Is that something that helps you?”

“Something to keep me grounded when things get tough. I also have this one,” he pointed to his forearm. “Arsenal crest. And a Union Jack on my shoulder.”

The next question was Azriel’s favourite. Elain asked,

“Maradona or Pele?”

“Diego Armando Maradona,” he said at once.

“Do you believe in god?”

“No.”

“Can you change a tyre?”

“Yes.”

“The first thing you look at in a woman?”

“Her gaze. Her look.”

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked quickly, without raising her eyes from the tablet.

“No. Never. Have you?” he asked quickly.

“This isn’t about me,”

“Answer the question,” he ordered.

“No, Mr. Night. I have not been in love. Do you want to marry?”

“Seems like I have to.”

“If you didn’t need to.”

“Marriage changes little, but if the woman wants it, then yes, I would marry.”

“And children? Would you like to have children?”

“Yes. Four.”

She glanced at him and repeated, “Four?”

“Yes. Four.”

“What do you know how to cook?”

“Steak. Only the best eggs you’ve ever eaten. Really good lamb stew. A bacon sandwich. You won’t go hungry with me, pretty matchmaker. Don’t worry.”

“Is this another proposal?”

“Always!” he grinned at her. “Now that you know everything about me, am I making a more appealing candidate?”

“I am sure that you are, for others. I am not looking for a husband, Mr. Night,” she reminded him dryly.

“Why hasn’t the ginger bloke closed the deal?” Azriel started on the pastries, popping one of them in his mouth whole. That solicited a frown from Elain, but he only smiled at her. “What’s he waiting for?”

“Why do you think it’s the man, and not me?”

“You are a fucking matchmaker, princess. Of course you wanna get married. Come on now,” he bubbled his lips. “It’s like saying I am a footballer, but I don’t want to win the Ballon D’Or. Of course I do. Probably no chance of it, but nevertheless, the dream is there.”

“Maybe, hypothetically, I want to get married. But it’s nothing and to no one specific,” she finally relented.

“Well, that’s a start,” he smiled. “Anything else? What do you want to know? My favourite colour? It’s cobalt blue, by the way. Funny how you wore a skirt in that colour the first time we met. You think it’s a sign?” he winked at her.

“No. I do not.”

“You are so hard to impress,” he complained jokingly. “Tough little cookie. But I’ll break that hard exterior and will get to the soft, gooey inside, the delicious centre.”

“Mr. Night, please remember that ours is a professional relationship. You aren’t breaking me in or whatever it is you just said. It definitely sounded wholly inappropriate.

“I, however, must ask you more personal questions…Which, honestly, I am dreading,” she added sombrely.

Azriel stretched his very long legs under the table and crossed them at the ankles, before lacing his fingers on his stomach and smiling like an asshole at her.

“Come on then, pretty matchmaker. Bring it on! I won’t put the moves on you–unless you want me to–and I will behave,”

“Why am I doubting everything you just said?” she whispered with a heavy sight.

“Oh, don’t. Come on, ask away!”

“I preferred you when you were reluctant and a moody arsehole, like you were at our first meeting.”

“Oh, I am still that. Don’t worry. But I am making an effort here and want to make your life a bit easier.”

“How are you in bed, Mr. Night?” she blurted out. “Any specific preferences that a prospective match should know about? Dominant? Submissive? Rough? BDSM? Any fetishes? Any musts? Any hard limits? And how do you feel about fidelity?”

“Well, fuck me that’s a lot of questions! I think I will have that whiskey after all.”

They waited for his whiskey to be delivered and Azriel took a sip, smacking his lips with appreciation.

“You are a bad influence, Ms. Archeron,” he told her. “You make me want to live.”

She looked at him and his declaration with surprise.

“And you don’t live otherwise?”

“I dunno. With you, things seem…easier. Lighter? Like I don't have to worry about my form constantly, or think about the game, or training, or restrict myself. It’s nice, you know. It feels like there is more to the world, and to my life than what I am used to. I can have a drink, and have some pastries, and wear a suit…Not just trainers that sponsor me, or salads and leafy greens and lean protein.”

Elain smiled, “You sound like my sister Nesta. She is a dancer. She is very careful about what she eats,”

“Hence the tofu that makes Pinky sick.”

“Indeed.”

He resumed his position, with his hands on his stomach and then said,

“I am rough. As a lover.”

Elain stopped typing in her IPad and stared at him, clearly not expecting this nugget of info to drop on her lap.

“Rough?” she repeated at last. “As in…violent?”

He chuckled.

“Nah, I ain’t violent, pretty girl.”

“Mr. Night,” she snapped.

“Sorry, sorry. Ms. Archeron–where I come from, fucking is quick, hard, rough and unromantic. There ain’t no flickering candles, soft music, gauzy curtains,”

“I am impressed and a bit alarmed that you just used the word ‘gauzy’,” Elain commented.

“All, I’ve been hitting the dictionary every night. Picking up fancy words to impress you with!”

“You should be impressing your future matches,” she reminded him with a meaningful look, and he nodded in acquiescence.

“Yeah, I remember. The matches.”

“So, you are rough,” Elain repeated.

“Listen–on and off for a few years, I didn’t even have a place to sleep when I was a teen. Three months with one family, six weeks with another, four days with another…Stretches of time in between where Cass and me had to fend for ourselves. But you know…needs must and all. My dick was a teenage dick regardless of what my family situation was, so I had to get it where I could.”

Elain listened without commenting, her face expressionless. Azriel wasn’t sure if she was shocked, or repulsed, or judging him. That damn poker face of hers was on point.

“And where could I get it? Against the wall near the chippy, or on a park bench, or in a stairwell. That doesn’t bode well for lengthy sessions of tender lovemaking.

“So I go in pretty rough. I’ll make you come–a lady, I’ll make a lady come–but if she is looking for prim and proper that ain’t me.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face.

“I ain’t mean, Ms. Archeron. I am an athlete–I am controlled and powerful. Before I took up football, I used to box. There wasn’t much else to do where we lived, and because Cass and I were so big, we joined the local church’s boxing club. It taught me how to control my strength, my physicality, and my size. There ain’t ever been a need to be physically rough with the girl. Why? What’s she gonna do against me, you know?”

“Anything else?”

“All that other stuff you’d mentioned–BDSM, dom and sub–I don’t have any interest in that. I don’t particularly like inflicting pain, especially not on women. But if you’d like me to spank you or tie you up, I’ll tie you up. Whatever you fancy, Ms. Archeron.”

Elain blushed violently and adorably, as she scrambled to pretend to type something.

“So you do like to be spanked?” he grinned at her. He knew that she was fake typing right now.

She squirmed in her chair, and woke up Piglet, when she poked him with her foot. He snorted his disappointment and then emerged from under the table and immediately looked at Azriel with a pleading gaze.

“I saved you a sandwich,” Azriel chuckled, tearing a piece of the sandwich and feeding it to the pug. “Coronation chicken, no less.”

Piglet began chomping on the sandwich with delight, finding a kindred spirit in Azriel.

“I am still waiting for an answer, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel teased. “Spanking? Tying up? Are you a dom? Or do you like to submit? And before you tell me that this is not about you, I’d still like to know.”

“Well, this is not about me,” she hissed.

Azriel cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a humoured look in his eyes, asking,

“Are you a virgin?”

“For god’s sake, Mr. Night! Why are you asking me this?!” she demanded, scandalised.

“No shame in that,” he said lightly. “If you are, I mean. I am not judging.”

“Well, I am not, Mr. Night. I am a grown woman. And not a virgin. Are you the one who is going to be asking questions now?!”

“Yes, now I am kind of into it. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink!” she snapped.

“How about favourite food?”

“Sushi!”

“Cold raw fish–yum. But like I said before, no judgement.”

“Feels like judgement,”

“What else can I ask?”

“Nothing!”

“Do you find me handsome?”

“No!” she cried out.

“No? But I am a handsome footballer, what’s wrong with me?”

“Your gigantic ego.”

“Ego just corresponds to other parts of my anatomy,” he shrugged innocently.

“Oh lord. We are quite finished here, Mr. Night. I think we should get the bill.”

“I think I’d like another whiskey,” he argued.

“Well, you’ll be drinking it alone.”

“Naw…Pink is staying here with me. I am feeding him sandwiches and you know he ain’t going anywhere. Sit that pretty plump arse of yours down, Ms. Archeron. We’ll go soon enough.”

She pouted, but her traitorous dog was only proving Azriel correct, as he slurped his water and chewed on the sandwich that Azriel kept feeding him.

“My arse isn’t plump,” she muttered.

He glanced at her and smiled, “I’ll be the judge of that,” he decided. “Hope the ginger bloke appreciates your arse and worships it the way it deserves to be worshipped. It’s a hella nice coupla buns. Sorry and all…but I noticed,”

“No. More. Whiskey.” Elain ordered, wiping her brow. She was going to lose 10 kilos by the time all of this was going to be over. This man needed to be in some special institution.

“I know what kind of a wife I want!” he suddenly declared, rubbing his hands excitedly.

“Oh you do, do you? Please tell. I am…well, scared, but also intrigued.”

“I want the kind of girl who kisses me at red lights.”

“That’s actually…kind of romantic,” Elain agreed, surprised. He made no sense this man, but he definitely kept her on her toes.

“Yeah, kind of like she can’t even wait to give me a hot and sloppy one. So she waits until we are at a red light and goes for it.”

Meanwhile, Piglet finished his sandwich and ambled towards the massive wall of windows, looking out with great interest. Because he was wearing his Burberry jacket, and now stood in front of a window overlooking the Gherkin, the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, charmed tourists and other guests began pointing at him and oohing and ahhing with delight, completely awed by the stylish pug.

“They gonna start taking photos of him.” Azriel whispered to Elain, and she smiled, nodding, while she quickly snapped a pic of her own.

“Going on his Insta?” he joked, while the waiter brought another whiskey. Azriel figured that he might not be leaving here any time soon. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in god knows how long.

“Obviously!” she tapped something quickly on her phone and in the next minute, showed it to him.

It was an amazing photo, considering that she barely even moved to take it–but Piglet looked like he was floating above the city, his expression pensive, his jacket on point, every landmark below him captured with crisp precision.

Enjoying London Town #puginthesky #whenpugsfly #puglyfe

“How do you even come up with these so quickly?” he shook his head, but then quickly requested, “send it to me. I want to have it. Also, it’s a gorgeous pic!”

“Thank you.”

Elain reached for her bag and then withdrew a folder, which she lay on the table, between the two of them.

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Night, I wanted to mention this before we go further.”

“Sounds ominous,” he huffed.

“Are you currently…sexually active?”

He cocked his brow at her and chuckled, “what a question, Ms. Archeron! Why? Are you interested?”

She ignored the suggestive quip and said, “It’s just that it would be preferential if you maintain a certain amount of abstinence while being matched. You can certainly decide to engage in sexual relations with the match when the two if you are ready, but I would ask you to treat it as you would a normal relationship…”

“I’ve never been in a relationship,” he sipped his whiskey. “So I am no expert. But I think I can manage it.”

“You truly haven’t been in a relationship?”

“No. Not really.”

“And yet you can abstain?” she confirmed.

“Matchmaker,” he sighed, “I am almost 30, I have some self-control. It’s been a while since I’ve lost control over pussy,”

“Mr. Night!”

“Sorry, sexual relations. Listen, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my youth. Nothing too terrible, but I should’ve done better. Now I am the Captain, and the younger lads look up at me. I want to do right by them, make sure that their careers don’t blow up, that they are careful with their money and the women that they are with. With us–you can get one injury, and it could be career ending. Everything you’ve been counting on, planning on, expecting, working for a decade towards–poof, gone! All because someone made a bad tackle, or you ran wrong, or a ligament snapped. And you are left with nothing, all the contracts and games and endorsements are gone just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “Everyone thinks they’ll be a Ronaldo, or a Messi, or a Zidane, but that’s untrue for most players.

“So now, I feel a sense of responsibility. Look at me–I am an old fucker,” he laughed. “But it’s true. So yeah, I can abstain. When we travel, I don’t party all that much. After dinner, I usually go back to the hotel and play Candy Crush. Or read dark romances.”

At that, Elain giggled, “you do not read dark romances!” she argued.

“Yeah I fuckin’ do!” he insisted.

“Such a liar!”

“Telling you,”

“Okay, so what are you reading currently?”

“Shantel Tessier’s ‘Carnage’,” he reported immediately.

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s super smutty,” was the verdict.

“You do not read Shantel Tessier!” Elain gawked at him adorably, completely taken aback.

“You’d be incorrect. Listen, I had an injury a couple of years ago and was in rehab for two months. I was bored out of my mind. The nurse who was taking care of me got me hooked up on dark romances. I fuckin’ love that shite!” he admitted excitedly. “You ladies write some bloody crazy shit. Never read anything like that written by a man!”

Azriel glanced in Pinky’s direction and smiled widely. The pug was legitimately posing for photos and creating a mini stampede around him. He was even giving over the shoulder looks, not to mention all sorts of side and front poses, knowing exactly what needed to be done to gain the most reaction.

“Hey mate, you can photograph him, but don’t touch him,” Azriel said protectively, when some guy wanted to pick the dog up. “He doesn’t like anyone but me and my girl touching him. He bites.”

Maybe the truth was stretched a bit, but whatever. It worked, because the bloke stepped back cautiously and didn’t attempt to touch the dog anymore.

‘I am not your girl,” Elain said quietly, crimping the napkin on her lap.

“No. But you could be. Nothing’s stopping you,” he said simply.

With that, Elain pushed the folder towards him and explained,

“Your first match”.

#elriel #elriel fanfic #my writing #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #A Match Baked In Heaven #new chapter #Acotar Fanfiction #Elriel fanfiction #elriel fic #acotar

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faroreskiss · 1 year ago

Text

The Power of Understanding / Part 2 (v2)

Read on Ao3

Rewritten v2 posted on: 2023/09/10

Cheat Sheet

Chapters: Pilot, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Summary: You have been with the Chain for a while now, as their "scholar" and translator. You know everything about them, because you are from our world. But do they know the truth about how you can understand everyone? Loosely based on the same reader in my NSFW fic, which is a very loose prequel to this one, and a work in progress. More background info to come, if I feel like it :D Isekai reader, but she doesn't know about the Linked Universe. Warnings: None. SFW. Maybe Teen? Points of interest: This is your thing if you are into the mystery of chain being able to talk to each other. I am an actual trained linguist IRL, hence this HAD to be written! Some fluffy Twilight x Reader content in this chapter.

So, what was happening to you today? You just couldn't stop thinking about Twilight for some reason. You even carried your work over the stables, having to inhale the smell of horseshit around you.

But he was just... there. Not like he has been far away lately. You’ve literally been stuck with him (and the rest of the chain) for around two years. Your ‘situationship’ with Wild was still there, and the rest of the chain was aware of it, you were guessing. You both weren’t exactly super subtle about it, hand holding and such and sometimes a small kiss here and there, but you were never explicit with it either. Nobody questioned anything, everybody had their… quirks, you guessed.

Did they think you were just in a relationship, you wondered sometimes. Were they even familiar with the word, situationship? Gods, what would they think of the involvement of you, Zelda and Link at the same time, if they knew? Technically, everybody had their room in the house in Hateno, but, well... Ah, you really missed Zelda too, and her delicate fingers on… You took a breath and then sighed. You were getting distracted.

Anyway, nobody owes anyone explanations in the Chain that you learned. That was the agreement of the Links, in which you were indirectly included. If they don't want to tell, you don't force them.

Except, you pretty much knew everything. Well, you weren't really familiar with any game where all the Links were together except maybe some fanfiction where they met in the afterlife, but Wild didn't "exist" back then, from your perspective.

Now, Time was out with the others, getting some business done in Castle Town. Wild also joined him to get some ingredients for the recipes he learned from Malon.

Back to Twilight... You were watching his strong arms, brushing the horse gently. He definitely had a tall stature compared to the other Links. The Links you are in contact with are ranging from their mid to late twenties, maybe early thirties (except Wind, though he was still almost a 16/17 -year-old teenager). So, most of them were fully adults.

"Hey, I can feel ya starin', ya know, Trivia Queen,” he said with his Ordona drawl that occasionally made an appearance, sighing, while still brushing his Epona.

Right. That was your nickname. When you first arrived, you kept spouting things about them that you supposedly should not "know" about, which made the Links (except Wild, he was used to it) extremely suspicious. Over time, they got used to it, especially after finding out about your "job" at Wild's world, as a historian, linguistics scholar. So they left it at that.

The other rule was that you were not supposed to discuss one Link with another, unless you are sure you are not revealing any secrets.

...which was a rule that was established right after you revealed that Twilight is Wolfie, to Wild. Seems like the Old Man already knew (you and Wild joined the chain pretty much as the latest additions), and it was his idea to come up with it. And it was kind of unfair because Wild said he already knew Wolfie from his initial adventure! Hah, good riddance. It did end up being revealed to everyone anyway, after his near death experience.

Fair to say, you were the persona non-grata for a while. And that nickname was not Trivia Queen, but it was Trivia-something else for a while (Thanks, Vet).

"Mhm," you idly replied.

Twilight raised an eyebrow, catching you lost in thought while the stables filled with the scent of horse dung. "Hey," he called out again, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Lost in your own world again?"

You sighed, blushing slightly, and tried to shake off the daydream of you and him in a big bear hug. "Yeah, just got a bit distracted," you admitted, turning your attention back to the ranch's budget paperwork. "These numbers can be quite mesmerizing, you know."

The rancher chuckled, his eyes warm as he continued brushing his Epona. "If you say so," he replied playfully. "But I have to admit, you manage to make even the most mundane tasks seem fascinating."

You couldn't help but smile at his compliment, feeling your heart flutter slightly. "Thanks, Link. You know how to make a 'trivia queen' blush," you teased back, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted.

His grin widened, and he leaned against the stable door, looking at you with that undeniable twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, really? Well, consider it a skill I've honed over time," he said, winking playfully.

You playfully rolled your eyes, trying to hide the butterflies in your stomach. "I suppose I'll have to keep my guard up around you, then," you replied, feigning a serious tone.

Twilight chuckled, and for a moment, the two of you locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between you.

"You wish you could," he winked.

There was an unspoken awareness that, despite the friendly banter, there were lines he would not cross. You respected his relationship with Wild, and he respected your history with him. And of course, the fact that everybody's existence is but a flicker...

Yes... Who knows how long you will still be here anyway? Even the stuff with Wild and Flora is as dangerous as it is. You can literally disappear and get back to your own world, leaving them behind.

This was the thing that was stopping you from the other type of "feelings" you could catch. You never spoke about this with Wild or Flora. To be fair, not like there was any time to. You… literally had the most intense moment of intimacy one night, and less than 24 hours after that, you and Link were taken in via the portal and met with 8 other Links. Poor guy even hesitated to sleep with you in the same bedroll, literally the night after.

And since the adventures with the Chain started, there was this weird gloom between you two sometimes (both missing Zelda), but the respect you have for each other never disappeared. That was another unspoken agreement.

The moment you want to speak about this awkward issue of you having a heart big enough for love for other people, the reality of your existence would be bare.

Anybody can disappear, forever, anytime.

Time's return broke the moment, and you both quickly resumed your tasks, acting as if nothing significant had transpired. "So, what were you two chatting about?" Time inquired with a sly grin.

"Just discussing the ranch's budget," you replied casually, keeping things vague.

The Old Man raised an eyebrow but seemed to take your word for it. "Alright then, just remember we've got some preparations to make before the next portal appears," he said, his eyes flickering with a knowing but serious glint. It wasn't the first time he witnessed something like this.

You nodded, grateful for the diversion. "Of course, I'll get back to work."

As the day went on, you couldn't help but steal glances at Twilight, his presence always managing to captivate you. Though you were the "translation magic" of the group, your understanding of him went beyond language. It was a connection that had been forged through shared experiences and unspoken feelings of the last couple of years, despite the initial incidents you had.

And as you continued to work alongside the Chain, you held onto the hope that, in the midst of all the chaos and adventure, there might be a chance for your paths to intertwine in a more profound way. For now, you would cherish the friendly banter and the secret glances, knowing that no matter how many worlds you traveled, Twilight would be a part of your heart's journey, for now.

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adviserbylove · 4 months ago

Text

I am aware I've been quite annoying about this issue in the past, and for the moots that are tired of hearing this, I apologize. This will most likely be the last time that I will say this, cause at this point, I'm also fed up with it as well. But if I don't properly express my views on this matter instead of arguing with trolls hiding behind a grey ball with sunglasses (anonymous asks), I'm gonna let my feelings bottle up like a champagne bottle and, well....we all know how that goes

And no, this is not something that has been ongoing for me, or I'm still getting shit for this. If I do, I will delete any further asks about this issue. I've just been reminded of idiotic posts I've seen from purity patrol and it sickens me

There is nothing wrong with aging up your f/o

"It's not my fault you didn't grow out of your teenage crush" "....'Cause some people can't let go of their crush when they were teens" "Umm...why do you selfship with X who is 17 when you're an adult?" -- Shut up. There are so many reasons why someone would age up a character, and they don't equate to "Hiding the fact you would be attracted to their canon age". Perhaps they were a teenager when they started to selfship with them and when they got older, their f/o was in a media were they didn't age. Perhaps you fell in love with a character who, without their age being canonically 16-17, you would've taken them for early twenties~. Perhaps those characters have helped you through extremely harsh times, helped you through panic attacks and depressive episodes, and they became people that were very near and dear to you. People just expect you to throw all of that out the window as soon as you blow out the candles on your 18th birthday cake? Why not create an AU where you two grew up together and are still happy with each other? That is literally what self shipping is! Not 'growing out of your crush, and if you don't, that's your problem, not mine!'. That only makes it sound like your feelings towards your f/o is something that can be turned on and off like a light switch, which is NOT how feelings fucking work! Guess I should've gotten tired of my husband that I knew for 20+ years/been married to for 6+ years!

If anything, it would be weird if an adult did not age their f/o up. The reason behind aging up character is because sexualizing minors is wrong. You are not imaging yourself with teenagers, but adults that use to be those teenagers. It's faulty reasoning, because by this logic, college au's of characters that are canonically 16-17 are not valid. By this logic, falling in love with your childhood friend is not valid (which is actually one of my favorite, if not my favorite, trope). Seeing how characters grow and develop is suppose to be one of the best parts of fictional characters, and the fact that some people want to shit on that aspect that one's comfort can bring to them is absolutely wild for me

I've been blocked by multiple blogs, but before I was, they asked me why I selfship with a 17 year old when I'm in my twenties. Before I even answered their asks with the fact that I aged them up and worked hard on planning out what they would've done as an adult/what would be different/what their life was like in our AU, etc. I was already blocked. If you aren't interested in hearing my answer, then don't even bother sending an ask to me in the first place

I was groomed + SA'ed when I was 11 (by five different men, two of them happened to be family members, mind you), have children irl, and two younger brothers that have also been CSA victims. I will NEVER stop believing that it is wrong for an adult to take advantage of a minor. And frankly, you can stop shitting on a coping mechanism that actual survivors of CSA use

Aging up is not equal to sexualizing minors/p*dophilia! All it does is tell me that you have morals!

Again, believe what you want, but I will be deleting any pedo apologists, mean comments, purity patrol, proshitters using this as a trump card, etc.

They aren’t real. They can’t be hurt. They’re there for us to have fun with. So as long as you aren't producing literal CP, you are fine! Just enjoy yourself

#f/o community #self shipping community #self ship #self shipping #self shipping content #self shipper #fictional other #selfship community #self ship community #selfshipping community #selfshipper #romantic f/o #proshippers dni

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bokettochild · 2 years ago

Note

According to my sister, rabbits feel safer when they can’t see.

Just something I thought I’d share :3

Well I WAS just going to coo and give some sort of answer, but this is a rabbit thing and I have a weakness and had some free time sooo......

How about a very barely relevant fic based around a story I heard as a kid and barely remember + this particular idea?

Full fic under the cut

The Selkie King

There are many times it's easy to forget how young his fellow heroes are.

As a soldier, the Hero of Warriors has seen boys and men alike on the field, fighting, dying. He's held many a hand in final moments, his own still stained with blood more than not as final words and regrets are spilled to him by grizzled veterans and terrified teens.

Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that one of his brothers qualifies under both of those titles.

He tries not to see the other heroes like he does his soldiers. Tries to remember them as people and not pawns. It’s hard, after so many years tipping back whiskey to forget the humanity of those he’s had to slay, trying to retrain his mind to seeing others coldly, to remove emotion from his dealings with those who fight beside or against him on the field.

It hurts, getting attached.

He’d made the mistake countless times. Some, he regrets, others, like Mask and Tune, he’d never think twice about.

Still, even with his brothers, even with no regrets given for having let himself care about them; cry for them and treasure them, it’s easy to forget certain realities. It’s easy to forget, when he sees them with weapons in hand and blood dripping from crown to toes, that half of them are merely children themselves, and those who aren’t were hardly even adults when fate stole their lives from them and burdened them instead with the lives of all of Hyrule.

It’s easy to forget that Sky is hardly old enough to be served in a bar, that Twilight is still stumbling through the early years of his twenties. It’s easy to forget that Four and Hyrule are innocent to many of the greatest evils of the adult world, or that Wind- pirate or no- is still only just starting to go through the joys of puberty. It’s easy to forget that even for all of his scarring, Wild is still just barely learning how the world even works, in many ways still a child in his mind even if his memories, what few there are, are those of a man and a soldier.

Time, it’s harder. Time, he still remembers holding in his arms, rocking the kid to sleep because the motion helped, because the promise that he was still small enough to be held to begin with was a precious assurance the poor boy needed to feel secure enough to close his eyes. He’s wiped tears and wrapped injuries and tucked the now older hero in so many times that the child in his mind in many cases has blocked his vision of the man his son has now become.

And then there’s the vet.

Legend isn’t like the other heroes. He’s distant, reserved. There’s almost nothing they know about him save that he carries an arsenal fit for a whole battalion and knows more magic than the lot of them could ever hope to see performed.

He knows the veteran hero as a powerhouse and a threat.

He holds the vet at a distance, just as Legend does with them. Out of all of their group, the pink haired hero is the one with the least to share and the most to say. He's quick to redirect, to refocus, to tease and quip and jest, and despite all, he’s still capable of holding them away from himself with a wariness that makes the captain wary in return.

He’d like to claim that that is why it takes so long for him to realise. He’d like to claim that he'd been distracted by all the red flags, too much to see the similarities. No one would blame him if he’d claimed that his concerns were what prevented him from seeing the truth, but Warriors won’t lie to himself; he just didn’t look close enough.

It’s a night at an inn that opens his eyes. Twilight, Time and Wild usually room together. In a group of nine, it makes sense to get more than one room, and to keep it fair, they have three in each when they can. More often than not, he pays. Unlike his brothers, the captain has a steady salary, and the princess is personally financing his investigation into this increase in monster attacks, so while Legend may claim he’s broke, he does have a hand in the royal purse to use at his discretion. Providing beds for his brothers when they can find them is no issue. Tonight, that means that the wolf trio has their own room. Wind had insisted on having Four and Hyrule room with him, claiming they rarely got a chance to be alone and “without adults” and honestly, Warriors gets it. He trusts the sailor, and he understands the need for space. Granted, rooming with Legend of all people isn’t his first choice, but at least Sky will be there as well, and at least the Chosen Hero is someone they both can get along with, even if neither of them truly have much fondness for each other.

Honestly though, he’s not all too picky about where he lays his head. It’s been a long day, and he’s soaked to the bone, as are they all by the heavy rainfall currently going on. Time says it’s normal for spring in his world. Warriors doesn’t care. There’s mud all up and down his boots, his clothes are clinging to him and Nayru knows the combination of chain mail and rain isn’t pleasant for any of them.

At the least though, Legend’s been quiet today, so maybe there won’t be any hang ups. Hopefully. All Warriors really wants right now is a bed and a change of clothes. Well, he’d like more, but realistically speaking, he’d settle for just a bed and something dry to wear, neither of which are much of a hassle. Getting out of his wet things is a bit of a struggle, and chain mail wasn’t exactly designed for one to be taking off and putting on alone, but Sky is a blessing to Hyrule in general, and the man lends him a hand that Warriors willingly returns while Legend does whatever he does in the background.

He’s just tugging on a new shirt, dry, clean, and only minimally stained with blood, when the first flash of thunder rolls over the inn.

Sky flinches. “I hoped that wouldn’t happen.”

“Unavoidable I’m afraid,” he consoles, clapping his brother’s shoulder firmly. “No worries though. It’s distant.”

Another roll sounds over them.

“It’s moving though,” he muses, the first bolt of lightning flashing across the window and sending strange shadows dancing over the dimly lit room that has only a simple fireplace for both warmth and light. And Hylia knows it gives precious little of either. Ah well, the beds are soft. “Travelling towards us, I think.”

“Wonderful,” Sky drawls, shucking his tunic and then going about peeling off the first of his undershirts. “Just what I wanted.”

He chuckles, meeting Sky’s rueful smile before moving to settle on his bed. He’s not tired yet. Well, bone tired actually, but his mind isn’t ready for sleep and he’s rather inclined to fill out his daily report and maybe enjoy some poetry before actually getting some sleep.

He has the chance for neither. Another clap of thunder sounds and only seconds later there's a bolt of lightning that paints everything, from the bed to the walls to the floor to the ceiling, to their crumpled clothes on the floor, in cold white light.

Legend starts.

The vet’s been a wreck all day, predicting the storm by the ache in his joints alone and watching everything like a hawk. He's been tight lipped too, more so than usual, and not even his characteristic quips and barbs made an appearance as they wandered down soaked paths and sloshed through mud and mire in order to make it to the closest town before nightfall. Warriors hadn’t thought much of it besides that maybe the vet might just be in a lot of pain, but now he’s given a chance to think differently.

Now, Legend starts like a cat whose tail has just been pulled, and, in a motion that honestly surprises the war captain, the vet’s first action is to cover his eyes.

“Vet?” It’s Sky who asks it, but they’re both staring. Trained warriors watch every sudden motion, but that one had been... strangely out of character. “You okay?”

There isn’t an answer, but when the next rumble sounds, he knows he sees the vet tremble.

It’s.... startling.

Not the storm, Hylia knows he’s seen his share of those over the years. A storm like this isn’t even the worst he’s seen, but the vet... cowering- honestly there’s no other word to be used- it's... it’s odd.

“Legend?”

A shuddering breath is his answer, the soles of gnarled hands being pressed ever closer to tightly shut eyes, and suddenly the captain is stuck by the fact that Legend looks very, very young.

The vet is small, they all know this. He's the third shortest in the group, with only a literal child and someone with confirmed stunted growth ranking below him. They don’t have an age, but he’s always assumed, based off of skill and sarcasm, that Legend must be at least in his twenties, if not a bit older. When standing beside Sky, he seems older, beside Time, he’s just as seasoned and strong. Here on a bed in an inn, with lightning and thunder joining the cacophony of rain outside though, he looks like a kid, eyes hidden in his hands and breathing ragged. Warriors can’t name what it is, but he looks like Mask.

“Ledge, hey, you alright?” Sky stares at him for the softened voice, well used to an exchange of heated barbs and insults, but the captain hardly takes note as he crosses from the bed that he’d fully intended to stretch out on to the one the vet sits on, curled up tight and trembling. “Vet, hey,” he’s gentle when he brushes fingertips over slight shoulders, and it’s shaking to realise how small the vet feels when he’s actually touching him.

The title says it all, paints an image of an adult with years under his belt, but the Hero of Warriors tends to forget that many of their number start young, and experience may be one thing, but it’s no promise of age.

“Hey there,” his voice is dropping soft and low without his consent, but he can’t help it when Legend flinches back at the mere brush of his fingers, and when he settles himself on the bed beside and the vet shifts away, he knows the change of tone is for the best.

Sometimes, people who distance themselves aren’t plotting and scheming. Sometimes, people who shy away from transparency are hiding, protecting themselves in the only way they know how. That's how Mask had been, hiding behind masks both physical and metaphorical, sharp tongue and acerbic wit defences against loss and heartbreak.

He’s struck, sitting there, that perhaps the same could be said for others in their number.

“Legend,” he tries again, and then there’s another flash and roll, right overhead this time, and the vet freezes.

“Oh,” Sky breathes, his own lightning scars still on full display as he pauses midway through changing, his own eyes wide as he watches the hero who’s gone from distant and inscrutable to small and childlike in what seems to be the blink of the eye- or, if one wanted to be more direct; a single clap of thunder.

It’s instinct that has his body moving before his mind has quite caught up to what he’s doing with the brother who he knows the least, hands catching slight wrists and dragging away, holding even as breath hitches and shoulders tremble. They cease though when he settles his own hand, so much bigger in comparison, over tightly shut eyes. He can feel the flutter of lashes against his palm, surprise evident as the other pauses, seems to miss entirely the next clap in favour of registering the new situation. Warriors takes the stillness as an invitation, settling closer, hand holding its place, pressed gently but close against freckled skin, blocking out light to the best of his ability.

“Okay, that helps, yeah? Okay, I’m moving closer now, alright?” And he does. Legend says and does nothing but sit there, but he feels the twitching under his hand and watches ears swivel towards him as he moves closer, leg brushing thigh as he moves as close as he considers safe, hand still held still and solid as his own ears track ragged breaths.

He's acting on impulse alone. Mentally, he’s questioning what the dickens has gotten into himself.

Legend stiffens further at the close proximity, but pressing a bit firmer, hand held closer, seems, somehow, to make that stop.

“There we go. You good, mate?”

A light shudder.

“Legend?” Sky murmurs, tugging his shirt on the rest of the way and starting closer towards them. The vet’s response is immediate, ears flicking towards him and head turning to face him, but Warriors, for some reason he can’t even begin to name- but which he thinks might be affiliated with Mask- prevents it. His hand tightens its hold again, the second settling on the other hero’s arm, just above the wrist but not confining, firm but not tight.

“Breathe.”

The order is obeyed.

“Sky is coming towards you right now,” because he’s now beginning to recognize the panic for what it is, and while apparently having his eyes covered helps, Legend still seems keen on being aware of those around him at all times. He’s still tightly wound though, so Warriors turns his attention on Sky as he continues to speak. “He’s going to sit across from us on the other bed, okay? He’s right here.”

Assure where people are, assuage uncertainties about actions, positions and behaviours, and provide some source of grounding. Or at least he’s pretty sure that’s what that therapist Zelda hired had recommended, before he’d stormed out and refused to come back anyway.

“I’m right over here,” Sky reaffirms, and it’s amazing to watch how the vet’s posture eases at the sound of the other man’s voice as Sky settles close, but not close enough to touch.

Legend’s breath rattles through the room again.

“Do you not like the storm?” It’s the size, he thinks, it must be the size. He knows that Legend’s a capable fighter and warrior, but the size and the shaking and the sheer childishness of the vet’s motion; covering his eyes against the storm, has a part of him that he’d tried locking away peeking back out and gentling his voice and hands.

A shudder is his answer.

“I’m lifting my hand now,” he says, just a moment before the motion is done. Legend’s breathing hitches, but when it’s the hand on his wrist that lifts, it starts again, although still shallow.

Huh.

“Now,” he continues, reaching blindly towards Sky, who watches him with confusion until he continues speaking “I’m going to have Sky hand me my scarf.”

It’s out of reach, on the bed he was planning on lying down on before, but Sky hands it over readily. It's still wet, but it’s honestly his trump card to help younger, shaken up heroes and while he’s never tried it with Legend, it’s worth a shot. The vet’s got to be younger than he assumed, and if the scarf works on Wild, there’s a chance that however old the other is, it could still work on him too.

“Can I bring it over here?” He asks.

Twisted fingers twitch, raising a bit, reaching out blindly. Legend makes no move to shake off his hand however, so Warriors doesn’t lift it. For some reason, he gets the impression that the lack of sight is somehow actually comforting.

“Okay,” he shifts a bit, hand holding over twitching lids but moving just enough for him to shift position, “I’m pulling it towards us, and I’m going to set it over your shoulders, okay?”

It’s telling that Legend doesn’t complain about him breaking down every motion and explaining it as he does it. Telling in a way he really doesn’t like. Just as telling though is the way the weight of the fabric, damp as it still might be, has the younger hero relaxing some, and on impulse the captain adds to the weight by settling an arm around thinner shoulders.

Legend all but sinks into him.

Oh crap. Yeah. It’s happening.

He feels like shit honestly. He totally missed a kid in his group, and he’s been treating them like an adult this whole time. It was a mistake with Mask, trying to respect his insistence that he was an adult and should be treated like one, but it’s more of one with Legend.

He can only imagine, based off of listening to the kids, what it’s like being a hero at a young age. His first adventure saw him nearly a teenager, and despite a demon at the end of the tracks, there had been fun and games and a trusted companion by his side the whole while. Not everyone has that. Legend is purported to have completed- at the least- six adventures, and he can only imagine what the laundry list of traumas associated must look like. Settling such a weight on young shoulders is a sure recipe for distrust and distancing.

Suddenly, the vet’s reservation around them makes a whole lot more sense.

And hurts more, because he should have noticed.

Thunder makes itself heard again, and while Legend doesn’t shift much, he still feels the other press just the slightest bit closer, head ducking and hand raising to pull his hand along after. There’s no need though, he’s already following along, arm wrapping just a bit tighter around slight shoulders even as he hums lowly. “Hey, shhh, I gotcha.”

“We’re here for you, Ledge,” Sky murmurs, voice rich and smooth and heavy, like caramel or honey. “Wars has you and I’m right here in front of you.”

Another shudder is followed by the slightest of nods; small, so as not to displace his hand.

“It’s a big storm,” the captain muses, shifting and finding himself strangely pleased when the teen beside him lets himself be shifted with him. “My sisters hated this sort of thing when we were small.”

He can feel Sky’s eyes, and Legend’s too in a more literal way; long lashes tickling the pads of his palm as dark eyes must flicker open. There’s no attempt made though to displace his hand, and until there is, he elects to leave it. Still, he can feel the unspoken question from them both, and he answers it without much undo delay.

“I have six sisters. Five younger and then my twin. You’ve seen her actually, but we didn’t get the chance to talk.”

“Six?” Sky repeats, blinking slowly.

The captain shrugs. “What can I say? My parents had quite the torrid love affair.”

The desired result of that statement (although true) is achieved, and while Sky only levels him with a look, Legend, like Mask and Tune before him, shudders, squeaking out some semblance of nervous and flustered laughter at the words.

Oh yeah, if stuff like that had the vet flushing red hot under his hand, it’s only further proof that the younger is, in fact, a baby.

“Yeah,” he continues, settling into the bed as best he can and rather wishing his back was to the wall or a headboard or something, “all of us have ‘L’ names too. Link and Linkle, Leah, Laura, Lyrica and Lillian- they're also twins- and lastly little Lila.”

“Your dad and mum have ‘L’ names too?” There’s not the usual bite to the jest, voice shaken and almost timid, but it’s a relief all the same, and proof he’s doing some good here.

He chuckles, looking down to the face settled almost against his chest, his hand covering dark eyes and blocking any sight of expression or thought that may have slipped through the cracks. “Yes, actually. Luke and Lynn Taylor.”

Any answer or reaction is lost as thunder rumbles through once more, and the vet under his hands cowers back at the sound.

Impulse once more takes the reigns. “Sound like the Selkie King really isn’t having it tonight.”

“The what?” It’s Sky that asks, but long ears twitch beside him and the face that was almost buried in his chest now raises again, his hand still over dark eyes even as lashes flutter open a second time, soft and whispering across his nerves like fairy wings, but in no ways hiding the clear curiosity of the younger.

It works every time.

“The Selkie King,” he says again, and then, “I’ll tell you the tale, but only if you let me actually settle here, I’m too old for hunching over like this, it’ll give me a widow’s hump.”

Sky scoffs. “You’re like twenty-two.”

He’s off by a few years but the captain doesn’t correct him.

Legend’s surprisingly pliable and let’s himself be tugged into the corner of the bed, walls on either side and blankets pulled up, both for warmth and for weight, although the captain says nothing of either, and with the younger pulled against his side, much as he’s done for sisters and sons countess times before, he explains.

“The Selkie King,” and goddesses, he’s got to fight at his accent at those words, half tempted to let it on through to add further to the sound of the story, which always sounds so much better in the tongue of the fae or those whose voices carry the remnants of their kind, “was a great powerful creature who lived in the seas to the East. The Selkie are a people who are neither man nor beast, or so they say, but both. A man who, with the donning of a coat of fur, will change into a seal to roam the seas at their deepest, most happy by the water and with eyes darker than night skies.” In retrospect, if he believed in selkies anymore, he thinks they’d have eyes like the vet’s; endless, dark, and always touched with some sort of emptiness or sorrow.

“Woah.”

He smiles as Sky’s awe, but more so at the settling of a smaller body against his own as long ears prick up but soft cheeks settle against his chest. His fingers slip just the slightest to accommodate, but he leaves his hand pressed where it blocks the next flash of lightning, and though the vet shivers at the next roll of thunder, he doesn’t start away.

Something inside wonders whether this clinginess is born of fear or loneliness, and he wonders, for only as long as he dares be silent, when’s the last time someone offered the veteran any form of friendly contact.

“Storms-” he continues, once he’s certain he can’t be silent any longer “-they say are caused because the sea and the wind stole from the Selkie King.” he drops his voice, low and almost whispered, like when he’d told the same story to wide-eyed little sisters before tucking them in with kisses and laughter and warm smiles that are long since forgotten. “The Selkie King is the most powerful of the Selkies. He’s said to be strong enough to fight the wind itself, and the seas must bow under his command. With a power like that however, it’s hard. Being strong is a lonely life,” and one his brothers will know well, and the heavy sigh that sounds from beside him is proof of that. “As such, he lived solitary for many years, watching man and his kind and walking among them, but finding none to be his queen and companion, until-” and here his sisters would squirm under the covers, big blue eyes sparkling up at him as they begged ‘till what, Link?’ but his brothers don’t do so. Sky cocks his head, a manner he’s certain is learned from Twilight, and Legend’s face turns up to him again, eyes still hidden, but neither speaks.

It makes sense, he supposes. They are Links after all

“Until” he continues “one day he came to an island he’d never seen, and met there a maiden with a voice to make any selkie rejoice, and eyes like the seas themselves, the sort the king could only find himself lost in. She had a soul like a bird, and a wish for the beyond, and unlike others who stared and saw the uncanny way of the selkie, she saw to the soul of the Selkie King, and it was in her heart that he found solace from the loneliness of the world.”

Sky’s eyes are misty, that distant smile in them that means he’s thinking of his own Zelda, and Warriors almost, like so many times before, lets himself change to story.

He doesn’t. The point is to give an answer to the roar of the sky and the fury of the lightning. It’s all fairy stories made to make the remnants of Demise’s fury less a terror to small minds, but there’s no age limit for fairy stories, as he well knows. Still, few end in a truly happy manner.

“Life is cruel though,” and how cruel. He’s not told this story in some time but it’s now beginning to make his own heart twist up in memory of how deeply he’d felt similar things to what the Selkie King would as he continued. “As time passed and their love grew, the seas and the storms began to brew. They wished to rebel against the Selkie King who had tamed them, to make war with him, and though he had no wish to leave his maiden, he was called from the island beaches and her side to fight the sea once more, and the storms with it.

“The oceans rose in those days, the sky dark, much like tonight. All that could be heard or seen was the fury of the sea and the wind as the Selkie King sought to bridle them. He fought them, I know not how long, but when at last they were calmed, the Selkie King turned to return to his island and his maiden, only to find both sunk beneath the waves that had risen in his fight.”

There’s a shudder beneath his hands, and dampness touches his palm as long lashes once more stir against skin. It’s sad, he’ll grant. He’s not sure if Legend’s young enough to be crying at fairy stories, but he won’t judge. Heroes grow up too fast, and by his knowledge, they haven’t the time to let their minds and hearts age as they ought. He’s not about to judge a few tears at a sad story.

“The Selkie King searched and searched,” he continues, “but the sea had already taken away, in final vengeance, what he loved. They say,” and thunder rolls right as he speaks, “that the thunder is his shouts to the sky and sea for their cruelty, and the lightning is his magic, light surging across land and sea to light his search to find what was lost to him.”

“What about the girl?” Sky asks, looking startled himself at the turn of the tale, “what happened to her?”

His only answer is a wry smile. His sisters would ask the same thing the first time he’d shared the story his grandfather had told him growing up, but the answer is always the same: “she was lost to the sea, as though never there.”

He’s not expecting the sob, or the hand that clutches in his shirt as shoulders tremble and tears dampen the hand still held over eyes not unlike those of a selkie. At first, he thinks it’s just the panic catching up and hysterics taking over, but after the first few sobs are over and they just get stronger, the captain realises there might be more to it than that.

“Legend?”

There's no answer, only inconsolable tears that seem to flow without end, even as he lifts his hand for the first time in a while to try and wipe them away. The younger hero’s face finds its way to the front of his shirt near immediately after, and he’s left trying to hold his brother, clueless as to what he’s said or done to incite the new rainfall that drenches the one clean shirt he’d had.

“Vet?” Sky is starting up from the bed, but he doesn’t touch, likely aware that doing so unprompted and without warning isn’t a good idea right now. Warriors though, closer, is free to wrap his arms around trembling shoulders and meet sapphire eyes, questions unspoken flying between them as confusion clouds the air where agonised sobs and tears do not.

In the end, he elects to leave it be, soothing gently and running one hand up and down a spine he can count every bone of, hushing softly all the while until the tears finally run out and Legend is limp against him.

“I'm sorry,” he says at last, not sure what exactly he’d done wrong. “That one usually helps my sisters feel better about-”

“He wasn’t a selkie.”

The captain pauses. “What?”

“He wasn’t a selkie,” comes the soft words again. “He was mer.”

“It’s just a story, vet, he wasn’t-”

“They were real.” And it’s so desperately spoken that it stops all other assurance in his throat as a hand tightens in the front of his shirt. “Her name was Marin. She wanted to fly, she wanted to see the world. I promised I’d take her, I wanted to show her everything.” There’s something so broken about the vet’s voice, and when he looks down the eyes of the younger are still closed, but there’s clear agony on the face of his brother. “I didn’t want to destroy her; I never wanted it to fade.”

He has no context, no clue, but some part of himself, the part that remembers holding another young hero like this and listening to agonies and losses, knows that something said in the story, some part, has brought a memory or loss back afresh, and his attempts to sooth have only reopened wounds.

Warriors wraps his brother tightly in his arms, draping blue fabric over tighter shut eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know it wasn’t real until it was over,” the younger hiccups, “I- I wanted to live there forever. It was so... it was so peaceful!”

Somehow, that single word, and the agony behind it, stabs through a heart blocked behind stone walls and chain mail.

Why should a wish for peace sound so desperate from the lips of a child? What right have gods to burden someone so small with sufferings that would lead their greatest desire to be for something so devastatingly evasive?

It’s cruel. It’s familiar in its cruelty, and all that the captain hero can do is hold tighter still and murmur soft comforts that are as empty as the praises lauded on shoulders such as their own. “I know, Link, I know. It’s not fair.”

“I fought him three times,” and it’s naught but a whisper, “is it so wrong to want to be allowed to stop?”

He’s going to find Hylia and murder her.

Once is enough. Once is too much for a kid. Thrice? And twice as many adventures? Oh, no, no-no-no, he’s going to be having words with the Golden Gals when he gets to see them, even if that means fighting his way to the Goddess’ Realm himself. He’s sure he could convince the deity to help him under the right circumstances.

Aloud though, his answer is softer. “No. It’s not wrong. They’re wrong to ask so much of you,” words he’s whispered countless times to the hero who is now their leader. Looking at Time, he knows that peace has been achieved. The ranch, the wife, the beautiful home and satisfied smile, the longing look in his eyes after the days have been long since last they’ve visited; it all points to a life now granted chances to be lived and lived well. He only wishes the same could be meted out to all who’ve suffered as they have. “You deserve better,” he assures. “And for what it’s worth, I understand. Not everything of course,” and he’d never meant to tell, “but I get it. Losing someone, it’s hard.”

“I loved her.”

“I know.”

What sort of love, it doesn’t matter now. Be it puppy love or that of a far more intense sort, love is still love and when lost it can shatter. No wonder dark eyes hold longing deeper than the sea and desolation like the coldest of desert nights.

Sky stares but doesn’t speak or move.

Legend though, shifts, and dark eyes lift to him for a moment before being shut again as another flash disturbs the room. Without thinking, he raises a hand to cover the younger’s face, tears still fresh against calloused skin. Despite all this, the question in desolate eyes is still spoken aloud. “Who was yours?”

And his heart nearly stops, lodged in his throat, but he breathes and guides a pink haired head to settle against his collar, cheek resting in downy soft hair to hide further his face from both. “My wife and son.”

One trembling hand settles over his own, awkward in placement but intent clear. “I’m sorry.”

His smile is real, although pained, as he wraps his brother tighter, pressing, without thought, a kiss to a crown. “It wasn't your fault.” It was his own, his pride and his folly and his failure that had left him with his son ripped away and his wife turning her back. There’s none to blame but himself and fate’s cruel hand.

Despite this, there seems to be a word on the tongue of the younger, indeed, on Sky’s own too, but he cuts both off. “How about a lighter story?” he’s deflecting, he knows, but tonight is not about his losses and mistakes, and suddenly he’s gone from wanting nothing more than dry clothes and a warm bed to being content to hold one smaller and offer what meagre comforts and distractions he can while covering sorrow-ridden eyes and avoiding sapphire stares that bore with sadness for both himself and their little brother.

Legend hiccups. “Seriously?”

“I’m an excellent storyteller,” he returns, smile real but pained despite himself as he looks down at a face blocked by his own hand, “I’m a father and an older brother after all, I have no business being anything less than skillful with bedtime stories.”

“I’m too old for bedtime stories.”

He’d beg to differ. Someone still small enough to be held as he holds his brother is still of an age for bedtime stories, and he resolves to find the best he can to share. Not one about heroes though, or about lost love or Selkie Kings. Instead, he tells the story of the Goddess’ Rabbit and the stars it set in the sky. Instead, he holds a brother who he only now knows to see as anything more than another of Hylia’s soldiers, and he treasures the whisper of a chance to redeem some of what was stolen by fate.

Maybe it feels like redemption for himself too. Just a little bit.

#lu warriors #lu legend #lu sky #linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe fanfic #ketto writes #silvercaptain my beloved #based on bunny facts #dad wars is my weakness #as is hurting legend #i neer intended to write a koholint fic but here we are #hopefully it isn't cringe #inspiration hit me like a truck while cooking dinner last night and i was up until 2 writing this #despite having work today #hopefully y'all enjoy

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unseemingowl · 11 months ago

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"About the Blogger" Meme

@all-inmoderation tagged me. I haven't done one of these in ages, so this was fun. Thank you .D

Star Sign(s): Libra (don't ask me about rising and all that stuff, I know nothing about Astrology)

Favorite Holidays: Christmas, I love the cosiness.

Last Meal: Fries from the new kebab place around the corner. Had a craving, but they were sadly a bit underwhelming. Nothing more disappointing food item than underwhelming fries.

Current Favorite Musician: Been listening to a lot of Alabama Shakes this weekend. The intro to Sound and Color is just sooo fucking good.

Last Music Listened To: The spotify playlist called Indie Rock Club, which turned out to be all of the music I listened to in my late teens and early twenties. Ripped me right back to that time. Wild.

Last Movie Watched: Wow, Piggy was the last movie I watched, I really need to have a new years resolution to watch more movies. Piggy is fucking excellent though. Loved it, loved it, loved it. Go watch it.

Last TV Show Watched: I'm in the middle of rewatching Babylon Berlin in order to watch season 4 and 5. All doom and glitter and the party and depravity that never ends, and Charlotte and Gereon are such engaging and complicated lead characters. Still love it.

Also watching season 2 of World on Fire, which is a fine show, though not nearly as good. But it does have Jonah Hauer King in it though, and I am a simple woman, let me watch that man having an existential crisis and I'm THERE. He looks SO handsome when he doesn't know what's going on, lol.

Last Book/Fic Finished: I've been struck hard by project moving, so I've mostly been listening to Agatha Christie audiobooks. The last time I moved, I moved into a single room, and by the time I moved was living in the apartment by myself along with all the new stuff I've acquired. It's been hellish. So cosy mysteries it is.

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: I was reading a biography on Robert the Bruce that I abandoned once project moving started up and I stopped having the bandwidth for anything too complicated.

Currently Reading: Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro, excellent so far, which is not surprising, since I've loved all of his books that I've read.

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: Waltzing in the 19th century.

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: The buck wild hour long quarantine era chats with the Nabrina crowd in the discord.

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: CAOS I guess? The Nabrina fandom is still one of the least toxic ones I've ever been in, at least the little corner that I was in.

I'm counting on a Batcat fandom resurgence once the next Battinson movie comes out in like 500 years (sob!)

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: Oh so many things. Fandom culture is brutal these days because people are moving on so fast. Like the Little Mermaid came out this spring and it seems mostly dead already. Or perhaps people are just in other places that tumblr?

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: Everything? Lol. Between trying to paint my new flat and christmas and some family stuff going on it feels like I don't have time for anything at all right now. Including the self-indulgent smut fic that I'm writing for the Little Mermaid at the moment. But that smut fic is my happy place at the moment, so I must persist!

tagging @robertdeniroimdb @bugsysiegels @raxiesrot @gothamsgaygirlgang @imaginejolls @deadgirlsupremacy @sweet-reverie along with anyone else who'd like to have a go

#I desperately need to be more settled in this apartment #or you know just get more comfortable with the mess #so that I can get back to the fun stuff in life

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aurorawest · 5 months ago

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Twenty Fanfic Writer Questions

Tagged by @lowkeyed1 - thank you and sorry it took me so long to do it!

Tagging @bereft-of-frogs, @rosieposiepuddingnpie, and @nostalgia-tblr

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

An even 150!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

2,230,050

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At this point my fanfiction output is pretty sparse, but in the last two years, I've written primarily MCU. I've also written for Captive Prince, Six of Crows, The Daevabad Trilogy, The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue, Some Desperate Glory, and The Watchmaker of Filigree Street. Over the years I've written in tons of fandoms.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Real Asgardians of the Galaxy (MCU, Loki & Thor)

The General Mess and Imprecision of Feeling (MCU, Loki/Stephen Strange)

Sleight of Hand (MCU, Loki & Stephen Strange)

You Come to Me Wild and Wired (MCU, unrelated ficlets, Loki/Stephen Strange)

They Change Their Sky, Not Their Soul, Who Rush Across the Sea (MCU, Loki & Thor)

The first three are all part of my 10 fic Loki series, it's not going to matter if we fall down twice.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Goddddd I've become so bad at it. I used to respond to every single one. One of my projects/goals is to go back and respond to people, but of course, my AO3 inbox is totally overwhelming at this point, and every time I see the number of comments I haven't responded to, I become paralyzed. I need to man up and just start chipping away.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Do No Harm (MCU, Loki/Stephen Strange) and Anamnesis (Weyoun, Star Trek: Deep Space 9) are probably tied on this one.

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

I primarily write happy endings so...most of them, haha. But I guess The General Mess and Imprecision of Feeling, since it's the HEA at the end of 10 fics. It's a seriously hard-won HEA haha.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have! I've been called a pedo on some Wreck-It Ralph fic (that was my introduction to purity culture, btw). Idk if I'd call this hate, but I once had a reader get pretty upset that an OFC in A Full and Factual Account of Asgard didn't turn out to be a love interest for Loki.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sure do! Honestly writing smut might be my favorite thing to write, haha. Whenever I get to a Big Sex Scene in my original stuff, I sigh in relief that I'm finally going to have an easy writing night. I've written m/f and m/m, but I have way more m/m, and an occasional m/m/m. It's mostly sappy, vanilla, OTP stuff, but I love me some dub and noncon, so there are a few of those amidst the gooey soulmate smut.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really, though I did in my youth. Honestly they're...all kind of crazy. When I was in my early teens I wrote a 4 fic series that was a crossover between The Enchanted Forest Chronicles (the books by Patricia C Wrede), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (the Disney movie), and Newsies (the movie). It had time travel. And dragons, obviously. I also at one point was writing a crossover between Newsies (yes, I had a Newsies phase) and Doctor Mordrid, an obscure fantasy B-movie from the 90s starring Jeffrey Combs. Fun fact! It was actually supposed to be Dr. Strange, but they lost the rights before they made the movie.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. It was a Harry Potter fic. I threatened legal action (lol) and they took it down.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

People have definitely asked me if they can translate my fics, so I think so!

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

Yeah, I had a friend I wrote a Loki & Thor fic with. I also used to collab on fics with my sister when we were kids.

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

I guess it's gotta be Loki/Stephen Strange.

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

I have a DS9 fic about Eris, a Vorta who was only in one episode, where she's an agent who's infiltrated a rebel Vorta/Jem'Hadar cell. I LOVE that fic, but I just...don't see myself ever finishing it. Maybe someday I'll file the serial numbers off and turn it into an original work. It probably wouldn't be that hard because it's set hundreds of years before DS9 takes place, and I did a lot of original worldbuilding.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, character, romance, sexual tension, pretty polished first drafts. I don't know if I'd consider it a strength yet, but I feel like I've really improved my pacing over the past year.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably visual scene setting, haha. I'm pretty thin on describing what the physical location LOOKS like. I'm better at describing sounds and smells, because honestly that's what sticks with me personally from a place, not how it looks.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've definitely done it. I took many years of Spanish so I'm pretty confident that when I write in Spanish, it makes sense. I can tell when google translate is wrong, haha. One of my novels (coming out next year!) has some Afrikaans, and a South African sensitivity reader didn't say any of it was wrong. Though that reminds me, I really should message my friend/former safari guide to see if she has any complaints about the Afrikaans in it, haha.

IMO when you write dialogue in another language in a fic, you have to assume the reader doesn't speak that language, so you need to let them know what that dialogue says through context. I read a book recently where there was quite a bit of Quebecois French, and there were end notes with the translation, and...eh, it was a pain to flip back and forth to the end of the book.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The first time I sat down with the intention of writing a story with a beginning, middle, and end (I didn't finish it), it was an Enchanted Forest Chronicles fic. This was before I'd ever heard of the internet, so I didn't even know that what I was doing was called fanfiction.

Though, my mom made me a scrapbook of a bunch of childhood stuff for my 40th birthday, and it included what I can only call a Lion King AU where the characters from The Lion King go to Camp Snoopy in the Mall of America. So idk, maybe that.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I think in some ways Anamnesis is the most ambitious single fic I've ever written, in that it's a difficult story. But I probably have to give the nod to it's not going to matter if we fall down twice. I'm totally cheating because it's a series, but I'm going to be really proud of it for my whole life so I'm going to take every opportunity to plug it, haha.

Thank you again for the tag!

#writing #tgmaiof #traotg #afafaoa #soh

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honourablejester · 1 year ago

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Wings Over Gotham Masterlist

A master post for my Wings Over Gotham Batman/DCU AU.

“Eighteen years ago, an earthquake ripped through Gotham City, and in the aftermath, instead of helping, the US government sealed the city under a ‘quarantine’ and left them to die. Two years later, when signs of life and even civilisation were still detectable inside the shattered city, the government sent the military in to reclaim and rehabilitate Gotham. Gotham has not forgotten, and they have not forgiven either.”

An AU where an altered version of No Man’s Land happened while Bruce was in his late teens/early twenties, and Batman was born in the hellish crucible of a trapped city that was left for dead and then violently retaken. Gotham may pretend to run by mainlander rules for the sake of those who would have died otherwise, but under the surface, Bruce, Jim, Leslie, Ivy and Oswald and their pack keep their own council, and look with jaundiced eyes on the mainland.

This story also includes a very non-traditional variation on A/B/O, where alpha and omega are expressed via psychic auras and not biologically, and those same auras allow empathic connection between pack members. (I wanted to play with the ideas of gender and pack from A/B/O, as well as a psychic expansion of the whole ‘pheromone’, ‘sensing/smelling emotions’ idea that is found in some A/B/O, but this story really is not focused on sex or biology, but the aftermath of attempted genocide and the tight-knit and extremely paranoid community that survives it. So I’ve essentially taken and adapted the bits of the trope that interested me for this story, and left the rest?)

22 Stories So Far

Harbour Day (1 chapter, POV Jim Gordon)

Eighteen years after the inciting incident, fifteen years after Gotham has been fully reintegrated after No Man's Land, the federal government would really prefer if Gotham City wouldn't still doggedly memorialise Harbour Day, the lives lost that night, the stubborn, damn near seditious amount of rage the city still feels about it. But Gotham doesn't work by mainlander rules anymore, and while they might choke the words down and avoid actually shooting the asshole in the face, neither Jim nor Bruce nor anyone else of Gotham City's pack will ever let the memory of No Man's Land, of Harbour Day, or anything else that was done to them, die.

Homecoming (2 chapters, POV Jason Todd)

The Lazarus Pit tore your aura to shreds. Or, maybe, dying tore your aura to shreds, and the Pit just didn't help. Jason Todd came back from the dead with all his pack bonds torn and his aura in pieces, driven by rage and emptiness. But Talia made a mistake. She let him too close. Even Jason's shredded mind and aura recognise his brother when he feels him, even when it's a brother neither he nor their father knew he had. So now, Jason is heading home to Gotham, a little brother in tow, to find out how much of his pack is left for him.

Set about a year before Harbour Day, a small prequel of an extremely battered Jason coming home.

The Cowardice of Heroes (3 chapters, POV Clark Kent)

Six months after the quarantine is lifted on No Man's Land, Bruce Wayne appears in polite society for the first time after being trapped for more than two years on the island, to run an auction to raise money for restoration efforts in the city. Speculation and torrid rumours are running wild through both Gotham society and the wider press, and two young reporters for the Daily Planet, one with rather more abilities and secrets than are readily apparent, score an invite to what will undoubtedly be the event of the year.

Another prequel to Harbour Day, this one set almost immediately after No Man's Land. A young Clark Kent witnesses the death, or rather stillbirth, of Brucie Wayne.

Tidal Hope (1 chapter, POV Oswald Cobblepot)

The two years Jason had been dead had been hard on Gotham. Mainlanders stepped lightly around Bruce's howling, grieving aura. But it had been hard on others too. After Jason comes back from the dead, bringing brothers in his wake, another brother comes home to Gotham, at least for a visit. But there's someone else he wants, needs, to talk to. And Oswald has always had the most aggravating fondness for this particular one of Bruce's kids.

Set shortly after Homecoming. Oswald Cobblepot helps shore up an exhausted and half-despairing Dick Grayson.

Here Be Monsters (1 chapter, POV Clark Kent)

Not long after Harbour Day, Clark Kent comes back to Gotham to interview SA Donald Mayers about his hostility towards the event, on the nudging of Leslie Thompkins. He gets an answer. Maybe not the one he expected, but an informative one nonetheless. There are, Mayers says, monsters in Gotham. But a monster to one man, might be a saviour to another. Which way is up in Gotham City? He doesn't find out, but maybe he doesn't need to just yet.

Diplomacy on the Shore (3 chapters, POV Bruce Wayne)

In which Bruce cannot function sanely when it comes to the Joker, Tim is incautious, it all goes tits up, and a new, alien force introduces itself to Gotham. Well. Not alien. Full Earth home-grown. But the difference is perhaps negligible from a Gotham point of view. And Atlantis brings trouble of her own to Gotham's shores, with war between them a very real potential consequence. But trust and diplomacy might win through.

Judgements of the Soulless (2 chapters, POV Jason Todd)

After the mess of the Atlantean almost-invasion, Jason Todd finds a moment to confront his killer. Or. Sort of. Because the Joker isn't exactly in a state to confront anything. And Gotham, her aura, might not be the only reason for that. Bruce and Jason were not the only ones with reasons to interfere with the Joker.

Champions of the Gods (2 chapters, POV Diana of Themyscira)

"Kal might not forgive her for coming. For wrangling an invitation to this Bruce Wayne’s most recent event, an environmentalist gala dedicated to the preservation of native American flora. It was a good cause, and one that Wonder Woman, or rather Princess Diana of Themyscira, was proud to support, but that wasn’t why she was here. And Kal might not forgive her for it."

Diana of Themyscira, made curious and concerned by the depth of her friend's reaction to this strange city, decides to follow in his footsteps and attend a gala at Wayne Manor, as well as overhear conversations that she shouldn't. Diana is a touch more direct, than Clark, however, and winds up speaking to the inhabitants more directly.

Love of the Broken (1 chapter, POV Alfred Pennyworth)

It was an underhanded tactic, to choose an hour of the morning when his family would be muddled and dazed and unlikely to pay attention to him, but in light of recent realisations, Alfred needs to have a conversation, and less ears and hearts to overhear it.

Alfred Pennyworth, the dark Goddess Gotham, and all the ugly, shamed, vicious parts of love and parenthood that you hope your children never have to see, or at least that they'll forgive you for if they do.

Worlds Gently Collide (3 chapters, POV Dick Grayson)

While working with Wally West on a case, a new type of drug that's been popping up in Blüdhaven and Central City, Dick's worlds start to collide a little bit. Old history and new land on his shore, because it turns out this drug is a Gotham drug. And given the type of drug, Oswald Cobblepot, Uncle Penguin, isn't about to let it touch him unscathed. His friendship with Wally is still tentative enough, but the Flash can roll with representatives of the Gotham mob rocking up on Blüdhaven's shore, right?

Or, some of the further consequences of Diplomacy on the Shore hit Blüdhaven, and Wally West gets introduced to Nicoletta, and Gotham's way of doing things. Not that he knows it's Gotham, yet, but still.

Trial and Error (1 chapter, POV Tim Drake)

The fallout of the fallout of the fallout. In the aftermath of Dick's assault and near-rape, the consequences of an older wound come to the fore. Damian is, unfortunately, neither stupid nor unobservant. And Tim has his own reactions to Dick, to Gotham, and to Damian. How many tries do you get before people stop tolerating you? Are you ever damned before you even start? But this is Gotham. So long as everyone's still alive, there's time to try at least once more.

Monsters All (1 chapter, POV Jim Gordon)

Mayers had never figured out where the Council met. He kept looking for Central, big civic buildings. That was where councils met, and didn't they fancy themselves a council? But No Man's Land hadn't had anything like that. They'd met, five territories, five enemies, in a shitty ruined diner outside all their territories. And they still did. To discuss ... one hell of a set of months. Invasion from all quarters. Gotham hasn't felt this exposed since the end of No Man's Land. But Ivy ... Ivy has a different plan for this conversation, and Jim and everyone else are just along for the ride.

The Aura Eaters (4 chapters, POV J’onn J’onzz)

J'onn J'onzz, the last Martian, lies captive in the pod of an alien ship as it makes planetfall. He is spent. Eaten. A husk of a thing. But they have made the smallest of errors, and if nothing else, he will try to be a nuisance before he dies. He will try to warn this world of the horror that comes for them. And, if he has the chance, he will try to fight for it.

An alien invasion comes to Earth. To Gotham. And in the process, a lot of worlds (metaphorically) collide.

The Lights on the Water (1 chapter, POV Jim Gordon)

In the aftermath of the Imperium's invasion, Agent Mayers steps into Jim Gordon's office, wanting to know what the hell ate an army. And, with Gotham revealed whether they wanted to be or not, Jim finally gets a chance to say some things he's wanted to say to this man since No Man's Land. They don't help, probably, but at least he gets a chance to say them.

Rest for the Wicked (1 chapter, POV Bruce Wayne)

In the aftermath of the invasion and his own choices, while his people and his city keep things going around him, Bruce Wayne pulls himself together and gets back up. With the help, and understanding, of someone who knows so very well what he's feeling. First, do no harm. But sometimes time and resources run out, and you have to make a choice. Leslie knows better than anyone, and she has some dark thoughts and secrets of her own, too. But they keep going, because someone has to.

Courage of the Fearful (3 chapters, POV Clark Kent)

After an almost alien invasion in Gotham, and a goddess' response, there are a lot of things Clark Kent should be worried about right now. He probably hasn't chosen the right one. But all questions of morality and even theology aside, Gotham is afraid of him. And he's not sure he can bear that. So. He has a decision to make.

Roots Watered In Blood (2 chapters, POV Pamela Isley)

With Bruce not dead and not taken, this time, despite his best efforts, Ivy and J'onn take a little minute, among the bodies of the invasion, to share grief and guilt and at least some attempted comfort.

Foreign Counsel (5 chapters, POV Lois Lane)

If Clark thought that Lois Lane would be content to sit back in Metropolis while he fell on his sword like she hadn't kept the exact same secret for the exact same reason ... well. His head hadn't exactly been in the game the past week or so. She'd probably forgive him. But what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and she had her own appointment with Gotham City. With ... Leslie Thompkins, in particular. But more than that. Because Gotham had an entire alien invasion happen, and nobody seemed to give a shit, and Lois hadn't written some of the best pieces of her life trying to bring attention to this city only to let it slide into the sea unremarked now. She had a meeting, and a job to do, and ... maybe more of both than she'd planned for going in.

What Happens If She Doesn't Kill You? (1 chapter, POV Agent Mayers)

Two days after his confrontation with Jim Gordon, Agent Donald Mayers has an unexpected conversation in a graveyard. It's not what he planned. It's never what he planned in this city. But it might be what he needed.

Bend Around The Break (1 chapter, POV Oswald Cobblepot)

Somehow, Oswald always seems to wind up holding other people's shattered children. But that's all right. Gotham's good at gluing people back together, a little more broken and a little more vicious than before. Barbara, in the wake of the last couple of weeks, needs a moment.

Peace Yet Unwon (2 chapters, POV Diana of Themyscira)

Diplomacy for the Justice League often falls to Diana of Themyscira. Unfortunately, they do not always reach 'diplomacy' at all. But at least an attempt was made. And they have strength, courage and grace to work with, so it may come right yet.

Space Oddity (1 chapter, POV Hal Jordan)

After J'onn and Batman and the Gotham contingent leave, Hal makes his escape out onto the roof, and from there up into the lonely emptiness of the sky, to take a minute and get himself together. He fucked that up. He knows he did, and he knows why. But apparently he needs to talk himself through it anyway, so he can stop fucking up.

(Hal might be his own worst enemy, here. But fortunately he also has friends).

#wings over gotham #masterlist #fanfic #au #batman #gotham city #no man's land

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